by Lois Lavrisa
The poor guy seemed heartbroken.
“From my experience, good people aren’t all virtuous, and bad people aren’t all evil,” I said.
“Which kind of person do you think I am?”
“I’m really not sure,” I said. And that was the truth.
“Then it’s time I got things off my chest.”
“Can we at least get the biggest question taken care of first?”
He seemed to deflate. His body slouched. “No, Annie Mae. I did not kill Priscilla. There you have it.”
Could I trust him? No. Not until I had more information. “Then what in the world did she have on you?”
“The note and the newspaper article you and Bezu found, those were related.”
“I figured as much,” I said.
“From what I gathered, after she saw my high school picture, it brought back memories.” He took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “You see, I drove the getaway car, except I didn’t know it.”
“What do you mean you didn’t know?” I asked.
He drove the getaway car—he was a criminal. It seemed as cut and dried as that. Or, was it? I scooted to the edge of my chair, ready to run away if I had to. Looking around, I quickly calculated that I sat about ten feet from the front door.
“Let me back up. That night, Thanksgiving, after the big family meal, when it gets boring and all the old guys watch sports and fall asleep sitting up on the couch, my buddy and I went cruising in my car.”
I nodded, as I continued planning my exit. I could knock him off the foot stool then dash to the front door, couldn’t I? No. There was no way I could push him off the stool, he was taller and bigger than me. I’d have to just run like hell.
“We drove around Forsyth and Daffin Park with the windows rolled down, my eight track player cranking out The Who. Zeppelin and Creedence.”
“That’s how I spent many nights in high school too,” I said.
I stalled with small talk as I tried to think of where I had left my purse with my car keys and phone. Remembering it was on the kitchen table changed my strategy. It meant I’d have to go to the kitchen first and grab it before I left. The plan was becoming more complicated than I wanted. Then again, I could just leave my purse, get out of the house and find someone to call the police for me. Yes, that’s what I would do.
My insides felt like they’d been ripped apart. He said he didn’t kill Priscilla, yet he was admitting involvement in a capital offense. I angled my body toward the door so that when the time came, my break away would be easier.
Gerald clenched and unclenched his hands. “My buddy wanted to stop at a grocery store on Waters to grab two packs of Marlboros.”
Trying to act nonchalant while I planned my escape, I said, “Two packs? You don’t strike me as a smoker.”
“I was. I didn’t quit until after college.”
“The first and only time I had a cigarette, I turned green and tossed my cookies,” I said.
“I’m glad you never picked up the habit—it was hard as hell to break.”
I nodded.
“While he went inside the store, I waited in the car,” he continued. “That’s when I spotted a little girl, maybe kindergarten age, standing catty-corner with her dog.”
I gasped. “Priscilla?”
“At the time, I didn’t know who she was.” He paused. “Then I heard shots and my friend ran out of the store and fell on the ground. I’m not proud. I panicked and raced away.” He locked eyes with me. “I had no idea my buddy had a gun and planned to rob the place. He never said a word about it.”
Could I believe him? “You didn’t?”
“Of course not. Like I said, I’m not that kind of person.” He looked away from me. “I hadn’t a clue.”
I snapped my fingers. “Priscilla saw your high school picture, and figured it all out.”
“Then threatened me,” he said.
“Did you talk to her about it?” I asked.
“I planned to talk to her the night I left dinner at Bezu’s. I knew she was going to be at the theater at six to pick up plywood. I hoped to catch her there.”
“That’s the reason you left early?” And that must’ve been why he kept looking at his phone—he’d been keeping track of the time.
“Yes. I’d planned on telling her I wasn’t going to pay her. That I was going to the police to tell them everything—no matter what happened to me.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“And then…” I encouraged him to continue.
“I got there before five-thirty and walked around backstage waiting for her, eating the slice of pecan pie Bezu gave me.” He grinned. “Might I add it was the best slice of pecan pie I’ve ever had.”
“Aren’t you glad she insisted that you take it?” I remembered a clue at the crime scene. “You left the wax paper from the pie there?”
“You haven’t missed a thing have you?” Gerald smiled.
“I’m pretty sharp for an amateur sleuth.” I hesitated. “Why’d you leave it?”
“I didn’t intend to be a litter bug, I set it down while I moved some boxes that were in front of the plywood so they’d be easier to get at. When she got there, I planned to load them into her car.”
Recalling the fresh wound I’d seen on his hand. “You cut yourself that night?”
“You’re very observant.” He arched an eyebrow. “Yes, on a rough edge of wood.”
I shook my head. “I’m confused. Did you, or did you not, talk to Priscilla?”
“I never got a chance, Dwight and Winona were with her. I offered to help load the sheets so they could haul it over to the gym where they had their set. They told me they didn’t need my help. I couldn’t get time alone with Priscilla, so I headed back to my office.”
He seemed so sincere. But if he truly wasn’t a suspect, then who was?
“Was there anyone else in the building besides Winona, Dwight, Priscilla and you?”
Gerald rubbed his eyes. “Two of your students were there—a tall skinny kid with glasses and a girl with long black hair. I’m not sure when they left.”
“Wilbert and Umika.”
“You don’t think that they had something to do with—”
I interrupted him, “Absolutely not. They told me they left between five-thirty and six. Although, Priscilla was there. Wilbert told me he’d seen someone run into the wing. But he couldn’t see who it was.”
He glanced at the rug. “Do you think it was the murderer?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Who could’ve done that to her?” He shook his head. “She wasn’t the most popular person. Actually, she was rather feisty. She picked a fight with me the first day of camp.”
“Oh?” This was another layer in the murder puzzle. “What was it about?”
“She wanted your team’s practice space, claiming it wasn’t fair that you had it. Not only that, she also threw around that I might be biased since you and I spent time together outside of work.”
“She said the same to me.”
Gerald hung his head. “Even though she wasn’t very pleasant, she didn’t deserve to be killed.”
“But she was, and I need to know why,” I said.
Dwight had means, motive and opportunity. My pulse picked up speed as I remembered when Winona had told me how Dwight had made himself beneficiary of Priscilla’s property before they were to be married. And Gerald just said that Dwight was there the night Priscilla was killed.
It all led to Dwight as the main suspect, assuming Gerald was being truthful, and I could rule him out as a suspect.
“It’s clear what I need to do.” He stood. “I’ve got to tell the police what happened on Thanksgiving night, 1969.”
“Why didn’t you tell them that night?”
“Trust me I wanted to, but I thought I’d wait a day. It was my word against theirs, and whom would they believe? I was a nineteen-year-old punk. Even though I had nothing to do with it, I looked guilt
y by just being there. I could’ve ended up in jail, and ruined my whole life. So I waited to talk. Then a day turned into a week, then a week into month then months into years and, well, here it is over four and half decades later. I guess it’s never too late to admit my role in that night.”
“You did nothing wrong.” I paused. “Well, except you fled the crime scene, unknowingly aiding and abetting a felon, which could make you an accessory.”
“You forgot to add, coward.” He looked away.
I reached out and touched his shoulder. “You were a scared kid. That’s not a misdemeanor.”
He took in a deep breath. “My confession is long overdue.”
“I think the statute of limitations on that crime ran out a long time ago.”
“But my conscience has not,” Gerald said. “And Annie Mae, because of my involvement in that crime, I think it’s for the best if you don’t associate with me outside of work. You don’t need to be dragged down by me when this all comes out.”
If it had been audible, he would’ve heard my heart break.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, when I entered the crowded theater lobby, Bezu approached me. “You look like you opened the gate and all the cows ran out. What’s going on?”
“Gerald broke up with me,” I said.
She fastened a turquoise flowered apron around her thin waist. “I didn’t think y’all were dating.”
I shook my head. “We weren’t.”
Bezu frowned. “Then please forgive me for being confused.”
“Let me explain.” I shared with her what Gerald had told me last night.
When I finished, she held a hand to her heart. “Good heavens, bless your heart Annie Mae. And poor Gerald too.”
“Right,” I said. “Now that I finally figured out I like him romantically, I find out that he was, albeit unknowingly, a getaway driver in a crime. After he told me all that, he decided, actually insisted, it was best if we didn’t associate outside of work. He’s worried about tainting my reputation.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” I breathed deeply, getting a whiff of chocolate chip muffins. “Remember how you felt when things were going so well for you that you thought you couldn’t enjoy it because it could all crumble like a dried biscuit?”
Bezu grinned. “Yes, I said something along those lines.”
“Well, that’s how I feel. For a moment I believed that I could have it all—romance, adventure and fun. A new beginning. And I’d have it with Gerald.” I shrugged. “I thought my future was looking up. Now it’s gone to hell in a hand basket.”
“Oh, Annie Mae, you poor thing.” She hugged me.
Glancing at the breakfast buffet table, I said, “I’m sure one of your muffins over there could cheer me up.”
“Why, of course, sweet treats are a great elixir for a broken heart,” Bezu giggled. “You go ahead and help yourself.”
“I might take two. I need fortification for the last day of camp and the competition.”
“Did I tell you the new restaurant, The Corner Café, hired me to make all of their desserts?”
“No you didn’t. I’ve wanted to go there. Now I have more reason than ever,” I said.
She looked around the lobby. “I tell you, it’s been busier than a bee here all morning.”
A group of students walked by, carrying various props and costumes. Other students milled about, some in the process of rehearsing, while others talked animatedly. Excitement hung in the air.
After grabbing two muffins, I glanced around hoping to see Gerald. Did he go to the police last night? And would he show up today? Was there any way that I could get our relationship back on track?
I checked the roster, and spotted that my team was scheduled to perform first. Making my way backstage I saw Wilbert. “Do you need any help with final preparation?”
“Nope. We got it all set.” He wore full costume and stage makeup. “But I think Umika might need you.”
“Oh?” I asked.
Wilbert twirled a finger by the side of his head. “She’s all freaked out about another vision or dream or whatever.”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“We’re going to win today,” he called after me.
I saw Umika, who didn’t have her theater makeup on, and was still in her street clothes. Why wasn’t she ready? The competition began soon. “Wilbert said I should talk to you.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Dr. Maple, I’m so worried. I had this vision and I can’t get it out of my mind.”
“What was it?” I asked.
We sat down on two wooden boxes behind their set.
Her eyes widened. “You remember when I told you that night Ms. Woodham was killed, I had a premonition about an angry animal, or small child, or a spirit?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I had it again. But this time, there was, I don’t know, something evil.” She twisted her braid in her hand and she tapped her foot.
“Like what?” Poor kid. She seemed really upset.
“Wilbert made fun of me,” Umika spoke softly as she hung her head. “You’re not going to laugh at me if I tell you?”
“Of course not,” I said. Although, I had no idea what she was going to tell me, I’d have to make extra certain I wouldn’t laugh.
“Okay then,” she said. “You know how we’re rapping Act I Scene V, where the ghost comes back to talk to Hamlet?”
I nodded. I also remembered getting knocked over by that same ghost. I still didn’t know who cut the rope. That triggered the thought of another loose end—who had driven Bezu’s car the night that Dwight and Priscilla were nearly run over?
“You know when Hamlet’s father’s ghost tells Hamlet his brother Claudius killed him?” Umika said.
“Yes, you created an entire rap song for that scene.” I smiled. “I saw you rehearsing the other day. Your choreography is incredible.”
“Thank you.” She continued, “But that’s not the problem. Remember when the ghost of Hamlet’s dad talks about purgatory and the fires of Hell? That’s when we planned to set off a smoke machine as the ghost enters, and then again when he talks about Hell.”
“Is there a problem with the machine?” I asked.
“No.” Umika’s eyes welled up. “In my dream that’s when someone dies.”
“There’s no death in the scene you’re performing.” I recalled it wasn’t until well after Act 1 that any character perished.
“But today, there will be,” Umika said.
“Oh? Did you change the script?”
“No. I mean someone real gets killed, not a character. Like one of us.” Umika began to sob. “It was all in my vision. Dr. Maple, it feels so real to me. I just can’t go on. We need to stop this competition.”
Putting my hand on her back, I patted her. “I promise you I’ll make sure nothing happens to you or anyone else.”
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “You will?”
“Yes,” I said. How else could I reassure her that I would protect her from her nightmare coming true?
“I know people think my dreams are silly, but they are very real to me,” Umika said. “Just like Hamlet being the only one to see the ghost of his father. No one believed him, either. They thought he was crazy. I’m not crazy, Dr. Maple.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
She sniffed. “Thank you for not laughing at me.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.
“As long as you protect all of us, I will be.”
“I will do my best. I promise. If I can’t check over every detail personally, every prop, the rigging, I will call someone who can. I’ll make sure that it is safe. Will that reassure you?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I have to get in costume now.”
“Good idea.”
“Thanks for listening. It’s a curse and blessing to have my powers from the Goddess.�
� She stood and rubbed her hands on her jeans.
“I imagine it is.” I stood and gave her a hug, her hair smelled sweet, like rosewater.
“Thank you. I know you’ll make sure everything is okay,” she said before she made her way to the dressing room.
Although my late husband, Ernie, and I never had children, teaching college had given me occasional opportunities to fulfill some of my maternal instincts. Like I just did with Umika, calming her fears after a nightmare.
Not wanting to dismiss her dream, I glanced up at the rigging to see if it looked secure. I gave a quick call to our maintenance crew and asked them to double check it, and while they were at it, the smoke machine, lights and any other hazardous items. The theater was loaded with potentially lethal objects.
A creepy feeling washed over me.
Shaking it off, I realized I’d let my imagination run wild again, just as I had done last night at Gerald’s, thinking he wanted to stab me. How ludicrous.
Sometimes my runaway thoughts got the best of me.
On the other hand, could Umika’s vision come true? There was no way and no time to find out.
Chapter Twenty
While backstage, only to reassure myself, I picked up my team’s smoke machine and checked it. I didn’t see any loose wires or any signs of overt damage.
“Looking for your next weapon?” Dwight asked.
Winona came up behind him. Poor thing, first she was Priscilla’s lackey, and now Dwight’s helper.
I set down the device. “Death by smoke? That’s self-inflicted if you smoke cigarettes.”
He chuckled. “You’re quite the public service announcement.”
“Did you want something?” Other than to annoy me, was what I really wanted to add.
“Yes,” he said. “How well did you know Priscilla? I mean, beyond a professional relationship?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
Winona darted her eyes around, as though trying to locate something.
“Winona,” I ignored Dwight. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re looking for something. Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked her.
