by J. C. Eaton
“Oh my, Phee! Have we been talking that long? I’d better get back to my seat.”
As she turned and headed up the aisle, Lyndy and her aunt returned, followed by the three ladies seated next to them.
All of them must have had the same idea I did because they, too, were opening their programs. The cast list filled an entire page, followed by head shots and short biographies for each of the players and crew members, similar to the program Myrna had shown me from the Peoria Players.
My eyes darted immediately to my mother’s photo and her write-up. Frankly, Sarah Bernhardt paled in comparison. I all but choked. Then I scanned the other pictures and write-ups. The cast was listed alphabetically. As I started to read from the top of the page, it was as if a mule had kicked me in the stomach. In less than a second, I realized the awful mistake I had made. Sue Ellen wasn’t the killer. She was about to be the next victim.
One word in the program gave it away. Marshall and I had all of the other pieces except this final clue. Now I was staring right at it and had to think fast. Oddly enough, my hands weren’t shaking but my ankles were. It was the sudden frightening revelation that set off the bizarre tremors in my body.
Next thing I knew, the lights were blinking. The two minute warning. Lyndy and her aunt were still studying their programs. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. It was the fastest text I had ever sent, and I prayed Marshall would get it in time.
“KILLER CATWALK BASEMENT HELP”
Then I put the phone back, leaned over and handed my bag to Lyndy. Where I was headed, the phone and bag would only get in my way. “Can you hold this for me? I’ve got to go.”
“Sure. That long waiting line’s probably gone by now. You won’t miss much.”
That’s what you think.
Those messages Sue Ellen had found on her costume hanger and in her shoe were more than threats. Now I found myself struggling to remember exactly what they’d said. Something about death before the curtain went down, or was it something about staying out of the spotlight? I wasn’t sure, and now my hands were shaking along with my ankles.
The doorway to the catwalk was between the two entrance doors that led into the theater, and I couldn’t afford to waste another second getting there. As I started up the aisle, the lights went out and temporarily blinded me. By now my entire body felt like the proverbial leaf in the wind. I heard the curtain open behind me, and one of the players began speaking.
Fortunately, a small shim held the door open and a dim light emanated from the narrow slit. The stairs were those awful grated ones and, to make matters worse, they were circular. No wonder Miranda was killed on the catwalk. No one in their right mind would drag her body up here.
My feet felt wobbly in heels, and I cursed under my breath for wearing them. In addition, my long sheath dress was catching on the side rails.
Please don’t rip. Please don’t rip. I actually look decent in this dress.
Bill spotted me immediately as I stepped onto the catwalk. I put my finger over my lips with one hand and motioned for him to come closer with the other. Behind him, I saw Kevin sitting on a small stool.
Keeping my voice to barely a whisper, I tried to explain. “Whatever you do, don’t put the spotlight on Sue Ellen unless someone else is in it with her.”
I didn’t give Bill a chance to respond.
“And don’t let anyone up here, no matter what they tell you. Miranda’s murderer wants to kill Sue Ellen before the final curtain.”
Bill all but pressed his mouth to my ear. “Up here? Like shoot her or something?”
Maybe. Maybe. I was never too good at deciphering cryptic messages or riddles, for that matter. “Geez, I hope not. Who knows?” I was beginning to ramble and needed to focus. “Remember, block the entrance to the catwalk and keep Sue Ellen out of solo spotlights.”
“Cripes. Now you guys figure it out?”
He motioned for Kevin as I turned and started down the stairs. One step and I knew I was in trouble. It felt as if I was going to tumble forward. For some reason the ankle straps on my heels weren’t offering any support. Maybe it was the difference between walking up the stairs versus down. Holding onto the railing, I managed to turn around and walk back up.
Leaning on the catwalk’s side rail, I took my shoes off and slipped the straps over my left arm, leaving my right hand free. Bill and Kevin were both preoccupied, looking over a large sheet of paper that must have been the instrument schedule.
I returned to the auditorium in a matter of seconds. Act two was underway, with its main character unaware of what was in store for her. If the killer wasn’t planning on the catwalk, that left the basement. I had to get backstage and downstairs in a hurry. The trouble was, I couldn’t very well go tromping up the side steps to the stage like I did when I delivered those blouses to Shirley. I had to find another way backstage.
I remembered the door Wayne had shown me. The one that went directly to the basement. I had to reach it and get down there before Sue Ellen found herself lying on a hard stone floor with the killer inches away. The mattress padding that had saved Len Beckers was probably nowhere in sight.
Unfortunately, my mind kept blocking me from figuring out how to get to the back foyer behind the stage. I forced myself to slow down and reason things out.
As I stood in the main hallway, with the entrance doors to the auditorium behind me, I knew I’d need to take one of the side corridors that ran parallel to the auditorium. But which one? Maybe it was because I was right-handed that I chose the hallway on that side and ran as fast as I could. My feet were probably black with dirt, and the floor felt greasy and cold.
Terrific. Do they spray this place for scorpions and spiders? If not, those things are most likely under my feet. My bare feet because I hate wearing hose!
The wall on the left, which faced the outside of the building, had giant posters featuring past plays. Maybe Eunice could walk down memory lane here. I didn’t pause to read the titles. As I got to the end of the corridor, I saw two doors. I grabbed the first one and pulled. Locked. Taking a deep breath and trying not to panic, I grabbed the next one.
Luck was on my side because it opened up to a small, dimly lit foyer, but something wasn’t right. If this was backstage, there should have been people milling about. I heard voices, so I had to be in the general vicinity, but it was anyone’s guess where I’d landed.
By now, my heartbeat sounded like a tribal drum. To top it off, my throat felt as if it was about to close up. Straight ahead was another door, and like Alice in Wonderland, I reached for the knob and gave it a pull. This time I knew exactly where I was standing. The costume room was off to the left, and the door to the basement was only a few feet from me. I all but scared Shirley to death as I rushed into the costume room.
“Shh! Don’t say a word. I’m going downstairs to where the trapdoors are. Find Wayne and have him follow me.”
I started to race out when I had a second thought. “Tell Wayne to grab that hammer and the roll of wire he left on the floor out there. Tell him to bring those. We don’t have much time. Hurry.”
Shirley must have seen the desperation on my face or maybe it was in my voice. It didn’t matter. She took off running as I got to the basement door.
I had no idea how far along the play was or how many scenes were left until it was too late for Sue Ellen. But to kill her in the middle of the play? I doubted that would happen. That meant it would probably happen at the curtain call. Sue Ellen had the lead. She would be taking the first solo bow in the spotlight. I tried not to think about it.
The only voices I heard were the ones coming from the stage. The crew knew better than to speak while a performance was going on. My hand shook as I closed the basement door behind me and took a step down. Someone had turned the dim wall lights on. Barefooted, I made little noise.
I moved slowly, petrified to breathe. Had Marshall gotten my text? If so, was his car battery replaced, and could he get here before
the curtain call? Bill had asked if I thought the killer intended to shoot Sue Ellen, and, truthfully, I wasn’t sure. It was all in the interpretation of those notes. Yet something told me the killer had a different venue in mind and had prepared for it when the play was first cast.
I took another step and listened carefully. Nothing. The air itself was holding its breath. I was certain the killer was down there and tried telling myself they weren’t interested in me. Yeah, right.
The muted voices from the actors seemed surreal as I kept going. My eyes were getting used to the semidarkness, but I wasn’t sure exactly where the stage was in relation to the basement. Behind me, the door to the stairwell opened. Thank God!
“Wayne,” I whispered, “did you grab the hammer and wire?”
There was no response. I asked again. This time the teeniest bit louder.
I thought perhaps he didn’t want to speak out loud on the off chance his voice would carry to the stage.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll stand still until you reach me.”
The dry dirt smell that permeated the basement suddenly changed. I caught a whiff of sweet, sickening perfume and knew in that second it wasn’t Wayne who’d followed me to the basement.
Spinning around, I hurled a shoe, but my aim was off and it bounced against the railing before thudding to the floor. At least it gave me time. I moved quickly in the darkness, bumping into the racks of clothing against the wall. I tried to steady myself with my free hand but fell backward, taking the velvet cape with the white faux trim with me. I also took something else—the sharp silver wand that was hanging with the costume.
Thank you, Ghost of Christmas Present.
Scrambling to my feet, I waved the wand in front of me, but I wasn’t fast enough. The sickening sweet smell was directly under my nose, and I forced myself to stop breathing long enough to ram my elbow into the person who was about to murder Sue Ellen and possibly me. I must have caught them off guard because I could no longer smell the chloroform. They had dropped the cloth and reached for another weapon. In a matter of seconds, I was on the receiving end of Ebenezer Scrooge’s walking cane.
The small wand and wedge heel shoe I was holding were no match, but my legs were. I dropped the wand and shoe as I delivered a kick to the shin that was so strong I actually felt the vibration. Then I darted toward the open area, where I was certain the trapdoors were located. If I had only seen that program when the show started, I could have anticipated this. Now I knew for sure.
Cloaked completely in black, it was easy for the killer to get below the stage without being noticed. No one would have batted an eye. The darkness obscured what the clothing did not. I should have realized it was real easy for someone so familiar with the theater mechanics, the play, and the timing to know the exact moment to make a move. Now it was my turn. I kicked again, this time forcing the killer to tumble backward toward the wall. The scant light was enough to reveal her face, and, although we had never met, I knew who she was.
“One murder’s enough, Ellowina. Killing Sue Ellen isn’t going to make a difference.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Phee Kimball, Harriet Plunkett’s daughter.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll step aside.”
“I can’t do that.” What am I thinking? Of course I can step aside. This woman is a crazed maniac killer. What the hell am I doing?
Her voice was coarse and raspy and the tone devoid of any emotion. She was on her feet and inches from me before I knew it. My only recourse was to keep her talking long enough for the play to end. I couldn’t let her reach that trapdoor and unlatch it. Sue Ellen would fall and break her neck. And where the heck was Wayne? Or Marshall, for that matter? How long did it take to change a car battery?
Ellowina was still holding Ebenezer’s cane. She hadn’t intended to use it as a weapon, only a device to lift the screw lock and slide open the trapdoor. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. When Wayne showed me those latches, they were too close to the wood to be unhitched without someone getting a ladder and doing it by hand. But if the latches were switched with the kind you found on those old door locks, then all someone would need was a long stick or cane to lift them up.
It finally hit me. Now. When it was too late. A real investigator would’ve figured this out the minute they laid eyes on those latches. The apparition that shook the senses out of Shirley was old Ellowina herself. She was the ghost. It was the perfect pretense for her to get into the basement in order to switch out the locks. No wonder she drove all the way into Phoenix to get new locks. She couldn’t risk being spotted around here. That lady who bought the tickets from me was right all along. It was Ellowina she’d seen in the Phoenix Costco.
Too bad my grand epiphany wasn’t going to do me any good. But I figured stalling might. “You never did have food poisoning, did you?”
“My, aren’t you a quick study. No, I didn’t. But I sure could act, so I faked it. Even if it meant dealing with a colon cleanse and drinking salt water and ipecac solution. No one questioned it. Then I got a little rumor going about the salmonella. Rumors work well here, don’t they?”
“But you couldn’t be seen here, could you? Not in daylight, anyway. So the rumor about staying with your niece must have been the one thing that was true in your string of lies.”
“Yes. And how fortuitous she owns a car that looks exactly like Miranda’s. It came in handy on one of the nights I happened to be in the theater. And happened to notice Shirley’s clutch bag in the costume room when everyone left. I knew she’d be back.”
“Scaring Shirley and Cecilia wasn’t enough? You had to scream through Curley’s parking lot as well?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t mention the perfume. I thought that was a crowning touch. Cost me enough to dose the tires with that stinking Shalimar. It worked, didn’t it? I couldn’t wait to get to the nearest car wash once I got back to Phoenix.”
“Wasn’t murdering Miranda enough? Sue Ellen has already paid the price.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She’s still breathing. More than I can say for my mother. What they did was beyond reproach. They destroyed a family. My family.”
“Don’t make it two murders, Ellowina. Stop while you can.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I didn’t. Not until tonight, when I read your full name—Ellowina Billings Bice.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. I planned this a long time ago. When I first saw Sue Ellen in The Odd Couple playing the role of Gwendolyn, I knew it was her. She looked exactly the same as she did when she was a teenager. And I thought, ‘How does she get to be so carefree and happy?’ Not anymore.”
“What about Miranda?”
“That was easy. I saw her perform at Sun City Grand a month or so after I spotted Sue Ellen. That cinched it. I’d never have another chance like this again. I made sure to find their emails and send them invitations to try out. I’d cast one in the part and the other as her understudy. Aren’t you going to ask why I selected The Mousetrap in the first place?”
I would have asked her to recite Macbeth’s famous soliloquy if I thought I could keep her talking. “Okay, why?”
“Like I said, I planned this a long time ago. I knew how superstitious your mother’s friends were, and I had to have them take part in my production. Why do you think I selected an Agatha Christie mystery play? I knew her book club couldn’t resist.”
“You were the ghost on the stage that Shirley and Cecilia saw, and now I know why. Once you had killed Miranda, you had to come up with another way to murder Sue Ellen. You had to test out your theory with the trapdoors. So you disguised yourself with a teal tunic that looked like the original. In the dark, anyone would think it was Shirley.”
Directly overhead a sudden vibration hit the room. Applause. I paused to look up, and that was my mistake. Ellowina jabbed the cane right into my stomach and took off as I fell to my kne
es. I heard her running up the stairs.
“You didn’t think I’d go this far not to have a backup plan, did you?”
I started to open my mouth when everything went black. She had turned off the lights and closed the door.
Chapter 29
Pitch black. I had never really understood the expression until that moment. The theater basement was devoid of any light. Not that it mattered. I was in too much agony from that jab to my stomach. It felt as if she’d punctured more than one vital organ. I stood up slowly, the pain radiating to my back.
Above me, the cast was taking its bows, and Ellowina Billings Bice was about to execute her Plan B. Whatever the heck that was. I started to piece together all sorts of scenarios, rejecting each one.
Loose light fixture? No, too uncertain. Overloading the fog machines with too much liquid nitrogen? No, she’d kill everyone. Poisonous flowers for Sue Ellen? Only in the movies. What? What? The answer was lodged somewhere in the back of my mind, and the more I pressed myself for answers, the harder it was for me to think.
By now I was standing, but it was like playing Blind Man’s Bluff. I didn’t need anyone to spin me around; I was already disoriented. Disoriented with a shooting pain that ran from my navel to my tailbone. I pictured myself in the emergency room with some medical assistant filling out a form.
“Can you please describe the shooting pain you feel, Miss Kimball?”
Shooting! My God! That’s what Ellowina was going to do. She was going to shoot Sue Ellen. Shoot her in the back. Wasn’t that something the note said? It didn’t matter. The synapses in my brain inexplicably retrieved the conversation I’d had with Randolph Tilden Jr. when I confronted him in the parking lot that Sunday.
Randolph had described how formidable and capable Ellowina was. He’d also mentioned running into her at some shooting range a while back. It didn’t mean anything to me at the time, but it sure did now. It meant one thing—Ellowina had a gun. Okay, maybe two things—Ellowina had a gun and she intended to use it.
