Relief washed over me. But only momentarily. The flash drive was still missing.
“I didn’t get the intel on how you knew about the Bernridge location. Suki wasn’t clear on that.”
Explaining how I knew about the site where Carlos was being held would require admitting to spying on him, which might lead to my snooping in Lennox, which could direct Bill to Pauli’s deep search on the obits in the Daily Herald. Not to mention the warning note on my car and Mr. Chicago. All of it supposedly above my pay grade as a freelance Etonville sleuth.
“I’ll get to that, but first I have to tell you about the flash drive.”
One eyebrow shot up. “I know about—”
“That’s why we were in the theater. The bad guys demanded Carlos’s evidence, letting Bella go to retrieve it. Carlos told her to search the Act One set.”
“Suki told me some of this.”
“We couldn’t find the flash drive. Lola escorted Bella to the police department and I was ready to let Suki take over.”
Bill cocked his head as if to say nice of you.
“You know what I mean. I was about to leave the theater when I got a hunch. After I got locked in the coffin—”
He frowned. “You got locked in the coffin?”
“I’ll get to that later. Anyway…I figured the memory stick might be hidden somewhere inside or outside the coffin.”
“Was it?” he asked, on the alert.
“No. At least not that I could find. I was trying to decide where to look next when I heard you come in. Not knowing it was you, I scrambled into this pile of curtains. Penny’s on the lookout on Main Street, though that’s a mixed blessing.”
“Penny?”
“I had to get her out of the theater so I could dig around. Did you come through the lobby?”
Bill pulled me to my feet. “No. I picked up a master key Lola left at the station so I could enter from the loading dock in case…”
He didn’t need to complete the thought: in case I was in trouble and he needed to make a stealth entrance. “I thought I heard a noise from the front of the theater,” I said, as much to myself as to Bill.
“Noise? What kind of noise?” His hand crept under his all-weather police jacket, feeling for his service revolver.
“A…thump. Like someone opened a door. Or closed it.”
“Stay here. I’ll check the house and lobby.”
“Okay, but—”
He put a hand on my shoulder, gently nudging me downward to a sitting position. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured.
He disappeared into the black of the backstage area. As per his instructions, I stayed where I was. Seconds ticked by. I texted Penny again: any sign of anyone? She responded: o’dell…duh…nothing gets by me.
If only.
Then a text came in. Lola: where are you? went home…nothing to do till Carlos surfaces…call me.
Later. After Carlos was safe, the flash drive in Bill’s hands, the bad guys in custody.
Another noise from the direction of the lobby. “Bill?” I called out softly. Guess he hadn’t found anything.
A ruffling sound from onstage as someone brushed the side curtains that ran parallel to the main drape.
A head emerged in the dim light.
“Gabriel?” I said, surprised. Renfield. “I thought you were Bill.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No show tonight. Too bad.”
“Yes. Too bad,” he repeated, stepping closer, one hand jammed inside his coat pocket.
I waited. What did he want? “Did you see Bill? He went to the lobby.”
“I saw him.”
The hell with hanging around backstage as per Bill’s orders. Gabriel’s behavior was unsettling. “Well…hope the ELT has better luck tomorrow. See you.” I turned to go.
Gabriel shifted in the shadows to face me, his other hand, and a suspicious bulge, in his other coat pocket. “Can’t let you do that just yet.”
I froze, my neck hairs screaming a warning. Too late.
He withdrew his hand and aimed a gun at me, his eyes dark and wild. “Where is it?”
19
“Where’s Bill?” My mind scrambled to make sense of the moment. Gabriel? Connected to organized crime and the mob boss? The madman in Dracula?
“Never mind about him. I want the flash drive.” He clutched my upper arm. “Where is it?” he repeated roughly. “I know you all were searching for it.”
“W–we didn’t find it,” I stammered. I had to get a grip. “Anyway, I’m not talking until I see Bill,” I said with fake confidence. I took a calculated risk—possibly making him angry. On the other hand, if he thought I knew the whereabouts of the memory stick, I was valuable.
Gabriel dragged me from the pile of curtains onto the stage, threading our way around the scenery, the gun wobbling in his hand. Too much nervous energy, or else the actor wasn’t used to managing a weapon. Gabriel managed intimidation well. I had to stall for time. Surely Bill would notice I was incommunicado and come after me.
“Doesn’t Carlos have it?” I asked.
He shoved his gun into my ribs. “You know he left it somewhere on the stage.”
Gabriel scanned the set quickly, his eyes swinging wildly from the doors and windows to the fireplace and bookcase. “Gotta be here somewhere.” He prodded my torso until I was standing stage center. “Find it.” He waggled his gun in the direction of the upstage doors.
“But we already—”
“Move.”
“Not until I see Bill,” I said firmly.
In a flash, Gabriel twisted my arm behind my back, yanking it upward. I yelped in pain. He meant business, his strength surprising for such a slight person. “Now,” he sneered.
He released me with a shove. I fell to the ground and crawled out of his reach, heading toward the upstage wall of the set. Was Bill injured? Or worse? My hands began to shake.
He flicked a glance at the French doors. “Over there. Move.”
I obediently shuffled to the open doors and examined the hinges and latches. I knew I wouldn’t find the thumb drive hidden there; but all the same, as long as I kept searching, I created time to formulate a plan. I sneaked a peek at Gabriel, who had returned to the center of the Dracula set, eyes darting wildly. He swiped at a film of sweat on his forehead, then rubbed his hand on his trousers. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
“Should I look at the windows?” I asked helpfully.
He nodded. “Do it.”
I hurried to the wall stage left and ran my hands around the frames. “There’s nothing here.”
“The bookcase,” he said urgently.
What was making him so panicky? I should have been the one jumping out of my skin.
The fake bookcase hid the trick door. I had seen it operated half a dozen times and knew that if I got close enough, I could activate the offstage mechanism that opened and closed the sliding door. But then what? If I slipped through, I’d be trapped in the offstage escape. Gabriel could easily intercept me. I had to think of something else.
I pretended to be engaged with the frame of the bookcase, running my fingers around the edges.
“The trick door.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, tension streaming off him, and charged at me. “Get out of the way.” Keeping one eye, and his gun, on me, he triggered the sliding door through which Dracula disappeared and reappeared, jiggling the latch. Nothing.
“I told you—”
“Shut up!” he shouted and ran to center stage.
Gabriel was going to have a coronary. I peeked into the hiding space behind the bookcase door, weighing whether I could run for it, when I saw a panel of buttons and levers on the theater wall. My heart bounced around in my chest. I knew what it was: the operating mechanism for the hydraulic trap
door that JC had installed over the summer. I’d seen him activate it during an early rehearsal and I’d witnessed the effect it had created on stage when the vampire dematerialized in thin air. Technically, through the stage floor. The trapdoor was right beside the desk. It was a desperate long shot, but I was out of options, ready to “throw a Hail Mary” as Bill would have said.
I eased halfway into the space behind the trick door, pretending to focus on the frame and hinges. Then, as if I had a sudden inspiration, I pointed across the stage. “We might have missed the desk. Behind the drawers or along the base underneath.”
Gabriel’s head shot up. “Do it,” he demanded.
I needed to keep both Gabriel and the trapdoor operating device in sight. “What about the back of the bookcase flat? Should I finish here? Maybe the flash drive is stuck in the rails or stiles—”
Without waiting for me, a frantic Gabriel leaped to the corner of the desk and paused. I said a silent prayer to the snoop gods that he had placed himself in the correct spot, ran behind the bookcase flat, and jammed my hand against the button that operated the trapdoor. I heard a thud and the kind of swearing that my great-aunt Maureen would have said was “unladylike” as the trap descended rapidly with an astounded Gabriel clinging to the sides of the dropping platform. JC had constructed the device to fall swiftly and quickly to create the desired effect. Of course, Carlos had the benefit of being prepared and knowing how many seconds he’d have on the falling floorboards. There was scaffolding beneath the stage for safety, and Carlos could hang on until the elevator had hit the understage floor. A crew member had to reverse the process from down below and bring the platform back to stage level once Carlos had hopped off.
But Gabriel? I didn’t intend to hang around to see if the actor could work his way back to the stage. I sprinted through the house and burst into the lobby “Bill!” I screamed.
Muffled thumps originated from the interior of the box office. Usually it was kept locked, but I could see the handle had been jimmied. I yanked it open. OMG! Bill sat hunched over on the floor, his mouth covered, his hands and feet securely wrapped in duct tape. I ripped the tape off his mouth. “Bill…?”
He exhaled, coughed, and panted. “The kid got a jump on me.”
“Are you hurt?” I wrenched open drawers under the ticket counter to find something… a screwdriver! I ripped at the tape binding his hands.
“Got clocked good. He was on me before I could react.”
“You should go to the hospital.”
“Where is he?” Bill asked grimly, ignoring my advice. “He took my gun.”
“Hopefully, under the stage.”
Bill cut through the tape on his ankles. “How’d he get there? And how’d you get away from him?”
“He stepped on the trapdoor. I sent him below. He’s after the flash drive.”
Bill yanked off the last of the duct tape and shot me a look of admiration. “Got to hand it to you… thanks for coming to my rescue.”
I shrugged. “I’ve owed you.” I had to admit I enjoyed having the tables turned for once. Saving Bill instead of waiting for him to save me.
He grabbed the screwdriver. “Have your cell?”
“Yeah.”
“Call Suki and fill her in. She might be in Bernridge.” He ran into the lobby.
“Be careful.”
“Now you get out of here. Go next door to the Windjammer and call Suki.”
“What if you need help? Backup won’t be here in time and—”
“Go!” he ordered.
Gabriel wouldn’t get a drop on Bill a second time, gun or no gun. Still, I couldn’t leave him alone. There was a possibility that Gabriel would extricate himself from the hydraulic machinery under the stage. If so, he might try to make a getaway through the scene shop…or the lobby. Which put me squarely in his path.
I dialed the Etonville police station, left a message via Edna—who spouted codes and exclamations—for Suki as Bill instructed, and hunkered down in a corner of the lobby behind a stack of folded banquet tables used for intermission concessions. I removed the canister of pepper spray from my key ring, my trigger finger gently massaging the release button, and waited. The silence was killing me. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. At ten, I was ready to charge into the theater regardless of Bill’s warning and tackle Gabriel myself.
I was spared the decision. The thud of footsteps traveling up an aisle inside the theater was followed by the madman himself, bursting through the lobby doors, slamming them into the walls. Gabriel limped across the tile floor, waving Bill’s service revolver, making his way to the exit. Not if I could help it. “Gabriel!” I shrieked.
He spun around, disoriented, his face contorted in pain.
I closed my eyes, one arm over my face to avoid blowback, and sent a jet of pepper spray his way. He howled and collapsed onto the floor as Bill rushed into the lobby, screwdriver held high. Yowza.
* * * *
“I told you to go next door,” Bill said.
“Someone had to have your back.” I handed wet paper towels to Gabriel, who sat propped up against the door of the box office, huffing indignantly and wiping his face.
“I need a doctor,” Gabriel cried.
“The emergency techs will be here in a minute. Your eyes will clear up. She mostly missed you.”
My aim had been less than accurate. Good for Gabriel. Bad for me if Bill hadn’t burst onto the scene.
Bill holstered his gun. “They’ll look after your foot too.”
Unprepared for the descent—one foot on the stage and one on the trapdoor—the actor had fallen and twisted his ankle when the elevator platform descended, depositing him on the understage cement floor. Without a crew member to guide him off the platform, he had to negotiate the trapdoor machinery alone before limping his way to the lobby. Rapidly. Where he’d unfortunately run into my self-defense pepper spray. Outside, a police cruiser and an ambulance came to a stop; must be Ralph, who loved to do lights flashing and sirens wailing. I wondered how things had gone down in Bernridge.
“Why did you murder the hitman?” I asked hastily. I had to know, and time was running out.
Gabriel looked aghast. “What are you talking about? I didn’t murder anybody.”
“Dodie!” Bill gave me the look that said keep your mouth shut.
I couldn’t help myself. “The aconite? You poisoned him!”
“Aconite?” Gabriel looked truly mystified.
“Was it in a spiked drink you gave him at the Halloween party?” I spat out.
“Spiked drink? I don’t know anything about that. All right, so I trailed you and left the note on your car—”
“That was you?” I sputtered. Then it hit me. “The coffin too?”
“I was trying to scare you. To get you to…”
“What?” I pressed Gabriel.
Bill’s volume ratcheted up. “Dodie, this is official police business. You cannot interrogate a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“To get you to stop asking questions. Digging your nose into…” Gabriel hung his head. “I only wanted the flash drive.”
“You’re the one who pushed me down the steps?” I said triumphantly.
“No! That wasn’t me!”
“What steps?” Bill was totally lost.
“You and the bad guys planned to dump Carlos and probably Bella and skip out?”
“Dodie! That’s it—”
Gabriel broke in vehemently. “You’re wrong. I was trying to save Bella by finding the flash drive. To protect her.”
“Save her? Really?” The kid was naïve if he thought Bill—or me, for that matter—would buy this garbage.
“Yes.”
“Why save her once you got your hands on the evidence?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I save her?” He hung his h
ead, partly in shame, partly in defeat. “She’s my mother.”
Bill’s eyes widened; my jaw dropped. OMG.
“You’d do the same if it was your mother!”
He was right.
“Carlos told me yesterday he’d hidden the flash drive in the theater for safekeeping.”
Ralph banged through the lobby doors, gun drawn, followed closely by the EMTs. “Hey, Chief. Edna said it’s a 245”
20
“I can’t believe what we didn’t know about Gabriel.” Lola sipped her chardonnay. “Now that I know he’s related to Carlos, I can see the resemblance.”
I couldn’t. As far as I was concerned, Gabriel was adopted.
Penny stirred her martini. “You know what they say. Blood isn’t as thick as water.”
Lola and I gawked at her. Penny was feeling important. According to her, she saw Gabriel enter the theater and was about to text me when the police force arrived. Never mind that those two events were at least forty-five minutes apart. We’d been sitting at the bar of the Windjammer for the past hour. Dracula was off; Bill was at the station; Gabriel was in custody. I hadn’t heard anything about Carlos and Bella and the second hitman or the person sent to keep an eye on Carlos.
“Sorry the show never went on tonight,” I said. And wouldn’t with Renfield in the county jail, awaiting arraignment on assault charges. Coldcocking a cop and swiping his gun was a huge mistake.
Lola flipped her ponytail. “Wasn’t meant to be. I would have loved to see another weekend of Dracula. And its box office.” She drained her glass. “Can’t complain. We’ve already done better than any other show’s opening weekend last season.”
Penny popped an olive into her mouth. “Dracula was a bad omen from the start. Missing props, light cues off. Not to mention having a vampire walking around town.”
“Penny, Carlos is an actor. Not an actual vampire,” Lola said patiently.
“Whatever.”
I had to smile. A week ago, Lola herself was lamenting the presence of the paranormal on the Etonville stage. I gestured to Benny to refill Lola’s glass. I was sticking to seltzer, preparing for a long night ahead of me. I intended to wait up for Bill and get a progress report on the events at Speedwell Auto Parts. And the status of the flash drive. Lost in all the current excitement was the identity of the first hitman’s murderer. I was betting that Gabriel knew more than he was admitting. As Bella’s son, he would have been at the old Hanratty place on many occasions and was probably familiar with the aconite herb, though he had played dumb earlier. I trusted Bill and the county prosecutor would get to the bottom of Gabriel’s story. And tie up loose ends. I hated loose ends.
Killing Time Page 23
