Staging is Murder

by Grace Topping

  “This is such a beautiful spot.” I gazed at the green vista in front of us, filled with large trees and a variety of tombstones and small mausoleums.

  Nita and I made our way up a steep hill toward Victoria’s gravesite.

  Stopping to catch my breath, I looked out at the rolling hills surrounding the area. “From here you can actually see the Denton home over on Lookout Hill.”

  “That’s rather ironic,” Nita said, still puffing from the climb. “I wonder if Skip had that in mind when he selected the plot.”

  “Could be. Victoria loved that house, especially considering that awful place she grew up in.” We gazed over at the house Victoria thought would bring her happiness and then hadn’t.

  Reaching the gravesite, Nita and I joined the small group of people standing around the casket.

  “I’m surprised more people aren’t here,” Nita whispered. “I expected a few curiosity seekers would show up.”

  I pulled the hood of my coat over my head for warmth. “It’s this cold snap. It sure doesn’t feel like spring.”

  Near the head of the casket, Skip Denton looked more mournful than I would have expected, considering his stormy relationship with Victoria and their divorce. It might have been easier if they had children to stand next to him. I thought sadly of Macbeth, Victoria’s black Scottish Terrier who had died recently and whose framed photo still sat on her bedside table. Photos of him had been all over the house.

  When the graveside service was over, Doug Hamilton and his father walked toward their car, Mr. Hamilton limping badly. Spotting me, Doug strode toward me, extending his hand. Surprised, I shook hands with him.

  “I’m sorry you had such a terrible experience, finding Victoria the way you did.” Doug’s bright blue eyes mesmerized me.

  I blinked and mumbled something, unable to remember what I said after he walked away.

  Warren Hendricks and Dr. Malcolm, Victoria’s high school classmates and costars in a number of school and community stage productions, were there to witness Victoria’s last scene before her final curtain. There would be no curtain calls this time.

  Warren lived in town over the funeral home he had inherited from his father, but he had been a frequent visitor to the Denton home over the years. Dr. Malcolm was Victoria’s neighbor on one side, a tall hedge separating their homes. Nita had worked for Dr. M, as everyone called him, for years.

  “Would you look at Monica over there,” Nita said. “She’s actually wearing a black hat and veil. Leave it to her to look like a grieving widow at her ex-friend’s funeral. Who’s the man she’s learning on?”

  “Don’t know. I’m more interested in watching Detective Spangler watching us.” I pointed to where he stood a short distance away. “I heard the police often attend the funeral of a murder victim to see if anyone acts strangely. Now I know that’s true. I didn’t see anyone acting suspiciously like a murderer. Did you?”

  “No, and before he heads this way, I’m going to the car. If you want to linger, I’ll wait for you there.”

  After everyone else had walked away, Skip Denton remained at the graveside, looking a bit lost. I walked over and gave him a hug. We had worked together on several community improvement projects, and it saddened me to see him standing there alone.

  “Thank you for coming, Laura. I appreciate it. Are you going to join us for some refreshments? Luigi Vocaro is putting out a spread for us in the back room of the coffee bar.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

  We continued down the hill together, saying little.

  At the bottom, Skip stopped. “Victoria wasn’t always like she was the last few years. Her disappointment in discovering that marrying me wouldn’t turn her into a social success was too great for her to bear, especially considering her upbringing. Even after we divorced, I still cared for her.” Skip turned and gazed back at the gravesite. “When Macbeth died, her world nearly fell apart. If she had cared for people half as much as she cared for the house and her dog….”

  “Is that why you moved out of your family home and she stayed?”

  “My family owned it for generations, but it didn’t mean as much to me as it did to her. Now someone else will have it. I couldn’t live there again, especially after what happened to Victoria.”

  My own unhappy childhood helped me empathize with Victoria’s desire to escape her circumstances, but marrying into a family with money hadn’t brought her happiness.

  “What will you do with the house now?”

  “I still have to sell it to pay off our debts.” He grimaced and a flush suffused his face. “The house is heavily mortgaged, and the bill collectors are knocking at the door.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Skip.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay. Victoria was the one who was attached to it. Moving back there would be too much for me to deal with, both financially and emotionally. Besides, I’m happy in my smaller place in town. I need to sell soon, so I’d appreciate it if you’d complete the staging as soon as the police will let us back in the house. From what I’ve seen, you’ve made terrific improvements. Would you be willing to go back there, considering everything that happened?”

  He had no idea how much I wanted to say no, especially since I’d hoped never to return to the house again. Guido had kindly gone there to retrieve my car for me.

  “Of course we’ll finish,” I said with more determination than I felt. It was against my nature to leave a project incomplete. “But won’t the house be held up in probate or something until Victoria’s estate is settled?”

  “No. Not really. The house belonged to me before we married. I only agreed as part of the divorce settlement that she would get half the proceeds if we ever sold.”

  With Victoria dead, would all the proceeds now go to him?

  After saying goodbye to Skip, I walked down the road that snaked through the cemetery, searching for Nita. I spotted her a short distance away, standing next to her lime green VW bug. Dr. M leaned against it, as though he needed it to prop himself up. He had been Victoria’s schoolmate, costar, and neighbor for years, and it appeared he was taking her death hard.

  I joined them, throwing my purse onto the backseat of the car. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” I turned to Dr. M. “I’m sorry about Victoria. I know you were friends for a long time.”

  Dr. M looked grim and shook his head. “Sad affair, sad affair.” With that, he walked away toward his car.

  Nita watched Dr. M’s retreating figure. “He worries me. Look at his crumpled suit. Yesterday he came into the dental clinic with mud on his trousers. Patients are starting to notice.”

  “Why do you keep working for him? I stopped going to him years ago when he retied his shoelaces and then put his hands in my mouth.”

  “I can’t quit on him now, especially since he seems to be getting worse. Mrs. M told me that she stopped changing his bath towel three weeks before she left him, and he never noticed. At the rate we’re losing patients, I may not have a choice but to look for a new job.”

  Nita was extremely loyal to her family and friends, one of the things I admired most about her. But as nice as Dr. M was, I felt her loyalty to him was misplaced.

  We watched Dr. M pull away, smoke trailing from his aging Mercedes. On the back window, someone had written Wash Me in the dirt.

  Chapter 6

  Display photographs of your home’s exterior taken during different seasons to highlight the landscaping features of each season. This will be especially helpful if you are showing your home during the winter.

  The day after the funeral, I approached the door to Vocaro’s, anxious for some coffee. The tantalizing aroma coming from inside was already helping to revitalize me. Dr. M was leaving and held the door for me.

  “You’re coming to see me in Arsenic and Old Lace, ar
en’t you?” His smile lit up his face. “It’s going to be a terrific production.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” I was surprised by his change in demeanor from yesterday and mentally shrugged.

  His thoughts had obviously turned to something happier than Victoria’s death and funeral. Not a season went by when Dr. M didn’t have a role in a Louiston Players production, and he enjoyed it immensely. He had a real flair for comedy, and audiences loved him.

  “Who are you playing this time?”

  “Teddy, of course. It’s a key role.” Dr. M smiled, appearing to be quite pleased with himself. “They need me because of my bugle-playing talent.”

  I wasn’t aware he had any musical talent but nodded anyway. As I recalled, Teddy played one note as he charged up a long staircase, imagining himself to be Teddy Roosevelt charging San Juan Hill. I smiled at the image.

  Dr. M’s voice trailed away as he left, “I’m selling tickets if you need them.”

  After getting my coffee, I joined Nita. We sat on a comfortable sofa with our beverages, Nita with her favorite pastry, reading the Louiston Mirror. The heat from the gas fireplace warmed us on a cool spring day. Luigi Vocaro, the owner of the coffee bar, provided local newspapers and leather armchairs and sofas where customers could read in comfort. Customers came in, got a newspaper, claimed a comfortable seat, and frequently stayed for hours. It was what Luigi called people’s third place—that place, following their home and worksite, where they could feel welcome, comfortable, and connected.

  Nita was engrossed in the two sections of the paper she read first each day—her horoscope and the obituaries. “Look at this,” she held out the paper to me. “How old do you think this woman was?”

  I studied the photo in the obituary column, not recognizing the woman. “It’s hard to tell. The photo looks dated. I would guess about twenty-five.”

  “She was eighty-five. Why do you think her family would use a photo of her that is over sixty years old?”

  “Maybe that’s the photo her family felt she would like.” I thought of the photo of Victoria and her obituary in the paper earlier.

  “You know what might be interesting?” Nita licked gooey caramel from her finger. “Reading the horoscope for the day a person dies. Having an entry like ‘If you were to die on this day…’” She rifled through the newspapers on the coffee table in front of her. “There might be old papers still here. Let’s see what it said for Taurus on the day Victoria died.”

  “No, let’s don’t. It would be too depressing.” I was feeling a bit down since Victoria’s death, but I also noticed Nita hadn’t been her usual perky self either. “Nita, with your kids away at college, have you thought about finding some new interests?”

  “I know. I really should. After taking all those photography classes, I intended to do more with them but haven’t. Not yet.”

  I worried about my dearest friend who was feeling the pangs of empty-nest syndrome. She needed something to fill her life. I studied the artificial grapes hanging from the ceiling over us, contemplating how I could help Nita. She and her family had always been there for me and I wanted to be there now for her.

  Her photography classes. That was it. “Nita, how would you like to put your talent to use and take photographs for me? I need to build a portfolio of my work showing before and after shots of the houses I work on. I could use somebody with your talent.”

  Nita sat up with more interest than I’d seen her display in some time. “If you call taking several photography classes having talent, I’d love to.”

  “We’ll have to work out payment for the photos.”

  “No way. Not after all the times you babysat for our kids.”

  “That was different. If I’m getting paid for using my skills on this job, you should too.”

  “Well, if you put it like that. Wait until I tell Guido I’m now a professional photographer.” A big smile filled Nita’s round face. “And to think he didn’t take my attending those classes seriously.”

  It was good seeing her looking more cheerful. In comparison, I cringed at the thought of going back to the Denton house again but picked up my tote bag ready to leave. “I need to get going. I’m a bit anxious to see what condition the Denton house is in since the police have gone over it. I wonder if they found anything during their search that points to who killed Victoria.”

  “I haven’t heard anything new since Neil told us about the medical examiner’s report. Don’t tell anyone what he said. I don’t want to get him into trouble, especially since I blackmailed him for the information. I know a lot of secrets from his teenage years he wouldn’t want to get out.”

  “I won’t say a word. But I have to admit it was a relief to learn Victoria’s death had been caused by a blow to her head and not from the fall that broke her neck. I thought I’d contributed to her death when I moved the laundry hamper from beneath the chute. That could have softened her landing.”

  Nita folded her newspaper. “Lots of people disliked Victoria, but who’d have been angry enough to kill her? Maybe someone hit her accidentally and hadn’t meant to kill her. If so, why push her into the laundry chute?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. The police may never discover who killed her.”

  “Look, there’s Neil.” Nita pointed toward the door. “Coming in with Alex Spangler.”

  I looked over at Nita’s cousin and the tall, dark-haired detective. “He was the one who interviewed me after…Sorry. I still have a hard time talking about that night.”

  “Don’t you remember Alex Spangler from high school? He was a year ahead of us. His wife was the one killed by lightning while jogging.”

  “I heard about that. What a shock.” I was embarrassed at the unintended pun and quickly turned away from the detective.

  “Now that’s one hunk of a man. He’d be a good catch for you.”

  “Good-looking men are trouble.” I finished my coffee, frowning as the stale remains hit my taste buds. “Now this time I’ve really got to go.”

  “You’re always saying that, but it isn’t always true.” Nita started to gather her things and turned toward the door again. “It’s strange seeing Neil here. Since he and Luigi got into a fight after a Steelers game, he’s been going to Sheetz for coffee. Those guys take football way too seriously.”

  I watched the two men, one in plain clothes and the other in uniform, standing at the counter, with Tyrone rapidly filling orders. I marveled at the way he could keep the complex orders straight and work the coffee machine at the same time. Even on days when lines of customers wound out the door, he managed to keep up, while still staying friendly and upbeat. People liked him a lot, and he knew more about what was happening in town than the mayor.

  Detective Spangler spoke earnestly to Tyrone, and it looked like they were placing a really big order. When Tyrone took off his apron and walked around the counter toward the door with them, I became suspicious and went to follow. I’d known Tyrone since he was a kid and tried to look out for him. After his parents had been killed in a plane crash and he went to live with his grandmother, life hadn’t been easy for him.

  “Tyrone, what’s going on?” I nearly tripped over a chair trying to get to the door. After Victoria’s death, the police had questioned Tyrone, the workers who had been at the house that day, and all of Victoria’s neighbors, including Dr M, who lived next door to Victoria. They must have been satisfied with everyone’s account of where they had been. What earthly reason could they have for questioning Tyrone again?

  “Sorry, Laura.” Neil headed for the door. “They want to ask Tyrone a few questions down at the station.”

  Tyrone looked back at me with a bewildered expression. He didn’t have a chance to respond before getting into the back of an unmarked police car parked out front. Detective Spangler nodded at me grimly before closing the car door.

 
I stood in the doorway, frowning as I watched the police car drive away. Nita joined me, carrying the tote bag I had left behind.

  “Nita, I have a bad feeling about this. Don’t you have a cousin who’s an attorney?”

  Chapter 7

  When going through household items in anticipation of moving, sort items into those to take along and those to sell or give away. You’ll have less to take with you and reduce the cost of moving household goods.

  That evening, too nervous to read or watch television, I curled up on the sofa in the living room of my bungalow, waiting anxiously for a call from Nita’s cousin, Ted Wojdakowski, Tyrone’s new attorney.

  The craftsman-style bungalow had been my childhood home. I’d moved back in to care for my mother and stayed with her until her death. With my husband dead, I decided to remain there. I totally gutted the house to remove anything that didn’t bring a smile to my face. At first it had been hard making changes to the home of my girlhood, but with each paint stroke, I wiped away sad memories of my years there. The cheerful living room, painted soft yellow and white, was now a far cry from the gloomy room it had been when my mother was alive.

  One of the items I’d kept was a small red wagon that had been a gift from my father before he left our lives forever. Studying it across the room, where it sat holding two flowering orchids, I smiled, thinking of him. After my parents’ divorce, I’d seen him less and less as the years went by, then not at all. I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead.

  Had my mother ever been happy? She had blamed her unhappiness on my father, citing his unfaithfulness. Which had come first? Her outlook and personality or his unfaithfulness? My father had been friendly and outgoing and made everyone feel special, whether it was a friend or someone hired to paint the house—unlike my mother, who had treated everyone with equal disdain. She had never forgiven my father for his unfaithfulness, blaming his good looks. My late husband, Derrick, had been extremely attractive as well. After he and his female companion were killed in a car crash, I’d sworn off handsome men forever.