by Jane Tesh
Apparently everyone had had enough rain in Spain. The director called the cast down to the auditorium and gave them notes, answered questions, and warned them to learn their lines. After he’d dismissed them, he agreed to talk to me for a few minutes. He’d calmed down, and so had his hair, which wilted around his face.
“I worked with Viola in several shows. She was an ornery old gal, but she was always prepared. Not many people her age try out for our shows, so there’s usually no competition. No competition, no jealousy, no bad feelings, so who would kill her? It must have something to do with her private life.”
“Do you know anything about a cousin of hers?”
He shrugged. “You got me there. Never heard her mention any sort of family.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“At our Wednesday night rehearsal. She was playing Henry Higgins’ mother and doing her usual good job.”
“Who has that role now?”
“I’m going to ask Millicent Crotty if she’ll take the part.”
“Do you know if Millicent wanted to be Higgins’ mother from the beginning?”
“She didn’t try out for it, so I’d say she didn’t want it.”
The stage manager, a young man with dark curly hair and glasses, didn’t know about a cousin, either, and was equally puzzled why anyone would kill Viola. He scrolled through the cast list on his tablet. “I can’t remember Viola quarreling with anyone. She liked to give new people advice, you know, like how to stand and how to keep in the light. She always knew what she was talking about, so even if she was abrupt, people appreciated her acting tips.”
“And her relationship with Millicent Crotty?”
“Oh, they’ve been friends for years.”
I’d still have a word with her.
***
Kary and Camden joined me as I walked back up the aisle, and Kary had good news.
“One of the guys in the ensemble said an older woman who looked very much like Viola came to see her in a play called Arsenic and Old Lace. Viola introduced her as Dahlia, which is why he remembers her. He said he’d never met anyone named Dahlia before.”
“That’s great, Kary. That’s a starting point, at least. There can’t be that many Dahlias in the world.”
“Everyone else said working with Viola was like working with the Grand Duchess of the Theater. The violinists and the percussionist worked with her on Sound of Music and Oklahoma. They said she was very demanding, and if the orchestra was the tiniest bit off, she’d complain.”
“Didn’t you work with her on this music?”
“Her character doesn’t have a song, thank goodness. She only has to look shocked and appalled, and she was very good at that. I didn’t have any direct contact with her. I’ll have to ask Charlie. Was he at the Tempo tonight?”
“For a while. Then he got drunk and J.J. had to take him home.”
“Are things that bad between him and Taffy? I’ll have to call him tomorrow and see if he’s okay.”
Oh, I didn’t want that. “No need to bother. I’m sure he’ll be all right. I’ll get their romance back on track.”
Camden didn’t say anything, but his expression was full of humor.
“Charlie’s such a great guy and so talented,” Kary said. “Taffy’s crazy if she lets him go.”
I was surprised by the spike of jealousy I felt. Sure, Charlie was charming—when sober—and also a talented musician and only three years older than Kary, not six, like me. Then I reminded myself I’d been admiring Taffy’s legs and all the rest of her and having a little fantasy during her songs. It must be the same thing with Kary and Charlie, mutual admiration, that’s all. Kary and I had an understanding, didn’t we? Did I have anything to worry about?
Taffy’s not the only one who’s crazy around here, I thought. Pull yourself together. Then get Charlie and Taffy together. You’ve got a job do to, so do it.
***
That night, Camden and I stayed up to watch the Psychic Service Network, Ellin’s show. It’s one of those late night quasi-entertainment programs. Two of the Service’s more photogenic women take turns as hostess, and Reg Haverson, Mrs. Belton’s choice for Ellin, is the emcee. Reg embodies the best qualities of a Ken doll and a game show host combined—plastic perfect looks, a matching wardrobe, and a fake smile with plenty of white teeth. An audience of believers oohed and ahhed in the right places and looked suitably stunned by the predictions. While I slumped into the blue armchair, Reg posed carefully and aimed his toothy smile at a young woman, urging her to spill her innermost thoughts and learn her destiny.
“Jeez, Camden, you might as well give up right now. Look at that suit.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” He handed me a slip of paper from the coffee table. “You’ll have to go by Suit City sometime and check on your tux.”
“Thanks.” I put the note in my pocket. “You know the only reason I agreed to be your best man is to see you in a tuxedo.”
He indicated the roomy Carolina Panthers tee-shirt and pajama pants he had on. “I begged Ellie to let me wear this, but for some reason she and her mother said no. And speaking of Mother, Jean will be by tomorrow. Something about the pictures.”
“Again? How many photographers have they gone through?”
“I’ve lost count.”
“What time can we expect the Belton invasion, and why can’t they discuss this at Ellin’s?”
“Sometime after noon, I believe.”
“I’ll close my door.” I reached for the remote. “Can we watch something else?”
“There isn’t too much on now.”
“When did that ever stop us? Staying up late, eating junky snacks, watching mind-rotting TV. Once you’re married, life will change.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me? You’re telling me when Ellin’s upstairs in your bed you’d rather be down here?”
Camden thought it over. “No.”
“See?”
“But I’ll need an occasional restorative break.”
I counted the syllables on my fingers. “‘Restorative.’ My Lord, and it’s after midnight.”
Assorted squeaks and mews came from the basket in the corner where Cindy was attempting to feed her troublesome kitties. Camden got up to retrieve the red kitten that had fallen out and was scampering toward the kitchen. He rearranged the brood so that everyone had a chance to get some dinner. As the kittens squirmed and fought for position, Cindy turned her head and gave me a look as if to say, you think you’ve got problems?
With this crisis averted, Camden returned to the sofa. “Things won’t be that different, Randall.”
“You forget I’ve been married before. Things will definitely be different.”
I could tell he didn’t believe me, and maybe things wouldn’t be that different for him. But I knew Ellin saw me as another unwelcomed cat and would do her best to find me another home.
***
Home.
As I lay in bed that night, after way too many Cheetos and most of The Land That Time Forgot, I thought about home, the one I’d shared with Barbara and Lindsey, the new house in a development on the north side of Parkland. For some reason, I pictured myself walking through the house. There was Barbara’s best black dress on the bed, her jewelry on the bureau. We must have been going out that night. There was the formal dining room with the oak table and chairs she’d inherited from her grandmother. We hardly used it, except at Thanksgiving. There were the strange yellow glass grapes on the coffee table. I never understood why they were fashionable, but everybody had some. There was the screened-in side porch where Lindsey kept her little red bicycle, the one with a horn and multicolored streamers.
Now I was standing at the back door, looking out into the large backyard. Lindsey had lots of friends in the neighborhood, a
nd they liked to play in our yard because I’d bought a deluxe swing set and full-sized sliding board. I watched as the children chased each other in never-ending games of tag and hide-and-seek or even the games I recalled from my childhood, Mother, May I? Red Rover. London Bridge is Falling Down.
Damn, why was I thinking about this?
You lost one home, I told myself. Maybe you’re afraid of losing another.
Maybe. I punched the pillow into what I hoped would be a more comfortable shape. Maybe I ate one too many Cheetos.
Chapter Five
“I have never been so keyed up.”
Saturday morning, I woke up determined to keep my mind on business. First up, find George McMillan. I called the Green Palms Hotel. George McMillan had checked in. I then called Folly Harper to tell her George was found.
“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Randall,” she said.
“You’re sure that’s all you need me to do? I’ll go to Clearwater and talk to him if you like.”
She hesitated. “I’ll call the hotel. I know he’ll talk to me. This has to be some kind of misunderstanding.”
“All right.”
“I’ll send the rest of your fee today, and thanks again.”
She said good-bye and hung up. I sat for a while, wondering why I didn’t feel my usual sense of closure. Folly Harper had sounded as if she didn’t know what to do next, and having met her, I figured she really didn’t know what to do next. She’d probably dither around until George got wise and left the country. But if she didn’t want me to pursue him, then I’d done all I could.
Next I called Millicent Crotty, but she was too upset to talk to me. I asked if I could call later, and she said she needed time to process the whole horrible incident. She’d call me if and when she felt like it.
Okay. Truly upset, or really guilty? I’d have to wait. Next, search for Dahlia. After finding plenty of sites for dahlia flowers and the infamous unsolved Black Dahlia murder case, my Internet search brought up three Dahlia Mitchells in North Carolina, along with convenient addresses and phone numbers. One Dahlia Mitchell was listed as age thirty, probably too young to be Viola’s cousin. No ages were listed for the other two, and nobody was home when I called. Only one had an answering machine, and “Hello, I’m a private investigator trolling for work. Did you know your cousin Viola was murdered?” was not the message I wanted to leave. I hung up and decided to try again later.
Then I got a phone call from Ted O’Neal, head pharmacist at Drug World.
“Randall, I’ve got a problem with shoplifters. Can you come prowl the aisles for a couple of days?”
“I happen to have an empty slot in my busy calendar. What’s up?”
“I’ve been losing several packages of vitamins.”
“Your thief’s a health nut?”
“Must be. I can’t figure why anyone would want bottles of vitamins and mineral oil when there’re all kinds of drugs to steal.”
“You’re in luck. I’ve got a special on Store Detective this week.”
“Come in tomorrow if you can.”
I went to the kitchen to refill my tea glass. As I looked out the back bay window, I had a moment of disconnect. There was no swing set, no sliding board. Camden was trimming the hedge that separated his yard from the house behind, clipping the wild roses and honeysuckle into shape. The old oak trees spread shade across the grass. No children’s voices, no cries of “You’re it!” Only the rhythmic clip of the hedge-trimmers and a slight hum of traffic from a few streets over on Food Row.
Camden paused to talk over the hedge to a neighbor. Cindy’s kittens chased each other in the grass and tried to pounce on insects. I could hear the pleasant ticking of a clock in the quiet house. Pleasant and quiet. Two things that were going to change radically when Ellin moved in. I wondered again if I should find another place, but damn it, I was here first. I couldn’t afford to move, and I didn’t want to leave Kary. But Kary’s plans and mine never seemed to mesh. And now Charlie was in the mix.
I was brooding on this when Camden came in, took a can of Coke out of the fridge, and popped the top. He was singing “On the Street Where You Live,” so I told him to shut up or sing something different. He put the can on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room and sat down on one of the stools. He looked particularly grubby in his baseball cap, tee-shirt and frayed jeans, bits of hedge sticking everywhere.
I gave a pointed look at his attire. “Aren’t you expecting Ellin and her mother soon?”
“I’ll be through by the time they get here.”
“Let Reg have Ellin. Everyone will be happier.”
He grinned. “Dream on.” He took off his cap and tossed it on the counter, where it collided with the can and knocked it off the edge.
I grabbed for the can but wasn’t fast enough. Yet as the contents started to spill, the can abruptly righted itself. I stared at it, wondering if I’d lost my mind, or if I’d been staring at the computer screen too long. I turned to Camden. “Did you see that?”
He stared at the can, a look of horror in his eyes. “Oh, God.”
I had to revise my question. “Did you do that?” I felt a bit horrified myself.
He nodded. He’s usually pale, but this latest trick set him back about three shades to paper white. His voice was uneven. “I was hoping it was a fluke. Yesterday, one of the kittens fell off the steps. I couldn’t reach it, but it didn’t fall. It scooped back on the step, like a movie running backwards.”
I was determined to stay calm. “Okay. Maybe it did one of those weird little kitten moves. You know how spastic they are.”
His voice was now on the rise. “And the day before, when I needed a pen to sign some checks, one hopped out of the pencil holder.” He stared at the Coke can as if he expected it to go for his throat. “What’s going on, Randall? Is this stupid power never going to stop?”
“All right, hold on. This could be nothing but a few odd tricks. Try something.”
He glanced at the stack of mail on the counter. As I watched, the latest edition of UFO Monthly magazine detached itself from the stack and slid to the floor. One by one, the remaining objects—a cat toy, one of Kary’s textbooks, an apple core, and one of Rufus’ pal Buddy’s carved wooden ducks—hopped off to join the magazine.
My insides did the rumba. “That’s pretty good. How are you at bending spoons?”
Camden put his head in his hands. “No, no, no. This is all I need.”
“Take it easy.” I retrieved the magazine and the other objects, giving myself time to think of a logical explanation. “Could be temporary, could be the weather.” My own mind reeled. Damn! Where had this come from? Were his powers expanding?
When he lifted his head, I almost expected flames to shoot out of his eyes. Now his voice was way too calm. “I can’t handle this. I don’t want this. I never asked for this. What’s next? I start flying? Changing shape? Walking through walls?”
“Don’t flip out. So you can move a few things, so what? Nobody has to know.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but he got even whiter. “Ellie.” He didn’t have to say anything else.
I tried to lighten things up. “Well, it might come in handy. When you’re redecorating the place, for instance. ‘Honey, could you move this for me? A little more to the right. That’s perfect.’”
Camden was far too agitated to appreciate my humor. He slid off the stool. “How can I keep it from her? You know how she is. I don’t want any secrets between us, but, my Lord, she’ll go crazy if she finds out.” He stopped for a moment, aghast. “The children.”
“Children? What children?”
“I can’t handle this. I can’t marry her. It’s too much.”
He was out the back door before I could stop him. About that time, I heard Jean Belton’s voice as she and Ellin came in the front door.
Mother and daughter were arguing, as usual.
“But he doesn’t have a regular job, and these fits—”
“Not fits, Mother! Visions. Trances.”
“Well, whatever they are, it’s not natural,” Mrs. Belton said. “Can’t he take something for it? And are you still planning on living here with all these people?”
These people. She said it exactly the way Ellin did.
“It’s only temporary. I’m sure Cam and I can work something out.”
I peered around the corner. The women had stopped in the island. Jean had Ellin’s hands in hers. “Dear, I know you’ve been seeing Camden for a long time, and he’s a nice young man, really, but I’m not sure he’s the husband for you. You need someone with drive and ambition. Camden reminds me of those bohemian types you hung around with in college. I’d hoped you’d outgrown those kind of people.”
Ellin pulled her hands free. “Cam is not ‘those kind of people.’ He’s a sensitive, kind, caring man. Who else would take in these hopeless deadbeats?”
Jean sat down on the green sofa. “I still say you’re in love with his talent. You always went overboard for any mystical otherworldly nonsense.”
If you’re in love with his talent, you’ll be thrilled over this new wrinkle, I thought.
Ellin sighed. “Could we take care of business, please? Cam? Are you home?” She came around to the kitchen and stopped short when she saw me. Ordinarily, I’d have gotten a lecture about eavesdropping, but with Mom there, Ellin was on her best behavior. “Where’s Cam?”
“He had to step out for a minute.” I came around to the island. “Hello, Jean.”
“Good afternoon, David.” She had a large book in her lap that looked like a collection of sample wedding photos. “How is your detective agency coming along?”
I knew she didn’t really approve of my line of work either, but at least I was busy most of the time. “I recently found a missing person.” I left out the part about murdered and buried in her basement.
