To Bead or Not to Bead, Glass Bead Mystery Series, Book 4

by Janice Peacock

  I couldn’t find Tessa in the wings, so I wandered out to the lobby to see if I might find her there. I found Daniel in the box office, sitting behind a small ornate desk that must have been used in a theatrical production in the past, because it didn’t look like something you’d use in a modern office. The desk was piled with papers and various strange items: fake mustaches, baby shoes, and an artificial houseplant that had seen better days. Daniel was typing away at top-speed on a beat-up laptop. He paused and looked up at me as I entered.

  “Hi, Daniel. How are you doing?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m okay. It’s just hard right now. I keep thinking about Austin. We’d had a little disagreement, and it’s just sad. We never got a chance to talk again under better circumstances before he passed.” Daniel covered his eyes, trying to hide his tears. “And to think he was murdered. Such a shame.”

  “I saw you arguing with him and Frankie Lawton the night he died. Is that what you mean?”

  “Oh, that was just Frankie being his usual demanding self. It got a little heated, I’m sorry to say. I never got a chance to catch up with Austin after that and talk with him. I just regret our last words were angry ones.”

  “Any idea who’d do such a thing?” I figured I’d ask, though I didn’t expect much from Daniel.

  “Amanda was sure someone was out to get him.”

  “Can that really be true?” I asked.

  “He had enemies. I never knew why. It seemed to me he was such a giving person, always doing charitable work in the community. Making donations to nonprofits like the Homeless Advocacy Team.” Daniel’s voice cracked, just a little. “Even though that Jaya woman never seemed to appreciate it.”

  “I’m so sorry. This must be really hard for you. Maybe you should take some time off. Do you want me to help out here while you take a break?” I did have an ulterior motive for making this suggestion. After all, if Daniel were gone, I’d have more of an opportunity to search his office for signs of financial misdeeds and reasons for murder.

  “No, no. I’m fine.” Daniel gave his cheeks a little pat, a futile attempt to perk himself up.

  There was a two-drawer metal filing cabinet that looked promising, but no safe, at least that I could see. It would be good to search the drawers and get a peek in that laptop, but that wasn’t going to be possible while Daniel was present. I was going to have to get back in here when he wasn’t around. But when?

  I took my leave of Daniel and headed back into the theater in search of Tessa. I checked the dressing room, and was surprised to run into Ryan Shaw. He was a hunky security guard I’d met last year in Portland and had almost had a fling with. He’d moved to Seattle to join the police department. I’d hoped he and I would get together at least occasionally, because he had major boyfriend potential. In the end, it hadn’t worked out, when he started stalking me a little more than I thought was necessary. He’d lost his job with the police department over a stunt, which had saved me from a stint in the awful Carthage jail, when he pretended to be transferring me to another precinct for questioning. It was also an act of fraud that did not amuse the Sheriff of Carthage or Ryan’s superiors in the Seattle Police Department. Ryan had taken a job working private security for Val’s Uncle Freddie, but that didn’t explain his appearance at the Chanticleer Theater.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward about the unexpected run-in.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Ryan replied. “I’m in a play that’s going on here. It starts in just a few days.”

  “You’re in Hamlet?”

  “I am Hamlet.”

  THIRTEEN

  When I met Ryan last fall, he told me he’d been an actor before becoming a security guard, but I was never sure if I believed him. He was handsome enough—tall with nice broad shoulders, full lips, close-cropped wavy hair, and brown eyes with flecks of amber. As I looked at him, I started to admire what a fine specimen of manhood he was. Then I remembered I already had a boyfriend. Zachary was an awesome guy, and he was not flaky, or a stalker, or an actor, for that matter.

  “Congratulations on landing the lead role in the play,” I said. It was impressive that he was the star of the show, and I gave him a congratulatory hug. Oh dear. This man was so well built, it was hard to let go. Ryan hugged me back and didn’t seem to want to let go—or was that me? I finally broke away from him.

  “Thanks. I’m glad I ran into you, Jax. Are you…seeing anyone right now?”

  This was astounding to me. Ryan just never stopped. He simply couldn’t understand how a woman wouldn’t just fall at his feet. I was sure he’d had that happen to him his whole life, and he was confused as to why I wasn’t one of them.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m still seeing Zachary,” I said.

  “I just wondered if you two might want to come and see Hamlet. I could get you some tickets.”

  “Thanks, Ryan, I’ll talk to Zachary and let you know.” I looked up into Ryan’s gorgeous brown eyes and wanted to melt in his arms.

  Ryan had pulled his Hamlet costume from a rack nearby as we were talking, and I watched as he pulled his shirt off. I’d never actually seen him naked—even partially—before. His broad, muscular shoulders, six-pack abs, his slender hips—this man was an Adonis. I noticed my heart was beating extra fast. But, I had a boyfriend, and I needed to remember that, especially during moments like these. When he started to unbutton his jeans, I had to look away, not wanting to be tempted by his hot body. I didn’t want to see him in his boxers, assuming he wore them. That might be just a little too much for my heart to take.

  “I really should be going,” I said, not knowing how much longer I could stay in the same room as Ryan without doing something I might regret later.

  I did wonder though, if any of the cast or crew could possibly have had any reasons to want Austin dead, since, according to Zachary, some cast members had been in the theater the night Austin was killed.

  I stopped in the doorway, not ready to leave, but not wanting to take a peek at Ryan. Finally I asked. “Um, are you decent yet?”

  “I am now,” he said.

  I turned around to face Ryan, who was now buttoning up his fancy multi-colored duster. It looked like it had come straight from Boy George’s wardrobe. Although it looked better on Ryan than it ever had on the 80s pop icon.

  “Ryan? I know you’re sort of out of police work at this point, but do you know if anyone in the cast or crew of Hamlet might have had an issue with Austin? You haven’t heard anything about anyone here holding a grudge against him, have you?”

  “Are you looking for a homicide suspect?”

  “I think so, yes,” I said. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out, but really we just come in here and rehearse. I don’t think any of us had much interaction with Austin. Our stage manager mostly talks with Daniel in the box office.”

  “Were you in the theater the night Austin died?”

  “I was here with Leslie Dreyfus, our stage manager. We were rehearsing the scene with the ghost special effects. It didn’t go well—the stupid ghost wasn’t working right. We’re going to try again today.”

  I suddenly remembered I had my mic pinned to my jacket, and was relieved when I remembered I’d turned it off when I called my brother. I decided to leave it that way. I was sure Zachary wouldn’t approve, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, I hoped.

  “I’d like to do some snooping around. Do you think you could get me into the theater tonight after your rehearsal?” I asked in a low voice.

  “I don’t think that’s the best idea. I broke some laws trying to protect you in the past, and I don’t want to blow it again.”

  “It’s not like we’d be breaking the law. We’d actually be helping with the investigation. You know who some of the suspects are? Tessa’s
daughters,” I said, hoping he’d want to help if he knew Tessa’s girls were in trouble.

  “But they’re just teens. They couldn’t possibly have done it.”

  “Precisely. So, help me help them. And, I hate to mention it, but since you were in the theater the night Austin died, you’re likely a suspect as well. Or at least a person of interest.”

  “Great. I can’t wait to be interrogated by Zachary Grant. That’ll be fun,” Ryan said, with a resigned sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I’m only going to let you in—then you’re on your own. I don’t want to get thrown out of the cast of the show. Meet me here tonight at eleven,” he said.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight,” I said.

  “Why don’t you stay for a while? We’re going to run some cues for the ghost—it’s pretty fun. You should watch.”

  I went and sat in one of the empty seats in the audience, hoping Tessa would eventually find me. Remembering, again, that I’d turned my microphone off when I called my brother, I pressed the power button on its power pack to turn it back on. I didn’t want to leave it off for too long and risk Bev and Zachary getting mad at me for not using it. I watched as Ryan started his monologue while standing center stage. Leslie, seated in the glass booth overlooking the audience, spoke through the loudspeaker.

  “Okay, ready in three, two, one,” Leslie said. A ghostly gauze-draped figure swooped onto the stage from the wings, held aloft by thin cables. Ryan, as Hamlet, continued his monologue. Leslie’s voice boomed from the loudspeaker. “Okay. Resetting. Next time, Ryan, you need to be farther stage left to be closer to the ghost.”

  Ryan started his monologue again. Leslie started her countdown for the ghost as Tessa dashed across the stage, joining Ryan center stage.

  “Pause,” shouted Leslie’s disembodied voice. “Who the hell is that onstage?”

  Tessa turned toward the booth. Shielding her eyes from the bright stage lights she said, “It’s Tessa Ricci, with the fashion show and auction fundraiser. We need the stage.”

  “Sorry. We were told we could rehearse right now,” Leslie said.

  “By whom?” Tessa asked. I could see she was getting more and more perturbed by the second.

  “Austin Greer. So you gals can just move along.” Leslie’s voice echoed through the theater.

  Tessa mumbled something in Italian under her breath, probably a curse word. “But, he was working with us on the gala. He told me we could use the stage during the day for these few days before the event.”

  Leslie, her flannel shirt rolled up to expose some pretty impressive biceps, bolted from the booth and rushed toward the stage. “He’s not here to ask, is he? So, unless you have some proof he told you that, I think you better be moving along.”

  Tessa pulled herself up to her full height, which reached five-foot-two on a good day. She refused to be bullied by this woman. Leslie reached the front row and stood glaring up at Tessa, furious. She adjusted her John Lennon style wire-rim glasses to get a better look at Tessa. For the first time in her life, Tessa towered over someone other than her children.

  “I’m certain Daniel can confirm we have afternoons for rehearsing and you have evenings to rehearse Macbeth,” Tessa said.

  At the sound of the Macbeth both Leslie and Ryan gasped.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Tessa asked.

  “Tessa, they’re doing Hamlet, not Macbeth,” I shouted from my seat.

  Leslie and Ryan gasped again.

  “You can’t say the name of that play in a theater—it’s cursed!” Leslie screeched and ran her hands through her short black hair.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Tessa said as I applauded her sentiment from the audience.

  “And you said it too!” Leslie whirled around to make eye contact with me. “You clearly don’t understand that you never say the name of the Scottish play in a theater. It’s bad luck. And now, unfortunately, you must fix it. Come with us.”

  Leslie grabbed Tessa by the arm, and Ryan grabbed my hand. They dragged us out into the back parking lot.

  “What the heck is going on? Let go of me,” Tessa said, yanking her arm away from Leslie. I was trying hard to not enjoy Ryan holding my hand with his big, strong, manly hand. But, finally, I resisted and released it.

  “Now you’ve got to turn in a circle three times,” Ryan told us as Leslie went back inside.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Tessa said as she started spinning.

  “No, sorry, Tessa. But we’ve already had enough bad luck in this production without someone throwing the name of the Scottish play around.”

  “That’s what you call that play—the Scottish play?” I said, starting to spin.

  “We have to call it something, and it’s terribly unlucky to say the real name,” Ryan said, as he counted our spins. “Okay, now you have to spit on the ground.”

  We did as we were told but weren’t happy about it. I’m not sure either of us had ever spit in public, at least not as adults.

  “And then knock on the door to be let back in,” Ryan said, ushering us to the door. Tessa knocked and I did too.

  Leslie opened the door for us.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “Now that we’ve gotten that settled, what about the stage?”

  “Well, I really do think we are supposed to be able to use it right now,” Tessa said, continuing to hold her ground.

  “Fine! You just do that. I don’t get paid enough to deal with this B.S.” Leslie stomped off while Ryan stood there not knowing what to do. Moments later, Leslie’s angry voice burst through the sound system. “Rehearsal is over. Give the ladies the stage.”

  “Well, there you go. I guess you got what you wanted,” Ryan said with a shrug.

  “Why is Leslie so angry?” Tessa asked Ryan.

  “Oh, just some bad blood between her and Daniel. I guess they both were up for the manager job here at the theater, and Austin gave it to Daniel. I guess she was upset with Austin about it, too. She’s still working here, but only part-time. Her attitude has been pretty ugly for a while.”

  “Do you really need to rehearse?” I asked Ryan, feeling sorry for him.

  “Yeah, we do. We’ve been having a lot of difficulties with special effects, and we haven’t been able to use the stage while the theater was shut down when the crime scene crew was here.”

  I turned to Tessa. “Let’s give them the stage. We’re in okay shape for the event, aren’t we?”

  Tessa blew her bangs out of her eyes, a sure sign of her exasperation.

  “Okay, you win. It’s all yours, Ryan,” Tessa said.

  “Thank you, Tessa,” he said with a bow, his Shakespearean character coming through. Ryan ran back to center stage. “Leslie? Let’s continue, okay? Jax and Tessa are through for the day.”

  The disembodied voice of Leslie blasted through the speakers. “Fantastic. We’ve wasted enough time. Reset. Clear the stage.”

  Tessa rounded up the girls and stuffed them all into her minivan, and I took off in my car. I hoped Bev and Zachary had heard about the bad blood between Leslie, Austin, and Daniel—she was definitely someone to consider as a suspect in Austin’s death. Whether there was enough of a problem to have pushed Leslie into a murderous rampage remained to be seen. One thing I did hope is that they didn’t hear the whole kerfuffle about what I would forever more refer to as the Scottish Play.

  FOURTEEN

  When I arrived home, I found Buff Brown sitting on the front steps talking with Val. Now, this was an interesting development. Val’s basset hound sat between them as they talked, his head bopping back and forth as he listened to each of them speak.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here,” I said to Buff, as I joined them on the stoop.

  “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and see how Gumdrop was doing. Oh, and I have some test results.”

&n
bsp; “It was super meeting you, Buff,” Val said, a little more breathily than was absolutely necessary. She reached down and grabbed Stanley by the collar, giving Buff an extraordinary view of her cleavage. “I hope to see you again…soon.”

  “Why, yes, indeed, I hope so too,” said Buff, blushing after having been exposed to Val’s ample bosom.

  “So, what can you tell me about Gumdrop? Is he going to be okay?” I asked as I led the veterinarian inside.

  “Looks like Gumdrop has a virus. Has he been hanging around any other cats?”

  “No. He’s an inside cat. He has ventured outside before, but that was a year ago, and he hasn’t done it since.”

  “It’s a mystery, then. We’ll keep an eye on him. He’s getting to be an older cat, you know. You may start to see some signs of aging,” Buff said.

  I saw signs of aging in myself every day, so it was only natural that Gummie would be showing his age, too. I didn’t like it one bit.

  Buff picked up the whale carving I had left on the coffee table as a decoration.

  “I’ve only ever seen one other of these. It’s very rare, you know,” Buff said, holding the tiny ivory sculpture in the palm of his hand.

  “I was told it was valuable but not much more than that. What can you tell me about it?”

  “I did some field studies in Northern Alaska a few years ago. The Inuit, an indigenous group commonly called Eskimo, carved walrus ivory and whalebone into all sorts of shapes, with whales being a common subject matter. Most of the small carvings were utilitarian, but some were made as trade goods. Where did you get it?”