I sat back and chewed on that information, sipping on my coffee as I did so. What if Paulette’s medicine was causing her to act in strange ways? What if she was behind some of the acts at the school?
I shook my head. Not Paulette. I didn’t want to believe she could be behind this. I wanted to think my old friend had her life together and that her motivations in hiring me were pure.
Then who?
I mentally ran through my clues, evidence, and suspects.
The two biggest clues were Scarlet’s dead body and the man who’d been found in the orchestra pit.
There was the vandalism, the girl with red hair, the smell of gasoline, the unlatched padlock on the gated hallway, the wet footprints leading to the bathroom, and the man I’d chased through the parking lot.
Arie could have the most to gain from the publicity generated by everything happening at the theater. Except there hadn’t been a lot of publicity yet, not when I really thought about it. I’d yet to see one news article mentioning her. Plus, Arie had been locked in that closet with me.
Bennie had smelled like gasoline, but that was only because she drove a motorcycle.
Someone was arguing with Scarlet outside of her apartment a week before she died. I had no idea who.
Then there was Rose, the supposed ghost. I wondered if Clarice had done any research yet. Maybe now was the time to find out.
CHAPTER 18
I walked across the street to The Grounds, my favorite coffeehouse. I mumbled good morning to my friend Sharon, who owned the place, and ordered a latte and a cranberry muffin.
“Clarice here?” I asked. Clarice was Sharon’s niece.
“She’s upstairs. I’ll call her down.”
I sat down at a corner table. I’d no sooner taken a bite of my pastry than Clarice appeared.
“I’ve been hoping to catch up with you!” She slid into the seat across from me, some papers in her hands. “Rose is real.”
“What?”
She nodded adamantly. “It’s true. Rose was a teacher at Oceanside. She was only there for three months before she died. Everyone was very quiet about her death because they didn’t want to frighten the students.”
“Tell me more.”
“Her first play was going to be The Wizard of Oz.”
I swallowed hard, remembering Scarlet’s shoes and socks sticking out from behind the curtain. I remembered thinking that it reminded me of the Wicked Witch after the house had been dropped on her. Coincidence? I didn’t know.
Then there was the message on the mirror. I’ll get you, my pretty. Could the trail of yellow gasoline represent the yellow brick road? What would be next … flying monkeys?
“Rose was there working on some props,” Clarice continued. “When the police arrived at the scene, they discovered one of the props had fallen over, close to the orchestra pit, which was the very place her body was found. There was nothing to prove foul play.”
Uh oh. She’d been found in the orchestra pit, the same location where the man had been found last night? Coincidence? Or was someone making a statement?
“Was it unusual for her to work late?”
“Funny you asked.” Clarice grinned. “I hope you don’t mind that I did this. But I actually found Rose’s mom and called her.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, I know. Right? So, she said that Rose was very concerned about doing a good job with this play. She wanted to start off at the school on the right foot, and she had a tendency to be a perfectionist. She spent many evenings working late, so it didn’t come as a surprise to her mom that she was at the school alone at that hour.”
“So her mom had no suspicions that there may have been something sinister at play?”
Clarice shook her head. “Nope. Not at all. She did tell me one thing that I thought was interesting, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Rose’s brother, Peter Hines, now works for Zollin Industries.”
***
It was a crazy whim. I knew it was. Despite that, I pulled up to one of the sports complexes in Virginia Beach. I knew very well this could turn out to be a rabbit trail, but it was a chance I needed to take.
I walked in and a woman behind the front counter said the Virginia Beach Sand Sharks were practicing—just what I was hoping. The receptionist was young with a rope of blonde hair braided down her back. Perhaps her youthfulness could work in my favor.
“I really need to talk to the coach,” I told her, leaning casually against the desk, hoping to convey a friendly vibe.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” She shook her head and stared at me, cheerfully stern.
“It’s important,” I told her.
“It’s not possible.” She continued to stare.
This was going to be harder than I thought. “We’re old friends.”
She squinted, doubt lacing her eyes. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
She shrugged. “You still can’t see him.”
I let out a long, drawn out sigh. I needed a Plan B. In the distance, I spotted a young man walking down the hallway with an armful of balls. Two teetered precariously on edge. At the same time, someone entered the building behind me.
This was my chance.
As the receptionist turned to greet a man in a business suit, a wayward ball bounced from the loaded arms of the young man in the distance. I grabbed it and subtly kicked it toward the semi-important looking man who’d just walked in. He dodged it but ran into a potted plant in the process.
“Johnny! You’ve got to be careful!” the woman scolded before turning back to the guest to apologize. “Mr. Jennings, are you okay?”
At that moment, I ducked below the desk and slipped around the corner. I had no idea where I was going, but I kept moving, especially when I heard the receptionist ask where I’d disappeared to. Finally, the wall changed from solid concrete to plastic windows. On the other side, I saw the soccer field.
I slipped through the next door and hurried onto the field. I quickly spotted Roberto with a whistle in his mouth, yelling at one of the players. He wore soccer shorts and cleats, as well as a yellow jersey.
Yes, he definitely looks like a young Antonio Banderas.
“Roberto!” I said, approaching him.
He didn’t even look my way.
“Excuse me! Roberto!” I waved my arms, drawing nearer.
He glanced at me and professionalism washed over him for a moment. Something in his gaze changed as I got closer. He was trying to place me, I realized. I wouldn’t let him know who I was.
Yet.
“Can I help you?” he asked, an annoyed edge to his voice.
“I just need a few minutes of your time.”
He pulled his eyes away from the game for a moment. “Do I know you?”
I shrugged. “Not really. I met you the other day.”
“At Club 9?”
I shook my head. “At Paulette’s.”
The smile disappeared from his face. “That’s right. You’re her lawyer friend.” He said “lawyer” with the same disdain others used when saying “taxes” or “colonoscopy.”
I was surprised anyone would even entertain the idea I was a lawyer since I was dressed in jeans and flip-flops and had my hair pulled back in a ponytail. “I’m not a lawyer.”
His gaze hardened. “What are you doing here? Spying on me? Reporting back to Paulette? Because I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t be. Even if I were, Paulette and I are separated now. I’m allowed to.”
“You really don’t like Paulette, do you?”
“She kicked me out of the house and onto the street with nothing but the clothes on my back. And my car,” he added. “But that was only because the title was in my name. I made sure her father wasn’t with us when we were shopping for some new wheels. But still, I would have done anything for her.”
“Then why did you cheat on her?”
“I never
cheated on her!” His voice rose, his Brazilian accent with it.
“She thinks you used her for her money.” I was inclined to agree after his remark about the car. He’d plotted that devious move.
“She thinks wrong. She was never around for me to show her how much I appreciate her.”
“Where was she?”
“Working out, for starters.”
“Paulette works out?” I tried to form a mental picture but couldn’t.
He nodded. “Every morning. She’s stronger than you think. When she’s not with her personal trainer, she’s usually at home drinking.”
I shifted. “Does she do that a lot?”
“She’s trying to pretend she’s not a disappointment to her father.”
I didn’t know whether to argue or agree. Instead, I changed the subject. “Look, I’m not here to talk about you and Paulette. I’m not a lawyer, and I wasn’t hired to follow you. I just have questions.”
He bristled. “About?”
“Does the name Scarlet ring a bell?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say it does.”
“Were you dating her?”
“I’m not dating anyone. Even if I were, I’m allowed now. Paulette ended things.” He looked back on the field. “Keep doing the drills. Keep your eye on the ball, Wickerson!”
“So you’re denying your involvement with Scarlet?” I clarified.
“Unequivocally. Now I need to get back to work. Excuse me.” He raised the whistle to his lips.
“Wait! One more question!” I still didn’t believe him, but I had more questions in the meantime.
“Look, lady.” Roberto stared daggers at me. “Are you trying to get me fired? Because this is all I’ve got. If I lose this job, I’m done.”
“It’s about Oceanside Middle School.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that. It was Paulette’s pet project. She was obsessed with it. She was the one who convinced her father to buy the place. She’s desperate to prove herself, especially after the dinner cruise fiasco.”
“Are you desperate to do just the opposite?” I locked my gaze with his.
His nostrils flared. “What’s that mean?”
“I mean, are you desperate to see her fail? She hurt you. Humiliated you. Left you on the street with almost nothing. Maybe you want to see bad things happen to her.”
He stepped back. “If you think I’m the one vandalizing the property, you’re crazy. I’m barely holding on as it is. I don’t want to be deported.”
“Even if it means ruining Paulette?”
“Look, I don’t like the woman for what she’s done to me, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to kill someone to get revenge.”
Something about his unwavering gaze made me believe him. “Know anyone who might want to shut the whole place down before it ever really gets off the ground?”
He looked at me, long and hard. “Yeah, I do.”
I waited. When he didn’t say anything, I tilted my head. “Who?”
“Paulette.”
CHAPTER 19
Certainly I hadn’t heard him correctly. “What was that?”
“That’s right. Paulette. She’s the one I’d investigate.” He forcefully pointed toward the ground as if to drive home his point.
“Again, this goes back to ruining her. You’re just blowing off steam.”
He straightened as a player went past. As soon as the other man was out of sight, he leaned toward me. “I’m not blowing off steam. I’m telling you—Paulette is losing it. I think she’s going crazy.”
“I’ve seen people sink low, but really?”
Even as I said the words, guilt began to rush through me. I’d wondered about her innocence myself, so I really had no room to talk.
“I’m not joking. Pay attention. There’s something not right with her. She was behaving bizarrely in the weeks before she kicked me out, and I’m not just saying that to be mean. I’m really worried about her. We both started drinking too much. I got help; she didn’t. That was part of the reason we had so many problems.”
What? I wasn’t sure what to do with that new tidbit. I knew she’d been drinking, but this confirmed that she was drinking too much.
Still, Roberto had too many reasons to lie. I couldn’t believe him too easily.
“I think she should give up on that whole Cultural Arts Center and stop trying to impress her dad so much.”
I shook my head, trying not to soften as I listened to his rolling Brazilian accent. “I think you’ve got this all turned around. You’re the one who’s acting crazy. You slashed my van tires.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I talked to the police about that. I didn’t do nothing. I’m telling you—it was Paulette.”
“I was talking to Paulette the whole time.”
“The whole time?”
I ran through our conversation again. Paulette did leave the room for about ten minutes to get some Tylenol for her headache. But that wouldn’t have been enough time to go outside and slash my tires herself. Would it?
The evidence seemed to be building—against the person who’d hired me.
One thing I knew: I didn’t like where any of this was going. Not one bit.
***
I left the sports complex in time to make it to afternoon practice.
I had to get my thoughts under control, though, because there were too many people I could visualize as being guilty. That fact was making my emotions yo-yo everywhere—between trust and distrust, suspicion and wanting to see the best in people. In between those thoughts were snippets from the articles Clarice had found on Rose, images of the man I’d found dead last night, and remembrances of how cold it had felt in that interrogation room.
We went through practice and, shockingly enough, nothing happened. I kept waiting, anticipating. But there was nothing.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we were in the choir room again today. The police hadn’t opened up the auditorium again, not until they were sure there were no more clues.
Paulette looked tenser than a klutz walking a tight rope.
Certainly she realized that there was a good chance this play wouldn’t come together. Everyone involved with the production had to know that. We were less than a week away from opening night and unable to use the stage. Everyone’s nerves were frazzled, especially considering there was a killer out there who seemed a little hung up on this play.
At the end, after everyone cleared out, I turned to Mrs. Baker and lowered my voice. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
Even I wasn’t sure if I was referring to the play or my life.
She squeezed my arm. “You’re doing fine.”
I decided I’d been referring to the play. It seemed like safer, less vulnerable territory. “I forgot more lines today. And I got the verses on one of the songs mixed up. I’m pretty sure I’m more frustrated with myself than anyone.”
“It’s just nerves. Remember shakes on eight?”
I smiled. It was one of the warm ups she used to have us do in drama club. “I sure do.”
“Just do exercises like that. I promise you, this will all come together.” She straightened up the chairs, just like she used to do as a teacher. I guess some habits never died.
“You’re not nervous at all?”
She paused. “About you?”
“About the play.”
She glanced around. Paulette was in the hallway now talking to Jerome and Arie. “I really wanted to help out Paulette by doing this. We were up against a lot with this script. But add to that everything that’s been going on? I’m not really sure if this is the way she wants to introduce the Cultural Arts Center to the area.”
I nodded in agreement. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything else about the man we found yesterday?”
She shook her head. “No, but the police wouldn’t tell me anything. I stayed last night until everyone had been questioned, though. I feared some of the cast members would b
e shaken up.”
“And your motherly side emerged.”
She smiled. “I suppose it did. But when I was leaving, I heard a clanking sound in the building.”
A chill raced through my blood. “You believe in ghosts also?”
She laughed. “No, not quite. But I couldn’t figure out what the noise was. I keep having this feeling that someone is watching us, you know? It’s quite eerie. I’m not sure if the play has put ideas in my head or what. Something just doesn’t feel right, and I’m afraid these incidents are going to continue until the person behind them is arrested.”
“I’ve thought about that myself.”
“Be careful, Gabby.” She cast me a motherly glance.
I nodded. “I will.”
I slipped out the door and ran to catch up with Paulette, who was walking toward her office. She offered a small smile as I fell into step beside her. “Hey Gabby.”
“Have you heard anything new?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I guess the autopsy will take a couple of days. Until then, we wait.”
“I have a question, Paulette. Do you have the keys to Corridor D and E?”
“Of course I do. Why?”
“I’d like to go down there.”
“Why?”
“Just a hunch. It could be nothing. I’d like to see inside some of the classrooms.”
“Let me grab the keys then.” She went into her office and emerged a minute later. She jangled metal against metal as we walked down the hallway.
She paused at Corridor D. This was the hallway I’d gone down that night after I’d found it unlocked. After she released the padlock, she shoved the metal gate back.
It made a screeching sound.
Was this what Mrs. Baker had heard? She’d said she heard a clanking noise. That’s definitely how I’d describe this sound. I’d have to ask her.
We slipped inside. As soon I stepped foot in the hallway, I noticed it smelled like a garage. Was this a clue? I also remembered that the shop classroom was farther down this way. Maybe the scent of woodwork and tools hadn’t left this area in all these years. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Page 12
