Another loud sniffle sounded, and then a thin voice replied, "Yes. I'll be fine. I'm just so distraught over dear James. I can't believe he's gone. Who would do such an awful thing?"
Emily pulled the phone back once again, staring at it in confusion. Dear James? Was this the same woman who had been so upset over seeing Bodley again after he had betrayed her years ago that she'd been sobbing over costume alterations? Of course, she'd worked with him for several years when he was younger, so maybe she saw him as a son figure?
Before she could even decide how to respond to the sobbing woman, Mrs. Lowe said, "I'm sorry, dear. I'm just too upset to talk right now." And with another click, she'd disconnected.
Emily listened to the silence on the other end for a moment, checking out her window to make sure she hadn't somehow entered The Twilight Zone. That was the weirdest call ever. It was understandable that they were all upset over Bodley's death, but Mrs. Lowe's sorrow seemed like more over-the-top theatrics, à la Sapphira. Could her grief come from a guilty conscience instead? She tried to imagine the dainty, almost fragile-looking Mrs. Lowe killing Bodley, but it was a stretch. Still, at this point, she didn't feel like they could really rule anyone out.
She hadn't had the chance to ask Mrs. Lowe if she would still be willing to help with the play production once it was rescheduled, so she decided to call Mr. Greenbalm next and see if he, at least, was still on board. Plus, she was still curious about his nervousness in front of the police last night. Maybe she could insert some unobtrusive questions into their chat as well. But before she could finish punching in the numbers, her doorbell rang again.
Assuming Helen had thought of something else she wanted to run by her, Emily threw open the door and was pleasantly surprised to find Tad standing there instead. His hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the chill, he looked more handsome than she'd ever seen him. She stood there grinning stupidly up at him until Tad finally asked, "Can I come in?" A crooked smile caused a dimple to wink in his right cheek. She reached out and grabbed his arm, hauling him inside and shutting the door against the damp chill that tried to follow him inside. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest, content to just stand there and listen to his heart beat against her ear.
A little startled, Tad pulled back slightly, but when she didn't budge, he hugged her close, resting his cheek against her hair. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"I am now," she sighed, pulling back only far enough to look into his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too," Tad smiled down at her. "If I know you, and I think I do, I figured you would be hard at work trying to figure out who would have wanted to harm Bodley."
"Am I that predictable?" she laughed. "Gabby and Helen have already been by, assuming the same."
"Your passion for your students is one of the things I love about you," he answered seriously. "And I know you'll feel responsible that such horror touched them. But, Pit—" He lifted her chin with one finger so he could look directly into her eyes. "—you're not the one who caused this. Someone was intent on hurting Bodley, and unfortunately, the kids being exposed to such evil was collateral damage."
She turned away with a sigh. "I know I'm not the one who caused his death. But I feel like I should have been more aware, taken those early warning signs more seriously. If I had, maybe the students would never have had to witness that horrible scene."
"I understand why you feel that way, even if I don't agree with you, so why don't you let me help?"
That was the last thing Emily had expected him to say, and her heart swelled with undeniable love for the man before her. She nodded, her throat too tight to form words. "So, Nancy, what's my first assignment?" he asked.
"Well, Ned," she joked back, "since my sidekicks Bess and George are recovering from long, sleepless nights and I'm starving, how about we swing by Mr. Greenbalm's for lunch? I was just about to call him."
* * *
The rain had once again reduced itself to a drizzle, and it was cozy inside The Patisserie. Besides their amazing pastries, they also served soups and sandwiches, so settling into a table in the corner by the gas fireplace, Emily ordered her favorite London Fog hot tea latte and a mozzarella and roasted tomato panini. Tad settled on the turkey club and decided to try his own hot tea latte.
"Not bad," he said when the server had brought their orders. "Never thought I could be a tea person, but on a cold day like today, this does kind of hit the spot." He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "It's nice to be here with you. I enjoy the time we get to spend together."
"I'm always happy when I'm with you," she told him honestly.
The server stopped by their table to see if they needed anything, and Emily asked whether Mr. Greenbalm was available. "Sure, he's in the back concocting some new dessert. I'll tell him you'd like to see him."
Emily dug into the gooey deliciousness that was her panini and tried to relax as they waited for Mr. Greenbalm to join them. When he did, he still wore his flour-dusted apron and the same nervous, haunted look he had sported last night while talking with the police.
"How're you doing?" Tad asked him. "I know last night was rough on everyone."
Mr. Greenbalm shook his head and leaned his elbows heavily on the table. "I sure never saw anything like that poor man just lying there. And you know the police seem to think that him getting sick the other night—and Ms. Shaw too—could've been due to my pastries."
A bead of sweat dotted his brow, and Emily regarded him carefully, wondering what was making him so nervous. The fact that the police might think he had a hand in making them sick certainly seemed to have thrown him for a loop. But what reason would he have had for wanting to put Bodley out of commission? He hadn't even known the man before he showed up back in town, willing to help out with play rehearsals. Or had he?
Tad gave the nervous man a reassuring smile. "A ton of us tried out your pastries that night, Mr. Greenbalm. I, for one, enjoyed them immensely, and I feel fine. I don't think that the police necessarily feel that you personally were at fault."
Emily took a scalding gulp of her tea and gave a slight cough. Was that where Mr. Greenbalm's fear was coming from? Worry that someone would think that he had used something in his desserts that had make people sick? Was he concerned for his business and what the bad press would do to his customer base if word got out that he was involved in the mishaps surrounding the now-murdered James Bodley? Unless, of course, he did have a reason to be nervous because he had done something to make Bodley sick. Maybe Violet had been an innocent bystander. Should they still be involving him in their production?
Clearly, Tad had no such qualms. "We don't know when the play will be rescheduled, but we hope you'll still be willing to provide desserts like we planned."
Mr. Greenbalm looked faintly shocked. "You sure you still want me to do that?"
Emily hesitated for just a second, wondering how confident they could be in this man's innocence, but then she said, "Of course we do. Everyone loves your pastries, and frankly, I love your lunches too." She gave him a warm smile and indicated her empty plate.
He gave a light chuckle, then said seriously, "I have my whole life savings sunk into this place. She's my baby, you know? Don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to this place."
Emily and Tad both nodded. Emily understood that kind of passion for one's chosen life work. Maybe she'd been too hasty to think the nerves he had shown while talking with the police the previous evening had been an indicator of guilt. "I promise I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything about rescheduling the play," Emily told him.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed back from the table and headed back to his kitchen to lose himself in the scents, ingredients, and process of creating a new dessert. For a moment, Emily wished she had that talent or really any talent at all, for that matter, in the cooking and baking arena. But when Tad squeezed her hand, she smiled back across the
table at him. He didn't seem to mind her lack of culinary abilities.
"Where to next?" he asked her as they finished off their lattes.
"I think we better stop by the police station next. I want to check and see if there is any word on when they might release the auditorium. And…" she trailed off.
"And you also want to see if you can get some information out of that poor detective whom you've dubbed Gangly Arms."
Emily gave him a sheepish smile. "Alas, poor Tad, you know me well," she misquoted from Hamlet.
They left the warm, cozy interior of The Patisserie for the chill air outside. The rain had let up for the time being, so with joined hands, they walked the short distance to the squat rectangular brick-and-concrete building that housed the Ellington police station. The inside was bustling, no doubt due to the investigation into Bodley's murder. Emily looked around with interest to see if she noticed anyone who looked familiar. Maybe someone they had discussed that morning had been hauled in for questioning. But the only person she recognized was Detective Gangly Arms, who was headed their way.
"Can I help you?" he asked them.
"We're just checking to see if you know when the auditorium might be available for us to reschedule the play," Emily asked him.
"Unfortunately, our forensic people are still working. I can't give you a definite date at this time. Sorry."
"We knew it was a long shot," Tad told the detective. "We just hate to let our kids down after all the hard work they've put into this play."
"Of course, I wouldn't want murder getting in the way of your students having a good time," the detective said in an uncharacteristically sarcastic tone. Emily's raised eyebrows must have tipped him off that he sounded awfully harsh. He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Sorry. It seems like we've had one murder after another lately, and I don't understand what's become of this town. I moved here because I thought it would be a place where I could really serve and protect others. I had no idea that I would be looking into so many violent crimes."
Emily blushed when she noticed the detective's apparent exhaustion, and she felt a ridiculous amount of guilt. She knew it wasn't her fault that these murders kept happening in Ellington, but somehow, she always seemed to be the one discovering the bodies. She felt like she was contributing to the negative feeling Gangly Arms was clearly harboring toward their town. "Really, Ellington is a great place to live," she assured him. "Unfortunately, there are bad people with their own agendas everywhere."
"Very true," he replied with another sigh.
Emily had never thought to check much into Detective Welks' background, and she now wondered where he'd been working before he came to Ellington. Obviously, that place had left him with a distaste for violent crimes. Though, who was she kidding? No one could look at violent crimes as the norm. But she truly did adore Ellington. It was a typically safe and helpful kind of community, and she was proud to live here, proud to have grown up here, and now proud to work in the school system. She suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense of defeat, but she asked anyway, "Any progress on Bodley's murder?"
"None I could share with you. You know that," Gangly Arms told them regretfully. "Have you thought of anything else that happened during play rehearsals since Bodley showed up? Anything I need to know?"
Emily wracked her brain, trying to think if there was anything else she should share with the detective. All she had was speculation and innuendo. Nothing concrete. She thought about mentioning Mrs. Lowe's excessive grief when she had spoken with her on the phone earlier but decided to let that tidbit of information ride. "I'm afraid not," she told him. "But if you get any word on the release of the auditorium, would you please let us know?"
"Yes, I'll be sure to do that," Gangly Arms said and then retreated back into the warren of desks and cubicles that made up the detectives' area of the small police station.
"Back to my question of the day." Tad turned to Emily as they exited the station. "Where to now?"
Before Emily could suggest a nice, quiet afternoon curled up on the couch at his or her place with an old movie, her cell phone buzzed. Noting it was her mom, she held up her hand in a just-a-minute gesture and answered. She huddled closer to the brick wall of the station, using a hand to try to diminish the sound of the wind. "What's up, Mom?"
"First of all, I wanted to check on my girl. How're you doing today?"
There was no hiding her true feelings from her mom. "I feel so responsible for what these kids are going through. I've been talking with Gabby and Helen this morning and—"
Her mom interrupted her. "I just talked with Helen myself. You'll stay out of trouble, won't you, Em?"
"Of course, Mom." She rolled her eyes for Tad's benefit, and he gave her a small smile. "I'm with Tad now. We were checking at the police station to see if they knew when we might have the use of the auditorium again but no luck."
"That's the second reason I was calling. I knew you'd probably be a nervous wreck, feeling the weight of the world, worrying about letting the kids down after all the work they've put into the play, so I decided to make some calls of my own."
Her mom sounded excited, so Emily beckoned Tad closer to let him know something was up. He leaned in closer, trying to hear, so Emily punched the speaker button. "I've put you on speaker, Mom, so Tad can hear too."
"Great, because I think you're going to like what I have to say."
CHAPTER TEN
"We're all ears. Some good news would be wonderful right about now."
"I called around to some local places to see if we could find an alternative location to hold the play performance. And…"
Too impatient to wait for her mom's dramatic pause, Emily asked, "And what'd you find?"
"The Encore Playhouse!" her mother cried triumphantly.
Emily hated to burst her mom's bubble, but she couldn't hold back her weary sigh. "Mom, we checked out that place once before for another event. The cost to rent their stage is exorbitant. There is no way the school board will approve that expense. Costumes and stage settings have already cost us a chunk of change."
"But that's the best part," Susan argued. "There're going to waive all fees!"
"Come again?" Emily choked at the same time Tad said, "What?"
"Yep, they're not going to charge the school one red cent. After all, the Encore Playhouse was established to support the development of the fine arts in Ellington. A couple of their board members have kids who are students at the high school. They know how much time has gone into planning this school production and how disappointed both the students and community will be if this play is cancelled. They're willing to do their part to help out."
Emily could hear the smile in her mom's voice, and she was thrilled at the new location for the play. She didn't see how Principal Matthews could possibly object, but still, she would have to run this idea by him and Superintendent Johnson before getting anyone else's hopes up. "You're the best, Mom. I'm calling Principal Matthews right now. I'm sure he'll give us the green light. Did they say when we could get into the Playhouse to finish rehearsals?"
"I'm picking up the key from the president of the board as soon as you give the go-ahead."
"That's fantastic. You've thought of everything! Let's schedule an emergency rehearsal slash cast meeting for Sunday after church. If we can get everyone on board and finish our rehearsals in the new location, I think we can go ahead and schedule the production for next Friday and Saturday. What do you guys think?"
Tad chimed in, "I think this is all excellent news, and the kids will be thrilled. The weekend before Halloween will be the perfect time to hold the play."
"I agree," Susan added. "Any calls I can make for you to get things rolling?"
"No, we've got it. You've done enough," Emily told her mom, but then she had second thoughts. "Actually, do you want to call Pearl Lowe and see if she's still willing to work on last-minute costume adjustments for us? I talked to her this morning, and she was too overcome
with grief over Bodley's death to visit with me."
"I'll take care of it, Em," Susan assured her. "I know her past with James is long and varied. She may have resented him leaving her behind after his big break, but she had worked with him for a long time. This must be hard on her."
"Hmm," Emily replied noncommittally. She wasn't so sure that Ms. Lowe wasn't also dealing with some guilt for having had a hand in Bodley's demise, but she didn't think her mom would appreciate her casting some aspersions without concrete proof. Instead, she disconnected with her mom, and they hurried back to Tad's car as the rain picked up again. Then she made the call to okay the new play location and schedule with Principal Matthews.
As anticipated, Principal Matthews was thrilled with the news and encouraged her to proceed full steam ahead. He promised to make sure Superintendent Johnson was on board, so that was one less worry on her mind. The next call she made was to Destiny.
"Hello?" she answered, sounding groggy.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," Emily apologized, "but I have some good news."
"No, you're fine. I could use some good news. The ER doc wanted me to have someone check on me every hour last night due to a possible concussion. Albert stayed with me to follow doctor's orders. I finally talked him into going home so I could get some real sleep. What's up?"
"I hope you didn't already call ticket holders," Emily began, "because we have a new location for the play. Mom secured the Encore Playhouse at no cost to us, so we're shooting for holding the production next weekend."
"That's wonderful!" Destiny exclaimed delightedly, sounding wide awake now. "Violet was going to help me make calls this evening. And Albert will be coming back over too," she added with a long-suffering sigh.
Emily smiled. She had no doubt that Albert French would take his role as protector and nurse quite seriously. Maybe his chivalrous attitude would soften Destiny's feelings toward the obviously lovesick man. "And Annabeth? Think she'll still be on board?" she asked.
Murder Takes Center Stage Page 9
