Death By Drama

by Abigail Keam

  21

  “GO AWAY!”

  You know me. I opened the door and strode in.

  Matt was standing over the crib, watching Emmeline sleep.

  “You want to talk?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I have a few things to say.”

  Matt snarled, “I don’t want to hear them.”

  “Matt, you’ve got to forgive yourself.”

  Startled, Matt glared at me. “What for?”

  “You’ve always felt guilty about what happened to Franklin, Baby, and me. There was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened. In fact, you would have gotten yourself killed.”

  Tears spilled out of Matt’s eyes and streaked down his cheek. “If I hadn’t taken so long to park the car that night, I could have stopped him.”

  We both purposely didn’t mention the perpetrator’s name, but you know of whom we spoke.

  “No, you couldn’t have. He would have taken you out first, because you were the strongest. Since that night, you have behaved like a jerk toward Franklin.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before.”

  “And you still haven’t straightened out.”

  “I can’t be what he wants me to be.”

  “Which is?”

  “Monogamous, for starters.”

  “Ever use self-control for once? Heterosexuals have those urges, too, but if we love our mates, we try to steer clear of affairs. Some of us even manage to do so. Sooner or later, your looks are going to fade. Offers will be fewer and fewer. I’ll be dead by that time, of course. You will have chased Emmeline off due to your embarrassing sexual escapades with her ‘uncles,’ and you’ll end up all alone.”

  “That’s my future?”

  “Pretty much, at the rate you’re going, or you can sow seeds for a happy future. Sacrifice is a handy word you might try wrapping your mind around.”

  “Are you saying I should stay with Franklin?”

  “I’m saying that whatever you decide, quit being cruel. If you are going to cut Franklin out, use a sharp, clean knife. Quit calling him when you need help or feel lonely. He’s a good man. He deserves a better friend than you.”

  “Ouch. That hurts, Josiah.”

  “Real friends tell the truth.”

  “Are you still my friend?”

  “George Bailey, I’ll love you till the day I die,” I quoted from It’s A Wonderful Life, one of my favorite movies before reaching out to Matt.

  We held hands as we stood gazing at Emmeline sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

  22

  I knocked on Robin’s door.

  She opened it and upon seeing me, made a face. “What do you want?”

  I stuck my foot in the opening in case she tried to slam the door in my face. I hoped she wouldn’t do it though, since it would hurt my footsies. “Robin, we need to talk.”

  Robin let out a loud sigh. “NO! I’m sick of you people.”

  I held up a photo of her with Ashley.

  She grabbed it, tore it up, and threw the fragments at me, looking triumphant.

  “I’ve got six more pictures of you at Woodland Park with Ashley, and Asa has the images backed up on a remote server. Please, we need to talk.”

  “Asa,” Robin spat out. “She’s such a b . . .”

  “Ah, ah, ah, let’s be civil. You don’t want to make me mad.”

  Realizing she was going to have to give up her secrets, Robin let me in, and I followed her into the living room.

  She sat on the couch, and I sat in an adjacent chair—an uncomfortable chair, at that.

  She lit a cigarette and blew smoke in my direction. Cute.

  “Robin, I wouldn’t be so insistent, but everyone is lying, including you, about the night Madison died. Franklin is in real trouble. You know he didn’t kill Madison. What’s up with you?”

  Robin looked away and muttered, “I’m afraid. That’s why.”

  I was stunned. “Afraid of what?”

  “I’m afraid of the real murderer.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I know how Madison died.”

  “The ME’s report hasn’t been released yet.”

  “I’m telling you, I know what killed Madison.”

  “I’m all ears,” I encouraged, leaning forward.

  “She died of cyanide poisoning, like the heroine in the play.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I smelled burnt almonds. That’s what cyanide smells like.” She put out her cigarette and then lit another one. “You didn’t get close to the body. I did. When I put a blanket on Madison, I leaned over her face. That’s when I smelled it. Her breath stank.”

  “But Franklin and Hunter were close to the body, and they never mentioned smelling anything odd.”

  “They are brothers, and the ability to smell cyanide is a genetic trait. Forty percent of the people there that night would not have been able to detect it.”

  “But why didn’t you tell the police?”

  “Because I shrieked when I smelled it, and I’m sure the murderer heard me. I wasn’t able to mask my surprise at my discovery, and now I’m afraid I’ll be next.”

  “If it was cyanide, it will be in the ME’s report. You smelling it wouldn’t put you in danger. It was bound to come out.”

  I was skeptical of Robin’s story. Cyanide is hard to come by anymore unless you find an old bottle of rat poison, and I didn’t remember Robin shrieking. “You must have seen something else of importance, Robin? What was it?”

  “I saw John place the goblets on the table.”

  “Why does that concern you?”

  “That was Franklin’s job. I had never seen John handle the props before.”

  “So you think John poisoned Madison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Ask Zion. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

  “Okay, let’s get back to Ashley. Why did you give him money?”

  “He needed some money, so I floated him a friendly loan.”

  “Come on, now. Asa said you couldn’t keep your hands off him.”

  “Asa had no business following me. I should go to the police about her.”

  “If you do, I’ll show these pictures to your husband.” Rest assured I can get down and dirty if someone I love is threatened. Oh, yes, I can.

  Robin blanched. “Please don’t. It would make trouble for me.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  Robin thought for a moment while chewing on another cigarette. “He’s my son.”

  “What?”

  “I’m telling the truth. I had him when I was fifteen and put him up for adoption. He came to school in Lexington so he could track me down.”

  “And?”

  “I was caught off guard, but once I got over the shock, I was happy to see him. He’s grown into such a handsome man, like his father. It certainly has taken a terrible burden off my shoulders to know my son is doing fine.”

  “How did he find out about you? Aren’t adoption records supposed to be sealed?”

  “A distant relative of my father’s adopted him. That man died, and when Ashley was going through his papers, he found a letter about me. He knew he was adopted, but he didn’t know who his birth mother was until then.”

  “Ashley’s father?”

  “Oh, my gosh, I hadn’t thought of him in years. He was a teenage crush that got out of hand. I don’t even know where Ashley’s father lives. I haven’t heard from him since Ashley was born.”

  “I take it that your family doesn’t know about him.”

  “Not even my husband.”

  “But why keep it a secret?”

  “Because of Ashley’s behavior. I have to be sure of Ashley before I introduce him to my family.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He didn’t come up and introduce himself to me. Ashley tracked me down and must have spied on me, because he joined our drama group without
telling me who he was. I had no idea.

  “After a few months, he told me who he was while we were standing in the driveway of Wickliffe Manor. I was stunned. He knew where I lived, where I worked, and who my friends were. It creeped me out. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was thrilled, but part of me chilled at the thought that he was stalking me. Before I turn my husband and child’s lives upside down, I have to be sure about Ashley. That’s why this murder is so inconvenient. It may force me to confess about Ashley before I’m ready.”

  “I’m sure Madison’s family will feel your pain.”

  “Oh, don’t be so righteous. You know what I mean.”

  “Do you think Ashley has anything to do with Madison’s death?”

  “I have said this over and over. I don’t think Madison was killed. I think she died of natural causes.”

  “You just said a few moments ago you thought John had poisoned Madison with cyanide.”

  “Did I?” Robin asked, seemingly confused.

  “You said you smelled something on her breath.”

  “How could I smell something on her breath if she was dead?”

  “Before she died, Robin. When she went into convulsions. You said you put a blanket on her.”

  “No, I never said that. Zion put a blanket on her, and that was after Hunter put her back on the couch.”

  I looked into Robin’s eyes. She didn’t have the look of deceit in them. There was something going on here that wasn’t kosher.

  “I won’t tell anyone about your relationship with Ashley, except for Franklin’s lawyer.”

  Robin inhaled deeply from her cigarette, exhaled, and crushed the remainder in an ashtray. “Thank you. I need some breathing room to deal with Ashley. Sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”

  Getting up to leave, I said, “I’ll see myself out.” Leaving the room, I glanced back to see Robin light up another cigarette. I made up my mind to call Robin’s husband and suggest she see a doctor. My guess was she’d had a stroke, but Robin was so young.

  I hoped I was wrong, but something wasn’t right.

  23

  I knew where Zion Foley had lunch every day, so I decided that I would “casually” run into him. I walked into Stella’s Deli, ordered at the counter, paid, and looked around for a table to sit at. There was Zion, sitting in the corner by himself, eating a banana and peanut butter sandwich.

  “Zion, can I join you? The other tables are taken.”

  Zion looked up from his newspaper and smiled. “Well, Josiah. Fancy meeting you here. This isn’t your usual stomping ground.”

  I have to confess my heart fluttered a little bit. Zion was a handsome man, and when he smiled, the sun came out. Black hair, pale blue eyes, and dimples.

  “May I?”

  “Sure. Let me move my things off the seat.” He moved an opened briefcase onto the floor.

  “Thank you,” I said, sitting down.

  A clerk called my name.

  “I’ll get it,” Zion offered.

  “That’s very sweet of you.”

  As soon as Zion’s back was turned, I leaned over and rifled through his briefcase. I pulled up just in the nick of time.

  Zion put my chicken salad sandwich and hot tea on the table, along with several napkins. “What brings you to this part of town?”

  “I had a dental appointment.”

  “Really? I didn’t know there were any medical offices in this area.”

  “She’s new. Yep, she’s new,” I babbled, bobbing my head like a doll on a car dashboard. “But I’m glad I ran into you. Franklin’s out on bail.”

  “Really? How’s he doing?”

  “Not too well, Zion. Not too well.”

  “Really? That’s too bad. I think the police are batty, you know?”

  I wished he’d quit saying “really.” He sounded like a wind-up toy. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know if Madison was murdered or not, but if she was, the obvious place to look would be in John’s direction.” Zion’s eyes got a little weepy.

  “Really?” Oh, good Lord. Now I was saying it.

  “He was awful to Madison. Didn’t love her, just used her as a bank account,” Zion said heatedly.

  I must have had a surprised look on my face because Zion’s face turned red.

  “Sorry. I think this affair has all of us in the drama club upset.”

  He used the word “affair,” not I, so I decided to take a chance.

  I reached out and patted his hand. “I know how much Madison meant to you. This must be especially hard for you.”

  Zion pulled back. “What do you mean, Jo?”

  “You don’t need to deny it with me. We all knew about it. None of us judged you.”

  “Judged me?” Zion reared back in his chair. Oh dear, the dimples were gone. “Judged me for what?”

  “Well, you know. Madison and you.”

  Zion looked surprised, then angry, and finally resigned. He took a sip of his sweet tea—the official wine of the South.

  “Do you think John knew?” Now, my figuring of the situation was either Zion would deny an affair, storm off appalled, and never to speak to me again, or he would relent and, feeling guilty, confess. I waited quietly. Sometimes it pays to be quiet. As they say, the next one who speaks loses the game.

  “Did Madison tell you about us?”

  BINGO! What did I tell you?

  Ignoring his question, I asked one of my own. “Do the police know?”

  “Yes. I told them.”

  “Why?”

  “I was afraid Madison hadn’t kept quiet about us, and people knew—as you said. I didn’t want to get on the cops’ radar for lying. You know how she was.”

  I nodded, wondering where this was going.

  “Impulsive. Mercurial.”

  “Was Madison going to leave John?”

  “She had the money in the marriage, and was afraid she would have to give John a sizable chunk of it if they did divorce.”

  “No prenup, huh?”

  “Yes, there was, but John would have tied Madison up in court for months or even years trying to break it because she was the one cheating. She didn’t want to waste money on lawyers, so she stayed and endured. She thought sooner or later, John would grow tired of the situation. Madison always said as long as she had me, she was content to stay in the marriage until John drifted away.”

  “And that was okay with you?”

  “For the time being.” Zion shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’ve been in love before, and realize that it can fade. I was waiting to see if this relationship would last.”

  “An affair is a pretty tough way to test love, Zion.”

  “You’re telling me.” He grinned, and the dimples were back.

  “Some cast members have said Madison might have stolen valuables from Wickliffe Manor. Do you think Madison was stealing from Hunter?”

  “Naw. She was grateful to Hunter for letting us use his house.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich. “Then why do you think Franklin accused Madison of stealing?”

  “I’ve never understood it.”

  “Did Madison have a habit of taking little things if she was upset? Sometimes that’s how people deal with stress.”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Zion fiddled with his fork.

  Oops, my internal lie detector went off. The little pen was zigzagging off the paper. “Did you ever leave love notes in her coat pocket?”

  Zion started laughing. “What is this—the third degree? Did you just happen to run into me?”

  “I’m so sorry, Zion. I get carried away. You know how I love mysteries.”

  “It’s not a game, Josiah. Someone I cared for deeply has died,” Zion said, grimacing.

  I bowed my head. For a brief moment I was ashamed, but it passed. “You are so right. Let’s talk about something else. How ’bout them Cats?” I said, referring to the University Of Kentucky’s basketball program.

  Zion angrily t
ossed some bills on the table and stormed out of the deli.

  “He must really be upset with me,” I murmured to myself.

  The woman at the next table leaned over and asked, “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, smiling.

  “Would you be a dear and move your briefcase off the floor? I almost tripped over it.”

  I looked down at Zion’s briefcase next to my feet. “There is a god,” I muttered as I scooped up the briefcase. “Oh, I dropped it, and everything has spilled out. How clumsy of me. Give me a minute, ma’am, while I’ll put everything back, and get it out of your way.”

  “I would appreciate it,” she said, giving me a look that proclaimed I was a complete imbecile.

  I didn’t mind being thought of as stupid while picking up each letter and scrap of paper and scanning it before stuffing it in the briefcase. I had to hurry. It would only be a matter of minutes before Zion realized his mistake and stomped back to retrieve the briefcase.

  I hummed happily as I went through Zion’s papers. A busybody doesn’t encounter a windfall like this every day. Sometimes I amaze myself at my deviousness, but the trait can come in handy. It was certainly paying off at the moment.

  24

  Deliah Webster was one of those perpetually cheerful people who was very attractive. She was also very dull-witted. She irritated both friends and strangers alike by saying things like “Let’s turn that frown upside down” or “This is the most important second of your life. Live to the fullest.”

  Didn’t matter if people had terminal cancer or just lost a spouse to divorce, Deliah would try to cheer them up with one of her upbeat quotes, as if their lives weren’t in shambles enough without listening to her prattle. All they had to do was smile, according to Deliah, and the feeling of utter abandonment and bereavement would magically evaporate.

  Deliah worked at a store in Fayette Mall where she demonstrated expensive cookware.

  Asa was watching her through the store window the way a cougar watches a fat, juicy rabbit nibbling on clover. She could barely stop licking her chops before flouncing into the store.

  “May I help you?” Deliah asked. She was wearing a low-cut blouse to show off some of her best assets.