Act V (29 page)

She was tired from lack of sleep and
frustrated because she was helpless to do anything. Maybe a night
off with Brice would help. “Fine, but only for tonight. Will you
come by later?”

He took a relieved breath. “I’ll see
you at seven at my place. And Glynnis…” he took a deep breath,
“call your assistant right now.”

“
See you then.” She hung up
wondering what he’d been about to say.

Brice put the phone down.
He had almost said
I love
you
. But he hadn’t. It wasn’t the kind of
thing you told somebody for the first time over the phone. It
deserved face to face time. Besides, they had been brought together
by unusual events during a time of intense stress. He might love
her now, and she might love him, but what about when the pressure
was off? He would wait…for a while.

Chapter 25

This was infuriating. She should be
here. Why wasn’t she here? She always came, never missed. She had
delegated to her assistant who now stood greeting the audience. He
had wanted to take in her reaction tonight, see if she’d heard
about his work. Perhaps she’d even predicted it. He’d wanted to see
her face. He had to know when and how to get rid of her. She was a
danger to him but perhaps not an urgent danger. If her death could
be stalled for a while, perhaps he could take some time to enjoy
her. She was no longer staying at her home but she couldn’t stay
away from the stage for long. That would be against her nature. He
would try again tomorrow.

*****

Brice sat across from Glynnis at his
kitchen table. They were having chicken noodle soup and a sandwich.
It was what Brice had in the cupboard and she hadn’t wanted to go
out or order in. Glynnis was barely touching hers, not normal for
Glynn. “Glynnis, honey, try to eat.”

She shoved a spoonful of chicken noodle
into her mouth and swallowed. “I’m eating.”

He didn’t want to harp about how little
she was actually eating, so he changed the subject. “What kind of
sword would have been used in Macbeth for the
beheading?”

“
Well, that’s sure to get my
appetite going again!”

“
Sorry, but you’re the
expert and I need to know.”

She sat her spoon down. “Historically,
the real Duncan and Macbeth lived in the eleventh century, when
weapons were much more primitive. But Shakespeare wasn’t one to let
historical accuracy stand in the way of a good play. He would have
set the play in his own time, the sixteenth century, and Macduff
would have used a two handed broadsword with a very sharp blade to
decapitate Macbeth.” She took another bite of her peanut butter and
jelly sandwich so that Brice would let her alone about not eating
enough. “That’s what traditionalists use when putting on the play.
The real thing would be very heavy and hard to lift, therefore both
hands had to be used. Of course, who’s to say it was a
traditionalist? Maybe your killer stuck the eleventh century and
used a berserker sword or went Kabuki style and used a Samurai
sword. How would I know?”

“
But
you
do
know, don’t you?”

“
Not really,” she pushed the
food away. “I never saw the sword in my dream. But I did get the
impression of a broadsword for some reason. Maybe that’s just
because I tend to be traditional in my portrayals. I also got the
impression of a wolf.”

“
You think there was a
wolf?”

“
I mean there was a wolf
associated with the sword. Maybe etched into the blade or
something. Does that help?”

“
I’ll give it to Hawkins. He
traced down the long sword to a collector. Maybe our collector owns
a broadsword too.”

“
You know who the collector
is?”

“
No, but we’re working on
it. Come on babe, let’s watch a mindless comedy.”

“
They’re all reruns
now.”

He pulled her up from the chair and
nuzzled her neck, taking tiny bites as he made his way down her
arm. “Maybe I can come up with something else to do.”

*****

Brice awoke in an excellent mood on
Saturday morning only to have it trashed when he read the paper.
The headline screamed at him.

Bard killer says that he was
inspired by local production of Macbeth.

“
Blast it!” he yelled,
pounding the table and almost overturning his coffee.

Glynnis stared open-mouthed at the man
who’d only an hour ago refused to let her climb out of bed until
he’d spent fifteen minutes spooning her from behind.
“What?”

He didn’t want her to see it but she
would find out anyway. “Promise me you won’t take this seriously.
The guy’s elevator doesn’t go to the top.” He handed her the
article.

“
Oh Dear Lord,” she groaned.
Then she kept reading as Brice moved to see over her
shoulder.

According to the letter sent
to our headquarters, The Bard is claiming responsibility for the
Graham Itzen murder and states that he was inspired to behead Itzen
because “his history is much like that of Macbeth and thus he
should die like Macbeth.”

“
That’s just great.” Glynnis
threw the paper down and looked over her shoulder to Brice. “Maybe
I should cancel after all.”

Brice took her shoulders in his hands,
massaging out as much of the tension as he could. “Don’t let him
win.”

He was right, she knew. “Okay, but I’m
going back tonight.”

“
None of my guys saw
anything unusual last night, but just in case, I’ll go with
you.”

*****

Brice and Addison agreed to put in a
few hours doing interviews even though it was their day off. Their
sense of urgency was growing. Brice called the newspaper office
before he left the house and arranged for the reporter who wrote
the story to come in on Monday. He figured he’d give himself that
much time to cool off so that he wouldn’t be tempted to kill the
guy.

They brought in Dorsey Timmons first on
Saturday.

Brice pulled the chair out for him.
“Mr. Timmons, welcome back.”

Dorsey looked anything but welcomed. He
didn’t say a word, just glared at Brice.

“
Mr. Timmons, are you aware
of the fact that your father’s business was in direct competition
with Itza Pizza?”

“
Of course I’m aware of it.
Do I need a lawyer?”

“
That would be up to you of
course, but we’re not charging you with anything…yet. How’s the
jaw?”

Timmons rubbed the offended jaw and
said, “Fine, you don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you
do.”

Brice allowed himself a smile. “Mr.
Timmons, how did you feel when your father went bankrupt and
suffered a fatal stroke as a result?” Brice knew it was below the
belt but it was time to get serious.

“
You can’t be serious! How
do you think I felt? I was mad, ready to kill the guy, but if
you’re trying to blame this on me, try again. It’s true that I
can’t stand Graham Itzen because of what he did, but the truth is,
my father could have avoided the stroke if he’d taken his doctor’s
advice. I tried to get him to eat right and exercise. He refused.
Graham Itzen put my father out of business, but he didn’t kill him.
Daddy did that to himself.”

“
Where were you between ten
and twelve Thursday, Dorsey?”

“
I was watching the Braves
on TV in my own house.”

“
Anybody there with
you?”

“
No.” Timmons’ face was
scarlet.

“
How would you feel if I
searched your place of residence?”

“
You got a
warrant?”

“
Won’t take me long to get
it.”

“
Fine, just go ahead and
search. You can follow me back home and I’ll go in with you. I’ll
give you the guided tour.”

*****

The search of Timmons’ house proved to
be a waste of time. If he had any medieval swords lying around, he
had them somewhere else. Of course, that didn’t mean there couldn’t
be a storage place somewhere else. Brice and Addy went from there
to the home of Mrs. Rosalind Michaels Itzen. She didn’t answer the
bell, so they drove to the bridal boutique she owned.

The Widow Itzen was tiny and petite.
Brice doubted she weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.
She was cordial enough and happy to help. “I’m just straightening
up, she said. I close the shop at noon on Saturdays, but I just
didn’t want to go home.”

Brice understood. “I’m so sorry about
this Ms. Itzen. I know it’s a bad time, but we want to do
everything possible to stop whoever did this. It would help if you
could answer a couple of questions.”

“
Certainly.”

“
Were you aware that your
husband left Itza Pizza to you in his will?”

She inhaled deeply and let it out
slowly making a long whoosh noise. “Our lawyer informed me
yesterday. I can’t imagine what Graham was thinking when he did
that. He knew that I didn’t want to handle the
business.”

“
We both had the impression
that he was planning to put your son, Dylan, into his place
eventually. Am I correct in saying that the business will belong to
you but your son will stay in his current position for another five
years, then he can be named CEO?.”

“
Yes, but Dylan won’t like
it. He wanted to be the owner and make changes his way one day.
I’ll probably never understand it.”

Brice was very careful in phrasing his
last question. He didn’t want to put her on the defensive. “They
seemed to get along well, at least for the few minutes we saw them
together. Your husband had a lot of good things to say about
Dylan.”

She was thoughtful. “They did get
along, but Graham was hard on Dylan. He was very old school about
discipline and hard work.” An expression of shock crossed her face.
“You don’t think that Dylan had something to do with
this?”

Addy jumped in. “Oh, no ma’am. We’re
just covering the bases. This is just what we have to do. I only
have one more thing to ask you. I’m sorry, but I have to. Where
were you between ten and midnight Thursday night?”

“
That’s alright detective, I
knew you’d ask eventually. I was here, in the shop with two of my
employees. We were doing a display that I wanted ready for opening
on Friday.”

*****

“
Well, that puts her out of
the suspect pool,” Addy said on the way back to the station.
“unless she hired somebody to do it, but I don’t think
so.”

“
Me either. She has an alibi
and she just doesn’t come off as a killer. I think she actually
loved her husband.”

“
What about the son? Could
he be the killer?”

“
Well,” Brice scratched at a
rough spot on his arm. “He has an alibi, not a good one, but an
alibi. But he doesn’t have any connections to the other murders.
And he doesn’t stand to gain with Itzen’s death.”

“
But did
he
think
he was going to inherit?”

“
Could be,” Brice agreed.
“Itzen only changed the will a few months back.”

“
Something to think
about.”

*****

Brice wouldn’t let Glynnis out of his
sight Saturday night. If she went to check on a set piece, he was
with her. When she went to the port-a-john, he stood outside the
door.

“
This is getting
ridiculous,” she finally told him. “You know I’m slightly
claustrophobic and you’re making me feel like I’m
smothering.”

He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Get used to it babe. Until this is over, you’re peanut butter and
I’m jelly.”

“
What if I want to be
jelly?”

“
Okay, I’ll be peanut
butter.” He kissed her again.

“
It’s time for me to go up
on stage. Are you going to go with me and hold my hand or will you
be content to stand right here for a minute?”

“
I’ll be waiting right
here.”

*****

He watched from the hill hidden among
thirty or so other smokers, as she welcomed the audience. She was
lovely. She didn’t seem especially nervous. Perhaps she hadn’t seen
the article. He’d call it to her attention when he had her alone.
It was a real shame that he’d have to kill her in the end. He had
thought of keeping her just for himself, but where? Maybe he could
make her fall in love with him, then she wouldn’t want to turn him
in when she finally realized that he was the killer. Maybe she
would come to admire his work.

It was all foolishness, he knew. Still,
he could fantasize. When it was over, she’d be dead and he would go
on living in his new life. He would go after her one day next week
when she’d become complacent, when the Bard was no longer in the
headlines and she thought he’d forgotten. He’d get her away from
her hiding place. He knew where she was hiding now. Gearhart
couldn’t protect her every minute and when the detective was away,
he’d strike. It was all planned out. He even knew who to blame it
on.