by K M Morgan
“I get what’s going on,” Gavin said.
“What are you talking about?” Daisy said.
“As much as you don’t want to stay, you also hate the idea of leaving.”
“You’re just making things up now.”
“Am I?” he asked. “Say we leave and a real dead body does show up. I know you don’t trust Crumple to be able to catch the killer. But if you’re here as well, you can assist Crumple with the investigation.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea,” she said.
“Daisy, we’ve been dating for years. Outside of your parents, I don’t think there’s anyone on Earth who knows you better than I do. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Daisy stuck to her story. “I just think my mood will improve when I get some dinner in my stomach. You’ll see.”
He gave her a wary look. “Uh-huh.”
Before their conversation could continue any further, an outburst occurred on the stage that drew everyone’s attention.
Chapter Ten
Wallace approached Teresa on the kitchen set.
“Can you believe this?” he asked.
Teresa looked flustered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s so heartbreaking.”
“That isn’t the word I’d use to describe what happened.”
“What word would you use then?” she asked.
“Crazy,” Wallace said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Weatherly deservedly had a lot of enemies, but I didn’t think one of them would actually kill him.”
“Why did you say that he deserved to have enemies?”
Wallace folded his arms. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Teresa’s facial expression was completely devoid of humor.
Wallace’s nose scrunched. “Wait a minute. Are you really still hung up on him after the way he hung you out to dry earlier?”
Teresa shivered. “I really don’t want to talk about what happened earlier. Or Weatherly’s murder.”
“Of course. You need comfort right now.”
Wallace moved in close to give Teresa a hug.
She pulled back from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to comfort you,” he said.
She held her hand up. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because what I’d really like right now is for you to leave me alone.”
Wallace became outraged. “This is unbelievable.”
“Why are you raising your voice?” she asked.
“Are you really going to turn me away?”
“I told you. I don’t feel the same way about you that you do about me.”
“You’re a fool.”
Teresa’s eyes filled with fear as she stared at Wallace.
“And you’re acting crazy,” she said.
“The only thing I’m crazy about…is you,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure that I believe that.”
“Hold on a second. What are you implying?”
“I’m afraid to even utter the words,” Teresa said. She stared at the kitchen door. “I should be heading back to dining room.”
As she began to move toward the door, he put his arm out to stop her.
“Teresa, you’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asked.
Her face was tense as she replied, “No.”
“Then why do you look so afraid?” he asked.
“Will you please just let me get by you?”
“You don’t think that I could be responsible for Weatherly’s murder, do you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Because you had just as much reason to want him dead,” Wallace said.
Teresa shot him a glare. “How dare you say that?”
“Are you going to tell me that I’m wrong?” Wallace said.
Teresa shook her head. “No. What I’m going to say is that you need to let me get by you or I’ll scream.”
“Fine. You can go. But not until I say this. I didn’t kill Weatherly,” Wallace replied.
“Neither did I,” Teresa said.
Wallace stared long and hard at Teresa as she walked into the dining room.
Chapter Eleven
Penelope stepped away from dining room set and walked toward the front door of the theater. She stopped a few feet away from Daisy’s table and stared out into the distance.
A few moments later, Edgar approached Penelope with a concerned look on his face.
“Penelope, what are you doing out here?” Edgar asked.
“I just needed to be alone with my thoughts,” Penelope said.
“That’s understandable,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”
“It was just getting really claustrophobic in there.”
“I know what you mean,” he replied. “That said, there’s a killer on the loose, so we should go back inside.”
“That’s true. And terrifying.” Her forehead wrinkled. “But what would the killer want with me?”
“I have no clue. But I also have no interest in finding out. Do you?” he asked. “After all, we’re clearly dealing with a crazy person here.”
Penelope started getting choked up.
Edgar put his arms around her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
Edgar held Penelope tight.
A few seconds later, Connie approached the couple.
“Penelope,” Connie said. “You should really come back inside.”
Connie had addressed her daughter, but Edgar was the one who replied.
“She’s just dealing with a lot of emotions right now,” Edgar said. “But I’m here for her.”
Connie ignored Edgar and addressed her daughter again. “Penelope, I’d feel a lot better if you came back inside.”
“I already told you. I have the situation under control,” Edgar said.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Connie said.
Edgar shot Connie a glare. “What’s your problem?”
“I think you know,” Connie said.
“You don’t think I might have had something to do with your husband’s death, do you?” Edgar said.
Connie called out for her daughter once more. “Penelope, will you please come here?”
Edgar shook his head in disbelief. “You do think I might have killed your husband.” He gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe this.”
“Is it really that hard to believe after the argument you had with Montgomery earlier?” Connie asked.
Penelope finally spoke up. “Mother, leave Edgar alone.”
“I’m just looking out for you, dear,” Connie said.
“I can look out for her just fine,” Edgar said.
“I doubt that. Now Penelope, come inside,” Connie said.
“Mrs. Weatherly, whether you like it or not, Penelope and I are together for the long haul,” Edgar said.
Connie narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
Just then, Teresa left the dining room set and approached Connie.
“Mrs. Weatherly,” Teresa said.
Connie turned to Teresa. “Yes?”
“The detective found something that he wants to show us all,” Teresa said.
Chapter Twelve
All the suspects convened in the dining room set. When they arrived, they saw the detective holding a jacket. That wasn’t all. A small glass bottle was on the table. The bottle was two inches tall, one-inch wide, and was empty.
Detective Shore set his sights on Penelope’s boyfriend.
“Edgar. Just the man I was looking for,” Shore said.
“Really? Why me?” Edgar asked. “And why are you holding my jacket?”
“I’m actually more concerned with what I found inside the jacket.”
“What?”
The detective pointed at the object on the table. “That bottle o
f poison.”
Edgar’s eyebrows rose. “Poison? But—”
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Shore said.
“Look. I don’t know anything about poison, or how that got in my jacket,” Edgar said.
“You’re going to need a better explanation than that.”
“Why?” Edgar asked. “You don’t think I might have killed Mr. Weatherly, do you?”
“It sure looks like it.”
Edgar shook his head in disbelief. “No. This is ridiculous.”
“Is it? I mean, the victim was poisoned and I just found a bottle of poison in your jacket. What else am I supposed to think?” Shore said.
“I didn’t kill him,” Edgar said.
“I have a hard time believing that.”
“But it’s the truth.”
“Edgar, I don’t usually take the word of a murder suspect,” Shore said.
“This time, you should.”
“Logic says otherwise. After all, you already admitted that this is your jacket.”
“Yes, but I haven’t had it on since I got here.”
“Is that so?”
Edgar nodded. “I gave it to the butler when I arrived. He then went and hung it up in the closet.”
“I can’t dispute that,” Shore said. “But you could have had the bottle in your pants pocket when you arrived, and then gone back to the closet later to slip the empty bottle into your jacket.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“What did happen then?”
“The only thing I know is that I didn’t kill Weatherly. Someone must have poisoned him and put the bottle in my jacket to frame me.”
“Do you have any proof of that?” Shore asked.
Edgar turned the tables on the detective. “Do you have any proof that I’m wrong?”
“Edgar, I have to admit. All signs are pointing to you being guilty right now.”
“No. I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
Edgar shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you talk to the butler? He was the one who took my jacket.”
Chapter Thirteen
Detective Shore pulled Wallace aside and spoke with him in the parlor.
“Did you hang up Edgar’s coat when he arrived this evening?” Shore asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t poison Mr. Weatherly,” Wallace said.
“Why should I believe you?” Shore asked. “You have no alibi for the time of the murder.”
“I already told you. I didn’t kill Mr. Weatherly.”
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”
“Because it’s the truth. I took Edgar’s coat from him when he arrived, hung it up in the closet, and haven’t looked at it since,” Wallace said. “The fact is, anyone here tonight could have gone over to the closet and put the bottle of poison in it.”
“I sure wish I could believe you.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
Shore shook his head. “Not at the moment.”
“Then I’m going to get back to work,” Wallace said.
Wallace began walking back toward the dining room set.
Detective Shore reached out to stop him.
As Shore’s hand collided with Wallace’s arm, the force of impact was enough to knock the bottle of poison out of the detective’s hand.
The bottle fell to the ground.
Detective Shore crouched down to pick it up.
That was when his eyes widened.
“No way,” Shore said.
Wallace looked down at the detective. “What is it?”
Shore stood up straight again. He stared at the underside of the bottle. “There’s a small sticker on the bottom that I didn’t notice before.”
“A sticker?”
Detective Shore nodded. “And it has something written on it.”
“What does it say?”
“Finch Industries.”
Wallace shrugged. “Okay. So?”
Detective Shore’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Don’t you understand? This is the key to solving this entire case.”
Wallace’s nose wrinkled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Wallace, assemble all the suspects for me.”
“Again?” Wallace asked.
Detective Shore nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?” Wallace said.
“Because I know who the killer is,” Shore said.
Chapter Fourteen
Detective Shore stepped forward and addressed the audience of theatergoers. “I know who the killer is, but do you? Think about it while you finish your dinner. Your server will be coming around shortly with little sheets of paper. Write down who you think the guilty party is and then stick around to see if you were correct.”
Detective Shore then walked back toward the dining room set.
Daisy’s server came over to the table with a number of small sheets of paper. Gavin and Daisy wrote down who they thought the murderer was on separate sheets of paper. When they were both done, Gavin turned to Daisy.
“So, who do you think did it?” Gavin asked.
Daisy showed Gavin her sheet of paper. He read the name and smiled.
“That’s who I picked too,” he said.
“You know what they say about great minds thinking alike,” Daisy said.
“I wouldn’t say that I have a great mind, but you certainly do,” Gavin said.
Daisy blushed. “Nothing like flattery.”
“Not just any kind of flattery. In your case, it is much-deserved,” he said.
She gazed at him. “You’re so good to me.”
“Speaking of good, how did your keen mind determine who the killer is?” he asked.
Daisy leaned in and whispered to Gavin.
He nodded. “That was exactly my thought process.” He looked at his sheet of paper again. “It’ll be interesting to see if we’re right.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that we are.”
“I guess we’ll find out the answer in a few minutes,” Gavin said. “In the meantime, the rest of my chicken dinner awaits.”
He took a bite of his meal.
Daisy, meanwhile, scanned the theater.
Gavin stopped eating and turned to Daisy. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
She shook her head. “I’m still feeling a little queasy.”
“You don’t still think there’s a chance of a real murder occurring tonight, do you?”
“Let’s just say that I’ll be relieved when this performance is over,” she replied.
Chapter Fifteen
A few minutes later, Detective Shore addressed the entire theater once again. “Ladies and gentleman, it’s time for the moment you have all been waiting for—the big reveal. So, without further ado, let’s nab our killer.”
Shore lined all the suspects up in a row. He paced back and forth in front of them, staring each of them down.
As Daisy looked at Shore moving to and fro, she felt like she was watching a live-action reality show that was trying to milk as much tension as possible from the situation.
Finally, after a good thirty seconds of pacing, Shore spoke up.
“Edgar,” Shore said.
“Yes, Detective,” Edgar replied.
“You tried to throw me off your scent, and for a moment, you did a pretty good job of pointing the finger of blame at Wallace, but you aren’t as smart as you seem to think.”
Edgar’s eyebrows knitted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah? Then why does the sticker on the bottom of the poison bottle say Finch Industries?” Shore asked. “Finch, as in your last name. As in your father’s company.”
Edgar tensed up. “This isn’t what it looks like—”
Shore interrupted him. “Yes, it is. As a matter of fact, things are exactly as they appear to me. Weatherly was your father’s biggest business rival. He also firmly opposed your relationship with his daughter. H
e made no bones about that. In effect, you had double the reason for wanting him dead.”
“Motive doesn’t equal murder,” Edgar said.
“Stop denying the truth. You poisoned him. Just admit it already,” Shore said.
Instead, Edgar went quiet.
Detective Shore continued. “You probably figured you could dispose of the glass bottle later. But when I discovered it, you had to come up with another plan. So you tried to blame Wallace. Unfortunately for you, the sticker on the bottom of the bottle gave the truth away. So come clean. You killed Weatherly, didn’t you?”
Edgar narrowed his eyes and let his emotions come out. “How dare he forbid me from marrying his daughter? Penelope and I are meant for each other—”
“Oh yeah?” Detective Shore asked. “Let’s see if Penelope still wants to be with you when you’re spending the rest of your life in jail for murdering her father.”
Detective Shore slapped a set of handcuffs on Edgar’s wrists and then addressed the crowd. “I have to haul Edgar off to jail now, but first, I want to say thank you for coming to dinner theater. I hope you’ve all had a wonderful time tonight. Have a killer rest of your evening.”
The theatergoers began applauding.
Daisy, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter Sixteen
On the drive back to Daisy’s house, Gavin couldn’t help but notice his fiancé’s mood had changed. She was no longer so uptight. Instead, she looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.
“I have to admit, you look much different since we left the theater,” Gavin said.
“Is it that noticeable?” Daisy asked.
He nodded. “Absolutely. For a moment, I thought you were going to have a panic attack back there.”
“Honey, things weren’t nearly that bleak.”
“Tell my nerves that. You really had me worried,” Gavin said.
“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore,” she said.
“Neither do you,” he said. “No actual people were killed during the performance.”
“Cheers to that,” Daisy said.
