The Grim Reader

by Kate Carlisle

  On the other hand, if the book had any connection to the murders, this might be the perfect way to lure our killer out of hiding. I checked the names of my fellow bidders and didn’t recognize them, but the evening was still young.

  I had noticed that Shandi’s name was listed on the other shinier book club edition, but not this one. Didn’t she know that this was the book that Lawson had told her about? Had he shown her the book? Apparently not. That was okay with me.

  An hour later, the auctioneer began calling out the winners, and when it came to the copy of Little Women that I’d refurbished, the speaker called my name.

  “I won!” I cried, and Derek grinned. The very book that Bettina Trimble had sold to Lawson Schmidt for ten thousand dollars had barely received six bids. And while I’d listed a higher amount than anyone else on the list, I’d still figured there would be more bidders after me.

  But no. I was thrilled to hear my name called as the winner. A silent auction could be a cutthroat experience, with people glancing over your shoulder waiting for you to add your bid and leave, then slithering up to add their own higher bid. I was amazed that I didn’t have a serious competitor for this lovingly refurbished rare book. And again I had to ask myself, why hadn’t Shandi bid on it? Clearly she hadn’t connected the dots to realize that the book Lawson had told her about would be older and perhaps slightly less shiny than the one she had bid on. But most people like shiny objects, I supposed.

  I was especially amazed that I’d only had to pay forty dollars for the book that was arguably worth ten thousand. When I told Clyde I’d won it, he gave me his blessing. Especially when I confided that I planned to write my own check to the literacy organization and that I intended to give the book to Lawson’s mother—“Marmee”—as he would’ve wanted. I might’ve been mistaken, but I thought I spied a mist of tears in Clyde’s curmudgeonly eyes when he heard the news. And that was worth more than anything I might’ve gained by selling the book to someone else.

  * * *

  • • •

  By four o’clock Sunday afternoon, everyone had started packing up their booths and clearing out. I had already packed most of my books and tools and decorations back in the three bins. Derek had taken the posters, the photos, and the kite to the car, and Gabriel and Alex helped us cart the rest of the bins to the car, too.

  The workers had begun breaking down some of the booths and packing them up in the massive truck that would take them back to the rental company until next year.

  As we dragged ourselves to our cars, I suddenly realized that the last night of the festival probably hadn’t been the best evening to schedule a performance of a big musical production.

  “I’m so tired,” Alex said.

  I nodded. “I can barely stay awake. But we’ve got to rally somehow. We’ve got to summon enough energy to enjoy the musical.”

  “I’ll make a pot of coffee when we get home,” Derek said.

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  We took a thirty-minute nap when we got home, then woke up and took a quick shower. The shower helped revive us both, and the two cups of strong coffee made my eyes pop. I also chewed on peppermint candies to keep me awake through the performance. I was pretty sure we would make it through to the end—and sleep like the dead later tonight.

  We sat on the left side of the second row surrounded by family and friends, including Mom and Dad sitting in the center of the first row next to Meg and John. Alex and Gabriel sat next to us on the aisle and we chatted quietly until the orchestra struck the first notes and the curtain slowly rose.

  It was thrilling to see my family members and friends walking on stage and delivering lines as if they’d been performing forever. Where did all this talent come from? I was so impressed and enjoyed every minute of the first act.

  I began to notice that from where we sat, I could see a partial section backstage on the left side where most of the actors entered and exited. It was a bit of a thrill to get a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes action every few minutes.

  I was ridiculously proud of China’s work on the costumes. They added so much to the production value and I couldn’t wait to celebrate with her. I still planned to kick her butt someday, but for now I couldn’t be prouder.

  The singing was wonderful, and as London said, Shandi’s voice was remarkably good. She was clearly a professional talent, but the big shocker was that her acting was surprisingly inclusive and generous. I had worried that she would try to upstage the others, but she was supportive and aware of all the other characters on stage at the same time she was performing. I wondered if London had had a hand in directing her to be that way.

  Halfway through the first act, I watched one of the actors exit stage left, her heavy costume brushing the curtain back enough that I could see Ryan standing on the sidelines. Had he been there the whole time? Was he there to personally support Shandi? I wouldn’t be surprised. Like a prizefighter’s manager in between the rounds, I could imagine Ryan feeding her sips of water and giving her pep talks.

  His adoration of the Diva was almost embarrassing sometimes. I thought back to Shandi’s visit to the conference room a few days ago and how Ryan had watched in awe as she mingled and spoke to the “little people.”

  That memory reminded me of the day Ryan had begged my Mom to convince London to recast the play. I shook my head, recalling Mom’s words. She’s no spring chicken. I frowned as I realized that it was later that evening that Mom was almost killed by the hit-and-run driver.

  Because I couldn’t help myself, I tried to connect the other moments when someone had said something that wasn’t quite complimentary enough about Shandi.

  Jacob Banyan had told Mom that he “didn’t give a hoot about that stupid musical. A bunch of amateurs and one pathetic over-the-hill actress who couldn’t sing her way out of a paper bag.”

  Jacob Banyan was killed that night.

  Oh my God, I thought, and had to catch my breath at the realization that we had a motive, as crazy as it seemed. Was I nuts or was there really a link?

  And Mom’s attacker hadn’t given up yet. That rock that was flung from a slingshot a few days ago had been meant for her. Anybody who could shoot a slingshot that far would’ve also been accurate enough to hit their target—unless, at that precise moment, Mom bent over to stick those cards into her tote bag.

  But then, what was Lawson’s crime against Shandi? Clyde thought Lawson was killed because he had stolen the festival money. I had assumed—as I often did—that it was all about the book. So which of us was right? Or was it something else?

  Shandi had come looking for the book Lawson had told her about. Was she behind all of the killings? That was a stretch, but it still made sense. But if it was all about the book, then why hadn’t she bid on the valuable edition of Little Women? And another thing: I refused to believe that Shandi was proficient with a slingshot.

  But maybe I was being sexist. An actor had to have skills in all sorts of areas. Horseback riding, shooting, different languages. So why wouldn’t Shandi have learned to shoot a slingshot somewhere in her career? Maybe she’d played a role in a rural comedy or a desert island adventure. Slingshot skills would be useful in those locales, depending on the script. I made a mental note to look up her acting roles and see if anything slingshot-related jumped out at me.

  Shandi had her admirers and minions, though, and I wondered if one of them might have gone to bat on her behalf. Saffron, for instance, had been living in this rural area of the wine country for years. She might’ve found a slingshot useful now and then when taking down wildlife critters.

  I almost cracked myself up at the image of snooty Saffron Bergeron taking down critters. So where was I going with all of this slingshot theory? I sobered up, knowing it really wasn’t a laughing matter. Someone had tried to attack my mother with a big honking rock and a slingshot. I imagined it was that same person
who’d tried to run her down that first night. Actors needed driving skills, too.

  The curtain wafted out again. And staring at Ryan, I suddenly realized that he might know how to use a slingshot, too.

  He’s so quiet, I thought. Almost invisible. Never making waves. Was that part of his appeal to Shandi? He wouldn’t be noticed when he took care of something she had directed him to do. Like kill her enemies, for instance.

  Maybe he’d been after anyone who’d spoken ill of Shandi. But what about Lawson? I’d never heard him say anything about the woman. Was it simply about wanting the book? That didn’t make sense. But then, I had learned over the years that when it came to books, some people could go a little crazy.

  I was going way out on a limb with this Ryan-as-killer theory and I had no way to prove any of it. Not yet anyway. But I continued to watch the young man on the sidelines and wondered. And worried. My mother was in the audience tonight, in the first row. From where he stood, Ryan probably had a direct visual line to her. Was he staring at her right now? Would he try something tonight? In front of three hundred audience members, a good-sized cast of characters, and a full orchestra?

  I picked up the program to give my antsy hands something to do. In the dim light I could barely read the synopsis of the play and the various biographies, but my eyes quickly became accustomed to the dimness and I scanned the words as the actors continued performing on the stage. I was surprised to read that Ryan was listed as an understudy for the role of Laurie, the boy who lived next door to the girls and who was in love with Jo through most of the play. So he was an actor, too? Was that how he and Shandi met?

  Ryan’s biography listed his other credits as well as his accomplishments and educational background. He had served in the military, and he spoke French and Spanish and Cockney English. Who knew? He rode horseback. He sailed. And he was proficient with weaponry, particularly knives, handguns, rifles, crossbows, and even vintage weaponry such as catapults and slingshots.

  Oh my God. Was this for real? Did they teach all of that in the military?

  I grabbed Derek’s arm. “Read this,” I whispered, and shoved the program in his hand.

  He gave me a look that told me he thought I’d gone nuts, and maybe he was right. But he went ahead and read it, holding the program at an angle so that he could get the maximum light to shine on it.

  And then he whipped around and stared at me. “No way,” he whispered.

  “Way!” I whispered back, still shaking with nerves.

  Alex elbowed me and I could see her smiling. “What’s going on with you two?”

  I handed her the program and leaned in close to whisper, “Have Gabriel read this. Right now.” I pointed to Ryan’s bio.

  She gave me the same doubtful look, but leaned over to Gabriel and asked him to do what I’d said.

  A minute later, Gabriel leaned forward and looked down the row at Derek. He made two hand signals, and Derek nodded, then pointed to his wristwatch and sent two other signals back.

  These guys, I thought, and had to smile. Their inner spies were gearing up for a fight.

  Gabriel nodded and went back to watching the play.

  I sat back and enjoyed the show, knowing that the game was afoot.

  Chapter 16

  During intermission, Alex and I went to the bar to get two small glasses of wine to share with our guys. We found them in a dark corner of the patio, discussing a plan of action.

  I told them everything I’d put together in my head about Ryan, even before I’d read the program.

  “He’s standing backstage left,” I said. “He was there for the whole first act.”

  “I noticed that, too,” Gabriel said. “But he slipped outside just as intermission was starting. The stage manager told me that Shandi sent him off to the drugstore because she didn’t like the brand of water they had backstage.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Prima donna.”

  “They call her the Diva.”

  “Suits her,” she said.

  I scowled. “And I’m pretty sure Ryan had his eye on Mom most of the time he was standing backstage.”

  “Someone’s out to get her,” Derek murmured. “It could be him.”

  “But I don’t think he would do anything until after Shandi’s solo in the second act.” I took a quick look at the program. “It’s Marmee’s big moment. No way would he ruin it for her.”

  “Good point,” Gabriel said.

  I nodded. “I say we enter on the right side, make our way backstage, and sneak around to the left side, going behind the back curtains, behind the scrim, and grab him.”

  Gabriel and Derek exchanged a look, then Gabriel said, “We have to get him before he can utter a sound.”

  “Otherwise, we’ll disrupt the play,” Derek noted. “The less commotion, the better.”

  Alex looked at the two men. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

  Gabriel shot a look at Derek and shrugged. “She’s better than both of us.”

  Derek nodded. “I’m good with it.”

  “You can take him, Alex,” I whispered. “He’s ex-military, but there’s no way he has your skills. And once he’s out cold, I can help you drag him around to the back.”

  Alex looked at me, then stared directly at Derek. “I’m not going to tell her.”

  Derek shook his head. “I’m not going to tell her.”

  Gabriel laughed shortly. “I’ll tell her.” He looked at me. “Babe, you’re staying in your seat.”

  “No.” I bristled. “I’m the one who busted him. I’m the one who showed you the program.”

  “Darling,” Derek said.

  My shoulders sagged. “Come on. I want to go with you guys.”

  “Babe,” Gabriel said.

  I held up my hand. “Fine. I played my part. Now I’ll stay behind and make sure Mom is safe.”

  “Darling, we’re not going off to war.”

  I scowled. “You know what I’m saying.”

  Gabriel saluted with a wink. “Read you loud and clear, babe.”

  “Just don’t forget.” I shook the program in their faces. “I’m the mastermind. You’re the muscle.”

  Derek threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I love you, Brooklyn.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Babe, you’re a riot.”

  “Okay, we got this,” Alex said, and gave me a friendly punch in the arm. “Thanks to you.”

  I smiled, then sobered. “I hate to interrupt my sisters’ fabulous presentation, but I think you should do it before the play is over. Because if he stays where he is, he’s got a clear sightline to my mother.”

  Derek looked through the program and found the page he wanted. “There’s only one act left. We’ll wait until we hear this song, ‘The Fire within Me,’ and that’s when we’ll move up the right stairs.” He tapped the program page again. “By the time we hear ‘Small Umbrella in the Rain,’ we’ll be in position to attack. Alex, you’ll render him unconscious, and Gabriel and I will carry him out of here.”

  “Just try not to make too much noise,” I said, wincing. “I’d really love it if the audience doesn’t catch on.”

  “We’ll be quiet,” Gabriel said. “But even if there’s a scuffle or a few screams, people in the audience will think it’s part of the play.”

  “Screams?” I said. “Clearly you’ve never read Little Women. There’s no screaming.”

  Alex snorted.

  “We’ll be quick,” Derek said brusquely. “The point is to render him helpless and get him out of there.”

  “Should we call the police?” I asked.

  “Cops?” Gabriel said.

  Derek grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “You guys sound like our mothers,” I said, but I was smiling, sort of. “I’ll call the cops as soon as I see you
carrying him away. And don’t feel guilty that I don’t get to go on an adventure.”

  They gave each other remorseful looks, as if they were almost about to change their minds and bring me along.

  I smiled hopefully.

  Then Alex said, “Nice try, snookums.”

  “No guilt here,” Derek said.

  “Yeah, forget it, babe,” Gabriel said.

  Alex stood, then leaned down and whispered, “Get that green belt, Brooks. Then we’ll talk.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The bell rang three times, signaling the end of intermission.

  “Here goes nothing,” I muttered as we walked back to our seats.

  Someone in the audience must have noticed those three well-dressed people tiptoeing up the stage right stairs, but nobody said anything. The show’s climax was about to begin and the music was stirring everyone’s hearts.

  My three spymasters disappeared behind the curtain and I held my breath for what felt like several long minutes. The action on stage continued. Annie, playing the youngest sister Beth, had died and was laid out lovingly on one of the couches.

  I kept checking the backstage area and didn’t see Ryan. Was he still at the store picking up water? I was getting really nervous.

  When Jo revealed to her sisters that she had written a book, I knew we had reached the climax of the story. The first chords of the song gave me chills, not only because it was an emotional moment on stage, but because Ryan had returned to his position offstage. And now I could see Alex, standing ten feet back from Ryan. He didn’t notice her because he was staring into the audience, even though Shandi was performing on stage.

  I tried to follow his sightline and realized with horror that he was staring at my mother, just as I’d feared. He couldn’t get away with this.