Murder in the Theater (Cold Creek Book 4)

by Christa Nardi

  Deep breaths helped me relax and regroup. I stood to head back and felt a different kind of chill at the same time Charlie let out a low growl.

  “Are you trying to ruin me? I saw you at the theater this morning. You and that red headed floozy. What did you tell Adelaide? Do you want the parts I should have gotten to begin with? Do you know anything about theater?”

  Dr. Patrissi ranted and waved her arms as she barreled toward me. If one of us didn’t move, she was going to collide with me in short order. I moved from one side to the other as I worried about Charlie being in her way as well. She veered as I moved but kept on coming. Charlie’s growl was no longer low; it swelled to full out bark and growl. If Dr. Patrissi knocked me over, I wasn’t sure what Charlie would do. I stepped sideways toward Charlie and commanded “heel.” Charlie complied.

  My sudden move relative to Dr. Patrissi meant she passed me. And collided into a young man. He was about six foot tall and built like a football player. Dr. Patrissi was no match for him and she landed on her butt, while he towered over her.

  “Ma’am, you need to take your dog and be on your way. I’ll be sure this one doesn’t follow you. Go on now.”

  Much as I hate being called “ma’am’ as it makes me feel old and much as I’m prone to assert myself as an independent woman, I’m not stupid. I muttered “thank you” and Charlie and I were back on the trail and headed for the car in no time at all.

  A glass of wine with a burger isn’t the best pairing but it suited my mood and my stomach. My run hadn’t had the calming effect I’d hoped for at all. Back on the Internet, the pictures of Thompson on his website still puzzled me. I downloaded the two of him with a woman I still couldn’t identify. She was not Dr. Patrissi, Adelaide, or his wife. My best guess was Briana Dooley.

  A search for Wendell Fleisch with Al as his first name was more productive. His website resembled more of an ad for a dating site, complete with photographs. He did mention the community theater, but with more emphasis on the theater and the roles he’d played. It lacked the professional feel of most of the other Board members’ web pages. The town of Altavista probably would be relieved he never mentioned his full time job.

  I grabbed a pencil and paper. It was time to try to connect the dots and look for a pattern or obvious gap in what we knew about relationships and Thompson’s murder. Thompson and the community theater dominated the center stage in this production.

  I still couldn’t fathom how a part in this play was a reasonable motive. Altavista is far from Hollywood or Broadway, or even off-off-Broadway. The theater itself, Adelaide’s brainchild and baby, however, held other possible motives, both philosophical and romantic.

  The theater was established for all the right reasons. It provided an entertaining activity for members of the community and exposure of children to the arts. It expanded the pre-existing theater troupe and added sophistication to the small town. That Thompson poisoned it so in three short years was more of a motive than the part of Scrooge to my mind.

  I recalled Max’s early suggestion about a romantic angle. Little did he know there were multiple romantic angles. First, and likely how Thompson got his power in the theater, were his relationship with Adelaide and his relationship with Honey, who provided all the funding. Dr. Gorganz also seemed to have a sweet spot for Adelaide and resented Thompson, on the surface because Thompson was such a boar. Then there was Dr. Patrissi, with little love lost between Adelaide and her – by her own statements an interested party – not to mention a good suspect in Thompson’s demise. Al resented Thompson’s luck with the ladies.

  On the home front, Thompson had first dated his now sister-in-law, and Mr. Hatheway wasn’t all that impressed with him. Things weren’t too kosher on the home front either. His wife rarely, if ever, stepped foot in the theater until the murder. Could Mr. Hatheway or Gracie have known he was being unfaithful and killed him on Honey’s behalf or bequest? So far there’d been no indication Honey was aware or upset by his philandering, but she certainly had motive. Brett’s comment that she knew about the gun meant she had means.

  My head hurt by the time I pushed the paper away with too many possibilities. Unfortunately, the fact that many people had motive likely wouldn’t be sufficient to establish reasonable doubt. I poured myself another glass of wine and stared at my scribbles. Before I knew it, Brett called. We talked about the beam falling and my tire blowout. He sounded more stressed than usual. I confronted him on the stress, expecting it to be focused on me and my safety, ready to let loose with my arguments and anger.

  “On top of my work, the Thompson case and your involvement, Maddie called me earlier. She is upset about something – I’m guessing Thanksgiving – but being hateful and angry. I thought she was okay over the weekend, now … I’m at a loss.”

  “Part of me needs to tell you this – welcome to adolescence! Sometimes parents describe it as if somebody else temporarily taking over their sweet loving child. All the identity issues, peer pressure, parent pressure. I know I wouldn’t go back and relive middle or high school for all the money in the world.”

  “I feel so powerless.”

  “Brett, as long as she’s calling you and you’re there for her, you’re not powerless. She’s communicating with you at least. Letting you know something’s going on that makes her angry. Unfortunately, where you don’t have power is knowing what it is or fixing it all. But you can support her in other ways. You can be there, be open to what she says. Sometimes it helps to redirect attention to something positive. Bring up the next weekend you’ll see her for example, what she wants to do then.”

  We chatted some more. Madison had called me before and I wondered if she would again. Divorce or dysfunctional marriages on the verge of divorce were often hardest on the children. With holiday shows filled with perfect families and happy endings, the reality of two households, conflict, and distance loomed apparent. With a flashback to the Walton Family, I wondered at how easy theater made it seem and how that fed the guilt of those dealing with family conflicts.

  CHAPTER 18

  I was looking forward to a quiet day with no accidents or issues other than my usual routine of coffee, teach, coffee, grade. It required effort on my part, but I blocked out the murder investigation and even the upcoming holidays until after my class. A knock on my door changed all that.

  A young woman, with dark brown, almost black hair and the occasional touch of blue stood at my door. One section of her hair was in dreadlocks, the rest hung in loose waves. She was quite beautiful even in her sweatshirt and jeans.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “Dr. Hendley?”

  I nodded and she continued, “My name is Melodie Lewis. Isaac Waxman asked me to come see you.”

  “Hi Melodie. Come in, have a seat. I’ll close the door so we have a little privacy if it’s alright with you.” She nodded and sat down, her back straight and watched as I closed the door.

  “I’m glad you came by. Dr. Pennzel and I are helping Isaac’s uncle. I want to make sure though you understand anything you tell me – well, if the prosecution asks, I have to tell them. This isn’t confidential.”

  “But aren’t you a psychologist? I thought what you said to a psychologist was confidential?”

  “Melodie, you’re not a client. This isn’t part of a treatment plan. Even within a therapeutic relationship there are limits to what is or isn’t confidential. I’m glad to have the chance to talk to you, but I want to make sure you understand that. Okay?”

  “Okay. I want to help Isaac too. He didn’t do this. I know that. It’s not who he is. What can I tell you?”

  I’d hoped she had come with something specific to share and was disappointed that I had to come up with questions. She waited for my cue and I opted to start at the beginning.

  “Perhaps we could start with your relationship with Isaac and with the community theater in Altavista?”

  Melodie smiled as she answered. “Isaac and I are involved. Seriou
sly. We met about a year ago when one of the guys in Fine Arts – Hank – suggested some students get together and jam for fun. I showed up along with a bunch of other students. After a while, the regulars were Hank, Al, Miles, Isaac, and me. We started the band, the Dynamites, but with schedules tight we just jam these days. Jasmin comes to most of the sessions, but she didn’t play or sing with the band.”

  When I opened my mouth to speak, she anticipated my question. “Jas worships Al. So she comes, offers opinions, and claps after each set. Most times we all grab a bite afterwards.”

  “So that’s how you met Isaac? Are you in Fine Arts also?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m a junior. So are Al and Jasmine. Although we’re all in Fine Arts, our schedules don’t overlap much with Isaac, Hank or Miles unless as part of a production. Anyway, between jamming and then going out to eat, Isaac and I …we became friends and then more than friends.”

  She smiled and her eyes lit up as she spoke about her relationship with Isaac. I didn’t need the sordid details so I shifted the conversation to Thompson.

  “How did you and the others get interested in the community theater productions?”

  “Interested? Any opportunity to get experience is great, though not usually during the school year. Part of the degree requirement is to build credits for your portfolio. The Dynamites? Last year we arranged a gig up in Altavista for a birthday party. There’s lots of opportunities. Summer theaters all along the shore, across the state.”

  I nodded and she took a breath. “Jas plays classical piano – not many opportunities to showcase her talent. But she also plays the organ, can play popular songs on piano, and there’s a demand for piano teachers. It’s harder if you only try for a single skill, you know, like violin. There’s not much demand for amateur violinists and not even a lot of kids who want to learn violin. Anyway, because some experience is required, when auditions are announced, we go if it looks like a possible match and its close by.”

  “Other than in Altavista, where else are there community theaters? Any in North Shore?”

  “No to North Shore. The next closest are in Richmond or Richmond. They’re often in conjunction with the Fine Arts department of a local college. Needless to say, there is also greater competition in the cities. There are some traveling troupes as well. With classes, none of those work except in the summer. So the one in Altavista is the only theater-type option and still looks good on the resume to say ‘Played the part of Scarlett in Gone with the Wind’ or whatever in whatever. After a while, between the one production here every year, one in Altavista, and one other activity every year, it all adds up.”

  Successful or not, the students were certainly mentored to have experience. Too bad those of us in the Liberal Arts couldn’t come up with a similar plan so our students left with some related experience as well as book knowledge. I guessed research counted as experience, but not exactly real-world ups and downs or personalities.

  “How do you find out about these experiences? The Altavista auditions for example?”

  “One bulletin board on the first floor has all the current possibilities. I think over the years, Dr. Gorganz and others have done a good job at finding places and most venues seem to like Cold Creek students. It’s a win-win situation for us. Dr. Gorganz also has a list of students who indicated what they might be interested in and he PDFs us announcements or lets us know. Sometimes the announcement hasn’t even been posted yet.”

  “I’ve never auditioned for a play. Can you walk me through the process?”

  “Sure. There’s a call. Early on, it’s usually an open call – not a specific part – and everyone is asked to do a combination of tasks. So, if it’s a musical, there may be one segment of the audition with two people reading the lines. Then a song to sing. Sometimes, there may be a section of a dance routine everyone auditioning is taught. After the first round, there may be a second call or third call to narrow down who gets what parts. That happens a lot in the summer theater.”

  “What about in Altavista?”

  “Not as many people audition, especially not with this one.”

  “Okay. Tell me about the process for Oklahoma!”

  “A musical. Lots of people like musicals – to watch, sing the songs, do the dances, and so on. And they’re usually upbeat.”

  “How were auditions handled in Altavista – same experience as anywhere else?”

  Melodie squirmed in her seat and her mouth tipped down. She started and stopped, as if she was having trouble finding the right words.

  “In Altavista, it was kind of like that. Mr. Thompson – he knew many of the people auditioning and the form asked what parts you were interested in. But those weren’t the parts he assigned you to perform for the audition. With Oklahoma! many of us decided he already knew who he was casting in the most important roles. Disappointing.”

  “So who played the lead in Oklahoma!?” I knew the answer but was hoping for a glimpse of her reaction. She scrunched up her face and her eyes got darker and wider.

  “Trey Regan played Curly. He was okay. Dr. Patrissi had the part of Laurey. Now, none of us saw her audition so she may have knocked Mr. Thompson’s socks off, but … To be honest, we didn’t think it was his socks she had an effect on.”

  “She didn’t do a good job?”

  “She showed up late for rehearsals and paid more attention to him than the script. I was her understudy and spent most of the time prompting her – you know, whispering the lines from behind the curtain? She was clueless. Mr. Thompson, he yelled at the rest of us like it was our fault she couldn’t remember lines or act. And she took it out on us too.”

  From the clipped tone and her expression, I could tell Melodie found the experience distasteful to say the least. I glanced at my clock and realized I needed to speed this up.

  “Doesn’t sound like fun. What can you tell me about “A Christmas Carol” – it’s not a musical and not being performed as one, correct?”

  “That’s right. Classical rendition even though the ghost part is hard to do on a simple stage with no special effects. Dr. G, he asked – begged might be the better word – students to audition. After Oklahoma!, most of us wanted nothing to do with Altavista or really with Mr. Thompson – and it’s not a musical. Dr. G is good to us, helps us when we need it, and so a bunch of us auditioned. The best part? There’s no true female lead in the story. It’s all about Scrooge so Dr. Patrissi wasn’t interested or ever on the set.”

  “Did you ever have any specific issues with Dr. Patrissi or Mr. Thompson?”

  A brief glint in her eyes and set of her mouth belied her initial answer. “Not really. She accused me of having an affair with Mr. Thompson but that would’ve been too gross on so many levels. He blamed me when she looked bad and said it made him look bad. I guess he should have thought of that before he gave her the part.”

  Part of me knew I should let it go, that I might not like the answer, but I had to ask. “She thought you were having an affair with him? Did he ever act interested or say anything to make her think that?”

  “No. Not really. He never said anything, you know. Sometimes he got too close, made me uncomfortable, so I backed up or stuck with Isaac or my other friends. Nothing overt or I’d have told him off. Maybe that’s why he was so critical of me.”

  “How would you describe the relationship between Isaac and Mr. Thompson?”

  When she hesitated, I added, “I wouldn’t ask, but someone will. It’s better we know the answer.”

  She took a deep breath. “Not good. Hostile. Volatile.” She put her hand up like stop signal. “That’s how I’d describe Thompson’s attitude toward Isaac. If Isaac asked a question, made a suggestion, did anything different from how Thompson said to do it, he blew up. Isaac didn’t help the situation though. He would make suggestions or ask questions whenever a scene was messed up.”

  She continued, “If someone played a part well, Isaac would complement them or high five them – that also set of
f Thompson. He called it ‘babying’ and told us we needed thick skins. At least once per night, Thompson lit into Isaac over something. He’d goad people into reading his blog and his ‘directing model.’ All the blog did was make demands and insult us, collectively and individually. He even lit into Dr. Patrissi on one of them a few months back.”

  I made a mental note to look back through his blog. “I read the most recent blog posts. Do you have any idea who ‘alyourpal’ or ‘irabacus25’ might be?”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “I don’t think they’re actors. Dr. G sometimes responded but he’s “Jule” and there’s some older lady whose user name is like her hair – silver-something. Isaac suggested we not read the blog so I haven’t in a while.”

  “Anything else we should know about Isaac or the others?”

  “Not that I can think of. Only Isaac didn’t do this. He doesn’t even like playing the bad guy in acting class. And for a part in a play he’s only in as a favor to Dr. G? You’ve got to help him.”

  We both stood. I prompted her to call, email or come by if she remembered or heard anything that might help. As I ran for my next cup of coffee before my class, Kim stopped and asked me for a ride from the rental place to pick up her car with its new paint job later in the day.

  CHAPTER 19

  I followed Kim to return her car rental and then we headed to T&Js to pick up her car. She ranted about the latest crisis in her class. This semester she was teaching human sexuality, a course ripe for differences of opinion and even among college students interjection of some “facts” they’d gleaned from friends, the media, and less frequently, their parents.

  “Sher, what did you think of Melodie? Isaac is pretty close-mouthed about her and Marty’s a little concerned. He’s afraid the prosecution could use her as Isaac’s motive.”