Never Thwart a Thespian: Volume 8 (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series)

by Edie Claire

  “That man!” Maura sighed with an exaggerated simper. Then she made a gesture for her visitors to hang tight a moment, grabbed her notepad, and put the phone to her ear. “Yo, Stroth! What’s up?”

  As Maura’s smile faded into a full-on frown of concentration, Leigh’s anxiety grew.

  “Where did it happen exactly?” Maura asked, scribbling madly. “Any witnesses?” The silence between her questions seemed to drag interminably. “What’s the prognosis? I see. So you’re going to— Right. I agree. No, that’s good. I’ll check out what I can from here. You keep me apprised, all right? Every hour, if you need to. No matter how Gerry barks at you. Right. Good work.”

  At long last, she hung up the phone. She said nothing for a moment, just continued catching up on her scribbles.

  Finally, Leigh could stand no more. “Please tell me that call had nothing whatsoever to do with my Aunt Bess’s building or the Marconi case.”

  Maura looked up and met her eyes, and Leigh’s hopes sank. “Sorry, Koslow,” the detective answered. “No can do.”

  “Oh, crap.” Leigh, who had been standing up for the entirety of the visit so far, sank down onto the foot of Maura’s bed. “What is it? What’s happened now?” As much as she hated for Allison to overhear, she had to know. Allison would doubtless find out anyway. She always did.

  “It’s Sonia Crane,” Maura explained. “She was assaulted as she went into work this morning. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Assaulted?” Leigh repeated, horrified. “Why? How?”

  “Too soon to tell,” Maura answered. “All we know is that a passer-by found her unconscious outside the door to her office and called an ambulance.”

  “But…” Leigh stammered, still disbelieving. “There were security cameras, I hope?”

  Maura shook her head. “If she worked for any of the firms downtown, there would be. But Sonia Crane hung out her own shingle two years ago. Her new office is in Sewickley, just off the Boulevard. There weren’t any cameras. Or any witnesses either, at least not that we know of. Yet.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Allison asked.

  Maura considered a moment. “I can only tell you what the press already knows. She’s in fair condition.”

  Leigh’s jaws clenched tightly. Musing over ancient crimes was one thing — dealing with current ones was another. Sonia was supposed to be a suspect, not a victim. Nobody was supposed to be a victim.

  She straightened and cleared her throat. “Well, that’s frightening to hear. I hope she’s okay. But we have no reason to believe the assault had anything to do with her bid for the building. She could have scads of enemies out there. Other business deals gone sour. It could have been a random mugger. There’s no reason to think it has anything to do with the theater or with any of us.” She looked at Maura hopefully. “Right?”

  “There’s no obvious link, no,” Maura replied.

  Leigh found that answer less than comforting.

  “Aunt Mo?” Allison asked, her voice a squeak. “Can you tell us what kind of assault—” She broke off awkwardly. “I mean, why she’s unconscious, specifically?”

  Maura drew in a measured breath. Her eyes flashed a warning note to Leigh, even as her gaze centered on Allison.

  “She was struck on the back of the head.”

  Chapter 12

  Leigh had promised herself, ardently, that she would keep the Pack out of the wretched building all day for at least one day. And yet here she was, driving herself and Allison straight back into the lion’s den so that Allison could give Bess the scoop on Gerardo. Maura had thought it best they do it promptly, and Leigh had agreed.

  But they were not sticking around.

  Really. They weren’t.

  They arrived at the building to find Bess in as close to a tizzy as Bess ever got. Getting a private moment with her required following a moving target — she roamed through the building from end to end at a frenetic pace, directing the men to hurry, opening closet doors, switching lights on and off, flushing toilets, and peering into every nook and cranny for heaven only knew what. “The inspector is coming today,” she explained. “We can’t open the show unless he’s happy — you have no idea how important this is!”

  “It looks fabulous, Aunt Bess,” Leigh said honestly. Although the majority of the annex was still a mess, the parts of the original building that made up the theater proper had undergone an amazing transformation. The auditorium was spotless, the hallways and bathrooms were beyond reproach, and Frances had worked wonders in the basement practically overnight. The men were still repainting the basement walls and the ancient tile floor desperately needed a good polish, but the clutter, dirt, and grime had been thoroughly vanquished. “Really,” Leigh gushed. “I’m sure the inspector will be more than satisfied.”

  Bess stopped moving at last and huffed out a breath. “Well, he certainly should, shouldn’t he? I only wish I knew when he was coming. All I know is ‘sometime today.’ And the rehearsal is going to begin shortly!”

  “Wait,” Leigh said, confused. “It isn’t even noon yet. Isn’t the dress rehearsal tonight?”

  “Yes,” Bess replied. “But Camille will be at that one. A couple of the actors are still struggling with their lines — they get to say them so infrequently at the regular rehearsals, you know — so everyone who could take a long lunch is coming for an emergency run-through.” She looked down at Allison. “You had something you wanted to talk to me about, kiddo?”

  Allison nodded and pulled Bess into one of the second-floor classrooms so they could talk privately, but just as Leigh began to follow, her phone rang. She stepped out in the hallway and answered it. “Hey, Warren. What’s up?”

  “I was just wondering if Allison had hit you up with her plan yet.”

  Leigh’s heart beat faster. “Evidently not. What am I in for now?”

  “I’ll let her tell you,” he said evasively. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t mind if you don’t. Are you still at Mo’s?”

  Leigh slipped into another classroom across the hall and gave him a quick summary of the morning’s revelations.

  “I don’t like it, either,” he said worriedly. “Any of it. But if it makes you feel any better, I’d be surprised if Sonia Crane hasn’t collected a fair number of enemies over the years. There’s no reason to assume that what happened to her this morning has anything to do with Bess. And as for Gordon hiring a spy… well, that wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I told you, the man is a master manipulator. He enjoys a good game. As uptight as he’s been pretending to be about whether or not he should sell the theater, I really don’t think he gives a flip about the money. Or his local reputation. The more I think about it, the more I think he’s really just looking for a way to get to Bess.”

  The door across the hallway burst open and a red-faced Bess stormed out.

  “Sorry, gotta go,” Leigh said quickly.

  “Okay, I’ll be there soo—” Warren’s voice cut off as Leigh stuffed the phone back in her pocket.

  “Aunt Bess!” she said, lunging forward to stop Bess in her tracks. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to get in my car, go find Gordon Applegate, and then beat the man to within an inch of his miserably privileged life!” Bess replied hotly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Leigh chastised. “If you kill him, his heirs would sell the building.”

  Bess growled low in her throat. “You’re right, dammit. But I can still maim him, can’t I?”

  “Only if you want to spend opening night in the Allegheny County jail.”

  Bess crossed her arms over her chest and let out a humph. “But he deserves it! The gall! As if him dropping in here himself practically every day wasn’t keeping enough of an eye on me and his precious investment!” her eyes flashed fire. “I should have known something was up when the woman at the Outreach foisted Gerardo on me. He didn’t have any prior work experience with them, but she kept insisting he came highly recommended… and now
I know by whom! Gordon knew I was going to look for men through the Outreach; he paid them off!”

  Light footsteps echoed down the hallway, and within a few seconds a paint-splashed Chaz came into view. “Hey, Ms. Bess. Just thought you might want to know, Mr. Applegate is waiting for you in the sanctuary. I know you told us not to let anybody in, but he used his own key and all, and although I would have tackled him if he was anybody else, he does own the building. And if the YBC ever gets itself together again, it’d be great to use this place for another haunted house, so I really didn’t want to tick him off too bad. So that’s why when he asked where you were I said—”

  Bess roared something incomprehensible and pushed past him like a fighting bull. Leigh followed, fearing an imminent explosion, but when she and Allison caught up to Bess just inside the old sanctuary, they found her outwardly calm and smiling.

  “Gordon, dear,” Bess purred. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

  “Have you heard about Sonia?” he asked brusquely.

  Leigh blinked. She had no idea how Bess could look so collected, when just the sprint across the building and down the stairs had left both her and Allison panting like dogs. As for Gordon, the man looked unrecognizable. His hair was barely combed, his face was pale, his shirt was only tucked partway in his trousers, and she was pretty sure his shoes didn’t match.

  “What about her?” Bess asked quickly.

  Leigh felt a stab of guilt for not filling in her aunt herself, but they’d hardly had time.

  “Somebody struck her on the head outside her office this morning,” Gordon said slowly, his ice blue eyes watching Bess keenly. “I just heard about it on the news. I was… wondering if you were all right.”

  Bess digested the information a moment. “I’m perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  The two continued to stare at each other. “No reason,” he replied.

  “How bad is she?” Bess asked.

  Gordon shook his head. “All they said was ‘fair condition.’”

  “Well, that’s a shame,” Bess said with sincerity, but as she looked around the room, her paled face began to redden all over again. Chaz, Gerardo, and Ned — all covered to various degrees with cream-colored paint — stood clustered at the doorway to the alcove, blatantly eavesdropping.

  “Well, now that we have everyone’s attention,” Bess began, “I would like you to explain to me, Gordon, why exactly you planted a spy in our midst?”

  Chaz gasped and covered his mouth with his hands. Ned looked confused. Gerardo remained expressionless. Gordon’s eyes flickered with a sudden intensity, but he showed no other signs of alarm. “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You heard what I said,” Bess insisted, planting both hands firmly on her hips. “I know that Gerardo speaks English, I know you bribed the director of the Outreach to recommend him to me, and I know you’ve been secretly meeting with him along the curb outside and God knows where else. I just thought maybe you’d like to fill me in on the rest of it.”

  The two locked gazes for another long moment. Everyone else in the room seemed afraid to breathe. Finally, Gordon straightened. He ran long, spindly fingers through his mussed fringe of hair and gave his shoulders a defiant shake. “Your lack of confidence wounds me, Bess,” he said heavily. “You are correct in only one assumption. I have indeed conversed with Gerardo outside of this building. I drove by my property, as I often do, and when I saw him outside the door I called him over to ask him, in essence, what the hell he was doing here. I recognized him because I have seen him many times, at my estate. He happens to be one of my gardeners.”

  Bess showed no sign of being appeased. “He speaks English!” she accused.

  “Well if he does, that’s news to me,” Gordon insisted.

  “You spoke to him!” Bess protested.

  “In Spanish!” Gordon fired back. “I spent almost three years in Argentina, I should think I can ask my own gardener why he’s moonlighting!”

  Leigh felt Allison shrink beside her. Seriously, they should have thought of that. But whether Gordon realized it or not, Gerardo could speak English. She was certain of it.

  “Seems a bit too much of a coincidence for my tastes,” Bess continued, unrelenting. “Why would an employee of yours go to the Outreach looking for extra work? And who would have recommended him?”

  Gordon sighed. “As Gerardo explained to me, work for gardeners is understandably thin over the winter. He’s been on part-time hours at my place for some time now, and my manager was trying to help him out. He’s an excellent worker, as you should well know. He didn’t realize I owned this building until I told him so myself. Are you happy now?”

  Bess sniffed. “Marginally. Perhaps.”

  “Well, I hope you’re mollified,” Gordon continued with a superior tone, “because we need to talk about this business with the Marconi remains. I’m starting to get calls.”

  “Calls?”

  “Yes, calls,” he said shortly. “From people who think this building is a menace to the borough. Those blasted news articles mentioned that I owned it, and now the complaints are rolling in. ‘The building’s cursed. Two murders are enough. Tear it down!’”

  “I don’t believe it,” Bess argued. “That’s not what I’m hearing. People are intrigued, but they’re hardly carrying pitchforks and torches!”

  “It will only get worse when the news about Sonia Crane gets out.”

  “That’s nonsense!” Bess protested. “Nobody outside the Society knows she had anything to do with the theater!”

  “I’m telling you, Bess,” Gordon continued, “I won’t stand for owning a public nuisance! If there’s one more unpleasant finding in, on, or around this place — or if anybody else associated with it gets hurt, I’ll unload this box of bricks so fast it will make—”

  “Oh, poo,” Bess interrupted lightly, both her tone and manner softening as abruptly as if she’d flipped a switch. She took a step closer to him. “You’re just looking for excuses to worry, Gordon. Opening night is tomorrow, we’re right on schedule, and everything will be fine. I promise.”

  Their eyes met once more, and this time Gordon responded with a sly smile. At which point both of them seemed to remember that they were not alone.

  Gordon turned sharply and flung a line of rapid Spanish at Gerardo. Gerardo returned a slightly longer speech, then whirled to descend the steps, delivering a solid smack to Chaz’s shoulders as he went. Chaz, who had been looking from one man to the other in confusion, jumped to attention and followed. Ned, who was looking even more confused, did the same.

  “He said he’s sorry if his being here caused you any trouble, and he’s going to get back to work,” Gordon translated.

  Bess harrumphed.

  “Allison,” Leigh said firmly, “we should be going now.”

  “But, Mom—”

  The child’s plea was interrupted by a sharp rapping on the building’s front door.

  “I wonder if that’s the inspector,” Bess said nervously. “Oh, I was hoping they could finish painting the basement first!”

  Neither Bess nor Gordon moved, but instead looked expectantly at Leigh.

  “We’ll just get that on our way out,” Leigh responded, crossing the room and heading into the vestibule. When she reached the door with no Allison behind her, she began to call for the girl over her shoulder, but the sight of the person she opened the door to snatched the words out of her mouth. She had never seen the man before, but she had seen enough like him to know what he was.

  “Hello,” he said pleasantly. “Detective Daniel Stroth of the Allegheny Police. I was wondering if I could speak with Ms. Bess Cogley?”

  Bingo. Stroth, who appeared to be somewhere in his late thirties, was largely unremarkable in both physical appearance and manner. Real detectives, Leigh knew, did not strut around attracting attention like Steve McGarrett on Hawaii 5-0. They preferred to come across as ordinary and nonthreatening. What gave them away was that if you looked at
them closely enough, it was obvious they were looking at you even closer.

  Leigh summoned a pleasant expression. “Yes, of course. I’m her niece, Leigh. Bess is right inside.”

  “Ah. I’ve heard of you.” His brown eyes danced with mischief.

  “No doubt,” Leigh returned. She gestured to Allison, who now hovered at the inside doorway. “My daughter and I were just leaving.”

  The detective gave a nod to them both, then moved around Allison and into the sanctuary. Leigh felt a sudden twinge in her middle. Was the detective following up on the Marconi case, or was he here because of Sonia? Bess had made no secret of her antipathy for the woman. The entire cast had seen it…

  “Mom?”

  As Allison’s small voice interrupted her thoughts, Leigh’s warning sensors raised another alarm. It was the child’s best “parental schmoozing” tone, and it never boded well.

  “No,” Leigh answered preemptively. “I don’t want you spending any more time here today. You shouldn’t be here at all. I’m sure the detective is just covering all the bases where Sonia’s assault is concerned — there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that. I just—”

  “There’s nothing more to be done here,” Leigh continued. “I already told you. We’ll all go see opening night together, but the rest of the prop inventory can wait until after the show.”

  “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

  Leigh studied her daughter warily. “Then what?” She wasn’t fooled. Allison was about to ask for something she desperately wanted and was afraid she wouldn’t get.

  “I just wondered if it would be okay if dad took me to the library.”

  Leigh’s eyebrows lifted. It was an innocent enough request — coming from someone else’s daughter. “Which library?”

  “The Carnegie,” Allison answered. “I already asked Dad. He was going to work from home all day, but he said he didn’t mind taking me to Oakland and working on his laptop there in the library for a couple hours. If it’s okay with you, that is. I told him I was sure it would be. After all, I’ll be perfectly safe in a library.” She smiled innocently.