Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series)

by Lois Lavrisa

  ***

  I found Bezu in the foyer setting up for lunch “Okay, I had the weirdest talk with Dwight and Winona, as well as with two of my students, who saw someone backstage the night Priscilla was killed.”

  “That complicates things, doesn’t it?” Bezu ran her thin long pale fingers over her heirloom pearl necklace.

  “Now that I have both Dwight and Gerald as suspects?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, I hoped to eliminate Gerald from the suspect list.”

  “Could you also add a spirit, child or animal to your list?” She grinned.

  I chuckled. “That makes about as much sense as any of this right now.”

  “I see that look on your face, you’re scheming.” Bezu smirked.

  She knew me so well.

  “Pretty soon, everyone will clear out of the theater, and head to the lobby for lunch. When they do, I’m going to poke around backstage, see if anything stands out. Like a missed clue,” I said.

  “Don’t you think someone would’ve found it by now?”

  “Maybe not. I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m getting close,” I said. “Or maybe more confused. But either way, I have to look.”

  “Let me make sure everything is set here, then I’ll join you. Although, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Bezu said.

  “Two heads are better than one,” I said. “You and I are like Horatio and Hamlet.”

  Bezu shot a glance at me. “Let’s hope we don’t end in a tragedy.”

  ***

  A short while later, the students broke for lunch, leaving me alone backstage. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I’d know it when I found it.

  Not wanting to disturb the set, I walked around carefully. Costumes hung on a rolling rack, and a box of props stood nearby. I smelled freshly cut wood. Nearby, there was a saw and some two-by-fours.

  I guessed the students were making last minute changes to the set before the big performance on the last day of camp tomorrow. A can of paint and some brushes were adjacent to a sheet of plywood.

  As I glanced around, nothing seemed out of place. It was eerily quiet. I shuddered. Priscilla’s death had happened right here, backstage.

  A stab of guilt pierced through me. I was the one who told her the place and time to get the supplies she’d needed.

  I had sent her to her death. Not that I’d known it, of course.

  I thought again about who had been there when I told Priscilla where and when to pick up the supplies. Priscilla, Winona, Gerald, Dwight, Bezu and me. There’d been a few students within earshot as well.

  The more I tried to find an answer, the more confused and further away I got.

  My head throbbed as I wandered backstage, looking for a clue, anything.

  Why didn’t I give up? José was right. I should stay out of this. I was wasting my time, and I had no business in the investigation.

  I should be focused on the competition and my students. But Wilbert and Umika were doing a great job with the team, and rarely needed my assistance. Maybe this whole investigation was just a way for me to feel needed again. Valuable. Important.

  The sound of footsteps startled me.

  “Hello? Bezu, is that you?” I called. “I’m in the back, behind the set. Near the costumes.”

  The sound of a rope zipping through a pulley made me look up. A falling object hit my back. I was thrown to the ground with a thud. Face first onto the floor. I had the taste of sawdust in my mouth. I lay still, and it took me a minute to collect myself as I spit and caught my breath. My heart pounded in my ears. I broke out in a cold sweat.

  On wobbly legs, I stood and dusted myself off. Next to me was a prop made of sandbags, covered with a white cloth, the ghost of Hamlet’s father.

  “Annie Mae? Where are you?” Bezu called.

  “Behind the set,” I hollered.

  Bezu gasped. “What in the world happened to you? It looks like you were on the losing end of a fight.”

  “The ghost won.” I observed the rigging system above me, seeing if anything was loose or damaged. From my vantage point, it all seemed in order, but I planned on having a technician look at it as soon as possible.

  “Are you okay?” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “I’m fine.” My heart still raced as if I were being chased. “If a ghost had to break loose, I’m just glad it was on me, and not one of the students.”

  “A ghost?”

  “The prop, the ghost of Hamlet’s dad is supposed to fly in on set during my team’s performance. They used sandbags as a counterweight to the prop, and the rope holding it must’ve broken,” I said.

  Bezu smirked. “That would’ve been my first guess.”

  “Your sarcasm is noted,” I said. “I’d better make sure the other lines are secure. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  She followed me to the ropes, which led to the counterweights strung along the pulleys overhead.

  A reflection on the floor caught my eye. I reached down under the ropes and saw a serrated knife. I did not want my fingerprints on it so I left it alone.

  “I could be wrong.” I pointed to the knife. “But I don’t think what just happened to me was an accident.”

  Now my fear turned to anger. How dare someone terrorize this camp, my camp, on my watch? Like a mother hen, I felt a fierce need to protect my flock of chicks, my students.

  Bezu stared at the knife. “Oh my, that’s my knife!”

  “How do you know?”

  “My initials are right here,” She pointed to B.E.S.G. “It went missing earlier. I figured I might’ve left it at home.”

  I shook a finger. “Someone is setting you up again. Like when someone took your car and tried to hit Priscilla and Dwight.”

  She frowned. “I wanted to push that out of my mind. Did they ever find out who took my car?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “I suppose since no one was hurt and my car was found and wasn’t damaged, they won’t be looking into that anymore.” Bezu sighed.

  “I also think Priscilla’s case has taken higher priority, as it should.” I paused. “Although the person who took your car could very well be the killer.”

  “But now someone has cut the rope and meant to harm you,” Bezu said in a trembling voice.

  “Possibly. The prop probably weighs over fifty pounds and it could have hurt me, but thankfully it didn’t,” I said. “But it does seem that whoever cut the rope, wanted to point the blame at you. But who? And is it the same person who killed Priscilla?”

  “That’s it. We’re calling the police.” Bezu held up a hand. “I will not tolerate you putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  “I’m not doing it on purpose,” I said.

  “Of course not.”

  “I appreciate your concern. Bezu, I’m a big girl, in more ways than one.” I patted my midsection. “And as much as I appreciate your concern, I don’t think I can stop my investigation. Now more than ever, I’m determined to solve this case before anyone else gets hurt.”

  She threw up her hands. “Good heavens. You’re a stubborn woman.”

  “And you’re just figuring that out now?” I asked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bezu and I entered the lobby just as the students finished lunch. As Gerald approached me, she went over to her helper, who was putting away food trays.

  “What happened to you?” Gerald asked.

  “I had a collision with a ghost.” I patted down my short hair, hoping to make it look presentable, and less like the I-fell-face-first-in-a-pile-of sawdust look.

  “A ghost?” he asked.

  “A prop.”

  He reached over and brushed the sleeve of my shirt. “You have wood shavings all over you. Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Feeling his touch, even for a moment, left me speechless, until my detective brain kicked into gear. “By the way, were you out in the lobby the whole time?”
<
br />   “No.”

  “Where were you?”

  Gerald shifted his stance. “In my office. Then I came here and chatted with Dwight for a few minutes before he had to run off somewhere.”

  “Where did he go?”

  He held up a hand. “Hold on, what’s with all the questions? I feel like there should be a bare light bulb hanging above my head while I’m strapped into a chair.”

  “I’m so sorry. It’s just that.” I lowered my voice and leaned into him, “I think that someone might have cut the prop loose in order to hurt me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I found a knife by the rope.”

  “Then you need to call the police,” Gerald said.

  “No need.” I smoothed my shirt. Why was I telling him all this? Yes, he was my friend. But he also was a suspect. I needed to hold back. “I’m not hurt, and well, it might’ve been an accident.”

  “I thought you said someone cut the rope.”

  “I found a knife, but who’s to say if it was used to cut the rope.”

  “The police could dust the knife for fingerprints.”

  “And they would find Bezu’s all over it.” I looked at the ground. “After all, it is her knife.”

  Gerald let out a chuckle. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Then a thought occurred to me. “You mentioned earlier that you were talking to Dwight, then he ran out?”

  “Yes, I said that.” He rubbed his chin. “Why are you asking about him?”

  I shrugged. “After he left you, did you happen to see which way he went?”

  “Toward the theater.”

  My stomach sank. “This was when?”

  “Just a short while ago, around lunchtime.”

  I sucked in a breath. Did Dwight see me enter the theater, and then follow me?

  “What are you thinking?” Gerald asked.

  “Nothing at all,” I fibbed. Although, I wore my emotions on my face most of the time, and by now Gerald could read them.

  “If you think even for a second that Dwight, or someone else planned to hurt you, then you need to call the police.”

  “I will, but not yet.” I still had to ask him about his past with Priscilla. “I don’t think I have any real evidence. It all might be a bunch of random nonsense and speculation. Speaking of that, there’s a rumor about you and Priscilla.”

  “There is?” he frowned. “I thought that our relationship was the hot gossip.”

  “Our friendship you mean?” I stated, more than asked.

  Gerald looked away. “Yes, uh, that.”

  He knew we were just friends, so why did he look and sound dejected?

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “Annie Mae, haven’t you figured out by now that we are more than buddies, at least in my eyes?”

  Heat rose into my neck.

  “I’m sorry I put you on the spot,” he said.

  “Can we maybe talk about that later?” Like after I clear you as a murder suspect.

  “Sure, I’d like that.” He grinned.

  “Before I forget, I have one more thing I wanted to ask you,” I said.

  “Sure.” Gerald looked at his cell phone. “I’m expecting a call soon, but until then you have my undivided attention.”

  “Dwight said he overheard you and Priscilla in a heated argument.” I fixed my gaze on him, hoping to catch a body movement that might let me know that he was lying.

  He scratched his nose. “He did? When was this?”

  “The first day of camp.”

  “Four days ago, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. I can’t say that I remember that.”

  “How about a note?”

  Gerald coughed.

  “Winona mentioned that there was a note from Priscilla to you. Something about the past and righting wrongs.”

  Gerald’s phone rang. He looked relieved. “Listen, I have to get this. I’ll see you tonight at seven, my place.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

  The smell of his spicy cologne and the feel of his warm soft lips on my cheek left me temporarily frozen.

  Dang it, it had happened again. I got all twisted around my mixed up feelings about him, and I forgot he could be a killer.

  Did he purposely avoid answering my questions because he was hiding something?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Once Gerald left, I walked over to Bezu. “I think after camp finishes tomorrow, I’m leaving town.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of this here,” I waved my hands around the lobby. “All of this is messing with my mind. I need to get away from it. Maybe a week or two in the North Carolina mountains would do me some good. Maybe I’ll head to Maggie Valley.”

  “I’m still not following you. Give me a second.” She turned and handed a bottle of cleaner and a cloth to her helper. “Please wipe down the tables—then you’re done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Her helper nodded and began cleaning the tables.

  Bezu put her hand on my back and guided me to a quiet area. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Besides a team leader being murdered?”

  She held my gaze. “Yes. But there’s more isn’t there?”

  I took a deep breath. “And me getting knocked flat by a ghost? And my friend Gerald possibly being a murderer?” All my fears tumbled out of me like an avalanche. “This is my last camp where I’m valuable, productive and needed. After this I head off into the solitary confinement of no man’s land called retirement. I will fade away, all alone, and everyone will forget about me as I shrivel into nothingness. Knowing that the best part of my life is gone and that there’s nothing to look forward to. Nope, I can’t imagine what’s wrong with me.”

  Bezu hugged me. “Feel better now that you got all that out?”

  Laying out all my fears and insecurities to a trusted friend felt like a load was lifted.

  “Actually, I do,” I said.

  “And for your information, there’s no way anyone will forget about you. Ever.” She smiled. “And retirement doesn’t have to be an end, it can be a beginning. It can be the best part of your life.”

  “How so?” Once Bezu got on a roll, there was no stopping her.

  “You’re a strong and powerful woman who can do anything you set your mind to. Not to mention that all of your skills and knowledge are valuable. You’ll always be wanted—you only need to reach out and grab all of the opportunities. Volunteer. Take classes. Travel. Have new adventures. New experiences—maybe even a new love.”

  “You set me up,” I laughed. “You’re still trying to get Gerald and me together.”

  She tapped my arm. “Remember our promise.”

  “Right.” I paused. “What I do remember is that you said you’d help me solve this case as my sidekick. That sure would help me feel appreciated instead of old and dried-up.” I grinned.

  “Now you’re just playing with my sympathy,” Bezu laughed. “You’re a sly little fox aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “Are you in?”

  Bezu sighed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “More snooping around. I want to see if I can find out what was going on with Gerald and Priscilla. The whole past issue thing. Every time I ask Gerald about it, he conveniently avoids the subject.”

  “Do you think that makes him guilty?”

  “Yes.” My heart ached. “I don’t want to find out for certain that he was responsible for Priscilla’s death. On the other hand, I want to know who the killer is and have justice served. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

  “I think that it’s best to leave this alone—as they say ‘let sleeping dogs lie,’” Bezu said.

  “There’s no dog here, and I’m not going to lie down on the case.” I folded my arms on my chest.

  She let out a long breath. “What do you have planned?”

  “Since Gerald won’t talk, I have to try a
nother way to get information.”

  “How?”

  “Maybe poke around Priscilla’s office.”

  “I assume it’s locked.” Bezu bit her lip. “Do you have a key?”

  “No, but I don’t think that will be an issue.”

  She held her hand up. ”Hold on there. I’m not breaking and entering.”

  “You won’t have to. I will.”

  Bezu rolled her eyes. “I’ll visit you in jail.”

  “When you do, bring one of your famous chocolate chip muffins and put a file in it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’m not sure what we’re looking for. It’s not like there’s a neon arrow pointing to a clue.” Bezu shuffled papers on Priscilla’s desk.

  “That would be helpful,” I said.

  Glancing around the office, I noticed shopping bags from local high-end retailers. In one bag, there was a designer label blouse and a silk scarf. “She liked expensive clothes. That’s for sure.”

  “Don’t we all,” Bezu said. “But that kind of willy-nilly spending isn’t in my budget.”

  “Mine either. I wonder if she got the blackmail money from Gerald.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “By the way, I said I’d be your sidekick, but I never agreed to be your accomplice.”

  “Same difference.” I winked.

  Bezu said, “This is odd.”

  “What?” I rummaged through some files on top of a locked file cabinet.

  “Look.” She held up a paper. “This is a photocopy of a front page of a newspaper.”

  She handed it to me.

  After skimming the page, I read some parts out loud, “November 28, 1969. City council issues. Weather high 70 degrees low 45. Stores opening in the new Oglethorpe mall. A teen killed in an attempted robbery. Update on the Morning News and Evening Press merger. Some sports updates.”

  “Why does she have this?” Bezu asked.

  “I don’t know.” I did some quick math in my head. “She was about five or six years old in 1969.”

  “Maybe something important happened that day.”

  “Significant enough for her to go to the Savannah Morning News archives, look through microfilm in order to find this particular page and then have it printed out. That’s a lot of trouble.”