Final Curtain: An Edna Ferber Mystery (Edna Ferber Mysteries) (8 page)

I finished for him. “Got murdered?”

“You said it, sister.”

When the constable left us, George said nothing but his whole manner suggested disapproval. The long narrow face was stiff, the eyes behind those huge eyeglasses were unblinking, and his lips were drawn into a razor-thin line.

“What is it, George?”

“Edna, don’t do this.” He waved his hand toward the street.

“George!”

“You want answers and you don’t trust the town sheriff.”

“He wants to railroad Dak.”

“Edna, there’s a murderer is in town. He’s killed someone we knew, if faintly. There is no basis for your trumpeting of this…this poorly named Dak other than he’s one of your underdogs—romantic, doubtless handsome, and woefully flawed. Your nosiness has been annoying in the past, I must admit, but now it could be dangerous.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort.”

He spoke in a small, fierce voice. “I heard it in the way you grilled that bumbling constable. Edna as Spanish Inquisition. Torquemado in pearls. The Chinese water torture, Ferber-style.”

“George, a little over the top.”

He sat back and sighed, “All right, I give up, Edna.” A hint of a smile. “Please don’t ask me to speak at your funeral.”

I smiled and sat back. “The white flag of surrender always pleases me.”

“Just a warning, my dear. There is someone out there with a gun. Now, personally, I know at least a dozen people who’d like to shoot you, but your absence would be…conspicuous. An oxymoron.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“I’m going to be watching from the wings, Edna. This bleak tragedy is Elizabethan. In three acts.”

***

When I answered the knock on my door later that afternoon, I was surprised to see Nadine Novack standing there. For a moment she stared at me, as though she’d knocked on the wrong door, but then, breathing in so deeply she made a raspy sound, she tried to say my name, stammered, had to begin again. She shook her head back and forth, angry with herself. “Miss Ferber, I’m sorry. You must think I’m a fool. I rehearsed what I want to tell you and now my mind’s a blank.” Clumsily, she backed off and looked up and down the empty hallway as if she’d lost her sense of direction. I reached out and touched the sleeve of her dress. She was wearing a breezy pale-yellow summer smock, baggy, unattractive, a size too large for her, but I could feel her twig-like forearm under the cloth. My gesture rattled her but she stopped moving. Some of the bright crimson lipstick she wore had smeared a front tooth. It made her look vulnerable.

“Nadine,” I began, “tell me.” When she said nothing, simply batting her eyes wildly as though I’d shone a bright light into them, I insisted she come in, but she shook her head vigorously: no, no, no. “All right, then, let’s go downstairs. A cup of coffee. The two of us.” She nodded.

Not speaking, with too much space between us, we walked to the Full Moon Café and found a table at the back, away from the few customers who sat clustered by the front window. Nadine wanted hot coffee, though the room was close and sticky. She drank it black, in tiny squirrel-like sips, staring into the cup as though it held prophetic tea leaves.

“Tell me,” I said again, this time gripping her hand. The coffee cup rattled when she put it down.

“Dak Roberts.” Two words, both explosive with feeling.

A heartbeat. “What about him?”

She found her voice, even and cool. “They’re gonna arrest him for murdering Evan Street. He
told
me.” Her face trembled.

“That seems a little hasty, no?”

Pleading in her voice, a quiver. “Miss Ferber, he has no alibi. None. Worse, he was
there
.”

That stopped me. “Where?”

“In the park. He keeps changing his story—like he doesn’t know what to say. He confessed to Constable Biggers and the state police that he was driving around and spotted Evan’s car cruise by. Stupidly he
followed
him to DeHart Park and saw Evan pull up and get out.” A helpless shrug. “Why would he
tell
them that?”

I felt my heart racing. “Perhaps because it’s true. The truth counts now, Nadine.” I waited a second. “Was there anyone else there?”

She shook her head. “Dak says Evan headed off in a hurry, running even, disappearing behind a bank of bushes.”

“Did Dak stop?”

“No, he kept going. He thought maybe Evan was meeting some girl…or something.”

“I know—he told this to Constable Biggers.”

Nadine smiled thinly. “You got to know Dak, Miss Ferber. He can’t lie to anybody. I mean”—she blushed—“he sometimes avoids saying something he shouldn’t, but he won’t lie outright. He was driving around, sketching.”

“So Biggers now suspects him.”

“He confessed to
following
him—seeing him
there
. It’s not good. No one goes to that park. I’ve heard it’s deserted most of the time. Dak was foolish. And the constable knows him from years back—his wild days in town. Biggers never liked him. I mean, Dak as a boy then—he did…dumb stuff…but this is murder. He said Biggers told him not to leave town.” She locked eyes with me. “It was like a line from the movies.”

“But this is not imminent arrest, Nadine.”

“Dak is convinced. You know that he fought with Evan. More than once. They even came to blows. Dak isn’t a fighter but Evan always made him furious. He
hit
Evan. He told people how unhappy he was that Evan came here to perform.”

I waited a second. “Tell me. Did Evan come here
because
of Dak?”

That perplexed her. “I can’t imagine why.”

“What do you want from me, Nadine?” I sipped my iced lemon soda slowly, trying to make sense of this.

She waited, looked over my shoulder. “Dak trusts you. He says he talked to you, and he thought, well, you trusted
him
.”

I interrupted. “I do like him, but there is a murder to be dealt with.”

At my use of the word
murder
, her hand rose to her mouth and she closed her eyes. “My God, Dak had nothing to do with that. Of course.”

“How do you know?”

“I
know
Dak.”

“Tell me, Nadine, how
do
you know Dak? I’ve sensed something I can’t put my finger on. He seems to be interested in you.”

She swallowed and whispered. “We know each other from years ago. Briefly. In Hollywood, as a matter of fact. I was a bit player.” She shrugged her shoulders and dipped her finger into the coffee, stirred it mechanically. “It’s not important. That’s over with. When I got the job at the theater, I remembered that he lived here…grew up here. I didn’t know if he still lived here. Really, I didn’t.”

As she spoke, her tone became hollow, faraway, and I suspected she wasn’t being truthful. Some part of the story was missing. Dak had watched her from the shadows, and now she sought me out on his behalf. A puzzle, this one, and it came with missing pieces.

I repeated, “What do you want from me?”

“He wants to talk to you tonight. The two of you. He asked me to ask you. He doesn’t want to come to the inn—get away from…from…”

I grimaced. “Will Annika be at his side?”

She shivered. “God, no. But Annika is worried about him. I know that. His parents, too. His mother’s like a brooding mother hen, and Annika copies her. Annika is leery around me. I don’t see him at the theater. He works afternoons, mostly. He
avoids
me there—purposely. I mean, he knows me from…from Hollywood. I thought we’d…you know…reconnect. But when I learned about Annika, I…backed off. One time she caught us talking and flew into a rage. She went crazy, yelling at me. We were in the middle of the Avenue. She was horrible, calling me a tool of Satan. ‘Leave Dak alone—he’s being used’ and ‘theater people are evil.’ She went on and on. ‘Life on the stage corrupts.’ So we try to avoid each other. But today Dak slipped away and caught me as I left the dressing rooms. He mouthed the two words: Miss Ferber. I said—what? He told me to come here. See you. He hoped to see you alone, but you…you were always with Mr. Kaufman.” She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled. “End of a long monologue. So here I am.”

“I will meet with Dak.”

“He’s working with Frank on sets tonight. You’ll find him backstage.”

“Nadine, tell me the truth. You came to Maplewood knowing Dak was living here.”

“Of course not.” But she spoke too quickly, regretting the obvious lie, and retreated. “I mean, I thought we might bump into each other and…” She turned her head away, flushed.

“Did he know you were coming? Tell me the truth.”

She shook her head vigorously, and then smiled. “Not really. He was surprised. I’m using my old stage name. Nadine Novack. In Hollywood—my brief moment in one bad movie—I used my real name. Nadine Chappelle. That’s how he knew me. So short a time I knew him”—a wistful moment, teary-eyed—“that sometimes I think I dreamed it all.”

She started to stand but I reached out to touch her wrist. “One last thing, Nadine.”

She bit her lip, uncertain. “What?”

“Did you know Evan Street before you came here?”

A long silence, painful, but then her face sagged, her eyes dark, heavy. “Yes.”

“And?”

A sob in her voice. “I couldn’t believe it when he showed up here. I hoped I’d never see him again. An understudy. I remember thinking—Can God be that cruel to me again?”

“Again?”

“Miss Ferber, I hated Evan Street. I hated the sight of him.” She gave out a laugh, a little hysterical. “I am so happy he’s dead.”

Then she started to cry.

***

Frank Resnick wasn’t happy when I asked to spend a half-hour talking to Dak, though he nodded. “He’s a little frenzied,” he told me. “I’ve come to like the boy, Miss Ferber. He’s running scared, I think. I
made
him come to work tonight. Last night, when I heard Evan was murdered, I remembered how Evan treated him. Dak’s stories about him. I guess I overreacted. I…” He was ready to blather on, defensively, but I held up my hand.

“A half-hour at most,” I repeated.

Frank’s head shifted nervously. “I didn’t sleep last night.” Then a smile I couldn’t interpret. “Dak,” he called out.

Dak was waiting backstage. “Thank you,” he whispered. He led me down into the theater seats, walking slowly ahead of me up the aisle.

“Frank is very protective of you,” I said to his back.

He paused a second and smiled. “He’s like a father to me, you know. I like him a lot. My real father died before I was born. And my stepfather, Tobias Tyler, is a decent man but he’s not good with children.”

A strange remark, I thought.

“You’re not a child.”

“Well, he’s not good with
me
. That’s what I should have said.”

“Why?”

We stopped walking, the two of us standing in the empty aisle. Dak’s face was lost in shadows. “Tobias has only two things he loves unconditionally: the evangelical church he founded with—actually
for
—my mother and…well, my mother herself. His devotion to her borders on rapturous. That kind of love takes up all the air in the room, so he resents what little I inhale.”

“What does he think of Annika?”

No smile now—weariness in his voice. “For him, Annika is a tool to bring me back to the church. I know I sound cynical, and he does encourage a loving marriage, maybe children, but Tobias wants me to keep the church going after he and my mother are gone. His legacy. His ticket to heaven.”

“Then I’d think he’d want you around, no?”

“Around, yes. But not in sight.”

We sat in the back of the empty theater, the last row, under a dim light, his handsome face indistinct and stark: a negative of a grainy photograph. Only those deep-set pale blue eyes shone, and disarmed. He’d slipped into the seat next to me, so close I could detect his cologne: woody, rich, with a hint of new-mown hay.

“I don’t know what you think I can do for you,” I began.

He looked exasperated. “I debated asking Nadine to go to you, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Sometimes my behavior is foolish. But I panicked. Talking to Frank made me panic. And Constable Biggers. I just felt that you understood. I mean, our brief talk at the Full Moon…well…I heard your heartbeat.” He shook his head. “A dumb line, I know. But I need someone who believes in me, I suppose. I know that sometimes I’m…naïve maybe…but I got no one level-headed to talk to. I look over my shoulder and expect to be arrested. My mother cowers, frightened her little boy is gonna be hanged. Tobias turns away, disgusted. Annika watches me warily, ready to pronounce sentence, expecting…I don’t know what. The people who love me don’t know me, and so they…well, can believe me a murderer.” A harsh laugh. “I think Annika’d rather have me arrested for murder than spend time with Nadine.”

“Tell me about Nadine.”

A long pause. “I knew her in Hollywood. Briefly. So brief it almost didn’t happen.”

I rolled my tongue into my cheek. “You know, she says much the same thing. Almost the same words.” I forced him to look at me. “Tell me, Dak, did you love her?
Do
you love her?”

He stammered, and then smiled. “I got a lot of people in my past, Miss Ferber.”

“That’s not answering my question.”

Helpless, a shrug. “I can’t answer it.”

“And Annika?”

“I’m really not comfortable here, Miss Ferber. Annika has seen me talking to Nadine one time, and she exploded. Not pretty. She got…like out of control. No one knows about Nadine…and Hollywood. I don’t talk about it. It’s just that Annika is afraid of anything not spiritual. You know, people got my life planned for me. Christ, a whole church depends on me—on my coming home to it. When I was thirteen or fourteen, the early days, traveling with my mother, I’d get up there and preach. I was shy but I got into it. My mother was ecstatic. Like a sign from God. She
wept.
Everyone wept. She saw the future, and I was the blessed one.”

“But…”

“But it was a a game for me. A lark. I was showing off back then. I was a wise-guy prankster. That’s all. That’s not me.”

“And Annika?”

Dak waited a moment. Then he spoke as though reading a script. “She was created in my mother’s image. An orphan girl from Newark. A devout congregant who insinuated her way inside the inner circle, adores my mother, and was chosen to marry me.” A heartbeat. “She’s actually very sweet.”