The Power of Faith: Science Fiction Faith Ferguson Series Book 3

by Andrea M. White

  “Come on in.”

  Once Ethan was through the door, Paul made the introductions.

  “I don’t think that I know much that will help you,” Ethan said as he sat down.

  “Right now, we’re just trying to get a sense of the place,” Paul said.

  “Of course.”

  “Why would Claire have been alone at the theatre between ten and twelve last night. Or would she have been alone?” Ed asked.

  “She shouldn’t have been here at all. Our rehearsal had ended at eight, and I thought everyone was gone, so I locked up and left.”

  “Was she in the habit of staying in the theatre by herself?” Ed asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Ethan said.

  “Mr. Blackett, forgive me, but I have absolutely no idea about how plays are, managed, for lack of a better word. What do you do? And, what do you do, when you’re not working here?” Ed asked.

  This question did not please Ethan, because, if answered truthfully, it would reveal just how low a level his whole theatrical career was, overall. So, he left out the more mundane aspects of his job and said, “I oversee rehearsals and provide acting notes. I am also responsible for performances.”

  “Oh, that sounds interesting,” Ed said, do you work here all year?”

  “No, I teach drama at Myles University.”

  “Tell me,” Ed asked, “Do you have any thoughts on who might have killed Claire?”

  “I don’t. Couldn’t it have just been – like they say on TV – some unknown assailant? Now, I’m out my depth saying that, but you know what I mean. Someone she didn’t know.”

  “Could be,” Ed said. “Tell me, of all the actresses on this list, who’s the best one.”

  “That’s easy, Bella Moore. She’s a full-time student at Myles University, and she’s the class of the class, so to speak. She’ll go far if she wants it.”

  “If she wants it?” Ed asked.

  “Her major is nursing. That’s where her heart seems to be.”

  Just then there was a tap on the door, and it was Ron Gould who said, “Sorry detectives, but I’m trying to keep this production going, and I can’t do that without the script changes.” Turning his attention to Ethan, he said, “I assume you have those, I asked you for them two days ago.”

  Flustered, Ethan said, “Yes, of course, they’re here in my briefcase.”

  “Just one more question. Where were you last night between after nine?” Ed asked.

  “Home with my wife.”

  “Fine,” Ed said, “Thank you.”

  They shook hands, and Ethan Blackett left the room.

  “I’ll keep the cast coming,” Ron said. “It’s a small group to begin with, and there are just a couple more of them that are here.”

  When Ron left, Paul said, “Felt kind of sorry for Blackett. There was no reason to chew him out in front of us.”

  “Well, like Tiffany said, ‘Showbiz.’”

  Paul laughed out loud, and asked, “Will we be quoting Tiffany a lot during this case?”

  They sat waiting for their next interview, and in a few minutes, Devin Nance, a stunningly handsome young man of about twenty-four appeared in the doorway. He was six feet tall, with the build of an athlete.

  “Devin Nance,” he said extending his hand.

  Standing up to greet him the detectives shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat.

  “What can you tell us about Claire Spencer?” Ed asked.

  “Not much just met her here a couple of months ago.”

  “You don’t know anything about her family or friends?” Ed asked.

  “Afraid not.”

  “How was she to work with?” Ed asked.

  Devin hesitated, but Ed and Paul didn’t push him for a response. They just sat silently waiting for him to speak.

  “Bush league,” he said.

  “How’s that?” Ed asked.

  “I have a decent resume for somebody my age. I’ve been on twenty or so movie sets and stages.” He stopped and opened his backpack, pulled out a resume and handed it to Paul. “I’m not saying that I was the star of those shows. Some parts were just like this one, small. What I got from all of them, besides the credit, was a chance to observe successful actors. Most of them treated the people around them with respect. Not always just to be nice. What’s the saying, ‘you meet the same people on your way up that you do on your way down.’ Well, this was Claire’s first lead role, and she was uniformly hateful to everyone. – Could have been insecurity, but, if I had to guess, I’d say that’s just who she was.”

  “How’d she treat you?”

  “No better or worse than anybody else.”

  “Did she have any real trouble with anyone?” Ed asked.

  “No, she just stormed around screaming at people.”

  “And they didn’t fire her?”

  “I was surprised. It’s not like she was some big name. And she started her tirades the first day of rehearsal. There was time to replace her, but Ron chose to deal with her. In the end, it seemed to be working out. She was adequate in the role, and things had quieted down some.”

  “Where were you last night?” Ed asked.

  “I hooked up. I think her name was Tanya.”

  “Last name?”

  Devin smiled and shook his head.

  “She was gone when I woke up this morning.”

  “Where’d you meet her?”

  “Some bar in Kenmore Square. I guess I could find it if you asked me to, but I don’t remember the name.”

  “So, no one to verify your whereabouts,” Ed said.

  “No, but for the record, I don’t run around killing people that I barely know.”

  “All right,” Ed said, “thank you.”

  After Devin left, Paul said, “that’s the problem with these folks. They don’t know each other well enough to be slitting each other’s throats.”

  “He’s the right height though,” Ed said. “I’d say about five ten.”

  “So, were both Ethan and Tiffany,” Paul said.

  A pretty young woman appeared at their door, and with a charming smile said, “I’m Bella Moore. Ron said to tell you that I’m the last of the cast here today.” Then seeing the list in Paul’s hand, she put her hand out to take it. He handed it to her and looking it over, Bella said, “Mr. and Mrs. Robbins aren’t here yet. They’re coming from England.”

  “That’s very helpful, thanks,” Paul said as she sat down. “How well did you know Claire Spencer?”

  A tear ran down Bella’s face, and wiping it away, she said, “Sorry. Claire and I had only met on this production, and we weren’t close, but I’m just so sorry.”

  “Any thoughts about who might have done it?” Paul asked.

  “This is not a happy cast. There are a lot of egos and disagreements, but the idea of anyone wanting to kill her is just – crazy.”

  “Anyone Claire particularly didn’t get along with?” Paul asked.

  “Sure. She was really jealous that Tiffany had gotten her big break. She’s just booked a TV show. Claire had tried out for it, as well, and she was not happy about losing out to Tiff.”

  “And how did Tiffany feel about that?” Paul asked.

  “Oh, she couldn’t stand Claire. She hated her English accent, and that she was well educated. I suspect she was jealous that Claire seemed more, you know, upper class. They snapped at each other all the time. One time they had an all-out blowup. Claire screamed that if Tiffany hadn’t slept with the producer, she would have gotten the job. I cleaned that up a little for you, Claire’s words were a lot more direct, but you get the gist.”

  Paul couldn’t help but smile as he said, “Yes, got it.”

  “Anyway, Claire actually threw a vase at Tiffany’s head. But, murder – you’re the police. Would Tiffany kill Claire over a job she got? I don’t think so.”

  “Anyone else?” Paul asked.

  “Well,” Bella said offering a small smile, “we all hate our
director. Ron’s a pretentious ass, and even though Claire is, I mean was, quite talented, he was always putting her down. I think that was because she rebuffed his advances.”

  “His advances?” Paul asked thinking that the language didn’t sound like it was natural for such a young person.

  “Oh, you mean the phrase, ‘rebuffed his advances.’ That was straight from Claire. She was quite British, and, one day when he was really on her case for the way she walked onto the stage. I asked her why she thought he was so hard on her, and she said, ‘I rebuffed his advances, and now I’m persona non grata.’ I looked that last part up. It means unwelcome. That’s one thing I liked about Claire, I was always learning from her.”

  “Does that stuff still go on?” Paul asked adding, “you know with Me Too and all.”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve only been in a few productions, so I’m no expert. Maybe Ron thinks it’s okay because he’s been doing this for a while, and that’s the way things used to be. I just don’t know. So far, he hasn’t made any moves on me or anyone else that I know of.”

  “So, no one else that you can think of who’d want to hurt her?” Paul asked.

  Bella didn’t respond.

  “What is it, Bella?” Paul asked.

  “There was something going on with her, but it’s kind of hard to explain.”

  “Just take your time and do the best you can,” Paul said.

  “She was always on the phone, and it sounded like business stuff, but it didn’t sound like anything related to her acting career. She’d be talking about – I don’t really remember, but she’d be using business and legal terms.” Bella stopped, smiled and said, “Sometimes her English accent was really strong and hard to understand. Anyway, Claire seemed more determined than worried. Like she was giving instructions that she expected to be carried out. I don’t know if that makes sense. All I can say is that other than when she was dealing with Tiffany and Ron, she seemed happy.

  “Thanks, Bella,” Paul said.

  Bella smiled and went on her way.

  “Well, she was informative,” Ed said.

  “Might have had some sort of agenda,” Paul said, but at least she gave us a couple of potential leads.

  “Well, that’s evidently it for now,” Ed said. “Let’s head over to Brookline and take a look around the apartment, that Tiffany thinks is too expensive for a struggling actress.”

  ******

  As they drove toward Claire’s apartment, Ed asked, “What did you actually think of Tiffany? God, that eye-dabbing.”

  “I thought that she was just protecting her make up,” Paul said.

  “Maybe, but it’s such a phony gesture. There may be more there, but I don’t know what. And Ron Gould?” Ed asked.

  “We need to talk to him about his interest in Claire. Maybe she ‘rebuffed,’ him,” Paul said making hand quotes, “one time too many.”

  As he pulled up to Claire’s building, Ed said, “Well, Tiffany was right, this is not the address of someone without funds. Whether she owns or rents, this is some of Brookline’s most expensive real estate.”

  “Depends, maybe she has roommates, or the place could be the size of a closet.”

  They had the two keys that Paul had retrieved from Claire’s handbag, one of which they found opened the front door. Looking at Claire’s ID, Paul saw that she was in unit two.

  Seeing that unit one took up the entire first floor, Paul said, “Looks like Claire’s place is on the second floor.” It was, and upon gaining entrance, he said, “Well, this isn’t a closet.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  They were standing in a one-level residence with exquisite brick fireplaces, and wood inlaid floors.

  “How’d she afford this?” Paul wondered aloud.

  “Must be married or sharing. Let’s see what we can find.”

  Ed went into the master bedroom and saw no evidence of another person living there. Looking through her things, he found that she was very organized. The items in every drawer were in almost military order. Although, they were not in any way masculine or austere. In fact, Claire had a significant collection of high-end clothing and accessories.

  Other than getting a sense of her personal habits, however, Ed wasn’t finding anything of note. He went to see if there was a second bedroom. There was, and it was being used as an office, where his partner was presently looking through her desk.

  “All I found out is that she’s neat and seems to live alone. Anything here?” Ed asked.

  “There’s a safe here that we’ll need to get in. I’m hoping for some evidence of whatever business Bella overheard her talking about. We’ll have to get the techs over here.”

  “We’ll take her laptop back to the station,” Ed said.

  “Right, and I’ve got her phone.”

  “She has some money from somewhere,” Ed said. “In addition to this place, she has a bunch of things that cost a lot. I recognized some of the labels because Faith has them.”

  “Oh, right, your super successful girlfriend. How much did she get for selling the movie rights to her books?” Paul asked.

  “I don’t know, exactly, but she sold a seven-book series, so, a lot.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Let’s take a look around the rest of the place …” Ed said but was interrupted by a noise that sounded like someone entering the apartment, and they turned, as one, toward the door.

  Walking with caution in the direction of the sound, they saw the silhouette of what appeared to be a young man in a hoodie. Pulling his gun, Ed said, “Police, hands in the air.”

  The unidentified visitor did not comply and chose, instead, to flee the scene.

  “Shit,” Ed said and took off after him.

  At twenty-seven, Ed was fit and was quickly gaining on his intended target, but the intruder had just enough of a lead to get to his car and pull away.

  Ed could have gotten in his own car and pursued him, but he didn’t. Ed stood looking after the car. What was nagging at him, wasn’t whether or not he should have gone after the mystery man, but whether or not he should have used his powers. Over the summer, while Ed was learning about his special abilities, he’d met a Scottish detective, Duncan Stewart, also Buidseach, who had advised him that he should pursue his cases the old-fashioned way. Duncan said that to do otherwise would be using his powers to advance his career, and that was frowned upon by the Buidseach Ruling Council. Ed didn’t want that, but he was tempted to use his abilities for the public good. In this instance, he knew that it would have been easy for him to have mentally disabled the man’s car and thwart his get-a-way. For now, however, Ed would follow his mentor’s advice and continue on as he had prior to his newfound knowledge about his ancestry.

  “You get the plate?” Paul asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I wonder who he was?”

  “I wonder why he ran?”

  “He might not have known Claire was dead, and not believed that we were police?”

  “True, let’s go back upstairs and see what else we can find?”

  After taking another look through Claire’s desk, Paul found a bill for property taxes and handing it to his partner, said, “Looks like she owns this place.”

  As he looked at the bill, Ed said, “It’s evaluated at over seven hundred thousand dollars. That’s a heavy lift for a struggling actress.”

  “There’s nothing much else here. I imagine it’s all on this,” Paul said holding the laptop, “and in the safe. Let’s get this back to the department.”

  “We need to run this plate,” Ed said waving the note pad where he had jotted down the number.

  “We’ll do that along the way.”

  A check of the plate found that it was a rental.

  “Interesting, shall we take a run over there,” Paul said.

  It was now seven p.m., and Ed said, “I’m thinking tomorrow.”

  “Slacker. Drop me back at the station. You go home. I’ll track do
wn our runner.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” Ed said.

  “I’ll call you if I need back up.”

  “Nah, I’ll go with you.”

  A quick trip to Ace Car Rental and they had the answer to their question as to who had visited Claire’s condo.

  “Devin Nance,” Paul said as he looked at the log.

  “It looked something like his build, and I wondered about that, but, still, seemed a little slimmer. I don’t know.”

  “Let’s go find him.”

  They already had his address, it was a motel not far from the theatre. Devin’s car wasn’t in the lot, and there was no response when they knocked on his door.

  “I want a look inside,” Ed said.

  “No warrant.”

  “You think he’s done a runner?” Ed asked

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “I wonder what he was looking for,” Ed said.

  “It’s either on the computer or in the safe.”

  “We’ve got the computer,” Paul said, “and we’ve got the tech guy’s over there now.”

  “Let’s put a car on this place. I want to know if he shows up,” Ed said.

  That done, the detectives called it a night.

  ******

  Entering the elevator code, the door to Faith’s small elevator opened, and Ed got on. When moments later, the door to her third-floor unit opened, Ed called out her name. She’d fallen asleep on her couch, and, more than a little bleary-eyed, she got up to greet him.

  “Never even made it to the bedroom,” Faith said as she hugged him and buried her face in his neck.

  They were a good match emotionally as well as physically; Ed at five feet ten, and Faith at five seven, both had slim athletic builds, medium complexions, and dark brown hair.

  “You sure you don’t want to just go back to sleep,” Ed asked.

  “No, I want you to stay. I’ve really missed you,” Faith said.

  “Me too, but you look exhausted.”

  “Thanks,” Faith said. Then catching a look at herself in the small antique mirror that hung by the elevator door, she couldn’t help but laugh. Her thick mass of unwieldy, dark brown, hair fell around her face, and her mascara had settled under her eyes, giving her a raccoon-like appearance. “Oh,” she said, laughing. “I see what you mean. Let me get cleaned up.”