Staging is Murder

by Grace Topping

  Pushing open the entrance door, we were greeted by the smell of smoke from the wood fireplace and the fragrance of spiced apple cider. The spring day had turned cooler, and the heat from the fireplace wrapped around us like a cashmere blanket.

  An older woman with curly gray hair and cheeks made rosy by the warm fireplace stood up to greet us. If possible, her bright smile got even brighter when she recognized Nita.

  “Nita Romano, what a nice surprise.” Mrs. Dexter came forward with outstretched arms. “It’s been years since I last saw you tagging behind your brothers when they came out here to work.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Dexter.” Nita returned the hug that encompassed her. “Actually, I’m a Martino now. Remember, I married Guido Martino.” When she stepped away from the warm hug, she looked behind her and pulled Mrs. Webster and me forward. “These are my friends, Mrs. Mariah Webster and Laura Bishop. Ladies, this is Mrs. Susan Dexter, one of the best cooks in the county. You should taste her chocolate pie. It won first prize at the county fair.”

  “Actually, only second prize, but you’re sweet to remember. It’s great to see you, but what brings you out here to Green Acres? Looking for a campsite?”

  “Laura here has some questions for you.” Nita turned and pointed to me.

  I gritted my teeth. Rat poison. That’s what I’d put in any chocolate pie I served Nita.

  “Go ahead,” Nita urged. “You’re always telling me to let you ask the questions.”

  Before I could say anything, Mrs. Webster spouted, “We’re here looking for the member of Hell’s Angels who may have murdered Victoria Denton and let my grandson take the blame.” Mariah Webster had more gumption than Nita and I put together.

  Mrs. Dexter looked bemused, and, for a moment, appeared not to know what to say.

  “Let me explain.” I tried not to sound like the idiot Mrs. Dexter now thought I was.

  Mrs. Webster would now get a piece of the same pie.

  “Why don’t you ladies take a seat around the fireplace? Mrs. Dexter motioned to the Adirondack chairs nearby. “We’ll have a cup of cider and get to the bottom of this.” She then casually walked over to the door and turned the Closed sign outward.

  Chapter 24

  Look to magazines and model homes for decorating and staging ideas.

  “How was I to know the podiatrists coming in for their annual conference would be riding motorcycles?” Nita wailed as we walked around the campground.

  After we told her our story, Mrs. Dexter had described the conference being held at the college. “If the truth be known, the conference is a good excuse for the motorcycle-riding podiatrists to attend a mini-bike rally.”

  Mrs. Dexter would have made the perfect minister’s wife. I was thankful she hadn’t laughed and shown us the door.

  “Nowadays, those fancy motorcycles are so expensive to buy and maintain, it’s usually the doctors, lawyers, and other businessmen and their wives you see riding them,” Mrs. Dexter had explained. “We even have a number of women coming on their own bikes. The ones that don’t have RVs stay in our cabins or at local hotels. If they’re driving from a long distance, many will tow their Harleys and ride them about town after they get here. It’s not such a big group as to disrupt the town, but they’ve been doing it for years, and they enjoy it.”

  “How about the ones staying here?” I hoped my relief at not having to question a member of the Hell’s Angels wasn’t obvious.

  “They’ve been coming for years, and I know most of them by name. Believe me, there isn’t a single member of Hell’s Angels among them.”

  Mrs. Webster was harder to convince. “You wouldn’t believe what some of those doctors are willing to get up to. During my years of nursing, I’ve known a few who thought they were a law unto themselves.”

  Nita and I mollified Mrs. Webster when we agreed to walk around the campground to see what we could discover. A few simple campers in a variety of styles were scattered throughout the grounds, but the conference had attracted a number of long RVs, bigger than many of the homes in Louiston. They looked quite luxurious, with bumped out sides to make them bigger when they were off the road. A few had satellite dishes attached. Occasionally, when a door opened, we got a glimpse inside. These people had brought with them all the comforts of home and then some.

  Mrs. Webster stared hard at one large vehicle. “These folks have more money than sense—selling up a perfectly good home on solid ground for one with wheels.”

  I looked longingly at a sleek RV with an awning-covered outside seating area. “But think how enjoyable it would be to pick up and move whenever and wherever you want. One day you could be in Rhode Island seeing the ocean from your window and a few days later enjoying the mountaintops of Colorado.” Again, the yearning to travel came over me.

  “Sounds like gypsies to me.” Mrs. Webster gave a loud sniff and adjusted her hat.

  As we wandered around the campground, we hadn’t seen anyone suspicious enough to question about Victoria’s death, but I wondered what a murderer would look like.

  The day was starting to get colder, and I silently signaled to Nita we should leave. I could see Mrs. Webster was tired, more than likely from disappointment than fatigue. We needed to get her home so she could rest. With her usual vitality, it was easy to forget her age.

  As we turned to leave, two men came out of a decrepit old camper. A rusty screen door slammed behind them. They saw me looking at them and stared back at me with a startled look. I watched them as they quickly jumped into a beat-up Ford pickup, wondering why they’d given me such a strange look.

  As the driver backed the truck out of the parking space in front of me, I looked through the vehicle’s dusty window and found myself gazing directly at Carlos’ helpers, the ones who had gone away to stay with other relatives. I was certain who they were, and I was equally certain they’d recognized me. One of them also looked remarkably like the man I’d seen leaving Josh’s antique shop.

  Chapter 25

  Soft music playing in the background during an open house will make a house sound less hollow.

  That evening, Nita and I arrived at the Franklin Auditorium early for the performance of Arsenic and Old Lace. The Louiston Players always drew a large crowd, and tonight was no different. I could have used a few more hours to catch up with things at home, things I had been neglecting while working at the Denton house, but exhaustion convinced me I needed a break and some laughs. Besides, I didn’t want to disappoint Nita by not going along with her as we had planned.

  We made our way down the aisle to our seats, still smarting from our embarrassment at the campground earlier. What about Carlos’ helpers? Why were they in the campground? Had they recently returned to the area, or had they never left? And had one of them really been coming out of Josh’s shop? I was becoming suspicious of everyone.

  I was also concerned about Will Parker’s condition. That afternoon I’d phoned the hospital again, hoping someone would give me information about his condition. No matter how I pleaded, they would tell me nothing. Privacy was one thing, but this was ridiculous.

  When we were seated, I spotted Doug Hamilton with Monica Heller a short distance in front of us. Great. I got to sit there and watch Mr. Charm with Ms. Charmless. Had they become a couple?

  Nita jumped up. “I’m going for a Coke. Do you want one?”

  “No, you go ahead. I want to read the program before the play starts.”

  I flipped through the booklet in my lap, trying not to glance up at Doug and Monica. I skipped over the advertisements and the names of contributors until I found the list of cast members. I recognized many of the names on the list, including Dr. M and Cora Ridley.

  That was strange. There was no listing for Nick. I remembered the rehearsal I sat through when Warren had threatened to replace him if he didn’t learn his lines. Since his name wasn’t in the program, I gu
essed Warren had carried through with his threat to get another actor if he didn’t improve. I was disappointed for Nick, whoever he was.

  Tyrone had been given full credit for the set design. I was pleased his contributions to the production had been acknowledged, even if he hadn’t been around to complete the sets. I wished Tyrone could have been with us to see his work.

  “Here, I brought you a Snickers—the staff of life.” Nita handed me the candy bar as she plopped back into her seat. “I wish Guido had come with us. It’s getting harder and harder for me to get him out of the house for the things I’m interested in. Let one of his buddies wave two tickets to a Steelers game in front of him and he’d be out the door in a flash.”

  Still a bit puzzled about what I’d seen at the campground, I found myself ignoring my friend’s chatter. I was also puzzled about the change in the cast. “Nita, you see Warren Hendricks frequently. Do you know if he replaced any of the actors during rehearsals?”

  “Not that he mentioned. Knowing Warren, if he had, he would have been moaning about it at Vocaro’s, and everyone would have heard. He thought he might lose one of the actresses, but it didn’t happen. Do you want me to ask him next time I see him? You could also ask Cora, since she’s in the play.”

  “No. That’s all right. It’s not important.” I remembered my run-in with Cora and didn’t want to repeat the experience.

  “By the way, Norman was in the lobby while I was there. He came out for his wife’s interests. I can’t wait to see how Cora performs.”

  The sound of music from a scratched recording began to play and the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the production. I shrugged and settled back in my seat. I usually enjoyed Arsenic and Old Lace, but tonight my mind wasn’t fully on the play. I kept thinking of Tyrone and Will Parker.

  At intermission, Nita and I walked toward the lobby. Seeing Norman well ahead of us, I motioned to Nita to hurry. “Come on, Nita, let’s talk to Norman. I want to see if we can get any information out of him about the proposed development on Winston Lake.”

  “You go ahead. Ted’s at the bar. I’ll go ask him if there’s anything new with Tyrone’s case.”

  Nita walked away, and I wondered again if I’d been wise involving her in my effort to help Tyrone. She seemed to be enjoying it far too much and I worried she wasn’t taking it seriously. I’d always been more serious, so it wasn’t surprising. It was Nita, the adventurous and fun-loving one, who kept me from becoming too serious.

  I hoped Nita would use a little more finesse with Ted Wojdakowski than she had with Connie Stockdale when we met for tea. Since Ted had told me earlier nothing new had transpired, I doubted Nita could do much damage. Besides, her cousin could handle her.

  Walking through the lobby, I’d lost sight of Norman. Not seeing him anywhere, I stepped out into the cool spring night and looked around. A group of smokers was gathered under the streetlight near the corner of the auditorium. Norman was standing among them, lighting a cigarette. Dressed in a navy blazer, gray trousers, and a silk cravat at his neck, he looked like the owner of an English country manor.

  Norman saw me approach and held out a pack of Camels. “Hey, Laura. Want to join me for a smoke?”

  “Thanks, but no.” I shifted from foot to foot in the cool air, trying to think how to ease into my questions about his activities. “Cora is terrific playing Aunt Abby. Isn’t the performance great?”

  “It’s okay. With Cora in the production, I have to put in an appearance. It also doesn’t hurt having my constituents see me supporting community programs, if you know what I mean.” He winked at me. “I’m up for reelection and hope I can count on your vote.”

  Remembering Cora’s accusation about him and Victoria and his reputation in town, I cringed at his wink, trying not to show it. Mrs. Webster was right. What a sleaze ball.

  “Norman, I understand you were trying to develop a piece of land on Winston Lake.” I hesitated. I was better at dealing with misplaced furniture and awful décor than I was controlling my nerves when questioning a possible murder suspect.

  If he was surprised at my question, he didn’t show it. “Why yes, I was. It’s being held up for a bit while we work out plans to run a road through the property. That shouldn’t be a problem. Serving in the legislature now might even help.” He winked again. “Why do you ask? Want to invest in it? We still have a few shares available.” He looked me up and down slowly. “I might be able to help you get in before this opportunity closes.”

  Again, I tried hard not to roll my eyes. I was getting as bad as Tyrone with that. “I heard Victoria recommended the investment to Phillip Hamilton. It sounds like it’s going to be a great place once completed.” I was stretching the truth a lot, wondering whether he would acknowledge Victoria’s involvement or deny it.

  “You heard about Phil’s investment?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yes, but I understand he may have gotten in a little over his head.”

  “Only the person doing the investing can judge his own financial situation.” He looked uncomfortable.

  “Do you think he was sufficiently recovered from his stroke to make that kind of financial investment? Did his son, Doug, know about it?”

  “Why, there’s Cora.” He pointed to the actors standing at the side entrance.

  I turned and saw Cora staring coldly at us.

  Norman must have recognized her look as an unspoken warning and turned to leave, glad to escape my questioning. “Let me know if you want to talk about investing. It’s a good long-term investment.”

  Without a backward glance, he walked briskly over to Cora and escorted her back inside the building. He couldn’t risk having Cora think I was his latest love interest. He also had escaped without answering my questions.

  During the second act, my thoughts were fully on the mystery of Victoria’s death and not on the bodies hidden in the window seat on stage. Victoria had been the link between Norman and Mr. Hamilton. Norman hadn’t denied it. Could Mr. Hamilton or Doug have wanted revenge on Victoria for leading a man who wasn’t himself following a stroke into making a questionable investment—one that nearly bankrupted him? If so, could one of them have wanted revenge enough to murder Victoria? If so, why Victoria and not Norman?

  My thoughts strayed back to Norman. Mrs. Webster’s description of him had been accurate. He had always given me the creeps, but now even more so. Had Victoria known more about his dealings than he wanted revealed, especially now that he was in public office? I recalled overhearing Victoria’s phone conversation in the library when she threatened to go public with something. Could she have been threatening to expose Norman’s investment scam, if it had been a scam? More than likely, he had known there was no access road into the property and hadn’t revealed that to potential investors. If Victoria had threatened to expose his scam, could he have committed murder to keep her quiet?

  Applause at the end of the performance brought me back to the present. The audience reception was enthusiastic, and Nita and I found ourselves sitting through three curtain calls before we could make our way out.

  I watched Doug and Monica leave. They looked as though they were having far too good an evening. Remembering my suspicions about her and Derrick, I could almost feel sorry for Doug if he got involved with her.

  “Terrific play.” Nita fanned her face with her program. The auditorium had become uncomfortably warm and getting outside again was a relief. “Who would have thought Cora could act so well? She has a real flair for comedy.”

  What about Cora? I still wondered whether Cora could have been angry enough about their partnership debacle to murder Victoria. Or even more far-fetched, could Cora have wanted to protect Norman from Victoria disclosing his business scam? As the wife of a politician, Cora knew what a scandal could do to his career and to their standing in the community.

  Cora had said she needed the money from
Victoria to leave him, but what if she was too comfortable in her situation to actually do so? She had been putting up with his affairs for years. Why the urge to leave now? Her business loss and Norman’s recent affair with Victoria may have pushed her beyond reason. I shuddered, remembering that any of the individuals I’d questioned could have murdered Victoria. If the killer suspected I was getting too close with my questioning, could I be next?

  Chapter 26

  Dog nose and paw prints on a glass front door will not make a good first impression. Keep spray window cleaner handy for a quick cleanup.

  “You’re being awfully quiet.” Nita tossed her handbag into the backseat of her VW and got into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t you enjoy the play?”

  I slid into the passenger seat. “Sorry. I’ve been thinking about Tyrone’s scholarship application. The committee will be making a selection any day now, and I haven’t discovered anything to help free Tyrone. If he isn’t cleared of Victoria’s murder soon, he’ll never get the scholarship. Worse, he could be found guilty and sent to prison. It’s so frustrating.” Snapping on my seatbelt, I slumped back in my seat. “And I still haven’t gotten an update on Will Parker. Only that he’s in ICU.”

  “Guido’s cousin works at St. John’s Hospital. Maybe she can investigate and get back to us.”

  “Your family is amazing. You have relatives in every corner of town.”

  “That’s the joy of big Italian-American families—also one of the woes. As a teenager, every time I did something stupid, someone in the family always witnessed it and called my parents.” Nita studied me. “Seriously, there’s something more on your mind. I can tell.”

  Nita knew me all too well. “I keep thinking about the man I saw coming out of Josh’s place. I’m fairly certain he’s one of Carlos’ helpers—one of the men we saw at the campground today.”

  “What about him?”

  “Josh said the man sold him an antique wooden chalice or vessel of some type. He’s pretty certain it’s a fake, but the price was right and it’s a nice-looking piece, so he bought it.