“They were friends? Maybe she let him smoke there.”
“I remember Lisa disdainfully waving at the smoke from my cigarette. I get the feeling it was Grizz’s prerogative to do exactly as he wished when he was in her presence.”
“We’ve forgotten Maura.”
“Oh, my friend, I have not forgotten. Maura Lewis. From Trenton. Thirty-six out of the forty-eight states have a Trenton.”
“Clever girl.”
“Foolish girl. Every state has a Washington. Lie only when the research has been done. Alas, Trenton, Ohio exists. This will be one of your jobs tomorrow. Do you know anyone in eastern Ohio?”
Walter nodded smugly. “I have people everywhere. I don’t burn bridges the way you do. If there’s a Maura Lewis from Trenton, I’ll find her.”
“Good. Also, check the respective residences of the cast. If they are not at home, feel free to snoop around and talk with a landlord or neighbor. If any doors happen to be loose…”
“Do you think Jenny will talk to you?”
“I do not know. Perhaps she blames me. Perhaps she is right.”
“The day after her sister’s funeral. She won’t be in the best mood.”
“That will make two of us.”
Walter rolled his head around until something or other cracked in his neck. “By the by, when are we going to get out of this city?”
“We are in the middle of the most inexplicable and complicated case of our career. Is this the appropriate time to discuss our future?”
“You must have given some thought to retirement. Don’t you want to go somewhere more conducive to…not murder?”
“Chicago is the only place I have ever called home, Williams. I do not live here because I enjoy it, but rather, because it is where I belong.”
Walter leaned over the table, his fob clacking against the wood. “Now you’re just being stubborn.”
Rowan licked a paper and rolled it sloppily between his brown fingertips. “Then I am stubborn. I have no problem admitting it. At my age, change is more frightening than death.”
“Look at you—can barely roll your cigarette. What’s really painful is watching you eat. The fork shakes when you hold it. I’m scared you’re going to stab yourself.”
“My brain is just as fast as it ever was.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come…” Walter clapped his mouth shut.
Rowan scowled. “Go ahead. Say it, Williams. How come I took this case? You think me a fool.”
Walter stared at the table. “Now is the time, boss. The average man lives to be about fifty-eight.”
“I am well aware of my impending demise.”
“Do you really want to spend your remaining years in Chicago? I know I don’t. I’m tired of living in the most dangerous city in America. If the people don’t kill you, the cold or the heat will finish the job.”
“Maybe, I do not want to spend my last eleven years with you. Perhaps being murdered would be preferable. Have you considered the possibility?”
“We could move to Los Angeles in a year’s time. Hell, we could move there next month. I was talking with my friend, Bill Davies. He lives out there.”
Rowan giggled. “The one who shot himself?”
Walter protested. “His gun went off accidently. Bill pulls in six-hundred a month, double that before the banks went under.”
“Highway robbery. Mr. Davies should be paying the clients, not the other way round.”
“Not the point. His cases? Love affairs. That’s it. Wives hire him to follow their husbands to motels or back alleys or wherever. Occasionally, he gets hired to look into some sabotaged crops. Nothing heavy. No stabbings, no shootings, no poisonings, no…fallings. In a few years, you can retire. I’ll find my own Watson to boss around. You’ll only have to see me for one of these drunken bullshot sessions on the weekends. It’s the smart move.”
Rowan rubbed his hands through scarce strands of hair.
“Think about it.”
“Fine, Jesus. After we solve this murder, I will go with you to Los Angeles.”
Walter’s eyes widened. “Seriously? This isn’t just drunk talk?”
“This is completely drunk talk.” Rowan lifted his glass and held it up to the dusty sunlight. “Williams, what did you bring me?”
Walter put the glass under his nose. “It’s gin.”
“I have been drinking scotch all afternoon.”
“And I got you two gins?”
“Apparently so.”
“Dave! Dave!”
The bartender laid down a stack of acceptable flyers and jogged to the table. “What’s the rumpus, boys?”
Rowan pointed at Maura’s name on the napkin. “Dave, do you know what it means to haul someone’s ashes?”
“Yeah, it means to bump uglies.”
“How did you know that?”
“My nephew says it.”
“Is your nephew from Ohio?”
“Naw, he’s from the neighborhood. Is this what you guys called me over for? I got a stack of flyers, and I have to slap more on the wall before Grady comes back.”
Walter’s body jerked to life. He grabbed Rowan’s arm. “Dave, ask Manory if you should slap more on.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Just ask him.” He grinned from ear to ear.
“But—”
“Goddamnit, Dave. Do this one thing for me. Ask Manory if you should slap more on. Do it now. Now!”
“Manory, should I slap more on?”
Rowan’s face grew serious, smoldering edges forming at the corners of his lips. “Williams is not a moron. And no, you shouldn’t slap him.”
Walter slammed his hand on the table. “Zing!”
The chandelier’s reflection wavered on the restaurant’s red-and-white checkerboard floor, surrounding Edward and Maura in an octagonal prison of light. The air-conditioning unit banged to life, then droned an otherworldly hum, dying after a few minutes before starting the tortuous process all over again.
“Do you think she was murdered, Eddie?”
Edward held a tongue sandwich in front of his mouth. “She didn’t just happen to fall off that balcony the same day the note said she would die. The odds are astronomical.”
“Maybe she was hypnotized.” Maura grew determined when he laughed at the suggestion. “What? I’ve seen it.”
“You believe in that nonsense?”
“Damn right I do. My mom took me to see the Great Renaldo a long time ago. He brought a woman on stage, sat her in a chair—this broad was clean-cut too; she looked like a dentist or a professor, something genuine, you know. She wasn’t trash, that’s the point I’m making. Anywho, he took out his pocket watch—”
“He waved it in the air?”
“Yes!”
“Then he told her she was getting sleepy?”
“You’ve seen his show?”
“What was the punch line?”
As Maura removed the pickles from her sweitzer cheese sandwich, piling them neatly on one side of the plate, she described the tense atmosphere of the tent, the woman taking off her shoes and peeling a banana with her feet, and the gasps of the audience as she dangled near the top of the pole.
Edward took a bite. “Mmm-hmm. A plant.”
“Huh?”
“He paid her. She was instructed.”
“How did she peel a banana with her feet without being hypnotized? Answer me that, Sherlock.”
“Probably worked in the circus, some kind of gorilla act or something.” Edward winced.
Maura nodded at his sandwich. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Just thinking about you putting that in your mouth makes me want to toss my cookies. A cow used it to taste food, and now you’re tasting the thing the cow tasted with. It’s perverted.”
Edward shook his head. “Meat’s good, there’s just too much mustard. It’s healthy, lots of iron.” He held it toward her. “Try it.”
“Are you trying to slip me some tongue?”
/> “Now that’s funny. That’s a keeper.”
With a sly, slow blink she seemed to tell him that she already knew. “My one-woman act is coming soon. I’m gonna knock ’em dead.” Her hand dug through her purse. “Forgot my notebook. Remind me of that line later so I can write it down.”
Edward returned to the subject of murder. “I don’t think we can go with hypnosis. I’m sure the solution is simple, something we’ve seen before. That’s the way it is in detective novels. The killer is right in front of your face; you meet him in the first chapter.”
“They arrested Allie. She could—”
“Allie’s free.”
“What?” Maura’s jaw dropped.
Edward wiped a dab of mustard from his chin. “The cops let her go. I went to see her last night. Wanted to cheer her up.”
“And?”
“She’s inconsolable. Timothy hasn’t been home since the cops released her. Allie has no idea where he is.”
“Gossip, Edward. I want gossip.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know. First off, Allie was aware of Tim’s infidelity. They had a…I don’t know what you’d call it—a license to engage in—”
“He could plow any field he wanted?”
“Basically. Allie could ignore it as long as she was shielded from the details. But then came this play, and she had to go to work with the details, so she began to resent him. The weekend before opening night, Tim and Lisa went to his dad’s farm together. It’s some little country town.”
“Adair.”
Edward shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Tim told me it was called Adair.”
“Whatever. When Tim got back, he told Allie it was over between him and Lisa. She was ecstatic. It wasn’t so apparent to me just how much she loved him.”
Maura harrumphed. “Girls are so dumb.”
“Thursday night, she went through Tim’s wallet while he was in the bath.”
“She found a love letter?”
“No.”
Maura looked around the restaurant, seeming to search for the answer and waxing quite enthusiastic with several guesses.
Waving them all aside, Edward said, “Allie found an Eisenberg business card.”
Maura slumped in her chair. “Oh.”
“He’s good friends with the people who work there. He got me a good deal on some earrings for my aunt.”
“Those were so cute. I need some earrings. Jade looks good against my skin.”
“Listen. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the Eisenberg logo, but it’s a big diamond ring. That logo is right on the front of the card. When Allie saw it, she got it in her head that Tim was ring shopping, and she knew he wasn’t doing it for her. After Tim fell asleep, she wrote Lisa a threatening letter. Allie took it to the theater that very night and put it on her desk.” Edward stopped talking long enough for the waiter to set two coffees on the table and then continued with a hushed, conspiratorial tone. “My theory, and mind you it’s just that—a theory—is that Tim proposed to Lisa during their weekend and she turned him down. Maybe he bought her a ring and maybe he didn’t, but I think Allie may have been on the right track.”
She gasped. “And Tim killed Lisa because she broke up with him. Wait, no. No, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?”
“Because when we all learned about the death threat, Tim said we should cancel the play. He was the first one to speak.”
“Of course he was. Once he found out a detective was there and the police were involved, he panicked. Whatever his plan was, he’d be discovered. Allie’s note was the only thing that saved him. It was a convenient distraction. Now she’s free and he’s nowhere to be found. Why would he run if he’s innocent?”
Maura shuddered. “We’ve been spending every day with a murderer. And he’s still out there somewhere.”
“Don’t quote me. I’m not married to the idea. It could have been someone else.”
“That’s even worse, an unknown murderer, still on the loose. It could be Jenny or Grizz or…” She grew quiet, daring not to say it.
“Or me? Is that what you were going to say? Maura, if you think I’m capable of murder, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Then, I’ll ask you, and that’ll be the end of it. Did you write the death threat?”
Edward put down the sandwich. “No, I didn’t. And that’s the truth.”
“Aces. Now ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“Ask me if I wrote the note.”
“I already know you didn’t. You’re a good person.”
Maura rolled her eyes, but a flutter came to her chest all the same. “It was nice of you to see Allie. Hopefully she makes it to the shindig.” She tapped a finger on the rim of his coffee cup. “How can you drink it black?”
“Are you going to criticize everything I eat and drink? I don’t like milk.”
“What’s wrong with you? Everybody likes milk. It’s best during the winter.”
“Why is that?” asked Edward.
“When it gets delivered, you let it sit out for a while so’s it freezes.” Maura demonstrated with her hands. “The cream separates and rises to the top, the lid pops off, and you spoon out the frozen cream and melt chocolate all over it. I’m shaking just thinking about how good it is.”
“You have milk delivered?”
“I used to. Acksherly, it’s been a while, but I remember doing that all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to strangle me.”
Edward grabbed hold of Maura’s shoulders, squaring her body to his. “Look at me. Now say it. Ack.”
“Ack.”
“Choo.”
“Choo.”
“Uhhh.”
“Uhhh.”
“Lee.”
“Lee.”
“Actually.”
“Acksherly.”
“Close enough.”
Maura snuck a peek at the bill. “Jeez Louise, the coffee’s expensive here.”
Edward pulled out his wallet. “I figured I would get it.”
“Yeah, I know, but still.”
With the arrival of early evening, they settled on a park bench, away from the thick patches of mosquitoes darting through the air. Maura stared at the low, golden sun slowly disappearing from the sky. “This reminds me of the times I’d hide up on my roof back home and watch the sunset. My mom would run around the house searching for me. Hey, do you think Jenny will pay us anything for the rehearsal time?”
“Probably not. The agreement was for actual shows. I’m sure Jenn lost a lot of money on it.”
“Great. That’s just swell. More good luck.” She put her hand on his. “I was counting on that money. At least you got nothing to worry about, what with the delivery gig at the hospital.”
“I quit.”
“Why would you do a thing like that?”
His fingers slipped between hers. “It might sound silly, but I think I want to give acting a real shot. This play didn’t end well, obviously, but I’ve had more fun during the last six weeks than I’ve ever had. Of course, a lot of that was thanks to you. I wish we’d had some scenes together.”
Maura twisted around, propping her knees onto the bench. “Eddie, I’ve got a proposition for you. If you say no, it’s okay, really. With the play kaput, I can’t afford to stay where I’m at. Acksherly, I’m gonna get kicked out from my place any day now. How about I stay at your house, just for a little while? It won’t be a freeloader situation. I can cook…well, strike that, I don’t know how to cook. But I can clean and take care of Christine. Just until I figure out what I’m gonna do. I’ll stay out of your hair.”
Edward grew excited. “That’ll be perfect. We could go on auditions together. When we get cast, we’ll help each other out with our lines.”
When his hand fell on her bare knee, Maura, in an effortless, uncharacteristically graceful motion, grabbed the sides of Edward’s head and kissed him. Edward tensed for a moment then ease
d into her lips. When they finally separated, he stared, awestruck by her courage.
Maura gave him an adorable, innocent smile with thin, wet lips. “You weren’t going to do it, so I had to.”
CHAPTER 7 The director
10:09 a.m. Tuesday, April 9th
Large areas of field and forest separated the stately houses along the North Shore sidewalk. The neighborhood seemed lovely to Rowan at first, with its splendid seclusion and absence of prying eyes. An ideal place to be alone with one’s thoughts. As he neared the Pluviam residence, however, the opportunity for unobservable murder occurred to him. The thought extrapolated in his mind so paranoiacally that, when he finally made a turn at Minnifield, Rowan half expected to find Jenny dead on the sidewalk, her neck grotesquely mirroring her sister’s.
He passed a small group of Oaks and came upon a picket fence with an open gate. Two garbage cans lay toppled over at the curb, empty bottles of peroxide rolling back and forth across the middle of the street and a potato chip bag flitting in the hot breeze. He set the cans upright and rather thoughtlessly sifted through the layers of trash. Lisa’s silver dress lay crumpled at the bottom, brown blood stains dried into the collar. An unnatural sound, rather like a stick snapping under an anxious foot, came from the trees behind him. Rowan saw no one standing there when he whirled around. Stop scaring yourself, old man.
The doubling of items in Jenny’s living room gave clear evidence two people had lived there. There were exactly two sofas, two chairs, two coffee tables, two rows of bookshelves, two grandfather clocks, and most unusual of all, two framed pictures of the Christ.
Jenny appeared well-recovered from the traumatic shock of Friday night, a bit morose, but calm. It was as if she were on guard against any unnecessary histrionics. She brought Rowan some tea in the living room. It took her two trips.
He laid the saucer on the coffee table and pinched the teacup’s delicate handle. “I wish to offer my deepest apologies for not attending the funeral. I was horribly detained.”
The Opening Night Murders Page 9
