Murder Takes Center Stage

by Tracy D. Comstock

  Ignoring the question, the superintendent turned toward Gangly Arms and said, "I realize you'll need complete access to the auditorium in the next few days. The play will, naturally, be cancelled."

  At Emily's shocked gasp, Principal Matthews laid a hand on her arm. "I think what Superintendent Johnson meant to say is that the play has been postponed. Of course, we have no other choice," he said, looking directly into her eyes.

  She nodded resignedly. "We'll begin calling everyone tonight. Though I might wait to let Destiny know after the rough evening she's already had."

  Gangly Arms added, "And since neither she nor Mr. Albert French are present, I need you to show me exactly where the props were stored and give me a list of those who had a key."

  Annabeth poked her head in the door and said, "I can show you, Detective. I want to look for our actual dummy while we're at it. You two go on home," she motioned to Tad and Emily. "You've had a long enough night."

  "I'll accompany you, if you don't mind," Superintendent Johnson asserted, and the trio made their way to the backstage area. Principal Matthews walked Emily and Tad out to the lobby, where Ray and Susan were waiting to check on Emily. Assuring her parents that she was fine, that she and Tad were going to spend what remained of the evening making calls, they headed home too.

  "I'm sorry," Emily said softly to Principal Matthews on their way out the door. He nodded and gave her a small smile but said nothing. With a long sigh and drooping shoulders, he trudged back into the auditorium.

  * * *

  Emily sank gratefully onto her comfy couch, a pile of papers in her lap and her cell phone in hand. "I guess we better get started on these phone calls. I'm worried about our kids. This has been a rough week for them."

  Tad settled in beside her, pulling her legs onto his lap so that he could rub her feet while they talked. She sighed and laid her head back, appreciating his firm fingers digging into the arch of her foot, easing tension that threatened to explode into a raging headache. "I noticed Helen isn't home yet. She must still be with Sapphira and Jeweliah. I think that's who I'm most worried about," he added.

  "I agree. And Destiny. She's going to be absolutely devastated that all of this hard work may never come to fruition."

  "I don't think, even as much as Albert loves being near Destiny, that he'll be too happy either when he finds out that he missed the scoop of a lifetime tonight."

  "True," she said, with a small smile. "Should we call them first? Or do you think Gangly Arms might be questioning them now?"

  Tad rolled his eyes at her pet name for the detective. "I think that either way, we should wait to call those two in the morning. Let's check on our students for now."

  The next hour passed in a blur of apologetic phone calls to worried parents, checking on upset students. Thankfully, none of the parents seemed to be blaming Emily or Destiny for the events that had transpired. Emily could only pray that the students wouldn't be haunted by nightmares in the coming days.

  By the time Emily thumbed the Off button after her last call, Tad was snoring lightly at his end of the couch. She tried to shift without waking him, thinking she could just cover him up and let him sleep, but he immediately stirred. "You okay?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

  She nodded, weary to her bones. "I will be. I hate that this violence had to touch our kiddos."

  "We can't shield them from all the bad things in life, Em. We can only be there to guide them through things the best we know how."

  And make sure justice is served, Emily thought but didn't say as she saw Tad to the door and then turned in herself. But sleep, despite her exhaustion, was elusive. Her mind spun with questions as to who would want to harm Bodley. Was it Violet, harboring a grudge for the opportunity she felt Bodley denied her? Was it Mrs. Lowe, bitter at being left behind once Bodley's star was on the rise? Or could it even be Jeweliah, angry at her mother's affection for the actor? And what was up with Mr. Greenbalm acting so on edge? Could he have some beef with Bodley that they didn't even know about? The questions kept coming, but there were no answers, only muddled nightmares and a few meager hours of restless sleep.

  * * *

  One of Emily's great pleasures in life was sleeping in, but the ringing of her phone jarred her from one of her many nightmares early the next morning. A subdued-sounding Destiny was on the other end.

  "I take it you've heard the bad news," Emily began, clearing the sleep from her voice and struggling to sit up in her tangled bedclothes.

  "I can't believe we have to postpone the play!" Destiny shrieked. "The kids will be so upset!"

  "Of course, we do have a murdered man to consider," Emily answered, surprised that Destiny was more concerned about the postponement of the play than the murder.

  "Yes, I know," Destiny snipped. "But I hardly knew the man. What I do know is how hard these kids have worked and how much they're looking forward to opening night."

  "I'm sure they'll still be excited for opening night, whenever that is," Emily assured her. "Have you talked to any of the students?"

  "Not yet. Do I need to call any of them?"

  "Tad and I took care of that last night. Today we have to call all the ticket holders."

  "Let me take care of that end," Destiny volunteered. "I'll call Violet and Annabeth. With their help and I'm sure Albert's too, we'll have it done in no time."

  "Thanks," Emily told her. "How are you feeling?"

  "My ankle is tender, and I have a mild concussion and lingering headache from banging my head on the steps, but I'll live."

  "Glad to hear it. Let me know if you need anything. I'll check in with you later." Emily tossed her phone aside and contemplated going back to sleep but knew she was truly awake now. She trudged into her small kitchen and took a peek out of the back window to see if Helen was home. Her car was in the carport, but the clock on the stove showed it was only 8:00 am. After the long night Helen was sure to have had with Sapphira and Jeweliah, she didn't want to wake her too early. Tad would be at the gym at this hour on a Saturday, and she couldn't bother Gabby with her feeling so rough. Still, she needed to work through all these conflicting thoughts running through her mind.

  Although it was toasty warm in her snug little duplex, the overcast skies and the light rain trailing down the windows like teardrops made her feel chilly. She retreated to the bedroom and pulled out an old Ellington High hoodie, then she grabbed her journal and returned to settle in the breakfast nook and begin writing down all of her questions.

  Violet and Mrs. Lowe were still at the top of her list of those who might have wished Bodley harm, but she couldn't discount Mr. Greenbalm either after witnessing his behavior last night. Then, unbidden, thoughts of Jeweliah came to mind. The girl obviously resented the attention her mom was giving Bodley. She probably also resented having to often be the more responsible one in her family, acting as a mother figure to her own impulsive, reckless mom. Could the pressure and lack of attention have become too much? Could she have snapped and decided to get rid of the rival for her mother's attention? No. She couldn't imagine any one of her students being capable of such violence. She cared about all of her kids, and she felt truly sorry for Jeweliah's plight. This murder had touched all of her students, and she felt duty bound to help figure out what happened to Bodley.

  She tapped her pen on her open journal, ruminating on who else might have wanted to hurt Bodley. The rain pattering on the windows and the light drumming of her pen were the only sounds in her quiet kitchen, so when her doorbell gave a sudden peal, she about jumped out of her skin. Glancing at the clock, she wondered who could be dropping by her place before 9:00 am on a Saturday morning. All of her close family and friends knew she always slept in when possible. As she hurried to the door, running her hands through her bedhead-styled hair, she wondered if Helen had come over to talk about what had transpired last night after she left the school to sit with Jeweliah and Sapphira.

  It wasn't Helen at her door but rather a red-nosed
, makeup-free Gabby. It was rare to see her best friend looking anything less than a million bucks, but today her hair was in a messy bun, and without any makeup, she looked even paler than normal, except for the bright spots of color riding high on her cheeks. Emily threw the door wide and dragged Gabby inside. "What're you doing here? You should be in bed resting."

  Handing Emily a large cold soda, she turned away and let out a gigantic sneeze. "I heard about Wodley on the news and knew you would be a nerbous weck. I figgered you would need a fwiend and some caffeine fortibication."

  Emily tried to hold back her laughter—she truly did—but with her stuffed up nose and throat raspy from coughing, Gabby sounded more like the twins when they were first learning to talk than her normal articulate self. "Well, tank you, fwiend," she said, grabbing her up in a tight hug.

  "Don't come too cwose. I'm sure I'm still—" She paused to let out another huge sneeze. "—contabous."

  "I'll risk it," Emily said with a smile, leading her over to the couch to wrap her up in the oversized, super-soft throw she kept there. She pulled the coffee table closer so that Gabby could keep her own steaming takeout cup of coffee within close reach and then, before settling in herself, grabbed a box of tissues as well.

  After blowing her nose and coughing up half a lung, Gabby looked up at her through bleary eyes and said, "Okay, spill."

  Before Emily had gotten halfway through her recital of the past evening's horrific events, her doorbell rang again. This time it was Gabby who jumped, dribbling coffee down the front of her sweatshirt. "It's Grand Central Station around here this morning," Emily announced, hopping up to answer the door.

  This time it was Helen, and she didn't look too much more alert than Gabby had. "Hey," she said wearily. "Thought you might want to talk about last night and figure out how we're going to help the kiddos deal with this new mess." A beloved football coach had been murdered the previous fall, found in the copy room by Emily herself, and just this past summer, the mayor had been murdered during the school carnival. The normally quiet, safe town of Ellington had seen more than its fair share of violence and tragedy lately.

  "Come on in," Emily told her, shutting the door against the wind and rain that were both increasing in intensity. "Gabby came by to talk about things too. She heard about what happened on the news."

  "Gotta love the media," Helen said wryly. "Hi, Gabby." She started to sit down on the couch next to the bundled up figure, but one look at Gabby's pale, clammy face and she chose the seat furthest away. "Sorry," she said with a shrug as she sat, "but I don't have time to get sick on top of everything else."

  "No neeb to be sorry," Gabby said with a laugh that turned into another hacking cough. Once she had her breath back, she added, "I wouldn't wish this crud on my worst ebemy. The only bright spot is that both of the girls seem to be healthy enough. My mudder-in-law has been keeping them at her house the past two nights so I can west and get better."

  "That's nice of her," Helen said. Her voice sounded a bit wistful, and Emily wondered, not for the first time, if Helen regretted not ever having had any children of her own. But thinking of having children made Emily think of the still unsettled nature of things between her and Tad, and right now, they had other issues to concentrate on. God willing, there would be plenty of time later to talk things over with Tad.

  "I assume you've heard the play's been postponed," Emily began, attempting to change the subject. When Helen nodded, she asked, "How are Jeweliah and Sapphira holding up?"

  "About as you would expect. Sapphira's hysterical, claiming that she can't go on without the love of her life."

  "Even though they habn't been dating all that wong," Gabby inserted with a sniff. Emily wasn't sure if she was disgusted at Sapphira's behavior or just needed to sneeze again.

  "Right," Helen agreed. "And Jeweliah. Poor Jeweliah." She sat back in her chair with a sigh, the lines in her face making her look her age for once.

  "Is she okay?" Emily asked, worried for the burden her student was carrying on such young shoulders.

  "She's being strong and comforting her mother. By the time the detective left last night, though, you could see she was wearing down. I sent her on to bed and sat with Sapphira until her hysterics finally wore her out."

  "Have you talked to them today?" Emily asked.

  "Yes, first thing this morning. Jeweliah answered and sounded stronger. She assured me that they're fine. I didn't hear Sapphira wailing in the background, so I guess that's a good thing."

  "This is a mess," Emily said, frustrated. "The students are suffering from this. I wish I'd never agreed to have Bodley help with rehearsals."

  "This isn't your fault," Helen told her firmly as Gabby snuffled her agreement.

  "Logically, I know that. But I want to do anything I can to help the kids cope with this nightmare. To help them achieve a sense of closure."

  "They're resilient. They'll manage. Once the police get this all figured out, things will slowly go back to a new normal for them."

  "But how long will that take?" Emily asked. "Realistically, that could take months. Don't you think it'd be better if we did some digging on our own? I mean, after all, we know all the people surrounding Bodley better than the police do."

  "Oh no," Helen began, noting the glint in Emily's eye. "The last thing I want to do is see you put yourself in harm's way trying to figure this thing out. Bodley was murdered, Em. This isn't just some harassment issue we're talking about here. Your mom would have my hide if I endorsed you sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

  "I agree wib Helen," Gabby said, blowing her increasingly red nose. "But I also know you. You won't leb this go. So…what can I do to help?"

  Helen glared at the two younger women, but as the silence stretched and Emily grinned at her, she finally gave in with a shrug. "All right, I'll help too, but we're only going to ask questions and put our heads together over the answers. Absolutely no snooping around or spying on people. Got it?"

  "Got it!" Emily agreed. Her fingers might have been crossed behind her back, but what Helen didn't know couldn't hurt her, right?

  CHAPTER NINE

  "So where do we begin?" Helen asked.

  "Well, I've been thinking about those who knew Bodley before he came to help us. Who of those people working for the play had a reason to hate Bodley?" Gabby nodded encouragingly, so Emily continued. "We have Violet, who may still hold a grudge against Bodley for destroying her chance to study at Julliard. We have Pearl Lowe, who may also harbor some resentment against Bodley for promising her a job as his costume designer once his chance at fame came around and then changing his mind and leaving her behind. And then we have Sapphira. Now, I know she didn't know Bodley prior to him coming back for this visit, but she does seem to have become quite obsessed with him."

  "And upset her dobbter in the process," Gabby quietly added. Emily nodded her agreement but didn't comment. She didn't want to draw any further attention to the fact that a student might possibly resent Bodley enough for disrupting her life to wish him harm.

  Helen sat quietly for a minute, apparently deep in thought, before she said, "I don't think we should leave Annabeth off our list of people to consider either."

  Emily was surprised. "Why Annabeth?"

  Helen leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling as if looking at something far in the past. "As I mentioned before, although I think very highly of her, I sometimes wonder if she didn't resent James always stealing the limelight when they used to act together in high school. And if it wasn't resentment she felt, then I wonder if it wasn't some emotion equally as strong."

  "You think Annabeth was secretly in love with Bodley all this time?" Emily asked.

  "I wonder—" Helen began to say but was cut off by a gigantic sneeze from Gabby.

  Emily laughed and passed Gabby another box of tissues. "I think we have a good start to our list. We need to try to talk to these people, feel out how they regarded Bodley's return to Ellington. In
fact, I'm going to make some calls today. I need to check with Mrs. Lowe and Mr. Greenbalm to see if they're still willing to help out with our production, once we find out when it can actually take place."

  "Don't forget that both Violet and James got sick after eating Mr. Greenbalm's pastries that night at rehearsals. I know no one else did but still…" Helen stared at Emily meaningfully.

  "True," Emily said. "But for now, I think you both need to get some rest. I know you had a long night, Helen, and Gabby, I hate to say it, but you're looking more than a little worse for wear."

  Gabby nodded wearily and hauled herself off the couch. "Call us later with ubdates and we can plan our next mobe." With a wave, she headed out the door and, Emily hoped, back to bed.

  Helen headed out too, to catch up on some much needed sleep. Emily wanted to get started making some phone calls, but first, she took the blanket Gabby had been snuggling with straight to the washing machine and then doused her couch and the surrounding area with Lysol. Then, to be on the safe side, she stripped off the clothes she had been wearing that morning and tossed them into the washer too, setting the whole load to wash at the highest temperature possible. Next, she headed straight to the shower to scrub off any lingering germs. She loved Gabby and hated that she was feeling so rough, but she sure didn't want to join her in that sick boat.

  Half an hour later, clean and germ-free, she settled into the breakfast nook with her phone to get down to work. Mrs. Lowe was her first call.

  After the fifth ring, Emily had decided to hang up and try again later when she heard a click. She waited a few seconds for someone to answer, but when the silence stretched on, she tentatively asked, "Hello?"

  All she heard in response was a sniffle. She pulled the phone back to double check that she had dialed correctly, thinking she might have called Gabby by mistake, but no, she had the right number. "Mrs. Lowe? It's Emily Taylor. Are you alright?"