The Showstopper

by Robin Merrill

  “You mean, you thought the killer cut the power?” Why hadn’t she thought of that? She was a terrible sleuth.

  Chapter 9

  “Maybe I should just stay put,” Ethel said, and Sandra grudgingly agreed.

  She didn’t want to drive on the ice either. “I guess neither option, going or staying, is very safe.” She looked at her son, overwhelmed by the desire to protect him. Where was Bob?

  A scream sounded from directly beneath her, and her blood ran cold. She jumped up and headed for the door, along with nearly everyone else in the room, but then she stopped and turned back toward Ethel. “Would you mind watching Peter for a sec—”

  “I don’t need to be watched, Mom. I’m not a baby.”

  “You’re right, honey. I’m sorry. But would you stay here with Ethel? I’ll be right back.” But then, as the last person left the room, taking the last cell with them, they were plunged into darkness again. “Never mind,” she said, sitting back down. Her skin was itching in protest. She needed to go see what the screaming was about, but she couldn’t leave these two in the darkness.

  Ethel sensed her unease. “Sorry, I’d go with you, but I don’t think I should be stumbling about in the darkness at my age.”

  “I know. And I wouldn’t want you to. I just really want to know what’s going on.”

  They sat in the silent darkness for what felt like forever, until a small flame bobbed into view, throwing a pleasant circle of light around the room. Sandra quickly scanned the room before turning to identify the light-bearer.

  It was Gloria. “I found some candles.” She carried a plastic shopping bag full of candles of every size, color, and level of consumption.

  “What was that scream?” Sandra asked.

  “Sorry if it scared you. Sound sure does carry with the furnace off. It was just Corina. The cat jumped out from behind something and scared her half to death.”

  The explanation left Sandra both relieved and disappointed. Not that she’d hoped for another dead body, but an attempted assault with a few witnesses would help solve the puzzle.

  “Cat? What cat?” Ethel sounded alarmed.

  “It’s Frank’s cat,” Sandra explained, as Gloria used the lighted candle to light the candle in her other hand. “They have a severe mice problem here, so he brings his cat in to scare them off. Her name is Hildegarde.”

  Gloria handed the newly lit candle to Ethel, who was laughing so hard the flame shook in her hand. “Hildegarde? Who names a cat Hildegarde?”

  “Frank Flamatti, that’s who. He’s got another one at home named Leopold. Sorry, I haven’t found any candle stands yet. I’m still looking, but at least you’ll be able to see.” She pulled a third candle out of the bag and handed it to Sandra before lighting it.

  “Thank you.” Sandra was grateful for the stubby stick of wax in her hand.

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll be back. I’m just going to go see if anyone downstairs needs one. And I’ll look for more.”

  “If you see any blankets, grab those too, would you?” Ethel asked.

  “Absolutely.” Gloria turned to go.

  Sandra had to fight not to follow her.

  “Go ahead,” Ethel said. “I know you’re dying to.”

  Sandra flew out of her seat. “I don’t need to go now that we know who screamed and why, but I will go get you a blanket.” Sandra fled before Ethel could change her mind. She moved so fast that her candle almost went out, and she forced herself to slow down. “Bob, where are you and your superpower hearing, anyway?” she muttered under her breath.

  There was no response.

  She found her way to the props room without seeing anyone. At first, she thought the door was locked, and vowed to learn how to pick a lock, but then she realized the old door was just stuck shut, and she lowered her shoulder to give it some more encouragement. It opened, and the smell of mothballs washed over her. Would Ethel rather have mothball blankets or be cold? She really didn’t know, but she thought she’d leave it up to Ethel. She entered the stinky room and closed the door behind her—not because she desired privacy, but because she didn’t want anyone sneaking up on her.

  She’d thought finding a blanket in a prop room would be a simple task, but it wasn’t. She’d never seen such a random collection of artifacts. There were enough holiday decorations to outfit the Disney Christmas Parade. She hadn’t realized there were that many plastic holly berries in the world. She pushed her way through the holiday cheer and abruptly found herself in the Halloween section. This was no better. She hurried through the stacks of cobwebs and witch hats and then found herself weaving through supplies from a nineteenth century one-room school house. She stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. Were there any blankets? A rustling to her right caused her to whirl around, a movement that somehow made the giant chalkboard to her left come crashing to the ground. Luckily, it hit a pile of old hymnals before it hit the floor, so it didn’t shatter, but it still made quite a ruckus. She held her breath, trying to hear if anyone was nearby, unsure why she was so worried about getting caught in the prop room. No, of course, she wouldn’t be snooping around in here under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

  Suddenly, she was scared to death for Peter. She shouldn’t have left him. Sure, Ethel would try to protect him, but what could she do? She hurried back toward the door, and was almost there when she spotted a box among the Christmas chaos. It was marked “Bedding.” Based on the organization of the room, Sandra wasn’t confident the box actually contained bedding, but it was worth a shot. She navigated her way through the piles of old luggage, telephones, and plastic fruit until she reached the box. She opened it, bracing herself for more foul odors, but there were none, and sure enough, the blanket box contained blankets. She ripped the top two out of the box and then hurried for the door, moving as fast as her little flame would let her.

  By now, she was closer to the back stairs than the front, so she headed that way, even though that would mean skirting poor Treasure’s body. Where on earth were the police? They should be there by now! She found Bob right where she’d left him, standing beside Treasure, looking down at her face.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Waiting for someone to tamper with the evidence.”

  Sandra looked around. “And no one has?”

  “No, not yet. Everyone is avoiding this area of the building. I think most of them are in the green room.”

  “Okay, good. I’ve got to go check on Peter. I left him upstairs.”

  “You left him?”

  “Only for two seconds. I just came down to get blankets.” But in reality, she didn’t know how long she’d been gone. Just how many seconds had she spent exploring the prop room? She took the stairs two at a time, grateful for her new soccer official legs. Soccer season had ended in November, but since then she’d been reffing for an indoor women’s league, and those women were fast. Sandra was in the best shape of her life. She reached the top of the stairs, and her heart fell toward her feet. Why was the auditorium so dark?

  Maybe the light from my candle is overpowering Ethel’s. Maybe hers is still lit, but I just can’t see it. Hoping this wasn’t wishful thinking, she walked deeper into the auditorium to see that Ethel and Peter were gone.

  Chapter 10

  “Peter!” Sandra cried out into the quiet. God, please let him be all right. I’m sorry that I left them alone. She hurried toward their seats and found that Ethel hadn’t in fact disappeared. She was just tipped over in her seat. A sickness washed over Sandra. Had this stupid play gotten Ethel killed? If so, Sandra knew she could never live with herself. Why had she left them? That had been so stupid! With a trembling hand, she reached out for Ethel’s neck, which, praise be, was quite warm. And there was a pulse. Oh thank the heavens. She shook her gently. “Ethel?” She looked her over and didn’t see any obvious wounds or blood. What had happened? “Ethel?”

  No response. She covered h
er up with the thickest blanket and then headed back to the office for the phone. They now needed an ambulance as well as the police. And she had to report a kidnapping.

  She dialed the number. Was she sure Peter had been kidnapped? No, of course she couldn’t be entirely sure, but he wouldn’t have just left Ethel there. Something was wrong. It took her several silent seconds to realize the phone wasn’t working. She hung up and tried again. No dial tone. She hadn’t noticed that the first time. Did that mean that the storm had knocked the phone line out? Or had it been cut?

  She was far more scared than she had been during her own kidnapping ordeal. Then, she’d just been mad and totally focused on finding a way out. But now, this was her kid. Her precious Peter. If anything happened to him, she didn’t even want to think about what she’d do to the person responsible. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed fervently. Please, Father, let this be nothing. Let Peter have wandered off. Send him back right now. And if he was taken somewhere, please protect him. Send your angels—

  She needed to tell Bob.

  She headed back through the auditorium to go down the back steps, and she saw Ethel stir. She hurried to her side. “Ethel? Are you okay?”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked around, obviously confused. “I like mashed potatoes.”

  Oh dear. “I do too, Ethel. Do you remember what happened?”

  She looked around the dark room. “To the potatoes?”

  “No. To you. Just a few minutes ago.”

  Some part of her brain came to. “Oh! I was here with Peter.” She looked around wildly. “Where’s Peter?”

  “I don’t know. What happened?”

  “We were just sitting here, and then something hit me, I think. Where’s Peter?”

  Poor Ethel. Sandra vowed to never recruit anyone into acting again. “Peter’s not here. Her eyes got hot and wet, and she scooched down to search the sloped floor for Ethel’s candle. Of course, she couldn’t find it.

  “Where’s Judah?”

  The kingdom? Or was that a person? “I’m sorry, what?”

  “My son, Judah. I shouldn’t have left him alone.” Ethel reached up to touch the back of her head and winced. “I’ve got quite an egg, in fact.”

  All of Ethel’s children were grown up and on their own. “I’m so sorry, Ethel. I didn’t mean to put you in danger, but I’m sure Judah is fine.”

  Ethel guffawed. “It’s not your fault, darlin’. You didn’t cast a psychopath in The Waltons.”

  “I’m not so sure it was a cast member,” Sandra muttered. “I need to go look for Peter, but I don’t want to leave you here. Can you walk?”

  With both hands, she clasped the seat in front of her and pulled. “I reckon so,” she said, coming up to a crooked, wobbly stand. “Let’s go. Before the potatoes get cold.”

  Unsure whether she should move Ethel or not, but thinking it was probably better than leaving her alone, Sandra hooked her hand through Ethel’s elbow and forced herself to be patient as they headed for the front stairs.

  They went down them with painful slowness, as Sandra fought back tears. She wanted to cry out to Bob, but she didn’t want to have to explain that to Ethel.

  They finally made it to the basement. “Peter!” Sandra called out.

  Otis appeared in front of her, startling her. “What’s wrong?” He actually sounded concerned. Maybe terrible situations brought out the best in Otis.

  “Someone took Peter.” She moved to walk past him, and he let her pass. “Peter!” she called down the hallway.

  “Took him?” Otis repeated. “Why do you think someone took him?”

  She didn’t have time for this. “Because he isn’t where I left him.”

  Otis turned and followed her down the hallway. “But couldn’t he have just wandered off? Maybe he went to look for a flashlight. That’s what most people are doing.”

  “No. I told him to stay put. He wouldn’t have left without telling me.” She wasn’t sure why she was leaving a certain detail out of her story, namely that someone had bonked poor Ethel on the noggin.

  “Okay, I’ll help you look.”

  She turned to look at him. “You will?” He held his phone’s light pointed at the floor, and the weird light it cast on his face made him look older. Her eyes traveled up and down his frame. Suddenly, he looked more fragile than he had looked to her in the past. More harmless. He wasn’t an ogre. He was just a grumpy old man. “Thank you,” she managed. “I appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome. Where have you looked?”

  “He’s not in the auditorium or the office. And then I came here.” She wondered if she was making sense.

  “Okay, I’ll go look in the kitchen.” But he made no move to head toward the kitchen. He just stood where he was.

  Billy appeared out of the shadows. “What are we looking for?” Billy held a candle out in front of him. He’d managed to find an ancient candlestick. She reckoned that at some point, Mountain View’s holiday play had been The Christmas Carol.

  “Peter,” Sandra said. “He’s missing.”

  “You’re kidding.” Billy’s face fell so dramatically that Peter could have been his own kid. “Have you looked outside?”

  Sandra shook her head.

  “I’ll help you look.”

  “You take the kitchen,” Otis hurried to say. “You’ve already ventured outside enough tonight.”

  Billy nodded. “Okay. Holler if you need extra help out there. There’s a lot of ground to cover.” He reached out and gave Sandra’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’ll find him.” He looked at Otis. “In fact, we should probably both go look outside. But I’ll check the kitchen first.”

  Otis didn’t look pleased at this decision, and Sandra suspected Otis didn’t like Billy much.

  She blinked back tears. She didn’t trust her voice enough to thank the men, so she just turned and headed toward the spot where Treasure lay.

  “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I don’t like him very much,” Ethel said from behind her.

  Sandra slowed to let her catch up to the candlelight she held. “Who, Billy?”

  “No,” Ethel said quickly. “That Otis feller.”

  Sandra was tempted to agree with her, but Otis had just shown her a lot of kindness, so she stayed mute.

  “Not that I’m calling him a murderer or anything. I just don’t like him.” She paused, and then, she muttered to herself, “I think he ate my potatoes.”

  Up ahead, Sandra made out the outline of two people standing near the back stairs. As she got closer, she saw it was only one person—and one angel.

  Chapter 11

  Matthew stood staring down at the woman he had so admired, and Bob stood staring at Matthew. The scene was a little creepy. Couldn’t Matthew feel Bob’s eyes on him? Apparently not.

  As they approached, Matthew looked up at them, self-consciously wiping his eyes. “Sorry.” He sniffed. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She was sorry, but more than that, she was eager to share some information with Bob, without appearing to be talking to her imaginary friend. So she pretended to talk to Matthew. “Have you seen Peter? Someone took him. Someone knocked Ethel out with a blow to the head and then took my son somewhere.” Her voice cracked and she fought to breathe through her panic.

  Bob’s eyes were wide with concern.

  Matthew’s were not. Either he hadn’t heard her, or he didn’t care.

  Bob motioned toward the top of the stairs.

  “I’d like to go back upstairs,” she said slowly, still pretending to talk to Matthew, “but I can’t leave Ethel.” She didn’t dare look at Ethel as she waited for Bob to figure out what she was saying.

  “The props room then,” Bob said aloud.

  Sandra nodded and then looked at Ethel. “Let’s go look in the props room.”

  Ethel, seeming to know that there was more going on than she was aware of, nodded her assent. “
Where’s the props room?”

  “I’ll show you.” On their way there, Sandra almost smashed into Otis, who was coming out of the costume room.

  “Just putting on some extra layers, so I don’t freeze to death outside,” he said, answering a question no one had asked.

  Sandra didn’t care what Otis was doing in the costume room. To each his own. She was in a hurry to get into the props room, and once again, had to lower her shoulder to get the door open. Bob was already inside. He couldn’t have opened the door for her? She took a deep breath and tried to think. How could she say what she needed to say to Bob while pretending to talk to Ethel? She looked into Ethel’s eyes and slowly said, “I’m scared to death. I need some supernatural help here. I need to find my son.”

  She’d never seen Ethel’s eyes so somber. Ethel reached out and took her hands. Then she began to pray in a voice so strong it gave Sandra the shivers. “Father in heaven, I sense that you have already sent your angels to minister to us in this fearful situation. I ask you for a miracle, knowing full well that you are capable. You have promised to keep your sheep safe, and that’s what we need right now, God. Bring this child back to us, using whatever means necessary—”

  “Ethel,” Bob interrupted, and Ethel’s eyes sprang open. “I am an angel of the Lord, and I’m going to help you find Peter.”

  Whether it was the head injury or Ethel just expected the supernatural, she hardly seemed surprised. “Amen,” she said with reverence. She squeezed Sandra’s hands. Then she looked at Bob. “Do you have the potatoes?”

  Bob looked at Sandra. “You keep looking here. I’m going to go get a bird’s eye view.”

  “Thank you,” Sandra said, but her voice came out hoarse.

  Bob glanced at Sandra’s candle, which had shrunk significantly. “First, let me get you a flashlight.” He vanished then, and Sandra opened her mouth to ask Ethel what she thought of Bob, but he reappeared before she could get a word out, and handed Ethel a flashlight that was about three feet long. It was big enough to be a weapon. Maybe that would be a good thing.