My throat tightened. All I could do was shake my head once.
"Good. Now let's get our killer."
This time no sneaking around the back of the tent was required. Two men were working on straightening the audience chairs inside the tent. Briggs just flashed his badge, and they went about their task as we headed up to the stage.
"Seems like they're getting ready to put on the play after all," I said.
"Looks that way," Briggs said. "Maybe we can talk to Susana after this to find out exactly what's going on."
"It's right over here," I walked between the fake trees and shrubs to the back of Aunt Em's farmhouse. The piece of silver shimmered in the overhead lights strung across the tent. Briggs stopped and stared at the piece for a long moment.
"Well?" I asked.
"It's certainly there, shiny and very noticeable, but I walked around these props on this opening scene set five or six times. I don't see how I could have possibly missed this shiny object. And it's not small. The evidence team scoured this stage. How could they have missed it too? We need to ask Susana if the actors have been in costume since that night."
"If not, which I suspect is the case only because I've walked through town square several times since then and I never saw anyone in costume, then how do we explain this?"
He shook his head. "Maybe someone put it there. Sounds like Johnny Vespo is pretty despicable. Maybe someone wanted to frame him. Let's go over to the trailer where they store the Tin Man costume so I can get a look at it."
Again, there was no need to sneak under trees or dash to doors. That shiny detective's badge was like a magic key to everything. Briggs pulled it out, prepared to show whoever was working in the costume trailer.
"You sure have it easier than me when it comes to this investigating stuff. I have to dodge people and hide in shadows just to snoop around, whereas you just flash the pretty piece of metal and people step aside and invite you in."
"That's not always the case, unfortunately, but after your story about the wharf it doesn't make me feel any better to hear you say you're dodging people and hiding in shadows."
I waved it off. "I'm exaggerating, of course. I don't dodge people, I merely make a wide berth around them and as for the shadows—" My voice trailed off as Briggs knocked on the trailer door.
"Come in," a voice called.
Briggs opened the door. A woman with teased blonde hair and pinkish highlights was standing at a fold out work table with a brush full of a pungent substance (at least pungent to me) glue or shellac or possibly decoupage glaze. The unwieldy silver cylinder, the body for the Tin Man costume, was resting on the table. She'd used a few books to keep it from rolling side to side.
The woman was a little surprised at her visitors. "Hello," she said tentatively. "I'm Olivia. How can I help you?" she asked.
Briggs showed his badge as he approached the table. "Actually, I came here to look at the costume on the table. That is part of the Tin Man right?"
She laughed briefly. "Well, it ain't Toto." Another laugh followed. I had to join her. (It was funny.)
Briggs was in a darker mood after my confession about the Johnny incident, so he was all business. "Are you repairing it?"
She held up the brush filled with glue and picked up a large strip of thin silver paper. "Yes, I noticed a rip in the silver when I was inspecting the costumes. It must have happened when it was being hung on the rack."
Briggs walked to the table, and she pointed out the rip. "Why do you think it happened then?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I could be wrong. It's possible Johnny ripped it during dress rehearsal. It's just I usually notice those things when I'm collecting up costumes. It was a pretty big rip with an entire piece missing. I might have been too upset that night to notice it." She seemed to seriously be questioning how she missed seeing the damage.
"Have the actors worn their costumes since opening night?" I asked.
"Absolutely not. As you can imagine, it's quite an ordeal getting everyone in costume. These have all been hanging right here since Thursday night when my team and I collected them."
"Thank you. That answers all my questions," Briggs said.
"You're the detective working on Amanda's murder," she said as we headed out. "Hope you catch them soon."
"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that," Briggs muttered to me as we walked out of the trailer. "People think I can just snap my fingers, and the perpetrator will step out of nowhere with a signed confession."
I sensed he was still feeling grouchy about my wharf incident. I was regretting sharing it with him, only I thought it important to lay out Johnny's somewhat despicable character. The new evidence didn't seem nearly as damning as it was when I walked into the police station. None of it really made sense. The team and Briggs himself had examined the stage and the props. How would they have missed the strip of silver? On top of that, it seemed unlikely that Olivia and her crew would have missed the noticeable rip when they were carefully hanging and storing the costumes.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"At the moment, nothing too intriguing," he said dejectedly. "Not sure which direction to go with this. Let's go talk to Susana. I've got a few questions for her."
Chapter 30
Briggs and I trekked across the grass to the director's trailer and were surprised to see Mayor Price leaving. He was wearing an enormous grin, a rarity for him. (At least whenever I was in the vicinity.) He spotted us but, amazingly, his grin didn't fade. He also strode past us without a word or a glance our direction.
"I'm feeling rather invisible," Briggs said. "But then that's not always a bad thing."
"I agree."
We hadn't reached the steps before the trailer door opened again and Susana came out. She looked equally pleased about something and just distracted enough that she too nearly passed us by.
"Oh, Detective Briggs," she said as she looked up from her thoughts. "I suppose Mayor Price told you the news."
Briggs cleared his throat lightly. "No, we must have just missed him. What news?"
"We're going to open the show. Opening night will be tomorrow. I'm just about to call an emergency meeting to let everyone know we're back in production."
"Do you think that's wise?" Briggs asked. "Someone in your theater group very likely murdered your lead actress."
Susana lifted her chin. "I have a business to run, Detective Briggs. If we refund the tickets, the theater group will not recover financially. And how is that investigation going?" she asked a little snippily. "Are you any closer to finding the killer?"
"We're working on it. Sometimes a case like this requires a little more cooperation from the people involved," Briggs said.
Her mouth pulled tight. "Haven't we all been cooperating? I've allowed you unfettered access to cast and crew."
"Yes, you have. By cooperation, I mean people need to be a little more forthright about relationships and character flaws. What can you tell me about Johnny Vespo?"
"Johnny?" she seemed genuinely surprised. "Well, he's a good actor. He plays the Tin Man, and he's generally an audience favorite."
"I'm not interested so much in his career and talents as in his character in general. I have reason to believe that Mr. Vespo can be too forward with women. Have you witnessed anything like that?"
She paused and pursed her lips as if trying not to speak.
"This is exactly what I mean by cooperation," Briggs said tersely. He was in a much saltier mood than usual, but that was my fault. I had to admit, I didn't mind occasionally seeing this tough, gritty side of him.
"Johnny has had a few complaints filed against him," she admitted begrudgingly. "But in the end it was taken care of. Johnny promised to get some counseling, and he issued apologies to the women."
I was still feeling chafed enough by the hand grabbing incident that I decided to step in. Something told me, Briggs wouldn't mind. "You said he promised to get counseling. Did he ever give you any co
nfirmation of that, or did you just assume he did it?"
Susana grew visibly flustered, and a red blush rose up her neck to her face. "I didn't get any official confirmation, if that's what you mean."
"Is there such thing as unofficial confirmation?" Briggs asked.
It was obvious from the pained expression, a far cry from the smile she wore when she left the trailer, that she sorely wished she hadn't run into us. "Johnny told me he attended classes, and I know him well enough to accept his word."
Briggs pulled out a notebook. "Do you have the names of the women who filed the complaints?"
"They're no longer with the troupe. They left us over a year ago."
"Because of Johnny?" I asked too eagerly.
Her brows bunched up. "No, they both landed parts in New York. Their departures had nothing to do with Johnny."
"Susie, Susie." I recognized Constance's cheery tone. She sounded a little like a happy bird. "Is it true?" she blurted before she realized that Susie was engaged in a conversation. Constance smiled at me. "Hello." She nodded at Briggs, then turned to Susana. "Rumor has it we're opening tomorrow night."
"Yes but please don't go spreading it around yet, Constance. I'm calling a meeting to make the formal announcement." Susana turned back to us. "Now, if you have no further questions, I need to talk to my cast and crew."
"Actually"—Briggs glanced at Constance, who quickly got the message and hurried away—"Did Amanda ever put in a complaint about Johnny? What exactly was their relationship?"
"Amanda never put in a complaint about Johnny. As far as I know they were friends. Possibly even more than friends."
"More than friends?" he asked.
"Detective Briggs, we're on the road most of the year. It's impossible to form relationships with people outside this group, so there are lots of pairings and breakups and all the drama you might expect in a group traveling together across the country."
Briggs put away his notebook. "Yes, that makes sense. We won't take up any more of your time."
"Thank you." With that, she hurried away.
I needed to get to the shop so we headed back. "Penny for your thoughts, Detective Briggs," I said as we rounded the corner to Harbor Lane.
"At this point, they aren't even worth a penny. But I think I'm going to talk to Johnny Vespo. I'll ask him how his costume got ruined and mention that he was seen harassing the victim on the wharf. We'll see how he responds."
Chapter 31
I plodded into the flower shop feeling very deflated as compared to an hour earlier when I was taking photos of what I was sure would be incriminating evidence. But something wasn't right about any of it. Briggs and his team would never have missed that piece of silver, which meant it landed there after the murder scene was cleared. But since no one, and in particular the Tin Man, had put on costumes since that night, it meant someone must have put the silver there. It had to be someone who was trying to frame Johnny. But who?
"I thought you'd come back from your walk refreshed, but you look down in the dumps," Ryder noted. He was at the potting table. Gigi and Tom had requested some mint plants for their new herb display. I could smell the minty freshness all the way across the store.
"I walked to the town square hoping to find something to help the case. I thought I'd found it, the smoking gun, as they say, but I'm thinking it was more of a fizzled wet gun."
"Didn't pan out, eh?"
"Not really. Sort of back to square one." I grabbed the treat can and gave one to Kingston. "Your mom saved one of your kind today," I told the crow. "Well, not your kind specifically, but you would have been proud."
Kingston ignored me and nibbled his treat.
"You saved another crow?" Ryder asked.
"No, a pelican from some fishing line. Then it turned into a whole thing but it's over. I thought we had the killer, but now I'm not too sure."
"You'll get him. There's no better sleuth than my boss," Ryder said brightly.
"My mood might not be great, but it seems like you're doing better. Did Lola finally come to terms with the whole idea of you going off on the internship?"
"If by coming to terms you mean she hasn't been crying every time I bring it up then I guess so." Ryder turned off the sink at the potter's table. "I think I'm allergic to the mint plants. I've got a rash on my hands."
Ryder's statement pulled me out of my deep thoughts. "You do? Let me see." I walked over to the potting table. He held up his hands. Small red bumps had popped up on his wrists.
"We should get you some cream or antihistamine. Is this your first time around mint plants?"
"I think I've been around them before, but I've never transplanted twenty plants. That takes a great deal more interaction. Maybe that's why I sneeze after I eat a peppermint. I guess I have some kind of mint allergy."
"Yes, that's just like my allergy to eucalyptus. I sneeze every time I get near it." The flat of tiny mint plants was empty. "Looks like you finished. I'll do the next mint plants if they order more. I can go to the drug store and get you some cream for that rash." I stopped and glanced back at his hands. "The rash," I said to myself.
Ryder started cleaning up the potting table. "Don't worry about the rash or the cream. My mom keeps a well-stocked medicine cabinet. She'll have something in her mini drug store to take care of the rash."
"That's good. Why don't you take off then. I'll clean the shop and lock up." My brain had had a sudden light bulb moment, and I was now anxious to close the store and head down to the station.
"I'll just clean up the mess I made," Ryder said.
"No really, go home and take care of that rash, and thank you. I think you might just have helped me solve the murder case."
Ryder's eyes lit up. "Really? Well, aren't I clever. What did I do to help you solve it?"
"It's your allergy to mint and that terrible, wonderful rash. I'll tell you all about it if it pans out, but for now, go home and take care of it."
He shook his head in confusion but followed my orders. He grabbed his coat off the hook. "See you tomorrow then, boss. And I hope you catch the killer."
"I hope so too." As soon as Ryder left, I pulled out my phone and dialed Briggs.
"Hey, I was just about to call you," he said. "I just interviewed Johnny Vespo. Looks like I won't get the pleasure of arresting him. He insisted the costume was in perfect shape when he brought it back to the costume trailer. He had a witness to corroborate it too. The costume is not easy to put on alone, so he has one of the stage hands help him get dressed and undressed. I talked to the guy who helped him undress. He said the costume was intact."
I picked up a wet rag to finish cleaning the potting counter. "Yes, that doesn't surprise me. Someone was trying to frame him. And I think I know who. I just need to solidify some details and motive."
"Are you going to fill me in on this new theory?" he asked.
"Too much to explain over the phone. I'm just cleaning up, then I'll head down to the station. I can tell you my theory then." I dried the sink and headed over to the broom.
"I won't be here. I've got to head over to the Mayfield precinct. They need me to sign off on some cases."
I stopped my awkward one handed sweeping. "Darn. I'm still going to head over to the station. I need to look at the coroner's report for Amanda. Can you leave it on your desk?"
"It's already there in the case folder. What are you looking for?"
"Would Nate make a comment or notation if he saw any rashes on Amanda's skin?"
"Sure. He's very thorough."
"Great."
"You're looking for a rash?" he asked.
"Yes and like I said, I'll explain it all when I see you. I think that first sneeze when I examined Amanda's body might just have been the only clue we needed. I want to finish cleaning, and it's impossible to sweep with one hand. I'll see you soon."
"All right and Lacey—" he started but I finished for him.
"I know. Stay out of danger."
"Ri
ght."
"You're a bit of a spoil sport, do you know that, Detective Briggs?"
"Lacey."
"Yes, yes, no danger. I'll talk to you soon."
Chapter 32
My feet could barely keep up with my stride as I raced along the sidewalk to the police station. My intuition usually kicked in when I was certain I stumbled on something crucial, and it was that same intuition that had sent my sleuthing sense into overdrive. This time, I was certain I had something big.
As much as I loved talking to Franki, I was slightly disappointed when she waved to me as she was getting into her car in the diner parking lot. I was bursting with frenetic energy, anxious to read the coroner's report. It could make or break my theory. Franki hurried over to me.
"It's the first shift with Kimi and Kylie in charge." Franki's terrible ex-husband had left her to fend for herself with not one but two sets of twins. They were all teens and wonderful kids. She had done a great job all around and shown her ex-husband that it was his loss. The boys, Taylor and Tyler, were away at college. Fortunately for Franki, Taylor had been quite the academic and Tyler an exceptional soccer player. They both received hefty scholarships which helped offset the cost of sending two kids to college at once. Kimi and Kylie still had a few years before college. In the meantime, Franki was training them on how to manage the diner so that Franki could take some much earned time off.
"So you left them on their own, eh? I'm sure you'll be pleased with how they handle it. They're both so smart and responsible."
Franki leaned her head side to side to let me know she wasn't entirely sure that was true. "They're good girls, and I know they want to impress me."
"What will you do with your free time?" I asked.
She rolled in her lips to hide a smile. "I've got an appointment to have a pedicure and a massage over in Mayfield."
"Good for you, Franki. You've earned it." I took a step leading away to let her know I needed to get going.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked. "You were practically racing down the sidewalk."
Freesias and Foul Play Page 14
