by Ali Franklin
Gus laid her phone back on the desk. “Are you sure she didn’t call you again that night? To tell you anything else?”
Ryan shook her head. “I wish she had, but no. That’s the last I ever heard from her.”
Gus stopped his recorder and placed it back in his pocket. He made a note on his pad, then said, “She said she figured out something. What do you think that was?”
Ryan sat back in her chair. “I have no idea. She said she’d just talked with someone. Whoever it was must have helped her put the pieces together.”
“Did the two of you ever talk about Veronica’s murder? Ever discuss who might have killed her?”
“No. The last time I saw her was at the committee meeting when we decided the FLH would continue. Chase was there, and so were Danielle and Father Paul. We didn’t talk about Veronica, except when Chase said she would’ve wanted the event to continue.”
“Have you talked with any of the other committee members about Veronica’s death?” asked Gus.
“No.”
“You’re not holding out on me, are you, Ms. McCabe?”
“What do you mean?”
“Jack tells me you’re an amateur detective. You solved an old murder a few months ago, and had a hand in an investigation before that.”
“That’s true.”
He grinned at her. “I don’t suppose you’re keeping any juicy clues to yourself so you can solve this one before the Sheriff’s Department does?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You think I’d keep clues to myself and potentially let a murderer get away?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone withheld evidence.”
“It would be the first time I withheld evidence,” she said, her cheeks getting hot. “I’ve told you everything I know. I want this murder solved and I want us all to get back to our normal lives.”
Gus looked down at his notebook again. “You said that, on the night of Veronica Arrington’s murder, you went home and went to bed—alone. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
“And because you were alone, there is no one who can vouch for your whereabouts. Is that correct?”
Ryan didn’t like where this was going. “What are you implying, Detective?”
“You said you didn’t know Veronica was dead until Detective Prieto called you the next morning.”
It didn’t sound like a question, so Ryan didn’t answer. She crossed her arms.
He looked up from his notes. “Would you like to change anything in your statement?”
“No.” She stood, arms still folded. “And I have a busy day ahead.”
He smiled and stood, returning his notebook to his blazer pocket. “I understand. But you know I had to ask.” He walked toward the door. Then he turned.
“By the way,” he said, a la Columbo. “The lab figured out whose leftover chili Veronica was eating when she died.”
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.
“It was yours.”
Gus opened the door and walked out, waving at Helen over his shoulder before he disappeared into the hallway.
Chapter 15
Ryan was uneasy for the rest of the day. She couldn’t get Lipinski’s words out of her head. But there was nothing she could do about it—except find the real killer.
She powered through until her alarm rang at two-thirty, signaling half an hour until her afternoon rehearsal. Ryan smiled. Nothing lifted her spirits like getting deep into some music.
She closed her computer. Then she grabbed her bag and told Helen she was off to Van Zandt Hall. “It’ll be a long one, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ryan walked out of Glaser Hall and headed for the pond. She skirted the south end and walked behind the Student Union Building, also known as “the SUB.” She emerged outside Van Zandt Hall.
Van Zandt, also known as “VZ,” was the home of Haverwood’s Performing Arts department and theaters. It was the largest building on campus, though the new Patricia Arthur Humanities Building would take that title once it was finished. The in-progress building had been made possible by a gift from a billionaire alumnus the previous semester. He named the building after his former girlfriend after he and Ryan brought the girlfriend’s killer to justice. Ryan smiled at the unfinished skeleton of the building, grateful that she and the alum had been able to bring closure to that unsolved death.
Ryan entered VZ and headed for the large auditorium at the east end of the hall. As she neared, she could hear students preparing for the rehearsal. Some were warming up their voices, others were memorizing lyrics, and still others were stretching or practicing dance moves.
Ryan entered the big space and was immediately confronted by a male student with wide eyes and a bright smile.
“Dr. McCabe, Greg has the flu. How long does he have to be out before I get to take over his part for good?”
Ryan raised a hand. “I don’t know anything about Greg having the flu. We’re here for our rehearsal. Let’s do that and let Dr. Sayers handle the rest.”
“But Dr. McCabe, we’re only two months away from the show.”
“Then you’d better hope you don’t get the flu.” Ryan walked to the front of the auditorium and up the stairs to the stage. She took a moment to maneuver the piano to just the right spot and told everyone to join her on the stage to warm up.
Today’s rehearsal was for the understudies. These were the players who had smaller parts in the production, but also learned one of the more prominent roles in case one of the leads wasn’t able to perform. These students didn’t usually get to rehearse the main roles during the regular rehearsals, so Ryan arranged extra rehearsals so they’d be fully prepared if they got the call.
Ryan played scales to warm up her fingers. A moment later, she looked up and said, “Okay, may-mee-my-mo-mu. Here we go.” She played the arpeggio, then repeated it a half-step step higher, moving up and down two full octaves. The group spent about another ten minutes warming up.
Ryan heard whispering from the front row of seats and looked up. “What’s going on?”
A stunning young woman sat sprawled across a seat, looking like she owned the theater. She had long, curly brown hair and big blue eyes. Ryan knew she was also blessed with an incredible singing voice and superb acting skills.
“Evie,” said Ryan, “this is an understudy rehearsal. What are you doing here?”
“Yeah,” called a petulant female voice from the other side of the stage.
Evie Morrison flipped her hair over one shoulder with a calculated motion and stared at Ryan. “I’m just here to watch my boyfriend rehearse. I won’t get in the way.” She blew a kiss toward one of the young men on the stage. He looked down at his sneakers.
“You’re already causing a disruption. Please don’t do it again, or I’ll ask you to leave.” Evie faked a smile, then pantomimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.
Ryan called out the name of the number they would practice first. Halfway through the first verse, Ryan heard two people singing the part of Jade, the musical’s female lead. She knew one of them was Kelly Lucero, the understudy. And she had a pretty good idea who the second one was. She stopped and looked out to the front row.
“Evie, is that you?” asked Ryan. “Are you singing?”
“Sorry. Habit,” said the student.
Ryan didn’t want to lose the momentum of the rehearsal, so she continued. Hearing the sound again, she stopped and stood.
“Evie, you need to go.” Ryan pointed toward the exit in the back
“But she’s doing it wrong,” whined Evie. “She doesn’t know how to make Jade sound like she’s torn about her decision.”
Kelly threw down her notebook, causing everyone to jump. “I’m not doing this,” she said. “I’m not going to fight you every step of the way.”
“You don’t have to, sweetie,” said Evie. “You just have to do it my way.”
“Like hell I will,” said the understudy. “I
’m a better singer than you are any day. I have no idea why I am understudy for you.” She looked around. “In fact, I don’t know why half these people are understudies.”
The students around her murmured their agreement. Ryan took a breath. Understudies were often dissatisfied with their roles, and sometimes they even decided to mutiny. She needed to stop this right now.
“Evie, out.” Ryan pointed toward the door. The student recognized the hard line the professor was drawing. She gathered her things and walked out.
Ryan looked around the stage at the ten understudies. “How many of you think you should have gotten the main role and not the understudy part? Be honest.”
Half of the students raised their hands. Ryan directed her next comments to them. “You all have enough experience in musical theater to understand the importance of understudies. I don’t need to explain that to you. But apparently I need to explain something else.”
She took a few steps, putting herself in the middle of the little group.
“Dr. Sayers and I are putting our faith in you. You’re our insurance. You’re the reason we know the show can go on, even if something happens. And while you’re understudies today, that could change in an instant.”
She looked around at the students’ faces. “Every time we meet, we’re going to rehearse like you’re the leads. I expect you to act like leads, and I’ll treat you like leads. Any questions?”
Another woman raised her hand. “Dr. McCabe, when was the last time an understudy got to go on during a regular show?”
“I can’t remember the last time we had a whole run of the show when we didn’t need a few of the understudies.” Ryan walked back to the piano. “If you won’t give your understudy role your full effort, you need to give it up. Dr. Sayers and I only want cast members who are fully committed to the show, regardless of what part they’re playing.”
A few of the students looked at each other and shook their heads. Ryan continued. “This is your chance to leave, while we still have time to find a new understudy. But if you stay with me today, you are committing to behave like a lead every time we’re here.”
She looked around again. “Dr. Sayers has given me full authority to dismiss anyone from the show if I don’t think they’re committed. I know you’ve all been thinking about it since the cast list was posted. Now is the time to make your decision.”
No one moved. Lewis Dedman stepped forward. Lewis was the understudy for the male lead and Evie’s boyfriend. He turned to look at the group as he addressed Ryan.
“We’re here because we want to be in the show. I’d love to be the lead, and maybe I’ll get to do that. So I’m committed and I promise I’ll give it my all. I hope you guys will join me.”
“I’m with you, Lewis,” came a male voice. “Me too,” called another.
Kelly stepped over to stand next to Lewis. She stared up at him in adoration. “I’m in if you are.”
Almost every student voiced their commitment. Ryan took note of those who didn’t and reminded herself to keep an eye on them for the next couple of rehearsals. It wasn’t too late to re-cast their parts.
Ryan resumed her place on the piano bench. “I’m glad we got that over with. Now who wants to rehearse?” A chorus of voices shouted assent, and she played the introduction to the song they’d been working on before the interruption.
This time, the rehearsal continued until the end of the allotted two hours. She thanked everyone for their work and reminded them about the next rehearsal. As she packed her bag and prepared to leave, most of the students came by to tell her they were glad they’d stayed. They wanted to prove they were team players and were committed to the show.
When the last student was gone, Ryan walked out of the building to find dusk settling over the campus. She walked to her car in the east parking lot. She got in and sat for a few moments, slowly releasing the stress from her body.
“I think I’m going to go home and take a bubble bath.” She started the car.
As she drove home, Ryan replayed her day. Lipinski’s visit in the morning had been stressful, but the afternoon’s (mostly) successful rehearsal felt like a win.
She sighed. There was that nagging feeling that showed up every time she thought about Veronica’s murder. As usual, Ryan didn’t have time to solve a murder. But she couldn’t have Lipinski thinking she was a suspect, either.
Maybe she should focus on the FLH for a while. She froze. The FLH! It started in five days, and they didn’t have a dinner-dance chairperson or a fully-committed tennis tournament chair. Maybe it was finally time to call it off. No one would blame Ryan if she gave in to the terrible events of the last week.
She decided to call Danielle and Father Paul to get their opinions. She dialed Danielle first.
“Ryan, I’m so glad you called. I need to talk to you.”
“About the FLH?”
“Well, yes. Sort of.” Ryan heard muffled sounds and a child’s voice. Then Danielle came back on the line. “Ryan, I’m worried about what’s going on. About what’s happening with the committee.”
“I am, too,” said Ryan. “That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to talk with you about—”
“—Ryan, you don’t understand.”
“We probably can’t host the entire FLH this weekend. I’m calling you first, but I’m going to call Father Paul next.”
“I don’t care,” said Danielle. “You do whatever you think is right. But I'm no longer a part of it.”
It took a second for her words to sink in. “Wait. What?” asked Ryan. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Joanna and I are leaving town for a while.”
Ryan pulled over into a deserted parking lot. “I don’t understand.”
“People in Haverwood—on the committee—are being murdered.”
“Danielle…”
“Murdered, Ryan.” Danielle sighed. “I have to put my daughter first. I’m taking Joanna somewhere safe.”
“Where are you going?”
“The police know. I’m not telling anyone else.”
“But—”
“—No. This is the best thing for us.” Danielle paused. “Ryan, I hope you understand.”
“I get it.” Ryan tried to think of the best thing to say. All she could come up with was, “When will you be back?”
“When all this is over. Ryan, I know you live close to our place. Would you mind driving over there and just checking it once a day while we’re gone? Mrs. Brown has enough to deal with.”
“Of course I will,” said Ryan. With a smile, she asked, “Did you take your guinea pig?”
Danielle chuckled. “He’s right here in the front seat with me.”
“Do you think we should cancel the FLH?”
“I don’t care. I just know I don’t want anything to do with it.”
Ryan concentrated on keeping her disappointment out of her voice. “I understand. Wherever you’re going, please stay safe. And stay in touch so we know you’re okay.”
Danielle thanked Ryan for understanding and signed off, promising to call within the next few days.
Ryan pulled back into the light evening traffic and thought about the conversation. I guess that’s the end of this year’s FLH. She was surprised to find herself sad about the cancellation. But it was late, and she needed dinner. She’d have to deal with the FLH in the morning.
Ryan realized she was a block from Danielle’s house and decided to drive by. Danielle had sounded so upset that Ryan wouldn’t been surprised to find her front door standing open. She turned down Danielle’s street almost expecting to find something wrong. It was empty. Ryan exhaled.
She parked in front of the building. It looked like Danielle had left a few lights on in her apartment. Ryan would have to ask the next time they talked.
As soon as she walked through the front door, Ryan realized there was something on Danielle’s door mat. It could be something Joanna dropped as they were leaving, but it could just as easily
be a package that was delivered after Danielle and Joanna left. Either way, it wasn’t a good idea to leave it sitting there.
She told herself the shape was nothing to be concerned about as she walked toward the door. It’s just a teddy bear or a box of cereal or something. She stood at the doorway and stared.
In the dim light of the hallway, Ryan saw a plain shoebox with a lid. She smiled. Joanna probably dropped a pair of shoes on her way out. Ryan nudged at the lid with the toe of her shoe. Then she jumped back, landing with her back against the wall.
She ran back to the car, got in, and locked the doors. She punched a button on the dash, then another. Pick up, pick up, pick up.
“Hey, Ryan,” said Nicki. “What’s up?”
“I need your help.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m at Danielle’s. She took Joanna out of town and I came by to check on her apartment.” She took a deep breath. “Nicki, someone left a dead rat in a shoebox on Danielle’s doormat.”
Nicki whistled. “Are you positive there’s no one there?”
Ryan looked around. “No, but I’m locked in the car.”
“You need to get out of there now. I’m going to call Jack and Gus.”
Ryan started the car and turned toward her house. “Nicki, this is the third person on the committee who’s been affected by this—whatever it is. I’m starting to believe it has something to do with the FLH.”
“You may be right. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Okay, now I’m really scared.”
“Come over here,” said Nicki. “The dogs would love to see you and I can keep an eye on you. I need to call Jack. Come straight here and don’t stop anywhere along the way. If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m coming to look for you.” They ended the call and Ryan stepped on the gas.
Ryan took a second to think about the best route to Nicki’s house. Then she looked in her rearview mirror to take note of the cars behind her. She wanted to be able to spot anyone who followed her. She looked at her watch. Five minutes.
