by Sarah Dreher
Stoner envied her that. It must be nice, to go through life like that.
Then she remembered something she'd read in an Agatha Christie, one of the Miss Marple’s, only she couldn't remember which one, something to the effect of, "Such people live dangerously. They just don't know it."
Well, Sherry Dodder was about to know it.
By the time they broke for lunch, it was beginning to be clear who felt what about the goings on between Stoner and Gwen. Rita fussed over her, offering her goodies from the tote bag and making comforting sounds. It touched her, and made her feel guilty about the deception. So guilty it was all she could do not to take Rita into her confidence.
Rebecca was keeping an open mind. Clearly, she didn't consider one twenty-four hour period to be any indication of long-term troubles.
Marcy was into herself and didn't give a damn one way or another.
Boneset, while pointing out that she didn't necessarily condone what was going on, stated that the Goddess moved in mysterious ways, and people had to do what they had to do.
During a break in a line run-through, Divi Divi passed by and whispered, "Scratch her eyes out."
Roseann, who knew the whole story, avoided Stoner's eyes so she wouldn't giggle.
A few of the techies looked uncomfortable, as if they weren't sure what was happening or what to do about it.
Joyce discovered they were out of amber gels, and took off for Bangor. Lisa spilled a cup of coffee on her light cue sheet.
Barb had troubles of her own. It was all she could do to take a moment now and then to blow her nose and check on the progress of Roseann's ankle.
"Okay," Rebecca said when they'd reached the end of the line run-through, "it's going well. We'll go through the songs after lunch. Okay, Barb?"
"If I can find my music," Barb said.
Stoner perked up her ears. "You can't find your music?"
"I thought I'd left it in my room, but I couldn't find it last night. So I figured I'd left it down here, but it isn't here." She shrugged. "It'll show up. I'm just a flake."
If there was one thing Barb wasn't, Stoner thought, it was a flake.
"If you can't find yours," Divi Divi said, "I have a copy. I sure don't need it, can't read a note. Want me to bring it down after lunch?"
Barb shook her head. "No need. I know I'll find mine."
"Better bring yours," Rebecca said to Divi Divi under her breath.
"Gotcha," said Divi Divi.
"Okay," Rebecca announced. "One hour for lunch. We meet back here at one on the dot." She blew a quick blast on her whistle and the company headed for the door.
Stoner caught her eye and grinned at the whistle.
"I know," Rebecca said as she dropped into the chair next to her. "To quote Marcy, 'It's so moody.' How are you doing?"
"Okay. I might be a little late getting back from lunch. Is that all right?"
"Of course." Rebecca patted her knee. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do.”
She waited until she was certain Gwen and Sherry had gone to the barn before approaching Clara and Esther's room. Gwen was doing a great job of dogging Sherry's foot steps. If Sherry had wanted to do anything with her lunch hour other than play innkeeper, she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, the way Gwen clung to her. In fact, if she were Sherry, she'd be a little tired of Gwen's cow-eyed devotion.
You made your bed, Miss Sherry, Stoner thought. How do you like lying in it?
It gave Stoner a great deal of pleasure.
She tapped at the older women's door.
“Who is it?" Clara demanded.
"Stoner."
She heard the lock scrape, and Esther opened the door.
"Thought you'd never get here," Clara grumbled.
"Sorry." She turned to Esther. "Did you have any trouble?"
"Of course not. What I do, I do very well."
Stoner looked around the room. There was no sign of lock boxes, computer disks, flashlights, music sheets—nothing. "Was it the wrong room?" she asked, and tried not to sound too disappointed.
"It was the right room."
"Oh. Then there wasn't anything in it?"
"There was..." Esther's face broke into a huge smile."...everything in it." She went to the closet door and opened it. "One security console, left in place to avoid discovery, but disabled. The only comings and goings it will record will be her own." She held up a small object. "The bug from your room. Over your door, in case you're wondering. Flashlights." She swung the door wide, revealing a small hill of silver flashlights, black flashlights, waterproof lanterns, and pen lights. "Assorted clothing. Hidden deep in the bowels of the closet. And the piece de resistance..." With a flourish, she pushed aside a collection of sweaters on the shelf and revealed three iron gray metal boxes.
"Okay!" Stoner said eagerly as Esther handed them to her. "Great work!"
“I know," Esther said.
"Have you looked inside?"
"We were waiting for you."
"None too patiently," Clara added. She took the first box and settled it on her lap, brought the keys out from her pocket, and set to work. The lock popped open.
Inside lay a pile of legal-looking papers. Clara took them out one at a time and studied them.
"Birth certificate. Doesn't seem to be counterfeit. Well, at least she's who she says she is." She laid the paper aside.
"Deed to the inn, signed over to her by one Margaret Bankhead, in exchange for..." She whistled. "...two hundred thousand dollars. Where'd she get that kind of money?"
"I heard there was an inheritance," Stoner said. "Her grandparents."
Clara rooted around in the box. ''Yep, there it is. And a sizable mortgage. All seems to be on the up-and-up. Our friend knows what she's doing."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Stoner said.
The older woman put the papers back in the box and locked it. She took up the second. "Let's see what this brings forth."
The next box contained insurance policies—house, car, life, health—and contracts from suppliers, security service, spring-and-fall house cleaners. Also warranties on the kitchen and housekeeping equipment. But not what they were looking for.
Stoner was becoming discouraged. She could go with what she had if she had to, but she really wanted to find more compelling evidence. Flashlights and clothing could be planted in a closet. It would be a little harder to squirm out of the contents of a locked box.
She sighed.
"Patience," Clara said.
The last lock gave. Clara opened the box. "Well, well," she said.
"Well, well?" Stoner asked, straining to see around Esther, who had bent eagerly over the box.
"Bingo," Clara crowed, and held up a 31/2 inch computer disk. "I wonder what could be on here."
Stoner took it. "I can find out." Rebecca's lap top would run it, she was certain. And probably Divi Divi's as well. She was willing to bet there'd be some nasty little remarks about Roseann in one of the files. And unauthorized script changes in another.
Maybe even a diary.
We should be so lucky.
She turned her attention back to the box.
A copy of the script, with light cues. She was willing to bet they were the correct cues, which Sherry had replaced with the wrong ones.
Samples of the handwriting of all members of the company, hers and Gwen's included, Xeroxed from the guest registry.
A wallet-sized pack with a zipper, made of black leather-like material. Clara pulled out a tissue and snatched it up before Stoner could touch it. "Lock picking equipment," she explained. "You don't want to get your finger prints on this. It's illegal to have them in some states, if you're not a lock smith."
A letter, addressed to Sherry. The handwriting wasn't familiar. Stoner compared it with the registry signatures. It didn't match.
And, on the bottom, a necklace made up of small green stones. Sparkly stones. It looked very familiar.
It was the necklace she'd seen in her vi
sion, days ago, when she'd tried to "read" the knife.
Did this mean the necklace was intended to play a part in Sherry's scheme? And if so, what? Was it a card she hadn't played yet?
And what should they do about it now? Return everything and wait for Sherry's next move? See what she had up her sleeve next?
It was too late for that. They were down to the last few hours of this. Sherry knew she couldn't cozy up to Stoner now. She knew she would be watched. And it wouldn't take her long to figure out that Gwen wasn't really devoted to her, just watching her.
But the necklace might come in handy when she forced the confrontation.
Clara was looking at the letter. "Well," she said, "this is terse and to the point."
Stoner took it from her.
"Sherry," she read. "I know about your affair with Rita. I trusted her, and I trusted you. But I guess it's open season now. So much for your 'respect for our relationship.' Jennifer."
Jennifer? Was this the famous Jennifer of Rita-Marcy fame? Jennifer who'd been Rita's lover, but left her for Marcy? If so, then Jennifer and Sherry were lovers, but Rita had left Jennifer for Sherry, which left Jennifer free and clear when Marcy came along, which meant...
But Rita thought it was Marcy who'd come between herself and Jennifer. Rita had never mentioned Sherry, except to say that she'd been helpful.
Everyone had thought Sherry was helpful.
Everyone but Jennifer, who apparently had a different slant on it all.
This whole thing was more complicated than "Days of Our Lives."
And what about "respect for our relationship?" That certainly had an all-too-familiar ring to it.
"What do you think?" Clara was asking her.
"I think," Stoner said, “if Divi Divi could write plots like this, she'd be set for life."
"Do you have enough to go on?"
"I hope so. Something tells me it's all we're going to get." She wished she had a way of taking a look at that computer disk. It could end up being exactly what she needed—definite proof that Sherry was involved in this. Add it to the handwriting samples, the letter, and all the other findings, and it would be nearly impossible for Sherry to claim innocence.
She realized she was being cautious, maybe too cautious. But she was dealing with a slippery one.
Well, she'd have to make her move, and make it tonight. She had a hunch time was running out.
"Can you return the other boxes right away? And the keys?" she asked Esther. "We'll keep this one, and the flashlights and clothing"
"Can do," said Esther. “What are you going to do?"
"Try to get her to trap herself"
Clara frowned. "This doesn't sound very safe or sensible."
"It's the best I can come up with. Do you have another idea?"
"Not me," Clara said. "I'm a cop. We can't do a damn thing until blood's spilled."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"Let's hope," Clara agreed. "And if you get in trouble, remember, I'm not as fast as I used to be."
Chapter Thirteen
It was nearly eleven. Allow another ten minutes for Esther to return the things to Sherry's secret room. Even though Sherry had to know Stoner was on her trail, it seemed important to keep the extent of their discovery from her as long as possible.
She decided to drop by their own room and change from her flannel shirt to a lighter one. The day was heating up rapidly. Humming to herself, she climbed the stairs.
There was something on the floor outside their door. As she came closer, she saw that it was a small vase of flowers. Not just any flowers, but two pink roses. The card taped to the vase read, "To Gwen, lovingly, Sherry."
It had to be the corniest thing she'd ever seen. The "morning after" bouquet, right out of the movies. She was surprised it didn't read, "Thanks for last night." Of course, it was possible Sherry was totally smitten with Gwen Owens—anyone in her right mind would be—but she had the sneaky feeling it was intended to cause more trouble between them. And she had a pretty good idea why Sherry would want to do that. Because it was what she did best, for one thing. For another, she sensed them closing in on her, was nervous, and had decided to create a further diversion.
"Thank you, Sherry," she said to herself, "I'll take this as a compliment." She added water to the vase, and placed the flowers in the center of Gwen's bed, the card facing her as she came into the room. It would drive her crazy.
Tossing her flannel shirt into the laundry bag, she slipped into a faded blue work shirt and rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. One last check of drawers and closet. Nothing missing. Okay, time to find out the latest developments from Rehearsal Land.
She smiled to herself as she crossed the lawn. It was a little after eleven now, and she'd been out of Sherry's sight for over an hour. Sherry must be nearly apoplectic, wondering what she was up to. And trying to get away from Gwen, whose devotion had her trapped.
Trapped and worried. The perfect situation for Sherry Dodder.
As a matter of fact, Sherry was coming out of the barn at this very minute, with Gwen in hot pursuit. Despite the smile on her face, from the way she was walking, sort of jerking along and coming down harder than necessary with her tiny feet, Stoner had a pretty good idea Sherry wasn't a happy camper.
Glancing over her shoulder, she was relieved to see Clara and Esther come out onto the patio. It meant Esther had finished putting the keys and locked boxes back in Sherry's room. And just in time, no doubt. The room was the first place Sherry would check.
She veered to her left to pass close to them. Gwen spotted her and stopped, and set a look of anxiety on her face. Stoner strode by and said, loudly, "Slut."
Sherry smiled.
"Listen," Gwen said on cue, "if you have something real to say, say it."
She stopped and turned on Gwen. "1 have plenty to say to you, but not in front of Miss Goody Two-Face."
"All right, we might as well have it out." She waved Sherry away. "I'll catch you later, Sher."
Sherry hesitated. "Maybe 1 should stay," she said in a protective, wrap-you-in-my-web voice. "You might need me."
"Go eat worms," Stoner snapped.
Gwen closed her eyes wearily. "I can handle this. You have things to do. We'll talk at lunch."
Reluctantly, Sherry turned and trudged toward the inn.
"My God," Gwen said, as she led Stoner away from people and buildings and toward the privacy of the woods, "that was the longest morning I've ever spent in my life."
"You did good work," Stoner said.
Gwen kneaded her face with her hands. "My face is frozen forever into this ridiculous, moon-sick smirk"
"If it's any comfort, you gave me the time I needed. And you made Sherry's life miserable."
"Small comfort." She scrubbed harder at her face. "Muscle strain," she explained.
Stoner looked around. "Do you think it's safe to kiss you?"
"I doubt it. People have been keeping their eyes on me all morning. We have to drop this charade soon, Stoner. My life's in danger."
"It is?"
"Some of your supporters are pretty angry. I fear the wrath of Rita."
"She has a little history with this kind of thing."
"Those," said Gwen, "are the most dangerous kind."
Stoner grinned. "I'll try to keep her at bay. We only have one or two loose ends to tie up. By tonight we'll be able to bring it all out in the open." She filled her in on Esther's findings, and her plans. "I want to see what's on the computer disk. After that..." She spread her hands. "I don't know what else we can do, do you?"
Gwen thought a moment, and shook her head. "There's something you should know. She did get away from me for a few minutes this morning. I found her in the boat house. She said she was getting a heavier hammer to work on the set. She got one, but I'm sure she had something else up her sleeve."
"I saw you. I was across the lake, in the marijuana patch."
"Stoned again. No wonder you're so full
of yourself. "
"Did you happen to see a phone in the boat house?"
"A wall phone," Gwen confirmed. "Why?"
So that was how she'd ordered the flowers. Stoner grinned. "You'll find out."
"Tell me."
"I can't bear to spoil the surprise."
"I hate you."
"Sure." She looked at Gwen and wanted to take her in her arms. Wanted to so badly she could feel her nerves reaching for her.
"Stop that," Gwen said softly and lovingly.
"Stop what?"
''Your aura is wrapping around me. It's not fair, having a fight and not being able to make up properly. We should be out on the lake in a canoe, gazing into one another's eyes and murmuring sweet nothings and apologies. I miss you terribly."
"Me, too."
Gwen turned away a little, out of temptation's path. "Can't we get this over with this afternoon?"
"I thought about it," Stoner said, back to business. "But I don't know how soon I can look at the disk And if we were in the middle of a confrontation and it got too hot for her, she'd be able to escape with that 'have to check the kitchen' excuse. Once we're into this, we have to keep going to the end."
"Glory," Gwen said with a heavy sigh. "Another five hours of mooning after her. You owe me, pal. You owe me big."
Stoner knew there was nothing she'd rather do than pay that debt.
Roseann's ankle seemed to be better. At least she was standing, leaning on the back of a chair as they went through the songs. Stoner sat down next to Rebecca.
"How's it going?" she asked.
"Okay. How about yourself?"
"We're getting there. I see you found the sheet music."
Rebecca nodded. "Finally. Nobody can find anything today. Divi Divi had her copy stashed in her car, under the front seat."
"That's lucky." Luckier than she knew. If it had been in her room, chances were that copy of the music would have been missing, too.
"By the way," Rebecca said, "I checked the word processor on my laptop. You were right. It was used after I did my notes the other night. While we were at the evening rehearsal."