“You don’t really have to, you’re still the most beautiful girl I know,” Ed said.
Glancing back at the mirror, Faith said, “I love you, too.” Then adding, “But I’ll feel better if I throw some cold water on my face.”
She emerged moments later from the bathroom, looking and feeling much more refreshed.
“That’s better,” Faith said, seeing that Ed had busied himself in her kitchen. “What are you cooking?”
“Steak, that okay?”
“Sound good to me. Actually, anything I don’t have to cook will be just fine. I will, however, set the table.”
When Ed had completed his culinary efforts, the pair sat down at the small dining table by the window overlooking the Charles River.
“Tell me about the case,” Faith said.
“It was just the way you saw it. A young woman in a pool of blood.”
“Who was she?”
“An actress named Claire Spencer, you ever heard of her?”
“No, you?”
Ed shook his head.
“So, why did I get that vision? From what I understand, visions are only supposed to be related to people you know. I’ll talk to my parents, maybe they’ll have some idea. But that’ll have to wait till tomorrow. All I want to do right now is spend some time with you and go to bed.”
Ed grinned at her.
She flashed her green eyes back at him and said, “Let’s see if I get a second wind after we eat.”
“No pressure, but it has been a very long couple of months.”
“Yes, but man did I hone my craft. My parents and my grandfather didn’t let up on me for a second. Whatever I didn’t know before about being Buidseach, I know now.”
“You learned that much?”
“I did. I’m not saying that I can match them, but I am not the fledgling witch I once was, that’s for sure.”
“Buidseach,” Ed said with a chuckle, as using the word witch was considered bad form.
“I think within the confines of these walls, witch will do.”
“I was kidding, but truth be told, I don’t want to start any bad habits that will annoy our elders.”
“I suppose.”
“You got any new tricks?” Ed asked.
“And using the word tricks would annoy them, too, but indeed I do,” and with those words, Faith glanced out the window and turned the clear night thick with fog, and just as quickly blew the fog away.”
“Can I do that?”
“You’ve got power over the elements, so, yes.”
“What else?”
“Oh, tons, I’ll show you but not tonight. After we finish, let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Two
Saturday morning found Ed and his partner back at District Four.
“Any news on Nance?” Ed asked as he entered the office.
“Nothing,” Paul said.
“The techs get into Claire’s safe?”
“Not yet. But they just handed me the laptop. We’re into that, and her phone.”
“Good.”
Ed took the laptop and sat down at his desk. At first glance, Claire’s computer didn’t appear to be a treasure trove of information. There were very few documents, and a search of her browser history showed primarily auction houses and legal sites relating to estates.
“What estate?” Ed wondered aloud.
“Claire had an estate?” Paul asked.
“She’s been researching estate evaluation and law,” Ed said.
“The property must be in England, Paul said as he sat down next to him.”
“That might explain the condo.” At that moment, Ed received a text, and looking at his phone, said, “They’re into the safe.”
“Cool,” Paul said. “Let’s go have a look-see.”
******
They entered Claire’s apartment and found that the safe, was, in fact, a jewelry safe. The internal drawers were mahogany and were lined in velvet. As they opened each drawer, they saw an ever-increasing array of fine jewelry.
“This stuff isn’t new,” Paul said.
“Most of it’s nice though,” Ed said. Taking one of the necklaces over to the window, he looked at the marking on the back and said, “Platinum, not cheap.”
The safe was over five feet tall and had several drawers. As Ed opened the deepest drawer on the bottom, he found that it contained file folders.
“What’s in those?” Paul asked as he saw Ed pull them out.
“I don’t know.”
Then, laying them out on the desk, Ed found the deed to her condo, stocks, bonds, and her passport.
“Look at the dates,” Paul said. They all seem to be fairly recent.”
“She must have come into some money,” Ed said.
“Anything else?” Paul asked.
Ed shook his head.
“So, what did Devin Nance want?” Paul wondered.
“This stuff?” Ed asked pointing at the jewelry.
“How would he have known about it,” Paul said.
“We’ll have to find him and ask. But we can’t get too fixated on him. Let’s get something to eat and think this through.”
“When you’re done, pack it up,” Paul said to the technicians from Boston’s Crime Lab Unit.
******
As they sat in their favorite coffee shop, Paul said, “I want to know what she was doing before landing this acting job?”
“Nothing too much over here. She’s only been in Boston for about thirteen months, but she’s got an O1B visa, so she must have been acting in the UK.”
“We should go see Ron Gould. We can ask him about his affection for her and, beyond that, Claire must have had some sort of management. Agent, manager, PR person, somebody.”
Calling the contact number, he’d given them, Ron agreed to meet and told them that he was at The Haverland.
“Let’s talk to the lecherous director,” Ed said.
“The lecherous director. Sounds like a book title,” Paul said.
“Well, right now we have to solve a real murder mystery,” Ed said thinking once again, that it would be a lot easier if he could use his powers and just compel everyone to tell the truth.
******
They arrived at the theatre and found that other than the security officer, and a couple of forensic technicians, Ron was the only person on the premises. Walking into the auditorium, they saw Ron sitting in the front row.
The detectives took a seat on either side of him, and looking at one of the Crime Lab techs walking across the stage, Paul asked Ron, “They let you back in?”
“They evidently worked all night, and they’re almost done. Said that we can start rehearsals in a couple of hours. So, any leads?” Ron asked.
“We’re just starting to build a picture of Claire and her relationships. From what you’ve all told us, this was not a particularly happy cast,” Paul said.
“I’ve worked on happier productions.”
“What’s causing all the angst?” Paul asked.
“I told you; jealousy, ego, the usual.”
“Sex?” Paul asked.
Ron just shrugged.
“Well, speaking of sex,” Paul said. “Were you harassing Claire Spencer?”
Ron was silent.
“You’re not going to jail for being an asshole, but you will for murder,” Paul said.
“She was an adult, and I was interested.”
“Did you get aggressive.”
“No! These days, that’s death in the theatre. I’ll cop to wanting to have sex with her, but I can deal with rejection. I may have given it a few too many tries but turning out a good play is what really gets me off, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that. And, as I told you, I was at the symphony in our usual box, then at our friend’s house. I’ve got my ticket receipts, and I can give you my friend’s contact information.”
“We’ll need that,” Paul said,
“Got any new thoughts on who killed her?”
&
nbsp; “Just what I told you. She and Tiffany hated each other, but I don’t think it was the stuff of murder. I think you have to look outside of this place to find your killer.”
“Do you have information on who represents your actors?” Paul asked.
“It’s all in the manager’s office, but I know Claire’s lawyer. We’re both represented by Zoe Monroe,” Ron said and proceeded to give them the firm’s address, as well as the information on his own alibi.
“You think anybody will be around on a Saturday?” Ed asked Ron as they walked back to Paul’s car.
“My bet is yes. Most of their clients have day jobs, so the firm must do a lot of business in the off hours.”
“Why wouldn’t he have bothered Tiffany. I think she’s prettier, and she’s the one with the career,” Ed said.
“Maybe he was hoping she’d get him a job.”
“As this point in his career,” Ed said.
“The dream never dies.”
Placing a quick call, Ed was pleased to find that Wilson, Blackett, and Monroe was indeed open for business. The office was located in Brookline, and it took the detectives about half an hour to arrive at their intended location and find a parking space.
They entered a modest mid-century office building and looking at the directory found Zoe Monroe’s office was on the third floor. Entering what seemed to be an established firm, they saw that the furnishings were worn and somewhat dated, but still gave the firm an air of legitimacy.
Upon being summoned by the receptionist, Zoe came out to greet them.
“I assume you’re here about Claire Spencer,” Zoe said.
Ed nodded.
“It was certainly a shock,” Zoe said as she motioned for them to sit down with her in the reception area. “How can I help?”
“You were her manager?”
“No, Lawyer. I represented Claire in her dealings with the Haverland Theatre, but I just met her a few weeks ago. She’d evidently been representing herself. Never wise, but she hadn’t had many jobs here in this country, so not much of a problem. There really isn’t much that I can tell you.”
“Well, you know more about her than we do,” Ed said, and we need to interview you.
Zoe appeared mildly annoyed, as she said, “All right, come with me?”
She escorted them to a conference room, where she instructed them to wait while she finished up with a client.
“Didn’t seem all that broken up,” Ed said.
“No, but if she just took her on, she wouldn’t be,” Paul said.
“True. You think there’s a lot of need for entertainment lawyers in Boston?” Ed asked.
“Some, I suppose.”
They sat in relative silence for about fifteen minutes before Zoe returned.
“Sorry, my client just lost her husband, and I was helping her out with some things.”
Paul nodded and asked, “So, what can you tell us about Claire?”
“She got this job with the Haverland, and I negotiated her contract. Pretty cut and dry really. Short run, basic salary, nothing more.”
“Had she worked a lot in England.”
“According to her, yes.”
“So, what made her come here?”
“I asked that same question. There’s no question that making it in the US is every foreign actor’s dream, but why leave London for Boston. Why not New York or LA?”
“What did she say?” Paul asked.
“Never really gave me a straight answer.”
“How did she become your client?” Ed asked.
Zoe’s face tightened, and she took just an instant longer than normal before she said, “Ethan Blackett,” he’s a partner here. Well, mostly retired but he brings us some business once and a while.”
“You hesitated. Why?” Ed asked.
Zoe didn’t respond, she just shook her head.
“Is he in the office today?” Ed asked.
“Doubt it, he’s rarely here, but I’ll go see.”
Several minutes later, Ethan Blackett came into the room, and Ed said, “You never mentioned that you were a lawyer.”
“Were, is the operative word. I keep my office here and see an occasional client, but for the past five or ten years, I’ve been teaching drama and working on plays wherever I can. I’m only here today to sign some documents.”
“Ron Gould doesn’t exactly treat you …” Ed was about to say, ‘with respect,’ when Ethan interrupted and said, “Ron Gould is a prick.”
“Why do you put up with it? You’ve got this and teaching at Myles,” Ed said.
“In my youth, I was an actor. If I could have supported my family, I would have stuck with it, but I chose the safe route. Now I can do what I want. I put up with him because it suits my purpose. I get another job for my resume and a chance to network. Any news on the case?” Ethan asked.
“Nothing so far,” Ed said. Then, he asked, “What do you know about Devin Nance.”
“Is Devin a suspect?”
“No. We just had a question, and we couldn’t get a hold of him.”
Looking at his watch, Ethan said, “He’ll be at the theatre in an hour.”
“Oh, good,” Ed said.
The detectives went off to their next destination which was Devin’s motel.
They’d had a car watching the motel all night, so there had been no need for them to rush over there. Now, walking up to the patrol car, Ed asked if there had been any activity in Devin’s room.
“Nothing. Unless he was in there when I got here. He’s not there,” the officer said.
“Stay put for now,” Paul said. “We’ll call you if we catch up with him.”
******
When they returned to The Haverland, the only lighting in the otherwise darkened theatre was on the stage, and the detectives could see Devin Nance was on stage with Tiffany Palmero. Rather than interrupt, Paul gestured for Ed to take a seat in the back. They sat for a while and observed the rehearsal. At this point, everyone knew their lines, and Ron Gould was having very little to say. It also appeared that Bella was having little or no trouble filling in for Claire. After about fifteen minutes, Ron called for everyone to take a break, as he had to firm up Bella’s replacement.
The detectives followed Devin backstage, and as they caught up to him, Paul called his name. As Devin turned, Paul pointed toward the room they’d been using for interviews the day before. They were ready for him to bolt, but he just casually complied with Paul’s request.
“What were you looking for at Clair’s apartment?” Paul asked.
Devin just looked at him.
“Yesterday, what were you looking for?”
Still no response.
“Okay, let’s go downtown,” Paul said getting up and pulling handcuffs out of his jacket.
“What are you talking about?” Devin asked.
“You and your car were at Claire Spencer’s apartment late yesterday.”
“I was at the Blue Moon Bar on Blakeley Street. Got there about four and sat in a booth going over my lines. Then I had dinner and stayed until closing at two. The manager’s name was Mimi.”
“You met the manager?” Ed asked.
“I did.”
“Where was your car?” Ed asked.
“Parked in the garage here. I knew I’d be drinking, so I used Uber.”
“Where’d you spend last night?” Ed asked.
“At Mimi’s, he said with a sly grin. But do me a favor, don’t spread that around. I like to keep my private life, just that.”
At that point, Bella came to the door. Devin was being called to the stage.
They let him go, and Ed asked Paul, “You want to pull him in?”
“Not yet. We need more,” Paul said.
“But you know. The guy in the hoodie didn’t seem as muscular, to me.”
“We only saw the back of him, and the hoodie was oversized, so hard to say,” Paul said.
As Bella walked by their door again, Paul called her in
.
“I saw you on stage, just now, you were really good. Are you happy to have the lead?” Paul asked.
“It’s fun, but – you know – poor Claire.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult,” Paul said.
She was about to speak when Tiffany came to the door and told her to get her “ass” out there.
“I better go,” Bella whispered, “Just cause I have Claire’s role doesn’t mean that I want her battles.”
After Bella left, Paul asked, “You want to have one more crack at Tiffany?”
Ed dabbed the corner of each eye and said, “Why not.”
They walked out and saw Tiffany sitting in the audience next to a woman they hadn’t seen before. Paul waved Tiffany over.
She walked over to him and whispered, “I have to rehearse.”
“We won’t be long,” Paul said firmly.
She nodded and looked back at her companion who got up to join them. Paul was fascinated, and curious about who the woman could be, but he didn’t have to wonder long. Once they reached Ed, the woman introduced herself as Tiffany’s attorney, Muriel Berenson.
Both men were perplexed, to say the least, and for a moment uncharacteristically dumbstruck.
“When I saw you arrive, I figured you might have more questions for us, so I called Muriel. She’s been my attorney for quite a while.”
The detectives still sat in silence.
“I can have an attorney, can’t I?”
“Of course,” Paul said.
Speaking for her client, Muriel said, “Ms. Palmero cannot afford any missteps or bad publicity as she takes on the biggest role of her career.”
“I called Muriel last night, and she said that, in the future, she should be present at any interviews with law enforcement,” Tiffany said.
“I live just a few blocks away, so it was no trouble for me to take a run over. It was either that or delay your interview, and that was not our intention.”
“Good. Well, let me see if we can find you something to sit on,” Paul said, and, looking around the backstage area, found a folded chair leaning against the wall.
“Let’s see if this is usable,” Paul said as he opened and tested it.
The Power of Faith: Science Fiction Faith Ferguson Series Book 3 Page 3
