Sisters

by Patricia MacDonald

‘Oh, yeah. Salt and Pepper,’ said Dory cynically. ‘They look at me like I’ve got dog-do on my shoe. Even though the DA dropped the charges, those two still want to make a case against me.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ said Alex, ‘about what happened to Lauren. The only people the cops seem interested in are the people she knew here in Boston. But what about the people she knew in Branson? Or Nashville? Lovers, colleagues, rivals? She was living a secret life in a way. There had to be some people she pissed off.’

  Dory sighed. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Well, I Googled this Walker Henley. And among other things I found out that he is on a concert tour right now. He’s going to be at this Providence, Rhode Island theater tomorrow night.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And that’s only a couple of hours from here. So I thought maybe we should go down there and try and talk to him. If I can get a message to him, letting him know that you’re Lauren’s sister, he might be willing to talk with us. Who knows? He’ll surely know more about Lauren’s private life than we do. He might be able to point us in another direction.’

  ‘We? Us? What makes you think I want to do this?’ Dory protested.

  Alex looked at her impatiently. ‘Look, it’s you who’s going to have this murder hanging over your head until they find out who really killed Lauren. I should think that would be reason enough.’

  Dory shrugged and then peered at her. ‘What’s in it for you?’

  ‘Somebody tried to kill me here the other night. I feel like I’m sitting here with a target on my back and I don’t know why. I have a feeling that the attack on me is related to Lauren’s death.’

  Dory reared back. ‘Why do you think that? What do you know?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t know anything. Let’s just say that I don’t believe in coincidences. Call it intuition . . .’

  ‘There is no such thing,’ said Dory flatly.

  ‘Fine. Call it what you want. Are you willing to drive to Providence?’

  ‘I guess,’ said Dory.

  ‘Good.’ Alex pressed a button on the computer. ‘I just hit “buy,”’ she said.

  The Hillman Center, the auditorium where Walker Henley was playing on a bill with three other country acts, was an antiquated facility with a downtown locale and satellite parking. Dory circled the city block several times, looking for a place to park in the neighborhood, but finally it began to look impossible, even though they were several hours early for the concert.

  ‘I guess I’m going to have to go to the stupid satellite lot,’ said Dory, idling in the vicinity of the double doors at the front of the Hillman Center. ‘You better get out.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Alex.

  ‘No, that’s too far for you to walk,’ said Dory. ‘Wait for me here. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Just get out,’ said Dory.

  ‘OK. Thanks,’ said Alex, sliding out of the car and standing on the nearby curb. ‘I’ll be in the foyer.’

  Dory did not reply. She pulled away and disappeared into the sea of rush-hour tail-lights in downtown Providence.

  Alex slowly climbed the steps and opened the doors to the old-fashioned auditorium. The ornately figured carpets had probably been beautiful when they were installed but they had since been flattened by thousands of pairs of boots and sneakers and high-heeled shoes. The cream-colored walls of the foyer were dingy, and the sconces which flanked the doors had milk-glass shades but were not illuminated. A refreshment and souvenir counter took up the back wall of the foyer. At the moment there was only one person working there, a girl with dyed blonde curls wearing a black vest and tie and a tired-looking white shirt, who was unpacking cartons of candy boxes.

  Alex went up to her. ‘Excuse me,’ she said.

  The girl looked faintly surprised to see a customer this early. ‘The concession doesn’t open for another . . .’ She peered at the roman numerals on the clock above the front doors of the auditorium. ‘Half an hour.’

  ‘Actually, I’m trying to find the manager of this place.’

  ‘He’s here somewhere,’ the girl said vaguely.

  ‘It’s very important that I get a message to one of the artists who’s playing tonight. Walker Henley? I thought maybe the manager might help me get in to talk to him,’ said Alex.

  ‘Have you got a backstage pass?’

  ‘No,’ Alex admitted. ‘I just took a chance that he would see me.’

  The girl made a face. ‘They don’t let fans backstage.’

  ‘I’m not a fan. It’s actually a personal connection. He used to go out with my sister and she . . . died. I just wanted to talk to him . . .’

  ‘Deirdre,’ an impatient voice demanded from behind Alex. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘This is the manager, Mr Isgro,’ said the girl behind the counter.

  Alex turned around and saw a very neat, carefully groomed man in his mid-thirties with narrow eyes and an impatient expression on his face. She stuck out her hand. ‘Mr Isgro,’ she said. ‘I came here looking for you. My name is Alex Woods. I have a personal connection to Walker Henley.’

  The man studied her with a glacial glance. Then he turned back to Deirdre. ‘How are you getting on back there? Is the counter fully stocked?’

  Deirdre nodded. ‘Getting there.’

  ‘Hurry it up,’ said Isgro.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Alex, digging in her purse and coming up with the note she had written and brought with her. ‘I’m sure you think I’m just some kind of crazy fan but I’m not. I wouldn’t ask you to let me see Mr Henley. But I would be grateful if you would deliver this message to him from me. He can decide for himself if he wants to see me.’

  The manager turned on Alex. ‘Do you have a ticket, miss?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘Well, that is, it’s at the box office. I’ll have it as soon as your box office opens.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Get your ticket and enjoy the show.’

  ‘All I’m asking is that you . . .’

  Isgro invaded her space, putting his face so close to hers that Alex could smell his musky aftershave. ‘It’s not my job to pester the talent. It’s my job to make sure that they are not pestered.’ He glanced at the clock over the door. ‘Why don’t you leave and come back in half an hour when the box office is open.’ He turned to the girl behind the counter. ‘Deirdre, I want you to flog these T-shirts tonight. Ask every single person who buys so much as a pack of gum if they want to buy a T-shirt. Got it?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Deirdre.

  ‘I don’t want a lot of excuses at the end of the night. I want these shirts gone, or you could be looking for another job.’

  Without another look at Alex he strode over to a side door in the lobby that appeared to be cut into the plaster friezes on the wall, and disappeared behind it.

  ‘Prick,’ Deirdre muttered.

  ‘He must be tough to work for,’ said Alex.

  ‘No shit.’

  Alex sighed. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised that he blew me off. I guess people will try anything to get face-to-face with these performers.’

  ‘Usually they say they’re journalists,’ Deirdre commented.

  ‘I guess it’s too late to try that now,’ said Alex, smiling ruefully.

  Deirdre looked over at the door where Isgro had disappeared. Then she beckoned to Alex with a scarlet-nailed finger. ‘My boyfriend is an electrician here. That’s how I got this job. Go around to the door beside all the trash cans on Sunnyside Row. It’s halfway down the next block. Knock on the door and ask for George. When he comes around, ask George to slip your note to one of Henley’s roadies. Tell him I said so.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said Alex.

  ‘I’m not promising anything,’ said Deirdre.

  ‘I understand,’ said Alex.

  ‘You better get out. I don’t want Isgro seeing me talking to you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said
Alex. She pulled her coat tight around her and headed out of the lobby of the auditorium.

  Deirdre’s George, a burly guy with a Van Dyke beard, accepted the note with the terse words, ‘I’ll see.’ Then he closed the rear stage door behind him.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ Dory asked. ‘Wait here?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Alex. ‘Walker Henley’s got my number on that piece of paper. I guess we go to the show and wait to hear from him.’

  ‘I don’t think this is gonna work,’ Dory said.

  ‘Well, what do you suggest we do?’ Alex asked as they descended the steps and started down the alleyway back to the main street. Suddenly the end of the street darkened as a pair of black SUVs with tinted windows pulled in and began moving toward them.

  Alex and Dory hopped up on the narrow walkway as the SUVs rolled slowly past them and stopped near the stage door. All the car doors began to open and men in boots, cowboy hats and faded jeans descended.

  ‘Is one of them our guy?’ Dory asked.

  Alex looked anxiously at the men who were mounting the steps to the stage door. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll go ask,’ said Dory.

  ‘Dory, wait,’ said Alex as her phone began to buzz. She looked at the caller ID. ‘I have to take this.’

  Dory headed resolutely toward the SUVs as Alex answered the phone. ‘Seth?’

  ‘Alex, finally,’ he said.

  She felt herself tingling at the sound of his voice. ‘How are you? How’s it going?’

  ‘Where have you been? I must have called you twenty times.’

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to alarm him, but she also didn’t want to lie. ‘I had to go to the hospital unexpectedly. I didn’t have my phone.’

  ‘The hospital? What for? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m OK now.’

  ‘Are you home?’

  ‘Actually, I’m in Providence, Rhode Island at the moment. I’m here with Dory.’

  ‘I guess you are fine. What are you doing there?’

  ‘We’re at a concert. Trying to track someone down. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you get home. I can’t wait to see you. How did they take it when you told them you were leaving your job?’

  ‘They weren’t too happy. But they won’t have any trouble replacing me. There’s a lot of PhDs out there and not a lot of academic jobs.’

  ‘So you haven’t changed your mind,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Never,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t wait till you get back,’ Alex said.

  ‘Me neither. I want to take up exactly where we left off.’

  Dory rushed up to Alex, waving her arms. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘That’s him in the white hat and he says he’s willing to talk to us.’

  Alex looked past the dumpsters and the SUVs at the man in a white cowboy hat, standing at the foot of the steps, peering at them curiously.

  ‘Seth, I have to go . . .’

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  Too taken aback to reply, Alex was silent.

  Sounding sorry that he had jumped the gun, Seth quickly said, ‘’Bye. See you soon.’ And ended the call. Alex stared at the phone in her hand, hardly believing what she had heard. He loved her. And she had said nothing.

  ‘Alex,’ Dory demanded. ‘Hurry up. Let’s go. This guy hasn’t got all day. He has a show to do.’

  Alex hesitated. She wanted to call him back, to say she felt the same and to tell him everything. But Dory was wide-eyed with impatience. ‘OK,’ said Alex. She slipped the phone into her pocket. Then, she followed her sister down the icy, slippery stones of the dark alley.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The dressing rooms of the Hillman Center were far from deluxe. They were a series of small, dreary cubicles off a dingy corridor furnished with folding chairs, a mirror, a comb, a brush and a hairdryer. The dressing area was filled with people milling around, joking, eating and drinking. The place was littered with empty soda cans, half-drunk bottles of bourbon and bags of pork rinds.

  Walker Henley seemed unfazed by the second-rate accommodations. He invited Dory and Alex into the tiny room and offered them a folding chair. He sat facing a mirror as a girl with multiple piercings and tattoos came into the room with a tool kit full of make-up.

  ‘Better take your hat off,’ she said.

  Walker did as he was told and, while he faced the mirror, the girl stood beside him and began to daub on make-up. Alex examined his face in the mirror. He was about thirty-five and a good-looking guy in a very clean cut, conservative way. He caught Alex studying him and winked at her.

  ‘Don’t blink,’ said the make-up girl.

  ‘Sorry. So,’ Walker said, ‘what’s the relationship between you two gals?’

  ‘We’re half-sisters,’ said Alex.

  ‘Dory, I knew about you, of course. Because of my . . . friendship with Lauren, I paid a lot of attention to the case. I guess it turned out you did some time for a crime you didn’t commit.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Dory.

  ‘That’s a sin,’ said Walker.

  Alex said nothing.

  ‘Well, what is it you want from me?’ Walker asked.

  ‘Um . . .’ Dory looked impatiently at Alex. ‘Tell him.’

  Alex hoped her voice wasn’t shaky. She was still processing that phone call from Seth which had, undeniably, distracted her from her mission. Dory frowned at her, puzzled by her lassitude. They had barged in on Walker Henley, and they owed him an explanation. Alex forced herself to speak. ‘Once we . . . once the charges were dropped against Dory, I started wondering if maybe Lauren’s killer wasn’t from Boston after all. If maybe it was somebody she knew in the country music world. From Branson. Or Nashville.’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Walker indignantly. ‘I was on tour out west when she was killed.’

  ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean you,’ Alex said.

  ‘I remember when it happened. Our manager called me to tell me. I was stunned.’

  ‘Were you two . . . dating then?’ Alex asked carefully.

  ‘No, we’d broken up a few months earlier. But I still cared about Lauren.’

  Alex nodded. ‘You said “our manager.” Did you and Lauren have the same one?’

  ‘We did,’ he said. ‘That’s how we met. Cilla Zander from TAI in Nashville represents us both. She introduced us. When she started out Lauren’s mother used to be her manager, but Lauren had to replace her with a pro.’

  Alex looked at Dory. ‘Did you know that?’

  Dory shrugged. ‘She was always busy with Lauren’s career. That was all she cared about.’

  The make-up artist finished her work and patted Walker on the shoulder. ‘You can put your hat back on now.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said politely. ‘Close that door on your way out, would ya? They’re raising hell out there,’ he said cheerfully.

  The girl closed the door and Walker turned his attention back to Alex and Dory. ‘So, what was your question again?’

  Alex thought about it for a moment. ‘You and Lauren were engaged at one time, weren’t you?’

  A pained look flitted over his even features. ‘Well, you know the press. They always exaggerate.’

  ‘You weren’t?’ asked Alex.

  Walker shrugged. ‘We dated. Let’s just say that. She was always nice and fun to be with, but I don’t believe I ever really won her heart. All that girl cared about was her career. In the end I think she did me a favor by being honest.’

  ‘About what?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Well, about her ambition. She told me that she’d never love any man the way she loved her music. I think that was probably true.’

  ‘So you never thought it was another man, or something like that,’ said Alex.

  Walker considered this a minute. Then he shook his head. ‘No. Look, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but your sister was a bit . . . cold. I mean, she just never could . . . let hersel
f go. You know what I mean?’

  Dory nodded solemnly.

  ‘I was lucky she called it off. I met the right gal last year. We’re getting married next summer.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Dory. ‘You were lucky to get away from Lauren.’

  Walker frowned and Alex quickly changed the subject. ‘Was there anyone you remember that Lauren was close to?’ she asked. ‘Anyone else we could talk to about her?’

  ‘Besides her mama?’ he asked.

  ‘Any friends? Other . . . relationships? Band members, maybe?’

  Walker frowned. ‘No. She had no loyalty to the musicians who worked for her. She was always happy to use a house band or a pick-up band. She said to me once, “It’s me they come to hear, not the band.”’

  ‘That sounds like her,’ said Dory.

  ‘What about when she was home? In Branson?’

  Walker stretched his legs out in front of him and folded his hands behind his head. ‘That was the sad thing. She spent all her time working. She had a nice house out in Branson, but other than the gardener and the housekeeper, she lived alone and kept to herself.’

  ‘What about them?’ Alex asked. ‘The gardener and the housekeeper? They might know of someone.’

  ‘It’s not like we were talking about two particular people. Even they were temporary. They were always quitting on her or getting fired. No one ever lasted long with Lauren.’

  The door to the dressing room opened. ‘Walker. Fifteen minutes,’ said a young man wearing a leather jacket and a headset.

  ‘Ladies, you will have to excuse me,’ said Walker Henley, standing up.

  ‘Thank you so much for talking to us,’ said Alex.

  Walker Henley smiled. ‘Enjoy the show.’

  They stayed through Walker’s set and then headed out to the car. Alex was tired, and it had been a long day. She navigated as they retraced their route and got onto I-95, heading back to Boston.

  They rode along in silence for a while. Then Dory sighed. ‘That was a waste of time.’

  ‘He wasn’t a lot of help,’ Alex admitted. ‘Nice guy though.’

  ‘Too nice for my sister,’ said Dory.

  ‘I guess we could follow up on this manager, Cilla Zander. Did you ever meet her?’