by Lois Lavrisa
He leaned over and kissed my cheek before he left.
I held my hand to my face, as though I could actually feel his warm soft kiss.
Gerald never answered my question.
Chapter Ten
At 7:30 the next morning, I headed over to campus. Instead of getting a good night’s sleep, I had tossed and turned thinking of all that had happened. Nothing made sense.
“Good morning, Annie Mae,” Bezu said as I entered the theater lobby.
Fragrant bakery smells drifted in the air.
“How nice to see you so early in the morning. I thought you were only contracted to provide lunch,” I said.
“I was, until I got a call last night requesting I provide a breakfast buffet.” Bezu and her helper uncovered dishes on a buffet table. On another, along with cups, plates and flatware were jugs of orange juice and milk, as well as shiny silver carafes of coffee.
“I hope you’re hungry—we have French toast, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and bacon. And muffins.”
As students entered the lobby, they made their way to the buffet tables like bees to pollen.
“Bezu, can I steal you away for a second?” Gnawing at me, were thoughts of Gerald and Priscilla and what they had between them.
“Sure.” Bezu dabbed her hands on her flowered apron, which was wrapped over her robin blue sundress.
We moved to a quieter spot.
“Did you see the Savannah Morning News front-page headline?” I asked.
“You mean ‘Homicide by Hamlet,’ about Priscilla?” Bezu tsked. “Tacky huh?”
“Yes.” My heart sank. I had a tough time wrapping my head around the calamity.
I had not gotten along with Priscilla, but I’d never wanted her dead. So many questions had left my head throbbing. The most obvious was, who killed Priscilla and why? And would they kill again? Were my students, Bezu and the others at risk?
“I need to find out soon, like today, who did it,” I whispered.
“Have you ruled out your boy—” Bezu took a long pause. “Friend?”
I chuckled. “Nope.”
“So why today?”
“Because I’ll be going to his lair for dinner tonight,” I said.
“And?”
“If he’s the killer, obviously I won’t go.”
Bezu smiled. “Understandably.”
“But, if he didn’t do it then, well, I’ll go.” Remembering his sweet kiss on my cheek, I felt the blood rush to my face.
“You look like a schoolgirl.” Bezu shook her head. “My heavens, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you have a crush on Gerald.” She teased. “The mere mention of his name and your face looks lights up, like a fire is burning in you.”
“It’s just hot flashes, not crush blushes,” I said.
“So when are you going to admit you like him?”
“Well, of course I like him in the platonic sort of way.”
Bezu played with her pearl necklace, her customary accessory. “Oh, Annie Mae, one thing I wish is for you to open your heart to a romantic relationship.”
“Are you propositioning me?” I grinned. “I thought you had Luiz?” I tapped her arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gerald.
He rang a bell, then announced. “Good morning, everyone. Please finish your breakfast and make your way into the theater. We will begin in fifteen minutes.”
“Remember your sidekick duties,” I said to Bezu. “You’re helping my investigation.”
“Fine, but I’m going to ask something of you in return.”
“Oh? What?”
“Promise me that you will look at Gerald as more than—”
“—A killer?” I said.
Bezu said, “Friend.”
“Jailbird,” I added.
“You’re impossible,” she said. “If he’s innocent, will you consider him a suitor?”
I shrugged.
“Do we have a deal?” Bezu stuck out her hand.
With reservation, I shook it. Did I just make a deal to date the devil?
Chapter Eleven
Following the announcement that the competition would continue, I made my way out of the auditorium. Bradley, or Dwight, as he currently was going by, called out to me.
“Annie Mae.” Dwight reached my side. “I can’t believe they’re continuing camp after Priscilla was killed. I mean, I know the whole ‘show must go on’ cliché and all, but this seems disrespectful.”
“The decision to continue is not meant to be discourteous. You have to remember, sixty high school students put a week of their summer on hold to be a part of this camp. It means a lot to them,” I said. “I’m curious though, why are you here?”
“As a board member of this camp, it’s my duty to be here. I have free reign of the place. Now, more so than ever, with what’s happened and all.” He looked at the ground. “It’s good to keep busy, keeps my mind off my grief.”
Poor guy. “I’m really sorry about Priscilla.”
“Me too.” His eyes were shiny. “Instead of planning for a wedding, I’m organizing a memorial service.” He wiped his face with the palm of his hand, then cleared his throat. “I’ve got her assistant, Winona, pitching in. She’s been such a rock through all of this, bending over backwards to help me.”
I’d almost forgotten about Winona, because she was a quiet shadow to Priscilla’s big personality. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Dwight and I were having a surprisingly pleasant conversation. Maybe he’d softened after the tragedy.
“Actually, there is, that’s why I came over here.” He lowered his voice. “Although, the police are conducting an investigation they aren’t being as forthcoming with information as I would like. And for legal reasons, I have to know what happened to her.”
“Legal reasons?” I asked.
“You know,” Dwight answered.
“I don’t know.” Did he think I was a mind reader?
“Insurance and other matters,” Dwight said. “So, for the sake of speeding things along, I need to probe a bit. However, I have zero detective skills. But I’ve heard you sort of do.”
“Well, not really. I only solved one case,” I said. And resolving that case had been pure dumb luck.
“So, I need to ask you. Do you think Gerald Gill killed my wife, I mean, fiancée?”
Gerald certainly earned the top spot on my suspect list. I stammered, “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Because he and my fiancée had—well, I wouldn’t call it a relationship exactly—but Gerald and Priscilla had some sort of past.”
I swallowed hard. Did he mean their past, like what might’ve been referred to in the note? Dwight didn’t know that I had the note, so I needed to be coy.
“What do you mean by, their past?” I asked him.
“I’m not sure of the details, really. At the start of the camp, I overheard them arguing.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure.” Dwight sighed. He brushed his sandy blond hair from his eyes.
He really did resemble a young Robert Redford. Seeing his kindhearted side now, I could kind of see why Bezu had fallen in love with him.
“After the fight, did you ask Priscilla what they argued about?” I asked.
“I did. She said I shouldn’t worry. She told me something about ‘righting past wrongs’ with Gerald. Also, she felt sure that she was coming into a lot of money soon. And, trust me, she was spending like she already had it.”
“And she never told you the source of the money?”
He shook his head. “That’s all I have. She never said anything else.”
Dwight had no idea that what he had just told me reinforced that Gerald and Priscilla did have a contentious relationship. First the note, then the argument. Was it enough for Gerald to kill her?
“Do you think I’m being too suspicious?” he asked.
I couldn’t tell him about the note, not yet at least. I needed to tal
k to Gerald again.
“Did you talk to the police about Priscilla’s and Gerald’s argument?” I asked him.
“I did.” He shifted his stance. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I still think you might’ve had something to do with her death. I mean Gerald could’ve been your hit man. You spend a lot of time with him. You hated her, and he argued with her. I think you could’ve teamed up to take her out.”
“You’re so off base.” I locked eyes with him. For a moment, I’d thought he was a normal human being instead of a rat. No more. “I had nothing to do with her death.”
Dwight snickered. “That’s to be determined.”
Winona joined us before I could respond.
“I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am about your loss,” I said to her.
Winona hung her head. “Thank you.”
I said, “I told Dwight if y’all need anything from me, just ask. I know this is a rough time for you, with her being your boss and all, and how much time you seemed to spend with each other.”
Winona looked away from me. “We were quite close.”
“Sorry to break up this sympathy fest. I’ve got to run to a meeting.” Dwight turned and left.
“If you have a minute, can I ask you something?” I asked Winona.
“Actually, I’m glad that we’re alone. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, too.”
“Oh?” I said. “You first.”
She glanced around. “Dwight insisted that Priscilla make him the sole beneficiary on her will and life insurance. He also had her transfer her property and other things to his name before they married. Like the family home she inherited in Ardsley Park.”
“That seems in line. Although, some people wait until after the wedding to take care of all the legalities.”
“There’s more.” She lowered her eyes. “Priscilla told me she wanted someone else as beneficiary.”
That piqued my curiosity. “Do you know who?”
Winona’s neck flushed red. “Another family member.”
“Who was it?”
She fidgeted with her glasses. “I, um, don’t know. I mean, forget about the family member. I just wanted you to know about Dwight. He had motivation to kill her,” she stammered.
“So, why are you telling me all of this?”
Winona shrugged. “People are talking. They say you’re trying to solve her case, like an amateur sleuth. And I thought you should know, that’s all.”
“Have you told the police what you’ve just told me?”
“Yes.”
“If you think Dwight could be a suspect, doesn’t that make you uncomfortable to work with him?”
Winona pushed her glasses up. “I can handle myself. I’m not worried.”
“Call me if you need me.” I gave her my cell number.
As I was about to leave, she caught my arm. “You said earlier you wanted to ask me something?”
“Oh, yes. Did you know of anyone who wanted her dead?” I didn’t know any gentle way to word my question.
Winona adjusted the computer bag on her shoulder. “No.”
“Did she have anyone she argued with? Or didn’t get along with?”
“Besides you?”
“Yes, besides me. Just so you know—I had nothing at all to do with her death.”
“What about your boyfriend?”
“Are you referring to my friend, Gerald?”
Winona arched an eyebrow. “You’re not dating him?”
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?” I feigned complete surprise that she even suggested that.
“Priscilla told me you were star-crossed lovers.”
“That’s weird, star-crossed lovers are doomed to end in tragedy, like Romeo and Juliet.” I held my hand up. “But Gerald and I are just friends, so I don’t know why she said that.”
“Me either. Although she wasn’t crazy about Gerald.”
“Why not?”
Winona hesitated. “It’s hard to pinpoint. But I remember when she looked at the posters in the foyer, she seemed obsessed with Gerald’s high school picture.”
I remembered the black and white picture of him leaning against the side of his muscle car. “Maybe she liked Goats?”
“Huh?”
“The 1969 GTO, it’s a car,” I said. “There’s one in Gerald’s picture. They were called goats. Like a nickname. My first boyfriend had the same car. Did she say anything about Gerald that made you think that she didn’t like him?”
“Yes, although if I told you, I’d feel like I was betraying her.” Winona studied her fuchsia tennis shoes.
“Please don’t say anything then.” I wanted her to talk, but felt guilty if she revealed a secret. On the other hand, some secrets need to be exposed.
I said, “However, if you did tell me, I guarantee I’d keep it confidential.”
Winona bit her bottom lip. “Promise?”
I crossed my heart.
“She and Gerald had a history. She told me what she knew could ruin him.”
My pulse quickened. I felt like I was getting close to an answer. “Like what?”
“I don’t have the details, but I saw her with an envelope she said was for him. I told her I’d deliver it, but she insisted on doing it herself.”
“When did you see the envelope?”
“I think it was the third day of camp.”
Priscilla had been found dead at the end of the third day of camp.
“Did you know what was in it?” I asked.
“A note.”
“What was it about?”
Winona shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Did the outside of the envelope have any writing on it? Any identifying marks?”
“Like what?”
“Usually an envelope has a person’s name written on it.” I paused. “Or some other marking, maybe initials?”
Winona’s mouth dropped open. ”Yes, there were initials. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess is all,” I lied.
Winona narrowed her gaze at me and pursed her lips.
“It wasn’t just luck. You know about that note, don’t you?” she said.
I looked away from her. Goosebumps formed on my arm, and I wasn’t sure why.
Chapter Twelve
Following my brief meeting with Winona, I checked on my team. They were rehearsing in the theater.
Umika and Wilbert approached me.
“I’m so glad that camp wasn’t cancelled. We only have today and tomorrow left,” Wilbert said.
“Do you need any help getting ready?” I asked.
“Nope. It’s all under control.” Wilbert pointed to Umika. “Except for her.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked Umika.
“Something is really bothering me,” she said.
“She’s feeling guilty about what happened to that team leader,” Wilbert said glancing away.
“We all feel bad about that,” I said. “What’s going on, Umika?”
“Do you remember a few days ago, on the first day of camp, when I told you I sensed something big was going to happen this week?” She twirled her braid.
“Your intuition from the goddess?” I smiled.
“I had no idea someone’s life was going to end,” she said. “Maybe if I had looked deeper into the premonition, I would’ve realized what I sensed was something bad. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe I could’ve prevented it.”
“She’s under the impression that her woo-woo abilities were at fault.” Wilbert slung an arm around the girl.
“Wilbert doesn’t believe in intuition.” Umika looked up at him.
“No, I don’t.” Wilbert thumbed his chest. “I only believe what I can see. And I already told the officers what I saw the night Ms. Woodham was killed.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“Umika and I were the last to leave that night. We wanted to make sure that things were ready for the next day,” Wilbert said.
“Do
you remember what time that was?” I asked.
“Maybe five thirty or six, I’m not exactly sure. Anyhow, I heard a noise coming from behind the stage, like feet shuffling. Umika stayed in the lobby—I went backstage just as someone ran off through the wing.” Wilbert flicked his hand.
“Who was it?” I asked. My heart sped up. Had he seen the killer?
“Like I told the officers, I couldn’t make out who was there. It was dark, I only saw a figure leaving,” He shifted his stance.
“The only person in the lobby was Professor Gill, but he was heading upstairs to his office,” Umika added.
“Did you see where he’d come from?” I asked. Maybe he was backstage when Priscilla was killed.
“No,” Umika said.
So he could have left the auditorium.
“Did you see anyone else?” I asked.
“Yes, Priscilla, her assistant and Dwight went backstage before Wilbert went in.” Umika tilted her head. “But now that I think of it, Dwight and the assistant left with some sheets of plywood. I opened the door for them on their way out of the lobby,” Umika said.
“Wilbert, was Priscilla there when you went backstage?” I asked.
“No. I didn’t see anyone at all,” Wilbert kicked his shoe on the floor. “Well, except whoever ran away.”
“I wonder where Priscilla was?” I asked.
He coughed. “Not sure.”
“Wilbert made fun of me when I told him, but that night I sensed a…it’s hard to explain…but an angry animal, or maybe a small child, or a spirit. A hurt soul.” Umika put a hand on her heart.
Wilbert grimaced. “Anyway, we told the officers all of that, and it doesn’t seem like it was much help. I mean they still haven’t found out what happened. Or maybe they just haven’t told us yet.”
“I haven’t heard anything either,” I said. “But I might have a look around backstage when y’all break for lunch.”
Which reminded me, I needed to call José to find out if he had any information he could share with me, and I could bounce off him what I had discovered.
But then again, he wanted me to stay away from the investigation. Maybe I’d wait to talk to him when I had the case solved. Which I hoped would be soon.
