Murder Takes Center Stage

by Tracy D. Comstock

  Annabeth stood in the wings, looking tired but proud, as the play went off successfully. Jeweliah was especially impressive tonight, a huge smile lighting up her face. She and Annabeth and Sapphira had sat down for a long talk and smoothed things over. Emily and Tad had begged her forgiveness for suspecting her, but she had brushed it off, more relieved that the true culprit had been found and that Jeweliah no longer suspected her.

  Sapphira currently sat in the front row, watching her daughter proudly. Violet was out front, helping Mr. Greenbalm sell his delicious pastries, and Ms. Lowe also had shown up to enjoy the performance.

  The whole night was a rousing success. The cast had a huge bouquet of flowers for both Annabeth and Emily waiting after the performance. A third bouquet had already been purchased for Destiny, so at the last minute, they presented it to Ms. Lowe for all her hard work on costume design. As she came forward to collect the flowers, she looked much healthier and happier, a blush bringing color to her cheeks.

  Emily, at Annabeth's urging, turned to say a few words to the audience. She was just thanking them for the overwhelming turnout and support when she noted Tad holding up his phone in the front row, beaming at her. He had been waiting on a text all night, and she realized it had finally come in. This meant that Destiny had broken down and confessed to her crimes. The whole horrible ordeal could now be laid to rest. Bodley's tragic murder would not upstage these wonderful actors. It was the students' stellar performances in their production of Clue that took center stage tonight, and Emily couldn't be prouder. Although she silently swore she would never get roped into directing a school production ever again. Once was enough, thank you very much. Besides, she had other things to focus on now, she thought, beaming down at Tad and applauding along with the rest of the audience as her students took their encore bows.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tracy D. Comstock is a small-town girl from Missouri. She lives in a home where she is outnumbered 3:1 by the males in her life: her husband and their two extremely adorable, but terrifyingly ornery sons. She has no pets as all living things, besides humans, of course, come to her house to die, including the victims in her books. All her life Tracy devoured books. Her parents' most effective punishment was grounding her from reading. Although she has a B.S. in Education and a Masters in Literature, she was nudged down the path to publication by encouraging (and sometimes threatening!) family, friends, professors, and students. When not working on Emily's adventures, Tracy is an adjunct instructor for several local colleges, where she gets to teach others about her greatest passion: writing.

  To learn more about Tracy D. Comstock, visit her online at: http://tcomstockmysteries.wix.com/tracycomstock

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  BOOKS BY TRACY D. COMSTOCK

  Schooled in Murder Mysteries:

  Murder is Our Mascot

  School's Out for Murder

  Lesson in Fear (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)

  Murder Takes Center Stage

  * * * * *

  SNEAK PEEK

  of another humorous, romantic mystery from Gemma Halliday Publishing

  THE PRINCESS AND THE POISON

  by

  CAROL E. AYER

  CHAPTER ONE

  The prince leaned down and kissed Sleeping Beauty, but Sleeping Beauty didn't stir. How could she? Dead princesses don't kiss.

  "She's arriving today." I craned my neck to look up into the giant's face. "Wish me luck."

  No answer, reassuring or otherwise. The beanstalk and Jack were similarly taciturn. So I continued on my rounds, circling around the beanstalk to visit the Three Billy Goats Gruff. One of the does had just given birth to twins, so the title of the set was now off in gender and number. Our herd had grown to five. After smiling at the two sleeping kids curled up against their mom under the brightly painted bridge, I moved on to pull a few weeds at Mary's Garden and pick up some mustard-stained hot dog wrappers in front of Alice's Tunnel. Then it was back to my office to greet the staff.

  StoryWorld, the storybook park I owned and operated in Northern California, was hosting a summer play series, starring actors from The Springdale Players and The Older but Wiser Seniors' troupe. In a surprising turn of events, twenty-something Hollywood actress Katrina Irvine had volunteered to play the leading roles of Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Cinderella. This was the biggest thing to happen to StoryWorld since local celeb Jake Bryant, the weatherman at Channel 14, cut the ribbon to open the Wizard of Oz-themed tornado exhibit. Katrina was the hot Hollywood star of the moment, and we'd sold out the entire summer's performances already.

  My staff, not the most focused bunch at the best of times, had been beside themselves for days in anticipation of Katrina's arrival. I knew today would be especially trying in the getting-my-employees-in-line department.

  Cameron Thibodeaux arrived first, sporting skinny jeans with a paisley shirt and a pair of black-rimmed glasses that didn't have lenses. He strutted into the office and executed a full turn in front of me. In typical Cameron fashion, his arm brushed several files off my desk, and he bent to pick them up.

  "What do you think?" He handed me the files. Five leather, corded bracelets encircled his wrist.

  "Not crazy about it. Where's your StoryWorld T-shirt?"

  "Boss, come on. Katrina Irvine is going to see me for the first time today. Let me wear this. Just this once."

  Sap that I was, I agreed. He nodded happily, scooped up the change fund for The Castle—the entrance to the park—and left.

  The rest of the staff was on his heels, all of them arriving at least fifteen minutes earlier than they usually did. Since they were habitually late, this made them on time for once. The boys seemed a little more cleaned up than usual, and the girls, wearing gobs of makeup, had elaborate coils and curls twisted on their heads. I had the feeling I'd have a tough time getting them to wear their StoryWorld baseball caps.

  Once I'd sent everyone to their stations to prep for opening, the girls with caps in hand and promises on their glossed lips to wear them, I traveled up to see my friend Donna at the Jack Sprat Restaurant. The pumpkin-shaped building with a vent stack as a stem sat in the very center of StoryWorld. I spent a lot of time there, especially lately since I had an appetite that would not die.

  Donna leaned out the order window. "Hey, Ashling. Want a coffee?" Even Donna's hair was more styled than usual. Typically, she had her blonde hair up at work, held by something she'd found lying around the restaurant, like a plastic fork or chopsticks. But now it flowed across her shoulders, shiny and silky-looking. And it looked curled at the ends. Had she used a curling iron?

  "It's pretty hot already." I looked up to the cloudless sky. "How about an iced mocha? And a chocolate donut, please. With sprinkles." To my great delight, Donna had recently begun making her own donuts, and they were delicious. I'd already tried every kind and was now on my second run-through. Of the many hats I wore, Quality Control Inspector of Donuts was by far my favorite.

  "Coming right up. Do you have time for a walk?"

  "Yeah. You're on. I've got paperwork, but it can wait."

  As I waited for my friend, I sat at a table in one of the glass-slipper chairs, a highlight of the restaurant for visitors young and old. Continuing the kid-lit theme, Donna had placed a pot of mini-carnations on each table and stuck Wizard of Oz cupcake picks in the soil. My pot featured Toto.

  Donna worked hard to make the restaurant the success that it was. Besides decorating the tables, she loved inventing new dishes that played off children's literature titles, like the Three Little Pigs Hot Dog and Little Mermaid Fish Tacos. When Snow White's Apple Pie was on the menu, she always saved me a slice. Donna was a really good friend, despit
e the ten-year age difference between us. And not just because she kept me flush with treats and coffee.

  The fragrant scent of donuts wafted over to me from the pumpkin's kitchen, and I tried to distract myself by going over my schedule for the day. Assuming Katrina's presence wouldn't impede my plans, I had next week's schedule to complete, a bank deposit to make, and calls to return, in addition to the never-ending paperwork that accompanied the running of any business. Unfortunately, just because I worked at a storybook park didn't mean elves took care of my paperwork during the night. Not only that, but my assistant Marissa was on bed rest due to a difficult pregnancy. She wouldn't be back for several months. So neither Marissa nor elves would be any help today.

  After a few moments, Donna appeared from the back of the restaurant, carrying a cardboard container that held two large cups of iced coffee and a donut wrapped in a napkin. I couldn't help but notice she wore a top with pretty embroidery detailing along the neckline, a blue pendant necklace, and matching dangly earrings—the type of thing she wore when we went out but never at work. I self-consciously smoothed my red StoryWorld T-shirt over my jeans and finger-combed my shoulder-length brown hair.

  Donna handed me my donut and coffee, grabbed her drink, and tossed the holder into the recycling bin to the side of the restaurant. We headed out companionably toward the Emerald City, its neon green towers shining brightly in the early morning sun. We stopped on the way at Peter Rabbit's Garden. The set—a mix of small statues, live rabbits, and a vegetable garden separated from the animals by a cute picket fence—was one of my favorites. Donna and I took turns petting a bunny, who was gnawing on a carrot. Our animal keeper, Dave, must have just been by with the morning repast. The rabbit seemed to be as enthralled with his breakfast as I was with mine.

  "Has she arrived yet?" Donna asked once we were going again.

  I studied her. Her brown eyes were lit up with excitement. Was she also going gaga over our visiting celebrity? Given her special outfit, maybe I shouldn't have been surprised.

  "Katrina? No. She's due at about nine thirty, when we open. Did you see all the news vans in the parking lot? This is—"

  "Exciting, isn't it?" Donna sounded more like one of my teenaged staff members than a forty-three-year-old, mature woman.

  "I was going to say out of control. I mean, it's great for StoryWorld and the charity and all, but this is turning into a circus. I've already told the staff no media is allowed inside the park."

  Donna didn't seem to hear me. "I wonder what she'll wear. And what she'll eat. Do you think she'll order anything from the Jack Sprat? Maybe I should have made something special! Do you think she only eats organic produce or something? I wonder if she's a vegan. I can't believe I didn't anticipate that."

  "Her agent didn't mention anything about her diet. But if you want to know more about her, I could pick up a copy of Young Actors Magazine for you. You can find out the types of workouts she does and what she looks for in a boy and maybe even her kitten's name."

  Donna grinned. "Yeah, okay, so I'm a little obsessed. I'm a fan."

  "She's just like anyone else. Puts her pants on one leg at a time and all that."

  "Except she's rich and famous and has tons of fans. That's not like everyone else. Certainly not like us."

  This was true enough. Countless adoring fans followed Katrina's every move, never missing a TV show or movie she appeared in. She was often featured on the cover of teen magazines as well as the women's lifestyle publications, and she was a favorite on the talk show circuit. I'd just seen her on Live with Penny the week before.

  Donna and I passed by the Hispaniola, the ship from Treasure Island, and I felt the usual tug at my heart. My late boyfriend Jamie had loved the Hispaniola set. During the time he worked at StoryWorld, he gave impromptu, kid-only tours about once a week, and the Hispaniola was one of the featured stops. To the delight of the children, Jamie ran up and down the gangplank like a little boy, wielding an imaginary sword. I stood still for a moment, visualizing him doing that, and saw in my mind's eye the pleased reactions of his audience. The picture was so vivid I almost believed it was happening in real time.

  Donna turned to me. "You have your Jamie face on." She sucked at her straw.

  I shook myself out of the daydream. "That obvious?"

  "Ash, it's been several years now. You think I don't recognize the look?"

  I smiled. "You would recognize it better than anyone. But it's not as hard anymore, at least. I think it was particularly hard at the beginning because it was so unexpected."

  Donna squeezed my arm. "I'm glad you're doing better. Now, tell me. How are things with Scott?"

  We moved on and arrived at the Rapunzel set. I took a long look at the tower, my eyes searching up Rapunzel's long hair in hopes of a coherent answer. I'd met Scott, the Assistant Location Scout for the ThrillsLand chain of theme parks, at an amusement park convention a couple of years earlier. Back then, I was still in the throes of grief, and I'd declined his invitation to dinner. But he'd called a month ago, and we'd reconnected. We went on six dates before I let him kiss me, but I ended up crying afterward, surprising the heck out of both of us. Scott had been understanding, and my mini-breakdown hadn't stopped him from asking me out again. I hadn't accepted yet. But I hadn't declined, either.

  "Ash?" Donna prompted.

  I shrugged. "He asked me out again, but I haven't decided whether to go. I'm…conflicted."

  "What's wrong? I thought you said he was nice. And cute too." She waggled her eyebrows.

  I hadn't told Donna about the kiss-and-crying episode—it was too embarrassing. How could I explain to her I'd kissed a man I found incredibly nice and more than a little sexy, but I'd burst into tears afterward? I couldn't even explain it to myself.

  Before I could formulate a response, my staff member Katie Yuan came speeding over to us. Usually the teen moved as fast as the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland. "Ashling! There you are. Don't you have your cell phone with you? I've been calling you and looking for you everywhere. She's here!"

  Donna shot me an excited look, which I duly noted and then ignored.

  "She's here already?" I consulted my fairy-tale watch, a handmade combination of a timepiece and fairy-tale charms that Jamie had given me for Christmas one year. I wasn't much of a girly girl, but I had a weakness for fairy-tale jewelry. "We're not ready to begin rehearsals yet. The other actors aren't even here."

  "You have to come and greet her. Make her feel welcome." Katie pulled my arm and upended my coffee cup. The precious liquid spilled to the ground. At least it wasn't the donut, which I'd already finished.

  "Okay, okay." I looked longingly at the spilled coffee as I threw the cup into the mouth of a Cowardly Lion recycling bin. I'd only drunk half of it, but I had the feeling there wouldn't be time now to get a refill. All usual activities would cease in deference to our big star.

  With nary an apology for the loss of my coffee or the interruption of our conversation, Katie ran off.

  "I'll come with you," Donna said.

  "After you."

  But before I could make it farther than a few steps, my employee Megan came to tell me we were out of postcards. I returned to the office to call our postcard supplier while Donna continued on after Katie. I had to field a couple of phone calls after that, and by the time I was done, I'd lost forty minutes. Such was my work life that I barely finished one task before another popped up, all while I was meant to be doing something else.

  I went outside to the gingerbread-house customer service center to ask Megan if she knew where Katrina was.

  "I heard they started rehearsing." Megan's cheeks were bright pink. "Have you seen her? She's more beautiful in person than on TV! I'm going to go watch her on my break."

  "Just be sure to be back on time."

  "Aren't I always?"

  Rather than argue with that, I just nodded. I made a mental note to go see Katrina at the stage after I'd made some inroads on my paperwork.
<
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  "I hate her," Katie said in my office an hour later. She yanked off her baseball cap and threw it on my desk, narrowly missing the coffee I'd finally had a chance to replenish.

  I grabbed the cup before she could knock it over with something else. "Katrina, you mean?"

  "Yes, Katrina! Who else?"

  "Why? Why do you hate her? I thought you were looking forward to meeting her."

  "She's oogy."

  I gestured to Katie to sit in the visitor's chair on the other side of my desk. I hoped she had managed to con another staff member into giving her a break and hadn't just abandoned the Magic Fairy Ferris Wheel. Now that we'd officially opened and had visitors, the staff wasn't supposed to leave their stations. A vision popped into my head of the children unlatching their safety bars and climbing out of their cars to ride on the roofs—while the Ferris wheel was still running.

  Oogy didn't give me much to go on. "What happened?"

  Katie blew her bangs out of her eyes. "She's…mean."

  "How is she mean?"

  "I asked her for an autograph, and she said she doesn't 'do' autographs."

  "Hmm. Well, I've read that some Hollywood stars have that policy. I guess because they can't give autographs to every single person they meet."

  Katie frowned. "It's not very nice."

  "I know. But, Katie, her appearance here is good business for us. Try not to make waves."

  She looked completely put out as only a teenager could. "Fine." She rose, threw open the office door, and stomped out, completely forgetting to retrieve her cap from my desk.

  * * *

  I headed out a few minutes later to introduce myself to Katrina. To keep the public away from the rehearsals, we'd set up stanchions and rope around the Pinocchio area, which included the Geppetto Stage. I undid one of the ropes and strode in that direction.