Mind Bender

by Linsey Lanier

  That did it.

  The music went dead, the door opened, and a tall thin woman in safety glasses, a black leotard, and a tiger-striped work apron appeared. She removed the glasses to stare at them revealing dark brown, penetrating eyes.

  With her thick dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her perfect copper skin shimmering in the sunlight streaming in through a window behind her, she had an angelic air. A silver bead ring was threaded through one eyebrow like some sort of badge.

  Artist? Miranda thought she smelled turpentine.

  She gave them a friendly laugh. “Sorry about the music. I like to work to it. Are you two new to the building?” Her voice was rich and musical as well.

  Miranda ignored the neighborly question. “Are you Kenisha Trevino?”

  The woman blinked at her bluntness. “Why, yes. Who—are you?”

  “I’m Miranda Steele and this is Wade Parker.”

  Her face beamed with recognition as she nodded. “You’re the investigators Curt Holloway works for, right? He said you might stop by to talk about Audrey.”

  Had Holloway been in touch with this woman since they’d arrived? Or had he assumed they’d all be going to Austin when he talked to her last night?

  From the upbeat expression on the woman’s face, he hadn’t told her the exact nature of their visit. Or what his ex had been up to in Atlanta.

  “That’s us,” Miranda said.

  Then she watched the woman’s eyes widen as they settled on Parker’s to-die-for face.

  Her smile broadened as she opened the door and beckoned to them. “Come in, both of you.”

  Miranda stepped into an open space with sky blue walls, huge windows, a high ceiling, and clean lines. To her right sat a living room, but the light wood floors were crowded with strange-looking shiny objects.

  Big ones.

  In the middle of the floor sat three two-foot-tall boulders in pale blue, pink, and yellow. Each one had been glazed with a swirling pattern that gave it a marbleized effect. Around the room half a dozen multicolored jelly fish were suspended in midair, held in place by thin wire. On the far wall, a huge white canvas was covered with irregular splashes of every imaginable hue.

  The place didn’t want for color.

  A metal table stood against another wall. On it was a vice, a cutting tool, and lots of pliers and grips of all sorts. A drop cloth had been spread over that part of the floor and on it sat a large shiny bronze-and-silver creation with huge metal prongs sticking out from its center.

  Miranda felt as if she had stepped into a sci-fi movie.

  “Excuse the mess,” Kenisha said, dragging one of the pieces aside and picking up tools from a multicolored sofa that looked like an out-of-focus digital picture. “I’m a sculptor, as you can see. I teach at UT, but I like to do some of my own projects here. Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “No, thanks,” Miranda said, easing herself down on the digital couch.

  When she was settled, she turned to Parker. She’d let him start the questions, since the woman seemed to be caught up in his charms.

  After a perceptive glance at Miranda, he took a seat beside her and addressed their hostess. “Ms. Trevino, did Curt mention the nature of our visit?”

  “No, he didn’t. I’m wondering about that myself. And please call me Kenisha.” She settled her lithe body into a bright blue shape that served as a chair.

  “Kenisha, then. We’re looking into his ex-wife’s background,” Parker said offhandedly. “How well did you know Audrey Wilson?”

  “Oh, since we were little. We grew up together, went to the same private school as kids. Our parents were friends. Our fathers served on the city council together.”

  Miranda still couldn’t believe Holloway’s ex came from such an upscale background. Apparently her best friend did, too.

  “Have you always been close?” Parker asked.

  “Yes, pretty much. We roomed together at the University for a while. We were both in the College of Fine Arts. She was in the Acting program and I was in Studio Art. Her parents weren’t supportive of her career choice. So she had to work several jobs to pay her tuition.”

  She folded her hands and looked down at the floor as if the memory made her sad.

  “Did she finish college?” Parker asked, though he knew the answer.

  Kenisha shook her head. “No. She married Curt and dropped out after her second year. I went on to graduate and get my MFA, while Audrey traveled with her Marine husband when he was stationed overseas. And when they came back to Georgetown, we talked a lot. She and Curt were having problems in their marriage, and she needed someone to confide in. I suppose you know about that.”

  “Yes. Some of it.” Parker sat back. Her signal to take over.

  Miranda leaned forward. “What sort of things did Audrey confide, Kenisha?”

  “Well, they started fighting a lot. Curt had gotten the job in the recruiting center so they could both be near their families, but Audrey was never close to hers. What she really wanted was a chance to work on her career as an actress.”

  “Was she successful?”

  “Up to a point. She started taking classes again, but she couldn’t put the time she needed to into them. She and Curt needed money, so she got a full-time waitressing job. I know she resented Curt for that. She managed to get a few small roles in the community theatre in Georgetown. Then she started trying out for bigger parts in the more prominent theaters here in Austin. Curt didn’t like that. He wanted her at home in the evenings so they could spend time together.”

  That didn’t sound so unreasonable, though she could relate to a certain extent. “Sounds like she was losing interest in the marriage.”

  “Not really. She just wanted Curt to understand her. She felt she had to do something drastic. She told me she was going to tell Curt she was having an affair. I tried to talk her out of that.”

  So Audrey was a cheater like Wesson had told her. “Why?”

  “Because it wasn’t true.”

  Miranda blinked in surprise. Had Wesson gotten that wrong? “Are you sure of that?”

  “Positive. She used to stay out late with me to make him think she was with someone else. We’d rent Meg Ryan movies. You know. You’ve Got Mail? Sleepless in Seattle? Audrey loved Meg Ryan. Sometimes she’d cry through the whole movie. But she never even looked at another man. She was trying to make Curt jealous.”

  “And was he?”

  “Not right away. She said he didn’t seem to care what she did, but I didn’t believe that. Anyway, I told her not to do what she’d planned. I said she should just talk to Curt. She said she’d tried but he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. When she went ahead and told him about her affair, he blew his stack. I don’t blame him.” She raised her palms. “They had a big fight, and then she left him. She stayed with me here for a while, then managed to get her own place. We didn’t talk as often after that. She was focusing on her career. She was sort of desperate for a break.”

  “Was she a good actress?”

  Kenisha suddenly seemed embarrassed. “I love her like a sister, and I always tried to encourage her. But to be honest, I was never convinced she had what it takes to make it in an acting career.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was always so straight-laced. She was a color-within-the-lines type of person.”

  “A rule-follower.”

  She nodded. “Except when it came to her parents wanting her to go into law. I always thought she’d make a good lawyer.” Kenisha grew silent, then rose. “I need a soda. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

  Miranda shook her head and turned to Parker. “You?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Miranda could see he was taking in this information and analyzing what it might mean. After a failed acting career, was Audrey regretting her divorce from Holloway? Or did she blame him for ruining her chances and was trying to get him back? If she’d stage an affair to
make him jealous, maybe she’d stage a bank robbery. But she’d shot someone. And what about that spike strip? It had to be more than that.

  After a moment Kenisha returned with a can of soda in her hand. “I can’t think of anything else to tell you.” She put a hand on her forehead. “Why don’t you be straight up with me now. How long has Audrey been missing?”

  This lady was sharp. “Why do you think she’s missing?” Miranda asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “I know you’re top investigators in Atlanta, in the whole southeast. You wouldn’t come all the way to Austin for just a background check.”

  Parker decided to come clean. “You’re right, Kenisha. Audrey is missing. We haven’t determined for how long yet. That’s why we needed your help.”

  Evidently the news here hadn’t carried the bank robbery story in Atlanta.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Audrey?” Miranda asked.

  “Well, I hadn’t heard from her in months. Like I said, we sort of drifted apart. But then last week, she called. She was so excited about this new guy she was dating.”

  The guy. That’s who they needed to know about.

  “New guy?” Miranda asked innocently.

  “Yes,” she said right away. “A guy she thought might be connected—to the movie business, I mean. She thought he was the handsomest thing she ever laid eyes on.”

  “How long has she been with him?”

  “Not long. Less than a week, I think.”

  That was interesting.

  Miranda scrolled to the mystery man’s photo on her phone and held it out. “Is this him?”

  “I don’t know. I never met him. But he looks sort of like the way she described him. Tall dark, kind of a James Dean look. And he was part Asian. I remember her saying that. She thought that was sexy.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She thought a moment.“No, I don’t think she told me his name. We only spoke once in the last week.” She checked her phone. “Yes, it was last Sunday. I think she’d just met the guy.”

  Met him the day before he put the obituary in the paper? That didn’t sound good. It sounded—planned. “One last thing. Do you have Audrey’s current address?”

  Kenisha seemed surprised at the question. “Yes. It’s on Ben White, about six miles from here.”

  She gave Miranda the address and she pecked it into her phone. “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful. Give us a call if you can think of anything else, especially about that guy Audrey’s been dating.”

  Miranda rose, handed Kenisha her card, and moved to the door with Parker.

  Before they reached the hall, Kenisha stopped them. “Can I ask you something, Mr. Parker?”

  Parker turned back. “Of course.”

  She studied the card. “If you don’t even know where Audrey lives, how do you know she’s missing?”

  Parker nodded toward Miranda. Once again it was her call. She decided to roll the dice.

  She drew in a breath and let it out. “Audrey Wilson and that man in the photo were involved in a bank robbery yesterday. Two people were shot. They escaped in a van that was later found abandoned. No one knows where they are.”

  “Oh, my God.” Kenisha put her hands to her face and sank down into her chair. She shook her head. “No. No. That can’t be right.”

  Miranda felt bad for upsetting her. “Why not?” she asked gently.

  “Because that was the other thing Audrey told me about during our call. She’d gotten a part in a production of Our Town at the Civic. Her dreams were starting to come true. She wouldn’t abandon them to go to Atlanta, no matter how cute the guy was.”

  “Are you sure about that part?” Miranda asked, recalling Holloway said she liked to lie about getting a role in the movies.

  “Yes. I’m positive. They started rehearsals last week.” She shook her head again. “You must have the wrong information. It must have been someone else involved in that robbery.”

  “Is there a rehearsal today?”

  “Yes, I think so. Yes. Audrey said they’d be rehearsing Mondays through Saturdays.”

  “Do you know what time?”

  Kenisha looked at her watch, then looked up at Miranda. “Now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Civic Theater was across the Colorado River, only about two miles away, but traffic was bumper-to-bumper, and it took twenty minutes to get there.

  While Parker did battle with the other drivers, Miranda busied herself on her phone, looking up information on the production.

  “The director’s name is Thomas Zane,” she told him when she found the man’s website. “He’s been at the Civic over a decade. Done a lot of plays. Known for his ‘innovative, yet classical interpretations’.”

  Whatever that meant.

  Parker drove about a foot, then pressed the brake. “Let’s hope he has some innovative answers for us about Audrey Wilson.”

  She tapped her fingers on her knee as she stared out the window at the standstill traffic.

  There was Audrey’s apartment to see, and Miranda still wanted to pay her parents a visit, even though Holloway had been there earlier. But she had a feeling the theater director who hired Audrey might just have those answers.

  And if Holloway was right about his ex returning to Austin, Audrey might be rehearsing at the theatre this minute. If they got there in time.

  At last, they reached the tall glass building with an avant-garde curving rooftop.

  The parking lot wasn’t crowded. Parker got a spot right away and found a way in through a back door. After that it was easy.

  Signs spaced at strategic locations along a curving bead board wall pointed them to the rehearsal for Our Town—and told them it had started twenty minutes ago. It didn’t take long to find the door that led to the practice area.

  Parker held it open and they stepped inside.

  The space was large, big enough for an audience of maybe two hundred, with ascending rows of theater seats facing a wide bare stage. The stage itself held just a few plain wooden chairs and tables. The lights were dimmed. Only the platform near the front was illuminated. A man in a T-shirt and jeans stood on the stage. Leafing through papers, he described the actions of the two other characters.

  The Stage Manager, right? Miranda remembered this play. Her high school had put it on when she was a freshman, and her mother had let her go see it with a friend. The main character died at the end, and Miranda had thought it was depressing. And she didn’t get why there was so little scenery. She’d assumed they were on a tight budget.

  Before the stage, a thin man with a shiny shaved head sat at a folding table with an open laptop in front of him. He had on a yellow T-shirt, sneakers, and jeans torn at the knees on purpose. A woman on the stage came down a set of stairs that led to nowhere and began to pantomime cooking breakfast.

  The man at the table shot to his feet. “No, no, no,” he cried, waving his hands in the air. “This is 1901. She doesn’t have an electric stove. She has to put wood into it from a pile on the side.”

  The actress rolled her eyes at her mistake. “Sorry.”

  The lithe man trotted up the steps to the stage and hurried over to the woman. “Like this. See? You take the wood and put it in your arms, then you open the stove door and push them in. Got it?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Start from the top again.” He trotted back down the steps to his seat.

  The man playing the Stage Manager started shuffling through his papers. Before he could find his place, Miranda stepped over to the table. “Excuse me. Are you Mr. Zane?”

  He jumped, then glared up at her almost baring his teeth. “Can’t you see I’m working here? Who let you in?”

  Miranda gestured with her thumb. “We came through the door.”

  “This rehearsal isn’t open to the public.”

  “We’re not the public. We’re private instigators and we’re looking for someone.”

  It wasn’t until
that moment that the man noticed Parker standing beside her. He eyed him up and down and tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “Is one of my cast members in trouble?”

  “She might be.”

  He shook his head defensively. “I’m not responsible for what they do offstage. They’re all adults. Now I have to ask you to leave.” He turned away.

  Miranda felt a few caustic words rising on her tongue. Instead of spitting them out, she turned to Parker. She’d let him take this one.

  Parker gave her an understanding nod and smiled at the director with a serene expression. “I’m Wade Parker, Mr. Zane. And this is my partner Miranda Steele. We’re sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for a young woman named Audrey Wilson.”

  The man’s thin brows shot up to his nonexistent hairline. “Oh, so that’s who this is about. Might have known.” He turned to the stage. “Take a break everyone.”

  The Parker magic.

  Parker waited for the cast to shuffle off behind the rear curtain. “What did you mean, you might have known?” he said innocently.

  “That young woman has been trying out for productions here for years. I finally gave into her because I thought she suited my interpretation of Mrs. Gibbs.” He ran a hand over his head. “She had the pantomime down pat. Understood every nuance of it. But she hasn’t shown up for rehearsals for a week. I had to bring in the understudy. She just isn’t getting the stage business right.” He shook his head.

  So Audrey was here a week ago. But she wasn’t here now.

  Miranda scrolled to the photo she’d been showing people all day. “Mr. Zane, was this man ever with her?”

  Zane didn’t take long to study the screen. “Sure was. The last night Audrey came to rehearsal. He sat right over there the whole time.” He pointed to a front row seat in the corner. “I wanted him to leave, but Audrey insisted he stay. Sometimes you have to give into the prima donnas.”

  Miranda smiled at the remark. Prima donna. She had one of those to handle, too. “Do you have any idea why Audrey missed those rehearsals?”

  “Yes. She called me the next day and said she had gone to Atlanta with the guy in the front row. She said he had gotten her a job in a movie being filmed there.”