Just in Time

by Suzanne Trauth

  “I told Dale we had a witness who’d seen him with Ruby on the access road—”

  “You didn’t tell me that!”

  “Shh. It’s—”

  “Confidential. I know. That is incriminating, but it was dark. Could the witness see them well?” I asked.

  Bill’s face was impassive. Deliberately not reacting or offering a hint to the person’s identity.

  He leaned across the table murmuring. “The dome light was on. Their faces were illuminated.”

  My heart sank. “It doesn’t look good for Dale.”

  “He agreed to join a lineup at some point to see if the witness can identify him.”

  “But he wouldn’t do that if he was guilty, would he?” I asked hopefully.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. If he felt cornered, he might see this as the best strategy. Or he’s counting on the fact that the witness didn’t have a good view,” he said.

  Benny and Gillian sidled up to our booth. “We’re heading out.” Benny said. “I’m dropping Gillian off. Enrico and Carmen are gone. Wilson too.”

  “Great work tonight.”

  The restaurant was still, except for the hum of the refrigeration cases behind the bar. I grabbed my bag, clicked off the lights, and locked the door behind us. We drove to my place in Bill’s squad car, parking in front of my bungalow. Never mind what the neighbors might think.

  “I’d like to hear more about this accident with the brakes,” Bill said as he sat on the bed and wrenched off his shoes.

  “I’m picking up the Metro in the morning. Timothy might have found something.”

  “You need a new set of wheels.” He yawned and walked to the bathroom.

  “Could be a birthday present from myself,” I called after him.

  No response.

  I whipped out my cell phone. There was one more item on today’s to do inventory. I texted Pauli, asking if he’d found anything on Veronica or Ruby Passonata, and requested that he add Otto Heinlein to his deep search list. He’d probably see the text in the morning.

  Bill tumbled into bed and I cuddled next to him. As he dozed off, my cell binged and he woke up.

  “Who’s that?” he asked groggily.

  I bounded out of bed and checked the message. Pauli: Nothing on Ruby yet. Will check out Otto. Gotta bounce.

  Me too. It was 1 a.m.

  15

  “Well, this baby’s pretty old. She’s got a lotta mileage on her.” Timothy smoothed his hair and replaced his ball cap.

  Tell me about it. Over a hundred and twenty thousand.

  “So it coulda been worn brake pads,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “Coulda been the master cylinder,” he added.

  “Yeah?”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “Timothy, did you find anything?” I was tired and edgy.

  “Well, you got your rubber hoses, your valves, your cylinders, your pistons and everything operates like a heart. Pumping blood to all the parts of the body. In this case the brake fluid is pumped to all the parts of the braking system.” He waited to see if this was registering with me.

  “Got it.”

  “Every part of the brake system can leak,” Timothy said and crossed his arms confidently.

  “The Metro?”

  “Had a puncture in a brake line,” he declared in triumph.

  What? “How did that happen?”

  “Brake lines get worn out. Or you run over something in the road. Road debris could do it.”

  Road debris? I didn’t remember running over anything from the time I left Etonville until I arrived in Creston.

  “I fixed her up. Replaced the brake line and refilled the fluid,” Timothy said. “But if I was you…”

  “I’d get a newer model,” I finished for him.

  “Yep.”

  I paid Timothy and cranked the engine. The Metro purred like a young kitten. What did age matter? Anyway, something about the whole brake incident had set my neck hairs aquiver. Why had it happened so quickly? Why were there no brake issues on my way to Creston—only on my way home? I was no mechanic, but it didn’t make sense. I didn’t care how old the Metro was.

  I opened the door to the Windjammer, surprised to find Henry standing in the center of the dining room as if he couldn’t believe that the place was still standing. “Hey. You’re here early.” I was early, and Henry had arrived before me.

  “How did yesterday go?” he asked tensely, no doubt waiting for some kind of a kitchen bombshell.

  “Remarkably well.”

  “Really?”

  Did Henry seem disappointed? “Wilson was at the top of his game, no spills or accidents, and folks scarfed up the small plates. We sold out.”

  Henry’s jaw dropped an inch. “I suggested a tapas menu last year if you remember,” he said darkly, pouting.

  Unfortunately, that was the same week Enrico had the flu. We needed a less labor-intensive special. “I know you did,” I said soothingly. “Now that we know it’s a winner, we could feature a tapas menu more often.”

  Henry bent down and retrieved a champagne cork. I thought we’d gotten all of them.

  “What’s this?”

  “Looks like a cork to me. I’ll have to speak to Gillian about being more thorough when sweeping up,” I said with an air of authority.

  Henry eyed me with an air of suspicion. “Yeah.”

  “You haven’t told me how your day was. Give me the scoop on the in-laws,” I said.

  He groaned. “It was like watching paint dry.”

  “That bad?”

  “All they talked about was redecorating their summer home and their trip to Alaska.”

  “And your future son-in-law?” I asked tentatively.

  “The same. Living at home, trying to find a ‘better’ job…but as long as Leslie is happy.”

  Henry was a pushover where his daughter was concerned. “You’re a good dad,” I said and patted him on the back.

  “I hope I’m not a regretful dad.” He trudged off to the kitchen.

  Fathers and daughters. My own dad was a bit of a pushover. He let me choose a college even though he’d have to cough up more tuition, co-signed a loan so I could buy the Metro, kept my past-curfew-nights a secret from Mom. My younger brother Andy always swore that I could do no wrong as far as Dad was concerned. I vehemently denied that I was daddy’s little girl. But I was. Reflecting on family jogged my memory. Andy had texted yesterday: Cape Cod plans for August set - u in? I had to break the news to him that Bill and I were going to either the Jersey Shore or the wilds of New York State.

  Lunch proceeded without a hitch, but it was clear the staff was in higher spirits than usual. Benny was a whirlwind of energy, wiping down the bar and restocking wine, and Gillian actually smiled at customers. Wilson, of course, was his normal, sunny self, and blew kisses to everyone on his way to the kitchen.

  Henry was mystified. “I don’t get it. Everybody drink happy juice this morning?”

  Something like that. Only it was last night, not this morning. “I think it’s terrific that everyone is in a good mood.”

  Benny and Gillian snickered.

  When the Banger sisters asked if Henry would be stopping by their table for a chat as Wilson had, I figured our cover might be blown. “Henry’s too busy today. Next week,” I said quickly.

  * * * *

  I took my three o’clock break in my back booth. My cell rang just as I’d started to enjoy Henry’s crab bisque and a burger.

  “Hi Lola,” I said between bites.

  “Dodie, I’m nervous,” she said.

  “I know it’s drizzling now, but the weather app says tomorrow will be fine. Sunny and dry. Even a bit cooler.”

  “It’s not the weat
her. It’s Dale.”

  Yikes. “What about him?” I said as innocently as I could.

  “Snippets has been buzzing about a rumor that there’s an eyewitness to Ruby’s murder.”

  I wanted to correct her: not to the murder, just to a conversation she had with a tall man who had black hair. “You know how people at Snippets get things wrong.” I swallowed a mouthful of the bisque.

  “I’m not so sure this time. Dale went back to the police station this morning.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Edna saw him come in. Then he left with the chief for Creston,” she said.

  For a lineup?

  “I tried to reach him on his cell but he wasn’t picking up.”

  I was dying to share what I knew but, one, I had promised Bill I’d keep his confidence, and, two, no sense in creating any more anxiety for Lola than necessary. “There’s no point in working yourself into a lather. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

  The line was silent. “You’re right. But I wonder if Dale’s erratic behavior lately has something to do with Ruby.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Because it all started after her death when he was interviewed by the police. I know the whole cast was called in, but something happened with Dale. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” she said.

  “Why don’t you have a cup of chamomile tea to relax and focus on tonight’s rehearsal?”

  “I suppose you’re right. Good thing Walter scheduled the brush-up for indoors, though we’ll have minimal set pieces to work with. At least we won’t have to deal with the weather.” She announced, “This is the last show I’m doing al fresco!”

  Benny agreed to close up tonight, so I reassured her that I would pop in, and that Bill would show up during Act Two in time to play a cop. After Lola clicked off, I doodled on a napkin. What exactly had been the connection between Ruby and Dale besides financial adviser and client?

  “Hey O’Dell, heard you had a party after closing last night,” Penny said, putting an imaginary bottle to her mouth and tipping it upward. She slouched in a theater seat, her legs stretched out in front of her. Very un-Penny-like.

  I had yet to understand how word traveled so fast in this town. Like the speed of light. “A staff meeting,” I said casually. I sincerely hoped there were no more errant corks hidden in corners.

  Penny snorted. “Better get rid of those champagne corks. Could be evidence.”

  “Penny! Stop!” I yelled. Then more calmly, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for rehearsal?” I peeked at my watch. It was seven thirty.

  “Nah. Walter hasn’t done the warm-up yet—”

  “Penny! Gather the cast!” Walter hollered from the stage.

  Penny hauled herself out of the seat. “I’m on it.”

  I held my ears as her whistle detonated and actors winced, slowly making their way onto the stage to join Walter. Janice and the other young women in the cast yakked and flirted with the guys, who pretended to ignore them while they checked their cell phones. The Creston High athlete was nowhere to be found.

  “Hey,” I heard behind me. It was Pauli, out of breath.

  “Pauli, hi. Did you run all the way here?”

  “Like…I thought I might catch Janice before it starts,” he said.

  We both shifted our attention to the stage where Penny took attendance with her clipboard while Walter prodded actors to hurry up. “You have about a minute. Go for it.”

  He ran to the stage and grabbed Janice’s attention. She focused on him, and I could have sworn Pauli grew an inch or two.

  “Hi Dodie.” Lola stood in the aisle, as down in person as she was on the phone this afternoon.

  “Any word from Dale?”

  As though he heard my question, the leading man materialized from the green room behind the stage. He spotted Lola in the house and smiled magnificently. This did not look like a man who had spent his morning in a lineup as a murder suspect.

  “Dale?” Lola said, as though she was shocked to see him.

  “Let’s run through our number,” he said.

  She flew down the aisle and met him at the piano where Alex was setting up his score.

  None of this got by Walter. “Lola, dear, could you help me with the warm-up?” he asked plaintively.

  Lola snubbed Walter, and bent her head over Alex’s score. Walter, clearly put out, introduced his exercise to the actors who were none-too-enthused about his greet-each-other game. Walter instructed everyone to move around the stage and, as though they were all strangers, introduce themselves to each other, making eye—and physical—contact. He told them to touch, hug, and shake hands to acknowledge one another. Most of the actors went along with Walter and his eccentric pre-rehearsal workouts by now. But not everyone.

  “What’s the point of this?” Romeo asked, and he sat down on the floor, likely assuming that playing the rock star and parading around in gold lamé gave him some theatrical clout.

  The ELT regulars were transfixed. They mocked the warm-ups and fooled around when they were supposed to be focusing, but no one doubted Walter’s rationale. “Dear boy, the theatre is a—”

  “Family. I know. But if we’re a family wouldn’t we already know everybody’s name? Why do we have to introduce ourselves?” he asked in defiance.

  I had to admit that Romeo had a point.

  The stage grew quiet, Lola shifted her attention to Walter, whose face turned red. “If you do not wish to participate, please leave the playing area.”

  Penny gasped. Had Walter ever thrown anyone off the stage before? The cast bobbed their heads like ping pong balls, gazing first at Walter, then Romeo, and then Walter again. Romeo got to his feet and plopped into a seat in the first row of the house. Penny wrote furiously on her clipboard while Lola gestured to Dale and the two of them joined the cast.

  As if to make up for Romeo’s errant ways, the rest of the cast jumped into greeting each other with a vengeance, running around the stage, calling out their names, fist bumping, slapping hands, and generally creating a commotion. Walter was oblivious, floating through the crowd and greeting folks with gusto. Everyone picked up the pace when Alex played the overture to Bye, Bye, Birdie. While the teenagers became hysterical, Edna whirled right then left into Abby and the two of them touched hands awkwardly. Vernon shuffled around the perimeter of the stage, waving away anyone who came too close, until Mildred whacked him on the arm. The Banger sisters hooked arms, twirling together in the center of the activity, tapping everyone who passed by, giggling.

  Lola looked into the house, caught my eye and rolled hers. I stifled a laugh.

  “What’s going on?” Bill stood in the aisle, arms akimbo, staring at the pandemonium in front of him.

  “Walter’s warm-up. It’s about greeting everyone as if you didn’t know them. Of course, as Romeo pointed out, if the theater is a family—”

  “Dodie!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I stopped by to let Walter know I wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

  I sat up alertly. “Why?”

  Bill stooped down beside me. “I can’t talk now.” He observed the madness on stage. “I see Dale is here.”

  “Did you think he wouldn’t be here?”

  “I have to go. Could you tell…” He cocked his head at Penny, who pushed her glasses up her nose and furiously fingered her whistle. With the cast bouncing off each other like bumper cars and the volume level increasing, she was ready to intervene.

  “Sure. See you later tonight?” I asked.

  “I’ll let you know.” He patted my shoulder and walked up the aisle to the exit.

  I shivered. Something was going on in the Etonville police department.

  In the Etonville Little Theatre too. While I talked to Bill, the athlete from Creston saun
tered into the theater, surveyed the hullabaloo, and ran onto the stage. He found Janice and, not really understanding the exercise, grabbed her and waltzed her around the space. They collided with several actors, and finally bumped into Pauli who was standing at the outer limits of the mayhem taking rehearsal shots of the cast. Pauli landed on his backside, the Creston kid barely noticing. Pauli had had it. He shoved the athlete, who tripped over his own feet and smacked the floor. The two of them went nose-to-nose, each clutching the front of the other’s shirt, both gasping heavily and ready to take a swing.

  I rushed to Penny. “Get up there and stop them!”

  “O’Dell, it’s just some guys messing around—”

  One of them could get injured—most likely Pauli. “Penny!” I screamed.

  She tooted her whistle, heaved herself onto the stage with me close behind. Actors looked around for direction. Walter broke out of his greeting both Banger sisters at once and said, “Penny!”

  I tugged Pauli away from the athlete, who was firmly in Penny’s grasp. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was, but her stocky build gave her leverage. “Knock it off you two!”

  “Decorum!” Walter cried. “The theater is a sacred space. There can be no conflict here!”

  The rest of the cast halted the exercise, panting in place, trying to determine what was happening.

  “Why don’t you call a timeout?” I asked, my arm around Pauli’s shoulder.

  “Take ten!” Penny blew another blast.

  The onstage assembly dissolved and actors talked among themselves, getting water, resting in a seat, and preparing for the rehearsal. Barely anyone looked over at Pauli and the Creston athlete.

  “All good?” I murmured to Pauli.

  He stared at Janice who stood apart, stunned. “It’s just like in the play,” she said. “Hugo punches Conrad Birdie.” Her eyes glistened and she turned on her heel running away.

  “Janice?” the athlete exclaimed, and then stared daggers at Pauli.

  Life imitating art.

  * * * *

  Dale’s positive mood vanished by the end of the break. He had a tense conversation with Alex, which concluded with him storming onto the stage and rebuffing Walter’s notes. He also brushed off Lola’s request to run their last number. With Pauli and the athlete sulking in opposite corners, Dale stomping off into the green room, and Walter fit to be tied, tension was in the air and flinging a damper on the rehearsal.