Read It and Weep (A Library Lover's Mystery)

by Jenn McKinlay

  Nancy and Mary joined Lindsey backstage just as the stage manager announced that the audience was being let in. Lindsey felt a nervous flutter start in her belly. She wanted the show to go well for so many reasons: to remember Robbie, to make Violet’s directorial debut a success and because so many people had worked so long and so hard on the show.

  “Let’s peek,” Mary said. “Come on.”

  She led Lindsey and Nancy over to the edge of the curtain, where they watched the ushers seating people. The bottom level was packed and the balcony was filling up fast.

  “Good grief,” Nancy whispered. “It’s a full house.”

  Lindsey scouted the crowd looking for familiar faces. She glanced up a few rows and saw Charlene sitting with her husband, Martin. Lindsey was glad she had put aside her grief over Robbie’s death to see her mother’s directorial debut.

  Lindsey saw Harvey Wargus sitting a few rows over from Charlene. He looked positively aglow, undoubtedly already writing his scathing review in his mind before the curtain even rose.

  She saw many of the library’s regulars as her gaze moved over the crowd. Carrie Rushton was there with Dale Wilcox, and they seemed pretty cozy. Also, she was pleased to see Mayor Hensen in the crowd, sitting with his wife on one side and Herb Gunderson, his right-hand man, on the other.

  Lindsey recognized Joanie Peet, wearing a black dress, escorting late arrivals to their seats near the front. She paused and glanced at the stage as if looking for someone. Lindsey suspected she was searching for Dylan. If what Heather had said was true and Dylan hadn’t gone home last night, then Joanie hadn’t seen him since their argument on the front steps of the police station.

  Lindsey felt the world shift under her feet. In her mind, she saw Joanie standing on the front steps declaring that she would do anything to protect her son. She had even said, “Look what happened to you!” to Lindsey after her fall.

  But how had she known? If she had left to go to the police station when Dylan was taken for questioning, she would have been gone before Lindsey was pushed and there was no way she could have known that Lindsey almost fell to her death—unless she was the one who pushed her.

  Lindsey felt all of the blood drain from her face and her heart beat hard in her chest. As she watched the stout woman move through the crowd, all she could think was that this woman was Robbie’s killer. She was sure of it. It all made sense.

  She was crazy overprotective of her only child. “Crazy” being the operative word, if she was indeed making Dylan sick to keep him dependent upon her. And if Lindsey was right and Robbie was Dylan’s father then how far would Joanie go to keep her son to herself? Would she have murdered Robbie? But why would she try to harm Lindsey? Then Lindsey remembered complimenting Dylan on his resemblance to Robbie on the stage. Had Joanie pushed Lindsey because she was getting too close to the truth?

  Lindsey scanned the crowd, looking for the chief of police. Damn it! Where was Emma?

  “Why am I so nervous?” Mary whispered, distracting Lindsey from her search. “It’s not like I’m on stage.”

  “I don’t know, but I have to go to the bathroom,” Nancy said.

  “Now?” Lindsey asked.

  “It’s okay, we don’t have a costume change until Act III,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Places, places everyone,” the stage manager hissed. “We’re two minutes until curtain.”

  Nancy slipped out the door to the green room, while Lindsey and Mary moved back to their makeshift wardrobe area. Through a gap in the curtain, they could just see Violet as she strode out onto the stage.

  Lindsey wished she could run out and find Emma but she just couldn’t do it to Violet. Everyone was here. The show was starting. She’d keep an eye on Joanie and Dylan and tell Emma everything she suspected the first chance she got.

  Violet had changed her outfit. She was wearing her usual long, flowing caftan, but this one was a deep ruby red and shimmered when she moved. Her hair was pulled back and twisted into a topknot, which was held in place by a wreath of pearls. Lindsey thought she looked like theater royalty.

  “Welcome,” Violet said. Her strong voice rang out across the theater.

  Lindsey wondered if Sterling Buchanan was in the crowd and if so, was he wracked with regret that he had let this amazing woman and his equally stunning daughter go? She hoped so.

  “Please sit back and enjoy the Briar Creek Community Theater’s production of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  Violet left the stage to thunderous applause. Lindsey felt her entire body tense up and she knew she was waiting for something to go wrong, but nothing did.

  The applause dwindled, and the stage manager gave the signal. The curtain drew back and the actors in Scene I, Theseus, Hippolyta and Philostrate, walked onto the stage with the extras who played their attendants. The play had begun.

  Nancy rejoined them during Scene I and while they could only see bits of the stage through the curtains that had been drawn back, they could hear the actors delivering their lines. So far, so good.

  Scene II introduced Mary’s husband, Ian, playing Nick Bottom. Lindsey could tell Mary was nervous: she sat on a stool with her right fist pressed to her lips as if to keep from cheering out loud or calling out instructions. It was hard to say which.

  Nancy fussed with the costumes, while Lindsey paced in a small circle with her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. How did people do this for a living? Gah, she was so nervous!

  Finally, they heard Ian’s character say, “‘Enough; hold or cut bow-strings.’”

  The curtain closed. It was the end of Act I. Ian came rushing backstage and grabbed Mary close. He planted a kiss on her before disappearing out the door that led to the green room.

  Mary turned to Nancy and Lindsey and grinned.

  “He was fantastic!”

  “Yes, he was,” they agreed wholeheartedly.

  Intermission wasn’t until after Act II, so the stage manager was quickly issuing instructions to the set crew, who were doing a mad scramble to change the set. Lindsey saw Sully pull the ropes that dropped a background of green, woodsy trees over the outline of the previous scene’s city of Athens while the other crew members turned the interior of the house into the woods. They had only seconds to get it switched. Sully gave a thumbs-up to the stage manager.

  “Places, everyone. Curtain in twenty seconds,” the stage manager whispered.

  In the dim lighting, Lindsey saw Dylan pacing back and forth. He looked pale and nervous and she couldn’t blame him. She’d rather have fiery torches held to her feet than go out on stage.

  Beth appeared. She looked ethereal and lovely in her faerie costume. She gave Dylan’s arm a quick squeeze and he gave her a distracted smile in return.

  Beth hurried across the stage, as she would enter from the other side at the same time as Dylan when the stage manager gave the signal.

  Lindsey heard the stage manager begin the countdown, signaling one of the stagehands to grab the ropes to open the curtain. Dylan stepped back from his position behind the curtain. He removed his tunic and took the wreath of ivy off of his head.

  “Dylan,” Nancy cried. “What are you doing?”

  The stage manager looked at him in shock. Dylan’s scene was about to start; he couldn’t walk off the stage now. They didn’t have anyone else to play Puck.

  Lindsey stepped forward; if it was a case of nerves, maybe she could help him. But he hurried around her over to the door that led to the emergency exit. He yanked it open and said, “Now!”

  Out of the secret-keeping shadows stepped Robbie Vine.

  29

  Lindsey heard the collective gasp sound all around her even as her knees buckled and she staggered, but she managed to catch herself on the clothing rack.

  “Robbie?” She called his name with the last bit o
f breath she had in her lungs.

  “Lindsey!” His face lit up at the sight of her, and his grin felt as if it was just for her. He made to stride toward her but Dylan grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “There’s no time,” Dylan said. He shoved the tunic and wreath at Robbie, who quickly pulled them on.

  The stage manager was fiercely whispering into his headset as he stared, wide-eyed at Robbie. Then he gave a nod and cued the curtain to rise.

  Dylan pulled Robbie into position. Behind the curtain, waiting for it to finish rising, Robbie glanced over his shoulder at Lindsey and whispered, “We’ll talk later.”

  Then he narrowed his gaze at her. She must have looked a fright, because he muttered a curse and strode forward, shaking off Dylan and the stage manager and ignoring the curtain that was almost all the way up.

  Robbie reached out and grabbed her shoulders. His gaze met hers with an intensity that made her heart pound. He hugged her close.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice was a low, gruff growl in her ear.

  Lindsey could tell from the emotion in his voice that he meant it and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He released her and pushed her hair back from her face.

  “I promise I can explain,” he said.

  “You don’t have to,” she whispered. “I know. It’s Joanie, isn’t it? She’s your ‘killer’ and she’s been making Dylan ill, hasn’t she?”

  Robbie nodded.

  “And she’s the one who pushed me over the balcony because I figured out that Dylan is your son,” Lindsey said.

  His eyes widened in surprise. Then he smiled and shook his head. “I might have known you’d figure it out.”

  “Robbie, come on,” the stage manager demanded.

  Robbie gave him a curt wave and then turned back to Lindsey. He planted a swift kiss on her lips. It was electric, shocking her all the way down to her toes. Lindsey didn’t know what to say or think or believe but the relief that he was here standing in front of her, alive, made her jump forward and throw her arms around him in a tight hug. Just as quickly, she released him.

  “Go!” she said.

  Her throat was tight and it was hard to swallow around the lump in it. Robbie grinned at her and turned back around. The stage manager was waving frantically for him to go, so Robbie gave him a mischievous grin and strode out onto the stage.

  “‘How now, spirit! Whither wander you,’” Robbie greeted Beth as she came across the stage to meet him.

  Beth’s jaw dropped and she blinked at him as if seeing a ghost. She wasn’t the only one to catch the change in the casting. A low murmur started in the audience and rumbled to a grumbling pitch as Violet’s voice came over the intercom to announce, “In tonight’s performance, the role of Puck will be played by Robbie Vine.”

  The crowd noise was deafening. Lindsey looked across the stage at Beth. She seemed frozen, transfixed on Robbie as if uncertain of what to do or say.

  Robbie stepped toward Beth and looped his arm through hers as if they were old friends strolling together. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, and Lindsey saw Beth visibly relax and give him the slightest nod.

  “‘Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier,’” Beth began quietly at first, but her voice took on the cadence of the bard’s words, growing stronger with each syllable.

  “‘Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere—’”

  A screech sounded from the front of the theater, and Lindsey looked out to see Dylan’s mother striding down the aisle. A man followed—Joanie’s husband, Lindsey assumed—and grabbed her hand trying to stop her, but she smacked him hard, forcing him to let her go. In three large strides, she launched herself onto the stage.

  Robbie turned and gave Beth a hearty shove back into the wings, where Sully caught her. Then Robbie turned and caught Joanie by the forearms, stopping her from clawing out his eyes.

  “I killed you!” she screeched. She was fighting Robbie’s hold with everything she had. “You are supposed to be dead.”

  “Well, faeries are immortal, you know,” Robbie said. His humor sent her into a frenzy, and she began to kick while trying to yank her arms out of his grip.

  “He’s my son!” Joanie screamed. “Mine. You can’t have him!”

  Robbie opened his mouth to say something but Emma and her officers leapt onto the stage. In seconds, they pulled Joanie off of Robbie. She was bucking and kicking, spitting and cursing. Finally, they had no choice but to pin her to the stage floor while they cuffed her.

  Lindsey listened in shock as Emma hauled Joanie out of the theater, reciting her Miranda rights as they went. Judging by the silence, the audience was just as stunned.

  It had all happened so fast. Robbie was alone on the stage. He took a deep breath and then said, “Faerie, dost thou hide from the creatures of the night?”

  Lindsey knew this wasn’t in the play. She glanced across the stage where Beth still stood beside Sully. This was her do or die moment. Lindsey saw Beth shudder from her head to her feet. Then she skipped, yes skipped, back out onto the stage. She looked at Robbie and said her next line perfectly. And the play continued straight through until the end of Act II.

  Intermission, however, was utter chaos. The noise in the green room was deafening. Lola and Kitty had pounced on Robbie as soon as he entered the room.

  “I might have known,” Kitty said with a smile while Lola wept all over Robbie’s shirtfront.

  Violet clapped her hands and the noise dimmed to a low rumble. “As you all can see, the reports of Robbie’s death were a bit inaccurate,” she said. “I imagine many of you are angry with me for not telling you the truth. I apologize, but the police felt this would be our best way to flush out the person who was in fact trying to kill Robbie.”

  Lindsey glanced around the room. Several people did look angry. She wondered if she’d be one of them if she weren’t so relieved that Robbie was alive. She searched the crowd for him. He had shaken off Lola and Kitty and was standing in the corner of the room with his arm around Dylan’s shoulders.

  Seeing them next to each other, Lindsey couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized sooner that they were related. And she really didn’t care what the birth certificate said: there was no question that Dylan was Robbie’s son.

  “But why?” Lola asked. “Why did that crazy woman want to kill him?”

  Violet looked at Robbie. He gave her a small nod.

  “We don’t know for sure, but judging by what she said on the stage tonight, she was feeling very threatened by Robbie because—” Violet paused.

  “Because Robbie Vine is my biological father,” Dylan said. “And she was afraid he would take me away from her.”

  Lindsey saw Dylan’s friends Heather and Perry staring at him with their mouths hanging open. He gave them a sheepish smile, and Lindsey realized that Dylan must have known before tonight that Robbie was his father.

  “Now, we have five minutes until curtain, and I believe that the show must go on,” Violet said. “Are you all with me?”

  The cast and crew glanced at one another and then Ian, with his usual overabundance of enthusiasm, jumped to his feet and raised a fist in the air.

  “I’m in!” he shouted. The others joined him, and soon it was a cacophony of shouts and cheers as they all scrambled to take their places for Act III.

  “Wait!” Robbie cried out and everyone froze.

  Lindsey wondered if he and Dylan had to go to the police station. Maybe the show couldn’t go on after all.

  Robbie took the ivy wreath off of his head and put it on Dylan’s. “I think this Puck should finish the show.”

  Dylan’s eyes went wide. He swallowed hard and said, “But I . . . won’t the crowd want to see you?”

  “Are you kidding?” Robbie asked. “They’re getting to se
e the debut performance of my son.”

  Dylan beamed at him. Violet glanced between them and said, “Dylan, are you sure you’re up to it? I mean, with your mother being—”

  “Crazy?” Dylan asked. “Actually, I’ve known for a long time.”

  Lindsey saw a flash of pain cross over his face, and Robbie put his hand on Dylan’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Well, if you want the role, it’s yours,” Violet said. “You’ve earned it.”

  Dylan grinned at Violet and it was so like his father that Lindsey felt herself smile, too. Charm. The Vine men had it by the bucketful.

  “Well, don’t just stand here people, let’s go!” the stage manager yelled.

  The cast and crew filed out of the green room. Violet hooked her arm through Dylan’s and was giving him a pep talk while pulling him out of the room. Nancy trailed behind, fussing over the tunic Robbie had just handed over.

  When the room was empty, Lindsey found herself alone with Robbie. He lowered his head and looked at her from beneath his long lashes.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you?” he asked.

  Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest and tried to scowl. She could tell it wasn’t her best effort.

  “I have some questions,” she said. “And then we’ll see.”

  “All right,” he agreed. He looked nervous.

  “How long have you and Dylan known you were father and son?”

  He blew out a breath. “About a year.”

  Lindsey felt her eyes go wide.

  “Dylan got in touch with me through my agent,” he said. “I’d been trying to find him for years. One look at the picture he sent and I knew he was for real.”

  “Why didn’t you go public?”

  “It was too risky,” Robbie said. “You see, when Dylan got in touch with me and begged me to keep it quiet and not let his mother know that we’d found each other, I knew that something wasn’t right in his house. I quickly discovered she kept a tight hold on him and if he even hinted that he wanted to find his birth parents or, hell, even go away to college, she would have a hissy fit and then he’d be mysteriously ill. Soon I suspected what you did—that she was making him ill—and I was afraid if I showed up claiming to be his father that she’d do something drastic.”