Macdeath (An Ivy Meadows Mystery Book 1) (22 page)

CHAPTER 48

What’s Done Is Done

I made it through the last witches’ scene without incident and without looking at Jason. Quite a feat, since I was supposed to be speaking to him. I focused on the top of his head. That way Jason would know I was pissed too, and I figured it would look pretty witchy.

Afterwards, as we all crouched in the cauldron as it was hauled into the air, Candy said, “Did you forget your contacts or something?”

I don’t wear contacts. Guess I didn’t look witchy, just myopic.

Back in our dressing room, I tugged down my ever-creeping leotard and waited for curtain call. I wondered if Candy would notice if I ate a chocolate out of the box someone had left her. Probably. I eyed her other closing night stash. Lots of MoonPies, naturally, a few cards, and a red rose. I leaned over to see if I could tell who had signed the card stuck in the bud vase. Of course, that’s when Candy walked in.

“You better not have snitched any of my MoonPies,” she said. “I counted ’em.”

She threw herself into the chair in front of her counter space.

“The rose is from Genevieve, if you must know,” said Candy, rearranging the rubber snake in her wig. “Don’t know why she picked a red one. Probably had it left over from the bunch she sent to Jason. Guess they’re having a thing now.”

Whatever camaraderie I’d felt before the show evaporated. I pushed my chair away from the counter and stood. “I’m going backstage to wait for bows.”

Something hit me in the back as I was opening the door. I turned. A wrapped MoonPie had bounced off my back and lay at my feet.

“Sorry, I was being a bitch,” Candy said. “I hate closing night. Everybody going their own way and me having to figure out what’s next.” She unwrapped a MoonPie. “Just hate it.”

I picked up the marshmallowy peace offering and sat back in my chair.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said. “Things got weird. You were hanging around with Genevieve, and it felt like there was something going on I didn’t know about.”

I took a bite of MoonPie for the sugar courage it gave me. “And I heard you say ‘murder’ before bows one night. You were probably going to murder Riley or something, but I was afraid you’d told Genevieve about my suspicions.”

“I did,” she said, digging into her own treat. “Not right then, before. I didn’t think it was a big deal. Like I said before, nobody really thinks Simon’s death was—”

“But I told you not to.”

She sighed. “It was really late, like three in the morning or something, and we were on set and I was dog-tired and...” She stopped and stuffed the rest of the MoonPie in her mouth.

Candy never quit talking if she could help it. It must be a clue.

“Wait a minute, on set? You got that film role?”

She pointed to her mouth full of marshmallow.

I pointed back at her. “Finish. I can wait.”

But I couldn’t. “You were in a film with Genevieve? How could I, hell, how could the entire cast not know about this? You can’t fart around here without everyone knowing.”

Candy was taking her time with that MoonPie.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a film with Genevieve?”

She finally swallowed. “She told me not to.”

“Why not?” Oh. The lights went on. “What type of film is it?”

She swallowed. “It’s an art film.”

“What’s it called?”

Candy stuffed another MoonPie in her mouth.

“Not falling for that,” I said. “The film?”

“Ish caw Achow-uhnt o Ile,” said Candy.

Luckily I spoke MoonPie. “It’s called
Accountants Go Wild
? So Genevieve, the great actress, is doing softcore porn. No wonder she didn’t want anyone to know.”

“It’s not porn.”

“Okay,” I said, sitting back in my chair, “tell me about your costume.”

She was silent.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” I said. “Really. I won’t tell.”

Linda’s voice came through the loudspeaker. “Places for curtain call.”

Candy and I heaved ourselves out of our chairs.

“At least I turned down the one where I was eaten by a giant mechanical vagina,” Candy said.

“Good for you,” I said, and meant it. Then I noticed my cell phone. I had voicemail.

Candy saw my glance. “Later, hon. Bows first.”

But, as my Uncle Bob liked to say, if you looked under “curious” in the dictionary they’d have my picture.

“I’ll catch up.”

Candy shook her head at me and hurried down the hall.

“You have one new message,” said the calm voice on my cell. Then I heard a not-so-calm voice. “Ivy, Olive, whatever the hell your name is, it’s Pink. Detective Pinkstaff. Pink. Shit.” This was new. He was usually pretty direct.

“About Bob, your uncle I mean. The tests came back. He was drugged. I think something’s up down there at the theater. Watch your back, okay?”

I hung up my phone and ran toward backstage, my thoughts running alongside me. Could Bill have poisoned Uncle Bob, too? No, the effects seemed completely different. Uncle Bob didn’t swell up like Jason. It had to be a different drug. I doubted if Bill was smart enough to figure out two different ways to poison someone.

I heard the applause just as I skidded into place beside Candy. The entire cast was backstage, waiting in the little groups Edward had assigned for curtain call.

Candy elbowed me. “What was it? Your message?”

“Uncle Bob,” I whispered. “The lab test came back.”

“Oh my God, was your uncle poisoned?” Candy’s voice was so loud the old guy in the front row using the hearing thingy could have heard her.

How could she be so obtuse? I shook my head at her, hoping the cast would see me and take it for a “no,” and then ran onstage with her and The Real Witch to take our curtain call. As we linked hands and bowed, I wondered about Candy again. Could she have had anything to do with Simon’s murder or my uncle’s poisoning? I usually had a pretty good instinct about people, but hell, Jason certainly had me fooled. Maybe I was wrong about Candy, too. I mentally added her to my suspect list, then realized I had a suspect list again. It felt kinda good. Knowing I hadn’t been totally off base made me feel vindicated in a weird sort of way. For about two seconds. Then I felt awful. There was probably a murderer loose and I was gloating about being right.

We witches trotted offstage, where we waited in the wings. Edward had choreographed the bows so the entire cast was onstage at the end, which was typical for curtain call. The size of our cast, though, was not typical. Only musicals and Shakespearean plays had such large casts nowadays, thanks to arts budget cuts. Seeing everyone onstage at the same time was pretty impressive, and it usually resulted in thunderous applause. I was ready. I decided to put Uncle Bob out of my mind for now. Who knew when I’d be onstage again? I’d just wasted our witches’ bow thinking about Candy, instead of really being in the moment. Applause feels wonderful. During this last bow, which might truly be my final bow, I was going to revel in the adulation.

It came time. I walked onstage and stood in my place, nearly the very edge of stage left. I could feel the heat from the lights on my face. One of the things I love about being onstage is the lights are so blinding they actually hide the audience from you. You feel like you’re in your own little world, like you’re really a witch speaking with a king. This time, though, I was done with the cast, with the whole stupid circus world of
Macbeth
. I decided to look past the lights, so that my last onstage memory would be of applause.

I didn’t have to worry. As I listened to the enthusiastic but genteel applause, two voices stood out, mostly because they were whooping and hollering.

“Olive-y! Yay, Olive-y! Woo-hoo!” I could see Cody’s blonde head and Matt’s curly one as they stood and cheered. I felt my face flush, not with the heat of the lights, but with love. If I had to leave the theater, this was the way to go.

CHAPTER 49

The Instruments of Darkness

“Yay, Olive-y!” echoed in my head as I walked back to the greenroom. I kept that echo there on purpose, replaying that one past moment so I wouldn’t have to deal with the present. The present sucked. Someone had murdered Simon and poisoned my uncle, who was royally pissed at me with good reason. My supposed boyfriend was now un-supposed. My career was over, and the cast, with whom I’d spent hours laughing and talking and bonding, was not speaking to me. I didn’t count Candy. I didn’t know what to think of Candy right now.

I walked into the greenroom where Riley was high-fiving all the cast. I held up a hand hopefully, but he went right past me.

Edward, Pamela by his side, was talking to Jason. “So we’ll remount the Scottish play next summer in Sedona. We don’t have a date yet, as I wanted to make sure you and Genevieve were available. You and she make such a wonderful couple.” He looked straight at me as he said it and smiled. “Most of the cast will be joining us,” continued Edward, twisting the knife further.

“I got it. I got it,” I muttered under my breath.

I was headed toward the dressing rooms, my eyes on the floor so I wouldn’t have to face any more rejection, when I ran into a pair of red sneakers planted in my path. I looked up to see the first smiling face I’d seen all evening.

“Nice job, Olive-y,” said Matt.

He wore a blue retro dinner jacket over a gray T-shirt, Levis, and the aforementioned sneakers. He noticed me giving him the onceover.

“Don’t exactly have formal clothes anymore,” he said. “But hey, it’s Phoenix, right?” He grinned.

“I think you look delicious,” said Candy, who’d come up behind me. “Are you going to introduce us, hon, or keep this fine young gentleman all to yourself?”

She actually batted her eyes at him. He smiled and extended his hand. “Matt Jenkins, at your service.”

“At my service? I may just put you to work.”

God, she was laying it on thick. I grabbed her arm.

“We’ll go change out of these costumes.” I looked down at myself, suddenly acutely aware of my flimsy leotard and its accompanying camel toe. I crossed my legs and dropped my hands, hoping to obscure the offending area. “And meet up back here with you and...” I looked around. “Hey, where’s Cody?”

“One of the cast members said she’d give him a backstage tour,” said Matt.

“Great,” I said, tugging on Candy. “We’ll be with you in a minute. Then maybe we can go get coffee or something.”

“Or something,” said Candy with a wink. God.

I manhandled her back into the dressing room and shut the door. She started stripping immediately.

“Lordy, that Matt is cute as a bug’s ear,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. He was cute. I hadn’t noticed before.

“Matt Jenkins...” she sang. I recognized the tune to “Maria” from
West Side Story
, but just barely.

“I just met a boy named Matt Jenkins...”

Oh, what the hell. I joined her, “And suddenly that name will never be the same...”

I did a little pirouette. As I spun, something caught my eye. My cell phone, sitting on the counter, right where I’d left it after listening to Pinkstaff’s message.

I stopped mid-spin. This was no time to sing. After tonight, the cast would split up. If I were going to find a killer, it was tonight. Now.

Think, Ivy, think! Suspects: Bill, no.

Linda? Definitely. Motive and opportunity. But God forbid I jump to another wrong conclusion, so I considered the others.

Jason? He was a bastard and a two-timer, but was he a killer? I didn’t think so, but there was still the question of what he’d been doing on opening night. And other nights.

Edward could have done it. He’d said, “I wouldn’t poison Jason.” It seemed he purposely didn’t say anything about Simon. And there was Pamela and the Rémy Martin and sneaking around on opening night. Edward had motive.

“Ivy?”

I looked at Candy, who had noticed both my mood change and the fact that I was staring at my cell phone. Smart, Ivy, really smart.

“What happened with your uncle’s lab test? Was he poisoned?”

I shook my head and started taking off my costume.

“C’mon, hon. You can tell me.”

But could I? Candy didn’t have a motive, at least not one I knew about, but she was acting suspicious. And reading my mind, it seemed. “Listen, I am your friend,” she said.

I kicked off my tights and bit into my half-eaten MoonPie, employing Candy’s own evasion tactic.

“I know you’re worried about me and Genevieve, but you oughta give her a break,” she said. “She’s really a big pussycat.”

I must have looked incredulous because she added, “For instance, she was the one who put that wad of cash in the kitty at Simon’s memorial.” The MoonPie was too sweet. I put it down and pulled on my panties. My always-busy mind was startlingly quiet, like the calm before a storm.

“Which was especially nice,” said Candy, “since they weren’t exactly friendly any more, if you know what I mean. Getting dumped twice by the same guy had to hurt.”

“Dumped by?”

“Simon.” Candy made a “duh” face at me. “Once when they were up in Flagstaff for a summer theater gig—remember Simon dated Lucy, Linda’s girlfriend? He dumped Genevieve for her. And then he did it again during rehearsals.”

“Our rehearsals?”

“Not exactly dumped—she wanted to get back together. He didn’t. But like I was saying, or was trying to say, I thought it was real nice of her to give all that cash in Simon’s memory. I guess she’s not hurtin’, though. She’s got a bunch of money from when her mama died.”

“How did she die?” I asked as I hooked my bra. My little gray cells started sorting the information.

“She had some sort of nasty painful cancer. I guess it was awful. Genevieve took care of her at the end. She had to keep her so pumped full of morphine that—”

Dumped. Morphine. Genevieve. It all clicked into place. I stood but couldn’t move. Something else, something else, something else was wrong.

Matt’s face flashed into my head. “One of the cast members said she’d give him a backstage tour.”

Cody.

I ran out of the dressing room, Candy flying behind me.

“Ivy!” she yelled.

As I whizzed past startled faces in the greenroom, I realized I was only wearing underwear. It didn’t matter.