“It’s my pleasure,” Prudence said, letting the door fall closed. The icy wind was immediately sealed off and a warm flush found my cheeks as I basked in the heat from the rickety unit that kept the place at least moderately warm. “If it keeps up like this, we might have to cancel a practice or two.”
“Do you think Lawrence would do that?” I asked, skeptical. I mean, a murder had happened and he was till plowing full steam ahead. What was a little bad weather compared to that?
Prudence gave me a crooked smile and a wink. “Nope.” And then she headed for the back to get changed.
I followed her to the dressing room, though my focus was on the cast and crew who were already out front. I could hear Lawrence yelling at someone on the other side of the stage. My guess was, it was poor Dean getting chewed out again. Either he was a really bad crewman, or Lawrence had it out for him. I didn’t see Brad or Randy as of yet, so most of my suspects were currently missing.
The men’s dressing room was still closed off, and the women’s was uncomfortably busy, though it didn’t take many people to make it feel full. Brad was sitting on the men’s side, slipping on his elf shoes. He glanced up as Prudence and I entered, and then pointedly ignored us. I was guessing I wasn’t going to be getting a Christmas card from him anytime soon.
Music drifted through the dressing room as I moved to the women’s side. Asia was there with Prairie. They were smiling and talking animatedly with one another, both already fully dressed. The upbeat music was coming from a small speaker sitting on a stand set up on our side of the divide.
“Is that necessary?” Prudence asked, indicating the speaker with a grimace.
Asia glanced over at us and smiled. “I thought we could use some more cheer in here after everything that’s happened. I figure I’ll play something uplifting before and after each and every practice, so that everyone will leave with a smile.”
The speaker seemed to pulse as the bass beat throbbed. It wasn’t so loud as to hurt my ears, but it was definitely not my kind of music. All that was missing were flashing lights and an army of young people jumping up and down and we’d have a rave.
Prudence apparently felt the same way. “Couldn’t you find something a little more appropriate?”
“No one else has complained,” Asia said. “Right, Prair?”
“I think it’s great,” Prairie said.
Asia turned her gaze my way and I cringed, knowing what was coming. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?”
“It’s not what I usually listen to,” I said, hoping she’d drop it and leave me out of it. I didn’t want to get on either woman’s bad side over music.
Prudence grunted in annoyance and then started getting dressed, her movements quick and a little abrupt. I hoped I didn’t upset her by not taking her side, but even though the music was kind of annoying, it did add a little life, something our production had been lacking over the last few practices.
Asia pulled out her phone and pressed a button, causing the music to fall silent. “We’ve got to get out front anyway,” she said. “Enjoy your silence.”
Behind her, Prairie muttered, “Spoilsport,” eyes flickering to Prudence, who pretended not to notice.
“So, are you coming tomorrow?” Asia asked me, shoving her phone into her coat, which was hanging from a hanger in a small closetlike cubby.
“To practice? I should be.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not to practice, silly. To the memorial. I’d like to get as many confirmations as I can now so I know how many hors d’oeuvres to have on hand.”
I glanced at Prudence, who was shaking her head, a disgusted look on her face. By her reaction alone, I wanted to say no to earn back some of her goodwill, but thought better of it. I very well might not get a chance to talk to anyone at practice tonight, or any other night for that matter. Lawrence ran us pretty hard. By the time we were done, most of the cast were dead on their feet and just wanted to get home—me included. And since Lawrence had banned anyone from talking about Chuck’s death, even a few innocent questions could get me screamed at, if not barred from the place entirely.
But if everyone went to the memorial, I’d have more than enough opportunities to talk to them. It wouldn’t seem strange for me to ask questions about Chuck there either, since the event was for him. I hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know him, so if I seemed curious, no one would think anything of it. Plus, the real killer might show up and give something away. I doubted they’d gloat over Chuck’s demise, but might say or do something suspicious.
No, this was far too good of an opportunity to pass up, even if it made Prudence mad at me.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic!” Asia beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. It’s going to be a blast.” She motioned for Prairie, and the two women left the room together.
“Why are you going to that thing?” Prudence asked. “It’s downright disrespectful if you ask me. It’s all just one big excuse to have a party. It’s sick. I thought you were better than that.”
I bristled at her tone, but let it slide. She was right, in all honesty. If the shoe was on the other foot, I probably would have felt the same way.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked, keeping my voice down, though it still sounded far too loud in the newfound silence of the dressing room. Without Asia’s music, every word seemed to echo.
Prudence raised a single eyebrow at me and frowned. She was fully dressed and ready to go and I hadn’t even gotten my coat off.
“I don’t think Robert killed Chuck,” I told her. “I think the killer is still out there.”
“What does that have to do with you going to a party?” she asked, clearly not impressed with my reasoning.
“I’m trying to figure out who killed him,” I whispered. “I plan on keeping an eye on everyone and see if someone acts guilty or strange somehow.”
She eyed me a long moment, her demeanor not softening in the slightest. “So you’re saying you think someone here killed Chuck?”
“Could be,” I said.
“And you believe someone in the cast could be responsible.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Is that why you’re hanging around me?” Prudence’s eyes went hard. “Do you think I could have killed Chuck?”
“Of course not!” I said, shocked she could even think it. “You were right beside me when it happened.” Though, if I was honest with myself, there’d been more than enough time for her to sneak in and kill Chuck before I’d joined her on the stage.
But to imagine this kind, older woman being a killer . . . It just didn’t make sense to me.
Prudence shook her head, almost as if she was disappointed in me. “You do what you have to do,” she said. “It’s none of my business.” She gave me a stiff smile before getting up and leaving the dressing room.
I felt bad. I really did like Prudence, and my investigation was turning her against me. Vicki was right when she said the cast would pull together if someone started accusing them of murder. I only hoped Prudence would realize I was trying to help find a killer, not make enemies.
Feeling as if I’d made a mistake, I hurriedly got out of my coat and gloves, and pulled on my costume. I needed to come up with a way to apologize to Prudence without backing out of my promise to go to the memorial party. As much as I wanted to remain friends with Prudence, I wanted to find the killer more.
I was so lost in thought as I pushed open the dressing room door, I walked right into Dean, who was hurrying down the hall. We crashed into one another, causing him to drop an armload of cords he was carrying as he attempted to steady me.
“I’m sorry!” I said, quickly dropping to my knees to help him pick up the tangle. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Keep it down,” he said. “Lawrence will rip me a new one if he finds out I dropped these.” He gathered his load of cords and held them close to his chest.
“I
’m sorry,” I said again, this time at a lower volume. I looked at the mass of cords, many with strange connectors that looked nothing like the usual USB I was familiar with. “Did something break?”
“Someone took one of the soundboard connections. Happens sometimes.”
“Just one? Why all of these then?”
Dean sighed. “Lawrence doesn’t let us throw anything away. Well, the guy who runs this place doesn’t, but Lawrence is the enforcer.” He smiled, bitterly. “When something goes bad, he has us put it with the rest of the supplies in storage.” He jerked a thumb toward a large set of doors. “Which, coincidentally, is where we keep all the stuff that actually works when we’re not using it. Makes finding anything difficult, especially since not everyone is careful where they put things.”
“Why not pitch the bad stuff when Lawrence isn’t around?” I glanced back to make sure the man in question wasn’t sneaking up on me before I said it.
“He’d know.” Dean scowled. “I think he keeps a ledger somewhere. I thought things would get better after . . .” His gaze moved toward the men’s dressing room and the police tape strung across the door.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, interested. I wasn’t sure how Chuck’s death would make anything better, though I suppose someone like Trisha might be relieved.
“Well . . .” Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head. “Look, I’d better get these to the booth before Lawrence comes looking for me.”
“Good luck,” I said.
“I’ll probably need it.” He flashed me a smile and then hurried toward the front.
I gave the men’s dressing room door a thoughtful look before moving toward the front myself. What had Dean meant when he’d said he thought things would get better? I mean, it was an obvious reference to Chuck’s death, but if anything, everything had gotten harder. Was it because Dean didn’t like how Chuck treated the women of the cast? Or was there more to it, something I had yet to discover about their relationship?
I cut my thoughts short when I noticed Randy, dressed as Santa, standing by the cast entrance. He had the door cracked open a sliver and was peering outside, as if waiting for someone. He was currently alone, which was practically an invitation for me to approach him.
“Hi, Randy,” I said, joining him at the door. Without my coat, the cold air coming inside was nearly unbearable. I crossed my arms over my chest and hopped from foot to foot in a vain effort to stay warm.
Randy glanced at me, and then let the door fall closed. “Hey, I remember you. You’re the one who came looking for me at the Weasel.”
I smiled at him. “One and the same. How have you been? Must be nice to be back here.”
He nodded and ran his hand down the front of his suit. “It is. I didn’t feel like the same person. Actually, I don’t think I was.” He chuckled.
“Five minutes!” Lawrence called from the front. Dean must have found the right cord because I saw him hustling to the back, carrying the remainder toward the storage room.
“We should be heading up front.” Randy tried to step past me, but I got in his way.
“Can I have just a moment?” I asked. “I was curious about something I heard.”
He heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, no longer looking like the jolly old man he was to portray. “Okay, what?”
“I was told by a few people that you and Lawrence don’t get along,” I said. “And one night, you two got into a fight that ended when you punched him.”
“Yeah, so? We had a fight. I was drunk and angry and made a mistake. That sort of thing happens when you lose control of your life.”
“It appears you two have made up.”
“We have.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. There was distrust there, which I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised about. What excuse did I have for asking these sorts of questions of him? “We sat down, talked it out, and everything is just fine now.”
“What about the money?” I asked, going for broke. I wasn’t entirely sure it was money in the envelope that had passed between them, but really, what else could it have been? You didn’t sneak into a dark alley to give someone a recipe.
Randy’s face went carefully blank. “What money?”
Got ya! “There’s been talk,” I said, implying it was more than just Rita talking. “People are wondering how you and Lawrence mended fences so quickly.” I stepped closer, lowered my voice. “Now, I’m not saying I believe it, but there are a few people wondering if it might have something to do with Chuck’s murder.”
“What?” His eyes widened and he took a step back from me. “That’s crazy. Why would I want to kill the guy?”
“He did steal your role as Santa.”
“He didn’t steal it,” Randy said, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal’s. “I messed up and lost it on my own. Was I mad at him? Sure. But I didn’t kill him.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” I said. “I like you, but I’m afraid there are people getting the wrong impression. If I know what’s happening between you and Lawrence, maybe I can set them straight.”
Randy shook his head and I could all but see him closing down. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Are you blackmailing him?” I asked.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Randy calmed considerably. “Sure, Lawrence and I have talked privately. I wanted my part back, and at first, I went about it the wrong way. Once I stopped acting like a fool, he was willing to discuss it with me. He even admitted he’d made a mistake in letting me go. Then Chuck died, and while it’s terrible, it did ease my transition back into his good graces.”
There was something in his eyes that told me he wasn’t telling me the full truth, but I had no idea how to get him to open up.
“Everyone to the stage!” Lawrence called from the front.
Randy glanced past me, smiled. “If that’s all, we’d better get up there. I, for one, don’t want to get on Lawrence’s bad side again.”
“You go ahead,” I said, not quite ready to face the rest of the cast.
Santa shrugged and walked away. I watched him go, trying to decide if a stupid role in a play was enough reason to kill. I mean, even he said it was his life, yet there had to have been an easier way to get his job back.
Randy was hiding something from me; I knew it. Was it because he knew something about Chuck’s murder, whether he committed it or not? I didn’t know. The only way I’d find out would be to keep pressing, though I wasn’t sure going after Randy was the right way to go about it. Maybe after a chat with Lawrence, I’d see some discrepancy that would tell me what it was Randy was trying to hide.
“Places!” Lawrence shrieked.
I pulled myself out of my own head and hurried to the front to take my place, lest I end up getting myself cut, which would put an end to my not so subtle murder investigation. Randy flashed me a friendly smile, though the distrust was still in his eyes. I smiled back, waited for the music start, and then looked away to focus on my own song and dance.
16
Practice was grueling, and I think Randy must have had a word with Lawrence about my snooping at some point during a scene change because the director seemed to have it in for me. Every time I missed a step or flubbed a line in the song, he would scream at me like I’d personally offended him.
Admittedly, my mind wasn’t entirely on the play, so it wasn’t like I was making things any better. I kept sneaking looks at Randy and Brad, wondering if one of them could have killed Chuck. And then there was Trisha, trying her best to put on a strong face, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Mrs. Claus looked as dejected as I felt. What would she think if I told her the Santa standing next to her with his ruby red cheeks and belly shaking laugh might have killed the previous Santa in a fit of jealous rage?
As if hearing my thoughts, Randy glanced my way and smiled. It wasn’t a sinister gesture, but something in it put me off and I ended up spinning l
eft when I should have spun to the right. I just about bumped into Prudence who corrected her own spin so we wouldn’t collide.
“No, no, no!” Lawrence shouted. “What are you doing?” He made a frustrated sound and threw down his script. “I’ve had enough. That will be all for tonight.” He glared at me. “You. Come with me.”
Prudence hissed in a breath and patted me on the arm. “Good luck,” she whispered before heading to the back with the rest of the grumbling cast. Even though I’d been the focus of Lawrence’s wrath, no one liked having their work stopped because of someone else’s mistake. I mumbled a few apologies as I left the stage.
Lawrence headed straight for the sound booth, hardly paying me a glance as he went. He was steaming and I imagined he was keeping silent to prevent a full-on explosion.
He led me through a doorway and then we climbed a set of scary metal stairs that were far too small and far too steep for any sane person to want to use. Lawrence took them by twos with practiced ease, while I walked carefully, clutching the thin metal railing like it was the only thing keeping me from falling. My legs were shaking so badly, it probably was, to be honest.
The two crew members responsible for working the sound—Zander and Violet, if I remembered right—were waiting at the top of the stairs, watching me make my slow ascent. As soon as I stepped safely into the booth, they both whispered a few words of encouragement before heading down the stairs, not bothering to watch where they were going or use the railing. I fully expected one of them to fall, but they both made it to the bottom without trouble. Violet paused and waved up at me before chasing after Zander, her arm linking with his as they made for the door.
“What in the world were you doing up there?” Lawrence asked, spinning to face me. His face was beaded with sweat and was an uncomfortable looking shade of red. I wasn’t sure if it was from the climb or my repeated mistakes.
Death by Eggnog Page 13
