by Gibson, Jo
“Ah-ha!” Andy looked excited. “Vera knew you wouldn’t cooperate, so she spiked your drinks to get you in bed! She probably figured you’d go along with her if you were drunk. And then her brother was supposed to find you, and raise the roof.”
“But, why? I don’t have any money.”
“Your parents do.” Carla sighed deeply. She was beginning to understand exactly where Andy’s questions were leading. “Vera must have thought that your parents would pay to keep the whole thing quiet. I know she was desperate for money. She borrowed fifty dollars from me just last week.”
Linda gave a little groan, and they turned to look at her. She was clearly upset. “This is my fault! I never realized that Vera would take me seriously. But she must have!”
“What are you talking about?” Andy put his arm around Linda’s shoulder and gave her a little shake. “Tell us!”
“Well . . . Vera told me they wouldn’t let her enroll in modeling school unless she could raise a thousand dollars by the first of September. She said she’d already borrowed from everybody at Covers, but she was still five hundred short.”
Andy looked surprised. “So that’s where the money was going! She borrowed fifty from me, too.”
“She was really worried about it.” Linda gave a little sigh. “She told me she’d die if she couldn’t get into that modeling course. She said she didn’t know how she was going to raise the money, and I . . . I told her to go out and find a rich boyfriend!”
“Okay, I get the picture.” Andy stood up and squared his shoulders. “Excuse me, guys. I’ve got to talk to my uncle.”
They watched as Andy marched in the dining room door, and then Carla turned to Michael. “Do you think your parents would have paid Vera five hundred dollars?”
“Maybe.” Michael looked thoughtful. “They might have done it, I’m just not sure. But I can’t believe Vera would set me up for something like that. There has to be some other explanation!”
Carla and Linda exchanged glances. They didn’t have any trouble believing that Vera had set Michael up. They knew how desperate she’d been for money, and they’d never thought that Vera had been serious about exorcising Judy’s ghost. Vera and her brother had planned the whole thing to take advantage of Michael’s good nature. That made Carla so mad, she was almost glad that Vera was dead.
“Well . . .” Linda sighed deeply. “We’ll never know for sure unless Vera’s brother talks. Right, Carla?”
Carla nodded, but her mind wasn’t really on Vera’s brother. She was thinking about a problem that had occurred only to her, and she certainly didn’t want to share her concerns with Linda and Michael. Vera could have planned to extort money from Michael’s parents. That made perfect sense. But if Michael had tumbled to her scheme, it would have given him the perfect motive to kill her!
The interviews with the police took up most of the day. Mr. Calloway offered to cancel the performance at Covers that evening, but no one wanted that to happen. Covers had a perfect record for the two years it had been in existence. They’d never canceled a performance before, and they weren’t about to do it now.
Carla sighed as she glanced out at the audience. A full house. And everyone who came in, wanted to know about how Vera had died. Of course they hadn’t given out any information, but rumors were flying.
“Carla?” Linda tapped her on the shoulder. “Michael wants to see you. He’s in the dressing room.”
“How is he?”
“Shaky. Very shaky. I think he needs a pep talk before he goes out on stage.”
Carla nodded, and headed for the dressing room. Of course Michael was shaky. They all were. But he had more reason to be upset than any of them. He was definitely a suspect. Andy had told her that. Even though Michael claimed he’d been behind the bar sleeping, there were no witnesses to prove that it was true. And since he admitted to being right there on the beach when Vera had been murdered, the police had interviewed him for hours before they’d finally let him go.
“Michael?” Carla knocked on the door, and Michael called out for her to come in. She pushed open the door, and gasped as she saw him sitting on a chair in front of the makeup table. In the harsh lights, his face looked haggard, and no amount of stage makeup could conceal the dark circles under his eyes or the pale cast to his skin.
“Carla. Boy, am I glad to see you!” Michael patted the chair next to him. “They think I did it, you know.”
“Who thinks you did it?”
“Everybody. The police, Vera’s relatives, everybody here at Covers. And I didn’t, Carla! I didn’t kill Vera!”
“I know you didn’t.” Carla put her arm around Michael’s shoulders and hugged him tightly. But Michael pulled away.
“You’ll doubt me, too, when I tell you what I told the police. But I have to tell you. It’s the truth. And I can’t hold anything back from you. It wouldn’t be right.”
Carla frowned slightly. What was Michael talking about? “You can tell me, Michael. It won’t make any difference. I’m sure you didn’t kill Vera, and nothing’s going to change my mind.”
“When I went down to the bar, I found the bottle of vodka. My name was on it in Vera’s handwriting, and I knew she’d been spiking my drinks. I didn’t know why, but I was mad enough to kill her. And then I passed out.”
Carla nodded. “That’s just it, Michael. You passed out. There’s no way you could have killed Vera if you were passed out cold.”
“What if I woke up? I was so drunk, I might not remember. What if I heard Vera come down to the beach, looking for me? And what if I was still so mad about that bottle of vodka that I . . . I killed her?”
Carla sighed, and slipped her arm around Michael’s shoulder again. This time he didn’t pull away and she was glad. “Look, Michael . . . those are all what ifs. Sure, you could have killed her. But you didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“Maybe I did. What if I knew that Vera was up to something? I knew you were drunk and Andy told me that she was spiking your drinks. What if I didn’t drive home? What if I came back, looking for you, and found Vera on the beach? What if I hit her over the head with a rock and killed her? And stuck that arrow in her chest so it would look like the Cupid Killer had done it?”
“But you didn’t do that.” Michael pulled Carla close. “I know you didn’t.”
Carla nodded. “Of course I didn’t. But I could have, just like you could have. Think about it, Michael. I’m trying to make an important point. You don’t believe that I’m the killer, and I don’t believe that you are. It’s all a matter of trust.”
“I guess you’re right.” Michael began to smile, and he hugged her tightly. “I trust you, and you trust me. I’m a lucky guy, Carla.”
But after Michael had left to go out on stage, Carla sat there for a moment, with a puzzled expression on her face. How could Michael possibly consider himself lucky? Most of the girls he’d dated had been murdered, the police suspected him of being the Cupid Killer, and almost all of his friends had turned against him. If that was luck, Carla hoped she’d be very unlucky in the days to come!
Sixteen
Carla wasn’t intending to eavesdrop on anyone’s private conversation, but when she let herself in the front door of Covers at four on Saturday afternoon, she couldn’t help but hear every word that was coming from the kitchen. Tammy, Winona, and Berto were arguing, and their voices were so loud, they could have roused the dead. Actually, that’s what they were arguing about. The dead . . . as in, Judy Lampert’s ghost.
The swinging door to the kitchen was open, and Carla didn’t want to walk past it. Then they’d know that she had overheard. But she didn’t want to turn around and go back outside, either. It was hot in the parking lot, and she had a lot of work to do before they opened for the evening.
Carla sighed. Since she was here, she might as well stay. She was about to sit down on a chair and wait for the end of the argument, when the front door opened and Michael came in.
Carla gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m not sure. It sounds like Berto, and Tammy, and Winona are arguing about the existence of Judy’s ghost.”
“Again?” Michael chuckled. “Maybe we ought to bill them as a comedy routine. They’ve been doing this for over a week.”
“Well, I say it’s true!” Tammy was so excited, her voice squeaked. “There were two packs of French fries gone this morning, and you know how much Judy always loved French fries!”
When Berto spoke, he sounded disgusted. “What did you do? Count the whole carton?”
“Yes! And Winona helped me, didn’t you, Winona?”
“It’s true. I did.” Winona didn’t sound quite as excited as Tammy. “You’ve got to face facts, Berto. Somebody’s been eating our food. And somebody’s been sitting in our chairs. They’re all out of place when we come in.”
Tammy took up the argument again. “And somebody’s been sleeping in the girls’ dressing room! What do you have to say about that?”
“Goldilocks.” Michael spoke softly in Carla’s ear as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I wonder if Berto’ll pick up on that.”
“Come on, girls. You sound like the three bears.”
Berto sounded amused, and Michael and Carla began to laugh. Berto must have heard them, because the argument abruptly stopped, and he stuck his head out the door. “Hi, guys. Why don’t you come in here, and beat some sense into Tammy and Winona’s pointed little heads? They’re still blabbering on and on about Judy’s ghost.”
Tammy and Winona looked embarrassed as Carla and Michael trooped into the kitchen. Tammy was the first to recover, and she gave a nervous little laugh. “Berto doesn’t believe us, but there’s more stuff missing. Look at this!”
Michael and Carla looked where Tammy was pointing. There was a plate on the table with two limp French fries, sitting in a gob of dried mustard.
“Judy always dipped her french fries in mustard.” Winona explained. “Everybody else I know uses ketchup. There’s something going on here, and I don’t like it.”
Michael nodded. “I don’t like it, either. And neither does Mr. Calloway. He’s losing money on all this missing food. I don’t suppose you’ve been keeping a list?”
“I have.” Berto opened the kitchen drawer, and took out a notebook. He opened it, and handed it to Michael with a frown. “Twenty-three hamburgers with buns, a bunch of French fries, four packs of sliced cheese, and six gallons of strawberry ice cream.”
“That’s your proof!” Tammy pointed to the last item on the list. “Strawberry ice cream is Judy’s favorite!”
Berto frowned. “Don’t be an idiot, Tammy. Strawberry ice cream is a lot of people’s favorite. We sell at least four gallons a night.”
“With chocolate sauce?” Tammy pointed to the container of chocolate sauce on the counter. “I filled that up last night, and now there’s some missing. I just wish Vera had gone through with that exorcism, no matter how stupid it sounds. I’d feel a whole lot better.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Carla cleared her throat. She could tell that Tammy’s careless comment had disturbed Michael. He still didn’t like to talk about Vera, especially since her brother had confessed that they’d planned to extort money from Michael’s parents. “Look, Tammy . . . do you really think Judy’s ghost is eating this food?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Tammy hesitated. “All I know is, it scares me to come in and find all this stuff missing. Somebody’s been here. You can’t deny that.”
“I don’t deny it. I think someone’s been staying here, too. But I don’t think it’s a ghost. I think it’s a real live person.”
“That’s impossible.” Winona shook her head. “Mr. Calloway changed all the locks and put bars on the windows. Nobody can get in.”
“So it’s got to be a ghost because ghosts can walk through walls?”
Tammy frowned. “Exactly!”
“Then tell me how I got in.” Carla started to smile.
“You used your key.” Winona looked at Carla like she was crazy. “That’s obvious.”
“But I didn’t. I didn’t have to use my key because the door was open. We don’t lock it behind us in the daytime. And that’s probably how our food thief got in. He or she could have opened the door and walked right past the kitchen while we were arguing.”
“Oh, my God! You’re right!” Tammy gave a little shiver. “I never thought of that! The food thief could be sneaking in during the daytime, and hiding out until we leave for the night. And that means there’s no ghost. Judy’s really dead.”
Carla turned to wink at Michael. Proving a point to Tammy and Winona was a lot like teaching a kindergarten class. You had to spell everything out, and it took infinite patience. But Michael didn’t look amused. He just looked very sad, and Carla knew he was thinking about the awful way that Judy had died.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” A voice floated out from the main room, and everyone jumped.
“We’re in here!” Carla frowned slightly. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, but it could be someone Mr. Calloway had signed up to appear as a guest in tonight’s show.
The owner of the voice stepped into the kitchen. She was a gorgeous brunette in her early twenties, wearing shorts and a halter top. Her skin was golden, her hair fell to her waist in a shining curtain of mahogany silk, and her face was something a model would die for. As she spotted Michael, her deep brown eyes began to sparkle, and she rushed across the room to hug him tightly.
“Scooter!” Her voice was low-pitched and breathless. “Your mother told me you’d be here, so I rushed right over.”
Michael looked dazed as he glanced down at the gorgeous creature in his arms. “Stinky? Is that you?”
“In the flesh.” The girl laughed, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise you won’t call me Stinky, I won’t call you Scooter.”
“Deal.” Michael laughed and hugged her again. Then he turned to introduce her to the rest of the group. “This is my sort-of cousin, Angela Price. She used to live next door to me until her parents moved away. Angela . . . meet Berto, and Tammy, and Winona, and Carla.”
Angela’s beautiful lips parted and she smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “Hi. I’m glad to meet you. Aunt Ginnie told me all about Covers, and I could hardly wait to see it.”
“Will you be in town long?” Michael draped a friendly arm around Angela’s shoulders.
“Forever!” Angela smiled up at him. “At least it seems like forever. I just got accepted at U.C.L.A., and I’m transferring here.”
“Great!”
Michael sounded really pleased, and Carla felt an unwelcome stab of jealousy. She tried to stifle it by telling herself that she was being ridiculous. Angela was so beautiful, she probably had hundreds of boyfriends. It was perfectly understandable that she’d wanted to look up her former neighbor. She’d do the same thing herself, if she went back to her old home town.
“What’s your major, Angela?” Berto did his best to make polite conversation.
“Theater Arts. I went to Washington State for my first two years, but everyone told me I’d be better off coming down here. After all, this is the capital of show biz, and I want to be where the action is.”
“Are you a performer?” Tammy asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, Carla’s included.
Angela laughed. “You couldn’t keep me off a stage if you tried. I sing and dance, and I can get by on a guitar or a keyboard, but that’s about it.”
“That’s plenty.” Michael sounded impressed. “Wait until Mr. Calloway comes in. If he likes you, he might give you a guest shot. You probably need the extra cash.”
Angela laughed again, a wonderfully musical laugh that set Carla’s teeth on edge. No one should have such a marvelous laugh. It just wasn’t fair.
“Cash is no problem, Scoot . .
. I mean, Michael. My grandfather left me a trust fund that covers all my expenses. But I’d love to do it for the experience.”
“Come on, Carla.” Michael motioned to her. “Let’s go show Angela around. You’ve got time, haven’t you?”
“Uh . . . sure!” Carla gave him a blinding smile that she knew wasn’t as pretty as Angela’s. She didn’t have the time, and she’d have to work her tail off to get everything done by the time Mr. Calloway arrived, but she didn’t want to leave Angela alone with Michael.
They walked out of the kitchen and across the floor, and climbed the steps to the stage. Angela shivered a little as she stepped out on the boards. “I hope I don’t run into that girl again. She was very strange. I asked her if you were here, and she turned around and ran.”
“What girl?” Carla began to frown. She hadn’t heard anyone come in.
“The girl who was up on the stage. She was a blonde, a little taller than I am, and she was dressed all in black.”
Carla turned to meet Michael’s eyes. He looked just as startled as she was. A blonde dressed in black was the exact description Vera had given when she’d told them about seeing Judy’s ghost!
Seventeen
Carla and Michael had insisted that Angela tell Mr. Calloway about the girl she’d seen, and they’d made a thorough search of the building. Mr. Calloway had even called the police to look for the intruder, but the girl had vanished into thin air. Everyone hoped that they’d frightened her away, but the girl was bolder than they’d thought. On Tuesday, Andy had reported that there was more missing food, and on Wednesday, Marc had found a bedroll tucked into a corner of the prop closet. Just yesterday, Linda had discovered that several costumes were no longer on the rack in the dressing room, and Carla had come up short when she’d counted petty cash. It was clear that the girl was hiding out in the building, but no one had caught a glimpse of her since Angela had startled her on Monday afternoon.
It had been a miserable week at Covers, and everyone was very nervous. Linda, who was usually calm and collected, had broken down in tears at their after-show meeting when she’d told Mr. Calloway that she thought someone was watching her. Phil had admitted he’d had the same feeling, and so had most of the Covers staff. Even Carla had felt uneasy when she worked alone in the office. She’d almost jumped out of her skin last night, when a squirrel had scampered across the roof.
