by J. C. Eaton
“Huh? What? My mother?”
I was still thinking about Marshall, and making a quick mind flip to my mother’s message-of-the-day wasn’t something I relished. I squinted as if expecting the worst. “Might as well. I’m ready.”
“Here goes, kiddo.”
Nate tried to keep a straight face, but it wasn’t working.
“And I quote, ‘We decided to go out to the Cheesecake Factory and reward ourselves for surviving auditions on Tuesday. The only ones who were unscathed were Shirley and Lucinda because they’re doing the costumes. That miserable Miranda Lee was there giving us all dirty looks. Paula Darren was with her. Louise insisted Paula gave her the evil eye. The cast list will be e-mailed to all of us by tomorrow. Call me.”’
“Wow. I, um . . .”
“Don’t tell me. Your mother and her friends tried out for a play?”
“Oh yeah. And not any play. Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap. And since those book club ladies live to read about murders, they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to act in one.”
“Okay. But what happens if they don’t get the parts?”
“Then we shutter the windows, disconnect the Internet, pull the landline, and get the heck out of town. Seriously? It will be unbearable. You heard my mother. Another would-be starlet gave them dirty looks. This will never end until the last curtain call.”
“When’s that?”
“Um . . . December, I think. The first week in December.”
“Think of the bright side, kiddo. If your mother and her friends do get the roles, they’ll leave you alone for the next two months.”
The thought of a few peaceful months almost brought a smile to my face, until I remembered Marshall Gregory was going to walk in our door in less than an hour and I had absolutely no warning or I would have worn something that showed off my figure a bit more than a plain top and beige capris. I was going to say something but Nate would have shrugged it off. Besides, it was best he didn’t know how I felt about the firm’s newest hire.
“You’re being optimistic,” I said. “I’ve got the next two months to listen to ramblings about who forgot their lines, who forgot the props, and who should have gotten the parts if they went to anyone but the book club ladies. All I can say is thank God I don’t live in Sun City West.”
“Oh, yeah. Speaking of that, Marshall’s going to be renting a place not far from you. Thought you’d want to know.”
I must have given him a weird look, because he quickly added, “In case you need to share a ride or something.”
Because seeing him every day won’t be enough. Now he has to live near me.
Augusta arrived as Nate was heading back into his office. He turned and shouted out, “The new investigator I hired should be here in an hour. I forgot to tell you and Phee he was coming today.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Williams. His office is all set up—computer, phone line, everything. All he needs to do is stick a photo of his family on the desk and he’ll be up and running.”
“Augusta,” I said, “he’s single.”
“Okay. Fine. He can get a dog and stick a photo of it on his desk. I have a friend at the Arizona Humane Society and she told me they got in the cutest litter of Rottweilers.”
Nate looked at her and shook his head. “No Rottweilers! No dogs! Let him get settled first. Plus, I’ve got so much work lined up, he’s not going to have time to deal with a dog. If you want to do something nice for the guy, get him a six-pack and subscription to Netflix. He’s got everything else. He’s renting a furnished place.”
Augusta waited until Nate was in his office before asking me what Marshall Gregory was like. She knew I’d had a teenage crush on him but had no idea how overboard I really was.
“He’s adorable in a Mark Harmon sort of way, and really smart. And hardworking, too. Oh, and did I tell you he’s got a neat sense of humor?”
“Hmm, you don’t say. By the way, you should get that puppy dog look off your face before the guy walks in the door.”
“That noticeable?”
“Yep.”
I went back to my office and picked up where I’d left off with the billing, but it took me longer than usual. It seemed as if I was jumping up, looking in my mirror, and pinching my cheeks at every sound in the outer office, expecting it to be him.
What I didn’t expect was a phone call from Shirley Johnson. “Phee, honey, you’re not going to believe this!”
Oh God, no! I don’t even want to imagine....
“Your mother got cast in the play! There are only three women’s parts and she got one of them—Mrs. Boyle. Of course, Mrs. Boyle gets killed at the end of act one, but still . . . it’s a terrific role. Listen, before you say anything, I’m calling because your mother doesn’t know. The cast list hasn’t been e-mailed yet, but I can tell you who was cast. The part of Giles Ralston is going to be played by—”
My head started to swim. Marshall Gregory was going to walk into the office at any minute, and I was at the other end of a phone listening to a cast list.
“Shirley, that’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I’ve really got to get back to work.”
“Don’t you want to know how I found out?”
“I . . . uh . . .”
“I made the cutest little cloche for Eunice Berlmosler, the publicity chair, and she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Made me promise not to tell anyone until the cast was notified. Since you don’t live in Sun City West, I figured that wouldn’t count, and I just had to call you. And more good news. Can you imagine? Myrna Mittleson got the part of Miss Casewell. Probably because Myrna’s so tall and when she walks it’s like a stampede. She used to be really slow moving, but then she started those power move classes. Oh my, I’m going on and on. . . .”
Suddenly, voices drifted in from the main office and I froze. Marshall!
“Myrna. Stampede. Power moves. That’s terrific news, Shirley. Terrific. Thank you so much for calling. I’ve got to run. Talk to you soon.”
Before she could answer, I placed the phone back in the receiver and leaned into my computer monitor, trying to look calm and nonchalant.
The door to my office flung open and Marshall walked in, followed by Nate. Both of them had wide, silly grins on their faces. I stood as Marshall took a step toward me and gave me a hug.
“If this keeps up, we’ll have the whole Mankato Police Department working here. How’re you doing, Phee? You look fantastic.”
Even after a six-hour plane fight, he smelled as if he had just gotten out of the shower. I could detect a faint aroma of crisp apples (his aftershave maybe?), but it was over in a flash. Nate started talking, the phone began to ring, and a second later, Augusta announced, in a voice that would put a longshoreman to shame, “Phee—it’s your mother on the phone and she says it’s important.”
“We’ll leave you to your call,” Nate said as he and Marshall headed out of my office. “I’m sure Marshall’s starving, so how about if the three of us grab a bite at the deli when you get off the phone? Augusta can hold down the fort. I’m sure you’re dying to catch up on the latest scuttlebutt from back home.”
“Sounds good. Give me five minutes tops.”
“I know your mother, kiddo. You can have ten.”
I figured somehow, someone spilled the beans about my mother getting the part of Mrs. Boyle and she was calling to let me know.
“Mom, is this about the play? Because if it is—”
“No. Why? What have you heard about the play?”
“Why should I hear anything about the play?”
Technically, I wasn’t lying but, so help me, if Shirley were to tell my mother I knew about this and kept my mouth shut, I’d never be forgiven.
“Mom, why are you calling me at work? Is everything okay?”
“No. It’s not. Something awful just happened. Myrna and I were having our nails done at that new salon next to the supermarket, and when we got out to our cars we both had the same threatening note on
our windshields. A printed note. Not handwritten. Myrna wanted to call the sheriff, but I said no. I told her we’d call you instead and maybe your boss can do something about it. We’re next door to the salon, having coffee in that donut place. Myrna’s at the counter, picking out donuts.”
“Mom, it was probably an advertisement. What did it say?”
“It said, in bold print, ‘AND THEN THERE WERE NONE.’ You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Yes. A new exterminating company is opening up in Sun City West. Did the note have any pictures of scorpions or bugs?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It was no exterminating company. Not like the last time, when we found that horrid advertisement on my door. No, Phee, this was a threat. A threat right out of Agatha Christie’s own library. Imagine! Using a title from one of her plays to insinuate Myrna and I are going to be killed, one at a time, like the characters in And Then There Were None. Someone didn’t want us to try out for the play. I bet it was that miserable Miranda Lee.”
I don’t know why this popped out of my mouth, but I managed to make things worse. “If they wanted to threaten you and Myrna, they would have put a mousetrap with some cheese on your windshields.”
“Sophie Vera Kimball, that isn’t funny. Now, are you going to ask your boss to look into this or do I have to tell Myrna to go ahead and call the sheriff’s office?
“No, don’t call the sheriff. Whatever you do, do not call the sheriff. Look, I’ll stop by your house on my way home tonight and pick up the notes. Nate and Marshall can look them over tomorrow.”
“Marshall? The new investigator from back in Mankato? I thought you said he wasn’t starting until next week. Is he—?”
I lowered my voice to barely a whisper. “Yes, he’s single, and he arrived early. Talk to you tonight, Mom. And tell Myrna not to worry.”
J.C. Eaton is the wife and husband team of Ann I. Goldfarb and James E. Clapp. Ann has published eight YA time travel mysteries. Visit their website at www.jceatonauthor.com
