The Grim Reader

by Kate Carlisle

  But then I watched him reach into his jacket pocket and pull something out. He let his hand drop to his side and I saw what he was surreptitiously holding in his hand.

  Oh my God.

  Had Ryan seen Alex creeping up from behind? Did he know he’d been caught? Or had he simply lost his mind?

  Without another thought, I stood and shouted, “He has a gun!” Then I launched myself across the row of people in front of me and grabbed my mother, dragging her to the ground.

  Alex reacted instantly, tackling Ryan and wrestling the gun away from him. They tumbled onto the stage and the audience went bonkers. There were screams and laughter—did they think it was part of the show?

  Shandi stared at Ryan and screamed, “Why are you ruining the climax of the play?”

  Sara, the girl playing Jo, continued singing and scuttling out of the way as the fighting moved across the stage. Finally she stopped and shrieked, “Who are you? What are you doing in my song?”

  And then she burst into tears.

  The dead sister, Beth—our Annie—finally sat up and looked around, thoroughly confused. Someone in the audience shouted, “It’s a miracle!”

  Most of the audience laughed. And that’s when I remembered to call 911 and report that someone had a gun at the theater.

  Alex and Ryan were now the stars of the show. The orchestra conductor finally realized it and signaled the musicians to stop. Until that moment, none of them had heard anything but the music. Now they all stood and watched Alex straddling Ryan, who was still trying to grab the gun. Everyone was shouting and cheering on the good guys, although it was hard to tell who the good guys were versus the bad ones.

  “Sweetie, are you all right?” my mom asked.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you, but Ryan had a gun pointed at you.”

  We pulled each other up to a sitting position. “I’m fine,” she said. “Isn’t this crazy? But fun.”

  “Oh yeah. Fun.”

  Alex finally managed to calm a squirming Ryan. No thanks to me. I had alerted him and put Alex in danger. But in my defense, the jerk had a gun! Which put everyone in danger.

  Derek and Gabriel walked onto the stage and hoisted Ryan up off the floor.

  The audience applauded the two hunky men, but meanwhile, Shandi and the four sisters were still screaming and shouting for everyone to shut up so the last song could be finished and the musical could end on a high note. But most in the audience couldn’t care less. They were having too much fun watching the action.

  So much for being a mastermind, I thought. But at least I’d managed to save my mother from imminent danger. That was how I would insist on painting it, anyway.

  Derek shoved Ryan onto one of the couches. “Stay put,” he ordered, then glanced out at the audience. “Is there a representative from law enforcement in the audience?”

  Were the police here yet? I had my answer when Steve Willoughby shouted, “Right here,” and jogged down the side aisle. “Please remain where you are.” He rushed up to the stage with two of his officers, who weren’t in uniform. Had they all been in the audience?

  Shandi was still yelling at Ryan. “How could you ruin it all?”

  Ryan was cringing at Shandi’s accusations. Finally, he shouted back, “I did it all for you. I’ve always been here for you.”

  The audience began to quiet down, as people realized there was another show to watch.

  “You needed money,” Ryan said in a rush, “and I tried to get it for you.”

  “I don’t need it that badly.”

  “Well, I wanted to help. But then a lot of people were saying mean things about you and I tried to make them stop.”

  “People’s words don’t bother me,” she insisted.

  “But you said you wanted to make a big Hollywood comeback. If people believed those bad things about you, they might not want to produce a movie for you.”

  “I was going to do that myself.”

  “Right,” Ryan said agreeably, “and you needed money to do it, you said. So I got you some money. And then you said you wanted Lawson’s book so I went looking for it. It’s my job to get you everything you ask for.”

  Did they know they had the audience’s full attention? Except for Shandi, I didn’t think so.

  “But why?” Shandi cried. “Why did you do all that?”

  Ryan’s eyes bugged out, clearly incredulous that she had to ask the question. “Because I love you!”

  Shandi stopped in her tracks. She turned to the audience, striking a pose as if she were about to make a speech, but she only wanted us to see her astonished reaction. Always the Diva. It was so contrived, the audience burst into laughter.

  I had to admit she knew how to put her best foot forward.

  “I didn’t know any of this,” she said, her tone sorrowful.

  Derek turned to Ryan, “You killed Lawson Schmidt for the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “You killed Lawson?” Shandi said, shock in her tone.

  “He had the book you wanted,” he said, exasperated. “And he’d used the festival money to get it. So I warned him that I would reveal what he’d done unless he gave me the rest of the money.”

  “That’s blackmail,” Shandi said.

  “So what?” he said. “It was working. I was getting the money for you. But then Lawson said he was going to tell the police, so I had to, you know, kill him.”

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  He just shrugged.

  “How did you find out about Lawson’s book?” I shouted.

  Ryan shielded his eyes from the bright stage lights, focused on me, and said, “I overheard Lawson telling Clyde about it. Said he paid ten thousand dollars for it. They didn’t notice me listening. Nobody notices me. I’m quiet.”

  “He is quiet,” Mom admitted.

  She and I moved closer to the foot of the stage to hear the details. Ryan was completely without remorse. It was sickening, but fascinating all the same, and I wanted to catch every word he said.

  “Lawson was going to give you all the money?” Derek said.

  “Not at first,” Ryan said. “But I’d heard him talk about the book and how he’d pilfered some of the money, so I threatened to tell Becky and he offered to give me a portion if I would keep my mouth shut.”

  “But you wanted it all,” Mom said.

  “You bet your ass.”

  “So you met him that night in the conference room?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I offered to share a bottle of wine with him so of course he came willingly. You wine people are easily led to slaughter.”

  I snorted. This guy had killed or attempted to kill at least three people and he was disparaging us?

  Clyde shouted from the side aisle, “Once Lawson was dead, did you try to work a deal with Banyan to get him into the festival?”

  “Sure. Why not? He has money. I figured he could pay me as much as he’d been willing to pay to get a seat on the committee, right?”

  Someone knelt down next to me. “Talkative little creep, isn’t he?”

  I turned and did a double take. “Inspector Lee!” I grabbed her in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  The San Francisco homicide detective looked as beautiful and chic as ever in a black cashmere sweater, silk slacks, and high-heeled booties.

  “I was at the festival earlier but didn’t get over to your booth.” She grinned. “Never a dull moment around you, Brooklyn.”

  Clyde wasn’t finished with Ryan. “Why did you break into my bookshop?” he demanded.

  “I knew that Lawson had given you the book, so I figured I could track you down and steal it. Not that I cared about the book that much, but I knew Shandi would like to have it.” He gazed longingly in Shandi’s direction. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy.
”

  The actress was rolling her eyes, clearly fed up with her thoroughly corrupt assistant.

  “Did you expect to kill me, too?” Clyde asked.

  “If I had to.”

  Clyde sucked in a breath. “Did you lure Banyan to the bookshop?”

  “No, he followed me there. He walked in and threatened me, so I pulled my knife.” He grinned. “He didn’t look too happy when I sliced his neck.”

  “A total psychopath,” I muttered.

  “And completely insane,” Inspector Lee whispered, then shook her head. “It’s always the clean-cut, boy-next-door types you’ve gotta look out for.”

  I turned my attention back to Ryan and said loudly, “But you didn’t find the book.”

  Ryan squinted in order to see who had spoken. “Oh, it’s you again. No.”

  Pulling the book out of my purse, I waved it in the air, taunting him. “You could’ve won it in the silent auction for forty or fifty bucks, but you were too stupid to recognize its value.”

  His eyes widened and without warning he leaped toward me, trying to get his hands on the book. Or my neck.

  Gabriel and Alex both grabbed the back of his shirt and shoved him back onto the couch. “Dude, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Why did you attack me?” my mother shouted from the first row.

  He looked at Shandi then and his bottom lip trembled. Was he finally showing some hint of emotion? “She told me you were too old to play Jo. She said you were no spring chicken.”

  Shandi started to laugh and it was the first honest sound I’d heard her utter.

  Ryan looked incensed. “Don’t laugh! It was awful. She had to pay.”

  “But Ryan, honey. It’s true. I’m no spring chicken. But I’ve got plenty of years left to strut my stuff.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you could return to Hollywood in style. In fact, I’m glad I ruined this whole musical. You’ll get more publicity than ever and you’ll return to A-list status. You’ll be in demand. I don’t mind if I go to jail.”

  “No worries, he’s definitely going to jail,” Inspector Lee whispered.

  Ryan scanned the stage and the audience looking for sympathy. “My only concern is for Shandi.”

  Shandi glanced out into the audience and held out her hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? People love me.”

  And the crowd went wild.

  Chapter 17

  Maybe that wild reaction of the audience could be blamed on the anxiety and stress we’d all been suffering. After weeks of preparation and then three days of festival frenzy along with two murders and several attempts at a third, maybe things had simply caught up with all of us.

  Not only that, but we had all just watched a vicious killer get taken down, live on stage at the grand finale of a lighthearted musical. It was operatic, for goodness’ sake!

  So yeah, everyone in the crowd just sort of lost their minds.

  The police had taken Ryan away and had finally managed to calm the crowd down. But before they could get everyone out of the theater, Shandi came to the edge of the stage and shouted for attention. “The police have a job to do, but so do we. We want to finish the show.”

  “The show must go on,” London yelled from the side of the stage.

  Stevie wasn’t about to make everyone in town hate him, so he gave a big wave to Shandi. “Nobody leaves until we see that big final number.”

  With a flourish, the orchestra struck up the chords to the big finale and the entire cast joined in to sing “Sometimes When You Dream.”

  And there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

  The police instructed everyone to leave the theater in a single-file line. It was slow going, but the authorities had to get names and contact information from each person before they were allowed to go home.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t include me. Or Mom. Or anyone else who was still on stage, including all of the actors and Derek, Alex, and Gabriel. Stevie assured us all that we weren’t leaving anytime soon.

  I noticed that Saffron Bergeron had slithered out with the rest of the audience. I really wanted to know what schemes she had been running with Banyan and Ryan and anyone else who was willing to sabotage the festival and my mother. But those questions would have to wait.

  I sat in the first row with Mom. Inspector Lee had disappeared a while ago to commiserate with the local police detectives, but now she strolled toward me, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Jeez, Brooklyn, we really can’t take you anywhere.”

  I let out a heavy breath. “I know.”

  “So, let’s talk motives,” she said. “Was it all about the book this time?”

  “The book definitely complicated things,” I admitted. “But mostly it was all about obsessive love and greed.”

  “Two of my favorites.” She sat down next to me. “So I guess you kind of saved the day.”

  “Would you mind mentioning that fact to Stevie?”

  The Inspector’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Stevie?”

  I winced. “I mean, Detective Willoughby. He and I were in grammar school together. Back then he was known as Stevie.”

  “That’s sweet.” She watched the goings on up on stage for a minute, then gave me a sideways glance. “Nice vault, by the way.”

  I remembered how I’d hurdled over the heads of several people to get to my mom.

  “I wasn’t even thinking,” I admitted. “I just did what I needed to do.”

  “You stopped the show, kid.” She gave me a light elbow jab. “And probably saved your mother’s life.”

  Her warm words shocked me so much that I felt my eyes burn. I had to breathe in and out for a few seconds. I refused to break down and cry in front of Inspector Lee, but my heart was full. I guess she was right about saving my mother’s life, but it hadn’t been a conscious decision. It was simply an instinctive reaction in the moment. Gun. Mom. No!

  * * *

  • • •

  Four days later, the grape harvest began. Each night Derek and I went home exhausted but happy. We dined at Arugula one night, spending a few minutes in the kitchen chatting with my talented chef sister Savannah and Derek’s brother Dalton.

  I had breakfast with Robin finally—pancakes with the most decadent banana whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce—and we talked about nothing but babies. I was so thrilled for her and Austin, and laughed a lot, especially when she lamented the inevitable loss of her cute figure.

  I spent two days working my butt off with Keith at the Dharma Dojo and he pronounced me “not bad.” I couldn’t wait to tell Alex how much he had gushed over my progress. And I seriously couldn’t wait to get back to Alex’s studio and really start pushing toward my very own green belt. I dreamed of the day when I could finally match moves with my sister China.

  Gabriel filled us in on the latest happenings in Ryan’s double homicide case. Apparently Shandi was happy to spill everything she knew about Ryan and his machinations on her behalf. She admitted that she’d ignored most of what he did because she was the beneficiary of his actions. But when it came to murder, she refused to condone his behavior.

  Which made her okay in my book.

  After the last long day of the harvest, we all gathered at Mom and Dad’s house to celebrate another fantastic season. As Dad poured drinks for everyone, Mom pulled me aside.

  “You’ll never guess what I found out this afternoon.”

  I smiled. “You’re right, I’ll never guess. Tell me.”

  “Saffron’s house is up for sale.”

  I blinked in surprise. “What does that mean? Is she moving away, I hope?”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “Far, far away, I imagine. She has no more friends here and her flower shop is going under.”

  I frowned. “I hate to wish bad luck on anyone, so I won’t. But
darn it, Mom, that woman was evil.”

  “She was definitely constipated,” Mom said, nodding.

  I had to laugh. “Okay, good enough.”

  “I have more news,” she said.

  “You’re full of news, aren’t you?”

  “All I have to do is walk down the Lane and people talk to me.”

  “So what else did you hear?”

  “Misty got her winery back. She threatened to sue the bank for selling her deed to Banyan and they rescinded the foreclosure notice.”

  “Now, that’s wonderful news,” I said, and gave Mom an enthusiastic hug. It was the perfect ending to a long, painful period in the young history of our beloved Dharma.

  * * *

  • • •

  On our last day in Dharma, Derek wanted to take a ride around the hills and enjoy the views. I jumped into the car, happy to be with him as we meandered through the valley. We drove past both of our parents’ homes, then crossed over Dharma Creek toward the winery. Derek turned on Vineyard View and headed for Red Mountain Highway.

  “It’s so pretty up here,” I said, as we drove toward my two brothers’ homes in the hills overlooking the vineyards.

  Before we reached the top of Red Mountain, he turned on a smaller road and followed the mild twists and turns until we reached an overlook. He edged off the road and stopped.

  “I’ve never been up here,” I said, gazing out at the green hills with their terraced rows of rustic grapevines. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” He smiled and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let’s have a look around.”

  “Okay.”

  I joined him on the narrow path and held hands as we took another long look at the spectacular view. Then he walked toward a narrower road a few yards up the hill.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just up here.” He turned down the narrow road and we walked for another forty or fifty yards. Then he stopped in the middle of a wide swatch of land that stretched from the narrow road all the way to the edge of a shallow gorge a few hundred yards away. “What do you think?”

  I smiled at him, mystified. “About what?”