Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play (2 page)

“Of course.
”

I smiled wider than I had in a long time.
The past couple of months had been relatively uneventful. I told myself that was a good thing, that I needed things to slow down. But I was itching to dive into an investigation again. “I’ll do it then.”

She grinned widely.
“Great! You have no idea how much I was hoping you’d say that.” She took my arm and pulled me toward the steps. “Come on, let me show you the stage and give you an overview of the play.”

As
I followed her, a strange lump formed in my throat. I reached the center of the stage and, at once, I felt like a thirteen year old again. I clearly remembered making my debut. I remembered seeing my mom and dad in the audience. I heard the applause, felt the rush of excitement that came after a performance.

Beyond the stage experience, I was taken back in time to middle school. I
remembered trying to straighten my curly red hair so I’d fit in with everyone else. I remembered the taunts from the resident school diva. I remembered my first crush. My first boyfriend. My first mystery.

All those things, in some way, shaped me into the person I was today.

Paulette cleared her throat. “So, the musical we’re doing is an original written by a woman named Arie Berry.”

“Should I know who she is?” I asked, feeling a touch uncultured for a moment.
The woman’s name didn’t ring any bells, however. With a rhyming, sing-songy name like that, certainly I’d remember it.

Paulette shook her head. “
Arie actually found me online and pitched the idea to me. I read the script and heard the music, and I was on board. It’s a fascinating storyline. I just knew that this was the play we had to do to launch our theater and introduce it to the world.”

I couldn’t wait to see the production. I adored the theater
, and it had been a long time since I’d immersed myself in that world. I routinely listened to show tunes and my friend Garrett had taken me to see
Wicked
when it came into town at Christmastime.

Paulette
walked behind the curtain—not the old dusty one we use to have. No, this one was black and shiny and didn’t make me sneeze when I got too close.

Apparently, the
broken one had been repaired.

“Doesn’t all of this bring back memories?”
Paulette tugged at the curtain.

I
tensed for a moment, waiting for the drape to fall again. Thankfully, it didn’t. “Does it ever.”

“The woman I found for the lead part is really
phenomenal.” She turned to me, and I saw the worry in her eyes. “Gabby, a lot is depending on this. It’s my chance to prove to my father that I’m able to do more than ride his coat tails. I want to show everyone that I can stand on my own two feet, that I can be a success at something.”

Something
about her words clutched my heart. I’d always wanted to see Paulette succeed. It was obvious this was really important to her, as well. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Y
ou were always such a good friend, Gabby.”

We turned the corner toward the dressing room
s and stopped in our tracks.

I
looked down and gasped. I spotted some shoes. Attached to legs. Did they lead to … a body? A curtain blocked my view.

I shoved the
drape aside and felt the blood drain from my face.

I knew a dead body when I spotted one. And, unless this was some elaborate prop, there was one behind the stage.

CHAPTER
2

T
he lifeless face of a young brunette stared zombie-like at the ceiling. Dried blood formed a crusty river from her nose. Her chest was morbidly still, absent the rise and fall of breath.

“
Scarlet,” Paulette whispered, her hand flying over her mouth. A half gasp/half cry escaped from her.

“Who’s
Scarlet?”

“She’s
Scarlet.” She pointed at the dead body.

I gathered that.
I kept those words silent.

“But
who
is she?” I asked instead. “Stage manager? Actress? Custodian?”

“
The lead.” Paulette shook her head, her skin even paler than usual. “The one reason I knew this play was going to be a success. Oh my goodness. What happened to her?”

Despair invaded my friend’s voice and she l
ooked like she might pass out. Her gaze fixated on the corpse in front of us, and her hand traveled to her stomach.

I squeezed her arm, trying to take her focus off
Scarlet. “Paulette, I need you to go call the police. I’m going to stay here with Scarlet until the officers get here. Okay?”

She nodded stiffly
, pulled her gaze from the body, and hurried off the stage.

As soon as she disappeared, I
squatted down beside Scarlet. I didn’t have to feel her neck for a pulse to know she was dead.

It was obvious from her absolute stillness.

I looked down at her and shook my head.

Scarlet
had been beautiful, probably in her mid-twenties with a slim build and flawless skin. She wore colorful striped socks and black shoes with curled toes. Part of her costume? I didn’t know. Based on the expensive looking highlights in her hair, her French tipped fingernails, and the sparkling ring on her finger, I imagined her as the type to always go out wearing her best.

The only blood I saw
trickled from the corner of her nose. I didn’t see any gunshot wounds. There were no visible bruises. Her clothes didn’t look especially tousled.

What had happened to
her?

I glanced around
, trying to use my time quickly and wisely. As soon as the police arrived, I’d be whisked away from the crime scene. This was my only chance to gather any clues.

Behind me, there were two chairs,
still upright and facing the stage. There was a table with some empty water bottles and a couple of copies of what was probably the script.

Nothing appeared out of place.

I glanced up. The catwalk was directly above me.

And part of the railing dangled.

Scarlet had fallen from up there, I realized. But why in the world would she have been on the catwalk? In heels, at that.

I stil
l had a million questions, but just then I heard voices in the auditorium. I stepped from behind the stage and saw Paulette leading two uniformed cops toward me. Her skin still looked pale and her hands trembled as she pointed toward me.

“We found
Scarlet back there,” she whispered.

T
he cops took one look at Scarlet and called the homicide squad. While the two officers secured the scene, I pulled Paulette away to ask her some questions.

“When was the last time you saw
Scarlet?” I asked.

“Last night at rehearsal.”

“Was that what she was wearing?”

She blinked several times.
“What was she wearing last night? I—I don’t … I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Sweatpants? A sweatshirt?
” I prompted her. “Striped, multicolored socks with strange-looking black heels?”

Her eyes
manically darted back and forth. “No. No. Scarlet wasn’t that type. She was wearing a gray Ralph Lauren sweater and some 7 jeans.”

Paulette had always known fashion.

“Good. That’s what I needed to know. That means she changed clothes sometime between practice and the time she died. Paulette, were you the last one to leave after rehearsal?”

“I was. I always am. I didn’t want to chance anything happening … and now look what’s happened.” She muffled her cry with hands over her face.

I placed a hand on her arm. “Paulette, I want to help. Stick with me here for a minute, though, okay?”

She
pulled her hands down. Her action may have been affirmative, but her gaze was still riddled with uncertainty. “Whatever I can do.”

“Okay, think carefully. W
hat time did you leave?” I kept my voice even and calm, trying not to upset her even more.

“Around eleven.”
She dipped her head down in a slow nod as if to confirm her words.

“Anyone leave with you?”

“I walked out with Anthony. He’s the stage manager.”

“Does
anyone else have a key to the place?” I asked.

“Yes, Anthony has a key. So
does the manager of the entire Cultural Arts Center. Her name is Ms. Maggie. Oh … and Mrs. Baker has a key, also.” She looked at me with worry in her gaze. “Was I too trusting? Did I give too many people keys? What’s my father going to think?”

I laid a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Paulette. You did just fine. I’m just trying to ascertain how
Scarlet may have gotten in here after hours.”

“I have no idea,” she whispered.
“I know I locked up behind myself. If there’s one thing I’m careful about it’s safety. I had a break in at my house a few months ago, and I’ve been paranoid ever since.”

I had more questions, but before I could say anything, I heard a voice
in the distance.

“If it isn’t Gabby St. Claire.”

I turned and spotted Detective Charlie Henderson walking down the center aisle toward the stage. She wore a grey pants suit that emphasized her long legs, and I could see the edge of her gun peeking out from beneath her jacket. Her honey blonde hair was swept up in a neat bun

My, my, my. Wasn’t this
a grand reunion? And not just of the middle school variety.

Charlie was my ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend. The one he’d essentially started dating while I was dating him. Despite what might seem like bad blood, I’d always liked Charlie, and I thought
she and Parker were good for each other. Not many people could put up with someone as arrogant as my ex.

“I see you’re back to work,” I said.

Charlie had had a baby not terribly long ago. Maybe five months? I couldn’t remember for sure. As the distance between us lessened, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

She frowned ever-so-slightly.
“My mom moved to the area, just to help me take care of George. She’s been a big help. I don’t think I could have gone back to work if she hadn’t moved here.”

“I know your schedule and Parker’s are both full.”

She scowled. “I guess you haven’t talked to Parker in a while.”

I didn’t even want to ask. But I did. “What’s going on?”

“We split. He split, I should say. He warned me he wasn’t the settling down type. I thought I’d reformed him.” She shrugged stiffly. “You know the story.”

Yeah, I knew the story. And I knew Parker. I’d really
hoped that he’d grown up. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I thought he was different, too.”

She let out a sigh
and evened her features into a professional expression. “Anyway, I hear there’s a dead body?”

I nodded. “Let me show you where.”

**
*

Three hours later, the crime scene was finally cleared, Scarlet’s body was carried away to the Medical Examiner’s Office, and Paulette and I stood alone in the auditorium.

The standing part didn’t last long.

As soon as the door closed and the authorities left, she sank into one of the wooden chairs carved with “Mitch Hearts Laura” and uncountable pieces of ABC gum stuck around the arms.

“I can’t believe Scarlet is dead. She was so young. She had so much potential.” Paulette ran a tissue under her eyes, wiping away the moisture there.

I sat down beside her and squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, Paulette. I know this must be hard for you, not only because you lost a friend, but because you put so much work into the play.”

She
sucked in a quick breath and her wide eyes fixated on me. “What do you mean?”

I
chomped down, trying to figure out how I’d just put my foot in my mouth without even realizing it. Certainly she realized the implications of a dead lead actress … right?

I softened my voice.
“I mean, your lead is dead. Unless you have an understudy, I’m guessing you’ll pull the plug on
The Spector
.”

She moaned. “I didn’t even think about that! We’ve put thousands of dollars into this auditorium. I can’t just cancel everything.”

“At least it looks like her death was an accident,” I tried to offer some comforting words. But even as the consolation left my lips, I doubted its truth. There was more to this story, and I wanted to know what.

Charlie and a couple of crime scene techs had gone
up to the catwalk and essentially proven my original theory: that was the place from where Scarlet had fallen. According to them, there were no signs of foul play. They were still going to do some tests and run the evidence. I imagined they’d talk to Scarlet’s friends and family. They’d try to figure out why she came back to the school, if she was meeting anyone, and all the normal stuff.

In the meantime, n
o one was allowed to go on the catwalk or stage until it was determined if any safety protocols had been broken.

“Accidents like that will make it so no one wants to go near this place. It was bad enough with all the small incidents of vandalism. But someone dying?” She moaned. “What am I going to do? All those people who said I’d never be anything more than a spoiled rich girl with rocks for brains? They’re going to be right.”

Oh no. I couldn’t let my friend go here.

“Paulette, you and I both know that isn’t true.
”

She looked at me and sniffled. “Did you hear about that new
dinner cruise ship that was all set to depart from Norfolk, Destiny’s Edge?”

I nodded slowly. “I vaguely remember something.”

“It was a multi-million dollar project. State of the art, luxurious, small but spacious. It was going to revolutionize the dinner cruise industry.”

“Sounds nice.”

She frowned. “Then everything went wrong. There wasn’t enough staff, everyone got food poisoning, the entertainment backed out at the last minute. Destiny’s Edge made its maiden voyage and that was it. The whole company was sunk. Sure, it held on for three more months, but it was a disaster of Titanic proportions—only no one died.”

“That sounds awful.” But why was she telling me this?

Her gaze met mine. “I was in charge of that project. It was the first big thing that Daddy trusted me with.”

Ouch! “That stinks.”

“It took me four years to convince him to let me take on this project. And now look! It’s like a replay of Destiny’s Edge.” She let out a sob.

I patted her shoulder again, trying to think of something compassionate, sensitive, and true to say. “
We’re going to figure this out. One way or another.”

She looked up at me and sniffled.
“Oh, Gabby. You were always a lifesaver. Some things never change.”

“I’ll help you figure out what happened.”

“I know the perfect way you can do it!” Her eyes suddenly brightened. “You can take Scarlet’s part in the play! You can be Elsa McGoverness!”

A
mix of horror and elation rushed through me with enough force to make me dizzy.

“Me?” I squeaked.

She nodded, her eyes suddenly bright again. “You’ve always been a great actress. You’d be perfect!”

I swallowed hard
, uncertainty making my stomach flutter. “I don’t know …”

“There’s nothing to know. You’re in!”

I sucked on my bottom lip a moment, unsure how to break the news to her that I wasn’t exactly lead performer material. Looking at Paulette’s hopeful eyes now, I wasn’t sure she could even handle the news.

Instead, I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”