The Showstopper

by Robin Merrill

  “Stop saying that,” he growled.

  It occurred to her that in his mind, his manhood might be on the line. Again, he started running, and then just before he reached the door, he let out a weird grunt and leapt into the air with one leg outstretched. She braced herself for the contact he would feel, but it never happened. The door flew open just before his foot connected, and he fell to the floor, smashing his bony hip into the threshold. “Ahh!” he cried out, and she rushed to his side.

  “Sorry,” Bob said. “Didn’t know you were flying there.”

  Peter sat up and pushed his mother away. “I’m fine.”

  She helped him up anyway and then looked at Bob. “Did you lock us in?”

  He took the flashlight out of her hand and shined it toward a shim of wood lying near the wall. “No. Someone shoved that under the door.” He looked at her. “Whoever the bad guy is here, they’re getting worried about your progress.”

  “What progress?” she whispered. “We know less than we did an hour ago.”

  “Yes, but they don’t know that.”

  After one more glance to make sure Peter was okay after his first failed karate kick, she asked, “Who screamed?”

  “Jan.” Bob sounded disappointed.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes. She saw a mouse.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. The theater cat obviously isn’t doing its job.”

  “He’s probably cuddled up somewhere trying to stay warm.”

  “Where was she?” Peter asked.

  “Who? The cat?” Bob said. “I thought it was a boy.”

  “No, not the cat. Jan!” Peter was exasperated with Bob, angelic being or not.

  “Oh. She was in the kitchen.”

  “So then we do know more than we used to,” Peter said thoughtfully.

  “Oh yeah? What do we know?” Sandra asked.

  “It wasn’t Jan. She was too far away to lock us in here. And we know it wasn’t Matthew. I would’ve been able to smell him through any costume. That dude stinks. I don’t think it was Frank, because he didn’t smell like the soap. And we know it’s not Ethel. So it was either Otis, Billy, or Gloria.”

  Not bad for a youngster.

  “Or someone who is here without us knowing he’s here.”

  Sandra groaned. “Don’t say that. And that’s not possible. Right after Treasure died, Billy went out and walked all the way around the building. And there were no fresh tracks of anyone coming or going. Whoever pushed Treasure had already been here for a while.”

  “But someone could have been here before any of us got here,” Bob said. “And how do we know Billy was telling the truth?”

  Sandra rolled her eyes. “You’re an angel. Can’t you just flit around the building and peek in all the rooms, make sure there are no stowaways?”

  “Good idea. Be right back.” He vanished, leaving them stranded in the dark.

  “He took our flashlight.”

  “Hang on.” Sandra fished her candle nub and her lighter out of her pockets and tried to light the tired wick.

  It wouldn’t take, and her thumb was getting sore from turning the lighter’s wheel.

  “Hurry up, Mom. I don’t like this.”

  “I know, honey. I’m trying.”

  She didn’t even know Bob had returned when he flicked the flashlight on and blinded them both.

  “Ah!” Peter cried in surprise.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you stranded. And you were right. There’s no one else here.”

  “Give me that.” Sandra snatched the flashlight out of his hand. “What are people going to think if they see a flashlight floating around in midair? They’ll think a ghost pushed Treasure down the stairs.” She didn’t give Bob a chance to answer her. “You saw where everyone is?”

  “Yep.”

  “And is anyone acting like a criminal?”

  “No. Well, Matthew is in the bathroom smoking pot, but we’ll leave him be. So”—he rubbed his hands together—“what’s next? We’ve got things narrowed down to three names, right?”

  “Four,” Sandra said. “Just because Frank didn’t smell like the soap doesn’t mean he didn’t wear the costume. This is ridiculous. We need new evidence. We can’t figure this thing out based on the smell of cheap soap.”

  “Why was there an open box of soap in the costume room, anyway?” Peter asked.

  “There were several open boxes,” Bob said. “Irish Spring repels mice.”

  Sandra didn’t know if this was true, but it seemed as good a theory as any. “Bob, you promised to sniff the ladies. So let’s go sniff Jan. Even if she didn’t lock us in here, she’s the one who threw the phone into the forest.”

  “But she’s not the one who hid the phone,” Bob said.

  “Or maybe she did and then forgot where she put it.” Sandra didn’t know if this was plausible, but she couldn’t think of a theory that wasn’t at least a little goofy.

  “Let’s sniff Gloria first,” the angel said. “She’s closer.”

  Chapter 23

  Sandra didn’t see the point in sniffing Gloria. She wasn’t strong enough to drag Peter anywhere, and she wouldn’t have left her own children alone. Or maybe she would dare to leave her children alone if she were the killer, because then there would be no one else to fear. She groaned. She hated second-guessing herself. Maybe they should go check on her. “Let’s go. They’re in the green room.” She led the way, and her meager troops followed.

  She knocked on the door. “Gloria? Can you let us in?”

  “Who is us?”

  “Peter and me.” Not an entirely accurate roster, but it would do.

  “Who screamed?”

  Poor Gloria, she was probably scared to death. “It was just Jan. She saw a mouse.”

  After a moment of silence, Sandra heard a scraping sound as someone slid the furniture away from the door. The door opened and Corban stood there holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the light.

  “Peter!” Corina cried and came running at him. She leapt at him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

  Peter blushed and gently peeled her arms off him. “Uh ... thanks ... I’m fine.”

  Corina turned to peer back into the dark room. “Mum, can I go to the bathroom now that the door’s open? Puh-lease? I really have to—”

  “Only if Sandra goes with you.”

  Sandra managed to suppress the groan. She was trying to catch a murderer. She didn’t have time to escort children to the bathroom.

  Corina looked up at her with doe eyes. “Please?”

  She nodded and then shined her flashlight at Gloria. “Why are you guys sitting in the dark?”

  “Our candles burned out,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve got a little left, but I blew it out to save it for emergencies.”

  “Okay. We’ll hurry back then. I hate to leave you in the dark at all, but we’ll go to the bathroom, and then I’ll see if I can find you more candles.”

  Corina was already headed down the hall, so Sandra hurried to catch up, and did so just as Corina let the restroom door swing shut behind her. Sandra caught it, and then stupidly reached for the light switch. Even as she flicked the switch, she knew what she was doing was pointless—but it wasn’t. The lights came on.

  “How did you do that?” Corina cried from inside the stall.

  Sandra didn’t know. She opened the bathroom door and looked out into the hallway, which was as bright as daylight. The furnace roared to life. “The power’s back on!”

  Corina squealed in excitement. Sandra let the door swing shut again and was staring into the mirror at the dark circles under her eyes when she smelled it again—the scent she would forever associate with theater, death, and Smokey the Bear. She looked down at the sink to see a half-used bar of Irish Spring soap. So it was even less a clue than she thought. Anyone who’d washed their hands might smell like the kidnapper. Case in point, Corina stepped ou
t of the stall and up to the sink to dutifully scrub her hands.

  Sandra tried to be patient as Corina did a thorough job degerming herself, and then led the way back to the green room. Nothing seemed as dangerous now that the lights were on. It was amazing what a few light bulbs could accomplish. She opened the door and waited for Corina to step inside before shutting it again.

  “It’s not her,” Bob said, and it took a few seconds for Sandra to figure out what he meant. Oh, right. Gloria didn’t smell like a truck stop bathroom. Good for her.

  “It’s freezing in here,” Sandra said.

  Gloria shivered. “Hopefully not for long, and if the power company is out fixing lines, then that means that the sand trucks are probably out. I don’t see how the power trucks could get anywhere otherwise.”

  “They are out,” Sandra said with an inappropriate amount of sureness. Of course, she knew they were out because Bob had seen them, but she shouldn’t have been able to know such a thing. “I mean, you’re right, they must be out by now.”

  They were all quiet for a moment, as if each was busy listening for an approaching plow truck. Gloria broke the silence by asking, “Did you ever find the phone?”

  “Did we ever!” Peter said before Sandra could shush him.

  Gloria’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” Sandra tried. “It was Treasure’s phone, so it contained some ...” She coughed, unsure how to proceed.

  “Smut?” Gloria guessed.

  Heat crept into Sandra’s cheeks. She coughed again. “Sort of.”

  “Pictures of herself?” Gloria asked.

  I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. “Yes. And a friend.”

  Gloria tipped her head back and laughed. “Let me see.”

  Sandra wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

  “Not because I want to see compromising photos of her,” Gloria explained, “but I might know the man.”

  “He’s not from here.”

  “I know, but everyone in this county is related, and I know everyone, so—” She held out her hand expectantly.

  Sandra slid the phone out of her back pocket and gingerly handed it over, nervous about what was going to happen next. “Why do you know everyone?” she asked slowly.

  “I’m a pharmacist.” A practiced cell phone user, Gloria took only seconds to locate the offending photos. She gasped and looked up at Sandra. “That’s Reynold Goll!”

  “Who?” Sandra and Bob asked in unison.

  “Otis’s son.”

  Sandra looked at Bob, eyes wide. “Where’s Otis?”

  “I’ll go look.” And he was gone.

  Chapter 24

  “Otis is in the auditorium,” Bob’s voice calmly declared from an unknown location. “Come up here.”

  Sandra looked at Peter to see if he’d heard Bob as well, and he obviously had, because he was hurrying toward the door. She didn’t like the look on his face. That was too much anger for a ten-year-old. “Slow down, this doesn’t mean he’s the one who grabbed you.”

  Peter didn’t answer. He just kept trucking toward the stairs.

  “Where’s he going?” Gloria asked.

  “To the auditorium.”

  Gloria flew out the door, not only leaving her kids behind, but acting as though she’d forgotten all about them.

  Sandra gave them what she hoped looked like a kind smile. “You guys might want to stay here. This is almost over. I think.” She stepped out into the hallway to see her son about to bound up the stairs. “Hang on, we should get Ethel. She won’t want to miss this.” Peter ignored her, or maybe didn’t hear her. She chose to believe the latter. She stopped outside the prop room door and pounded on it. “Come up to the auditorium. We think it’s Otis, and Bob found him up there.”

  The door flew open. Had she been standing there with her hand on the knob? Ethel blinked in the bright lights, the giant flashlight dangling from her hand. “How long’s the power been on?”

  “Only a minute. I’ll see you up there.” She ran for the stairs. Part of her wanted to wait for Ethel. The rest of her wouldn’t let that part have its way. By the time she got to the spacious auditorium, Gloria was already shoving the phone in Otis’s face, trying to steal Sandra’s thunder. “It was you!”

  Otis did such a good job of acting innocent that Sandra wondered if he was. His son having a relationship with Treasure didn’t make him a murderer.

  “Everyone, just calm down,” Jan said, surprisingly serene given the circumstances.

  Gloria looked at Jan and stuck her arm out toward Otis, a sharp accusing pointer finger quivering at the end of it. “He killed Treasure!”

  “I did no such thing!” Otis boomed.

  “Why would you say such a horrible thing?” Jan cried.

  Gloria wiggled the phone in the air. “You think it’s just a coincidence that there are—”

  Sandra grabbed Gloria’s out-of-control arm and forced it down to her side. “Calm down!” she said with an authority that surprised her. “We don’t know anything for sure. Let’s just talk this through.” Sandra knew she wasn’t an interrogation expert, but she was also certain that she could do better than Gloria. She looked around the room. Everyone was present except for Matthew and Ethel. What was taking Ethel so long? Was her head injury more serious than they thought? “Can we all just sit down for a minute?”

  Some people sat down. Otis didn’t. Neither did Gloria.

  Sandra sat anyway, hoping they’d follow suit. “Now, we don’t know that Otis is guilty of anything, so let’s not jump to conclusions. Like Jan has said all along, Treasure might have just fallen.”

  Gloria started to argue, but Sandra talked over her. “The reason Gloria is so upset is that there are some photos on Treasure’s phone. And while we—”

  “I can explain!” Otis cried. “Just because my son had a relationship with her doesn’t mean I killed her.”

  Laughter echoed out from backstage, and everyone turned to look at the empty set. The laughter continued as Matthew wobbled out onto the stage. “You?” He grabbed his belly and laughed some more. “You didn’t have a relationship with Treasure.” His fingers made air quotes as he said the word “relationship.” Then he stood there with his hands in the air as if he’d forgotten he’d raised them.

  “Not me, you ijit. I said my son.”

  Matthew was no longer laughing or even smiling, but his hands were still up in the air. Because Sandra was staring at him, she didn’t realize Jan was approaching Otis.

  Suddenly, she was only inches in front of him. “Your son was having an affair with Treasure?” She spoke the words slowly, as if she had trouble pushing them out.

  Otis tried to look ashamed and failed. “No, wait, it’s not what you think—”

  Jan raised her hand as if she was going to slap him. “I covered for you! I believed you! I’ve been such a fool!” She whirled toward Gloria with her hand still in the air, as if she couldn’t decide whom to smack.

  “How did you find that phone?” Jan asked as if Gloria were on trial and she was the district attorney.

  Gloria’s gap-mouthed expression made it clear that she had no idea how she’d found that phone.

  Peter stepped forward. “I’m really good at climbing up mountains in freezing rain.”

  Jan clamped her mouth shut and looked at Sandra. “Is that where he was when he was missing?” Still using that same accusing tone, as if she were the only righteous person in the room. She didn’t give Sandra a chance to answer her question. “Otis was there when Treasure fell. He told me it was an accident, and I believed him. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to tarnish this theater’s reputation. I figured the police would see that it was nothing but an unfortunate accident.” She glared at Otis. “I didn’t know the creep had a reason to kill her! He lied to me, and I fell for it! So much for it being an accident! This poor theater! I was just trying to protect it from scandal.” A sudden onset of sobs shook
her shoulders. “We’ve lost money the last four years in a row.”

  “Oh, Jan,” Frank said, using the saddest voice Sandra had ever heard. He walked up to his friend and took her into his arms, his chest muffling the sound of her cries.

  The puzzle pieces were starting to coalesce into a picture, but that picture didn’t quite make sense. “Jan, why did you hide the phone?”

  She mumbled something into Frank’s shirt.

  “What?” Sandra said.

  Frank translated, “She knew it would look suspicious that Otis took it. An accidental death doesn’t result in a missing phone. So when she heard it was missing, she wanted to make sure it stayed that way.”

  “It was an accident!” Otis cried. “I was just trying to get the phone away from her. But she wouldn’t give it to me! She tried to hit me with a hammer! I’m the victim here—”

  “Wait!” Matthew hollered from the stage. “Who was sleeping with Treasure, exactly? You or your son?”

  As they each waited for someone else to catch Matthew up, Otis took off running for the front door. At first, Sandra didn’t even give chase. Where did he think he was going to go? An old man in an ice storm? But Peter went after him, so then Sandra chased after Peter.

  Just as Otis reached the door and was about to push his way outside, out of nowhere a giant flashlight crashed into the back of his head. “Ugh!” He toppled over sideways, and for a second, Sandra feared that Ethel had killed him. But then he got to his feet and stumbled outside, one hand holding the top of his head.

  Peter charged out after him. “Come on, Mom! We can stop him!”

  Chapter 25

  Otis drove a giant quad cab four-wheel-drive Dodge Ram with gargantuan tires. It looked like something a teenage boy would fantasize about, but by the time he was old enough to afford one, would know it would be silly to drive around in such a thing.

  Sandra drove a minivan. She loved her minivan. It was helping her rear three children, but she didn’t think it could compete with Otis’s rig.

  While Otis backed out through the eighteen inches of snow and ice, Sandra and Peter stood staring at the minivan’s miniature tires nearly submerged in snow. The precipitation had stopped, but it had done its damage. She didn’t think they could possibly follow him. Then she remembered Gloria’s shovel. She turned back toward the theater, where everyone else was huddled inside the open door, watching them. “Gloria!” she hollered. “Where’s your shovel?”