Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (12 page)

“What’s the matter, Janey?” I whispered.

She stood staring after Gino as he melted into the milling crowd. Tan number two couldn’t disguise her sudden pallor. All at once, she wheeled and ran back to the women’s locker room. I followed.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

She ignored me as she ran into a stall and emerged, wearing the yellow sundress. Her beautiful costume lay on the floor of the stall, rumpled and abandoned.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed her odd behavior. Dierdre stepped into her path.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I have to.” Janey tossed her things into her vanity case, willy-nilly, and snapped it shut.

“You can’t be leaving!”

“Oh, yes, I can. And I am.” Janey thrust her purse under her arm and picked up her case. “Besides, what do you care? You’ll get to be Johnsie. You’ll get your precious Danny back!”

She was trembling uncontrollably. Still in heavy makeup and elaborate hairdo, she shouldered her way rapidly through the shocked group of women and out of the locker room.

I caught up with her at the side of the pool. She was headed directly for the exit.

I stepped in front of her. “Janey, you can’t leave. Not in the middle of the play!” I tried to keep my voice down. “Not now, after all that Terence’s done for you!”

“I can’t help it! Didn’t you see who that was? I’ve got to get outta here!” Her dark eyebrows had climbed almost to her hairline. “I knew this road trip was a mistake. I told Terence! He said the disguise would work, but I can’t take the chance!”

“But where are you going?”

Her eyes were wide. She looked around wildly.

“I don’t know! I’ve got to think. I was stupid to come here.” She leaned close and whispered, “They’re after me; I know they are. I was supposed to be safe up here, but—” She straightened and looked over each shoulder. “Tell Terence I’m sorry.”

I grabbed her arm and tried to spin her around. “You’re not going anywhere!” I pulled her along the edge of the pool, back toward the set. “It’s just wrong, what you’re—”

With one desperate heave, she jerked her arm out of my admittedly inadequate grip and gave me a mighty push. I didn’t see her any more after that, because I staggered backward and fell into the deep end of the swimming pool with a resounding splash.

It was the fiasco at the YMCA all over again: me, choking on chlorinated water with arms and legs uselessly going every which way. But this time I had the added weight of a wet costume.

With a frantic flap of my arms, I managed to break the surface. The edge of the pool was just inches from my grasp. Underwater, my legs thrashed frenetically.

Closer, closer, I almost have it . . .

Suddenly there was another tremendous splash. Someone with an iron grip grabbed the neck of my costume from behind and yanked. Under the surface again, I gulped at least a quart of water and grabbed at the collar. I was being choked to death!

Roughly my rescuer-disguised-as-attacker dragged me to the edge of the pool. Someone else pulled me clumsily over the edge and onto the tiles. Then I was on my face, coughing and gagging.

“Does she need artificial respiration? Mouth to mouth or anything?” He sounded hopeful.

“No, thank you, Gilly Dickensen,” I croaked. “I wasn’t drowning! I would have climbed out by myself.”

I coughed again, expelling more water. With all the dignity I could muster, I managed to sit up.

“Yeah,” he said with a snort, “we all know how well you swim.” He squeezed a sizable amount of water from his shirttail. His ponytail had come undone.

“You look like a drowned rat yourself.”

He shrugged and looked back at me with a smug smile. “Better than a drowned mushroom.” He gestured at my head.

I touched my hair. A sopping, tangled mess. So much for Charles Dana Gibson.

Terence appeared in the middle of the throng and squatted beside me. “Amelia, didn’t I tell you to keep away from the edge of the pool? You’re soaked. You’ll have to sit out Act Two in the locker room. Tell Lily to take your line.”

He straightened up. “All right, everyone, it’s almost Second Act. Gil, you go to the men’s and dry off.” He looked around. “Remember, people, the entr’acte music starts in five minutes.”

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed his arm. “Terence, I need to tell you something.” I steered him away from the others.

He came, but reluctantly. “I don’t have time for this, little girl.”

“It’s Janey; she’s gone. Ask them.”

I gestured to the half-dozen female cast members who’d witnessed the frantic retreat. They nodded and pointed.

“What are you talking about?”

“There was some old man from the audience who came backstage and said he was Danny’s uncle. Janey freaked when she saw him.”

Terence swiveled his head back and forth. “Where’s DiNicco?” he growled.

“He’s in the men’s locker room, I think.” I grabbed his arm harder. “But Terence, I don’t think it’s Danny’s fault. He was really surprised to see the old man. Uncle Gino, the man called himself, but Danny didn’t seem to know him.”

“Where’s that old guy now?” He squinted at the audience members as they returned to their seats, some with drinks in hand.

I looked in the same direction. “I don’t see him. I think Janey and I were the only ones who noticed him talking to Danny.”

“Did Janey say anything at all about where she was going?”

I shook my head. “She . . . didn’t have time. And didn’t seem to know, really. She was scared to death. I—I tried to stop her, I really did! Then—”

I started to cry. How embarrassing!

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . just everything that’s happened . . . ”

I ran out of words and hung my head. I was dripping.

“Don’t cry, Amelia. It’s not your fault. I’ve just got to think.”

Gilly approached us, drying his hair with a towel. He handed me one.

Terence pointed a finger at him. “Gil, go outside and see if you can spot Janey Johnson. If you do, grab her and don’t let her go. Bring her back here.”

Without a word or question, his worn sneakers squishing with each step, Gilly began jogging toward the exit.

Terence called over the stage manager over and explained the problem. “I’m going to look for her too. Chris, you find Dierdre and tell her she’s Johnsie for the second act.”

Chris nodded. “Sure thing. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Terence ran out the door.

I changed into my street clothes and cleaned my face in the locker room. There was nothing to be done for my hair. It would have to wait until I got home.

When the time came, Chris stepped in front of the audience and explained that there was a substitution due to a sudden illness.

I sat on the floor just inside the women’s locker room entrance, listening to Act Two.

Dierdre’s voice sounded good, and if she flubbed a few lines, nobody noticed. The other sopranos took over the voice solos. In my opinion, Lily’s delivery of my line left much to be desired, but I’ve never told her that. When the play ended, there was enthusiastic applause. Lily trooped back in with the rest of the female members of the cast, looking tired.

Pat stood at the door. “Let’s hurry up and get everything packed up and out of here. Maybe we can get home before midnight!”

“How’d it go?” I asked Lily.

“About like you’d expect. You left a big hole in the blocking. How did we sound?”

“Really good. Hear any word about Janey?”

“Nope. Gil and Terence came through the lobby door during the curtain call. They were shaking their heads. Terence looks really upset.”

I remembered his reaction to what I’d told him. “He’s worried about her. She was really scared.”

Lily turned away from the mirror where she was creaming her face. “Why?”

I shrugged.

I knew, but I’d promised Terence. I wasn’t sure my promised still stood once Janey was gone, but I didn’t want to take a chance.

The troupe’s departure preparations were an example of controlled chaos, everyone doing their own job, noisily but efficiently. I had wrung out my poor, wrinkled, beat-up costume and hung it on a hanger. I wondered if it still could be used for something. Or maybe they’d want me to throw it away.

“Have you seen Pat?” I asked Ben Patchke as I left the locker room.

He was using a screwdriver to dismantle the village flat into portable pieces. He pointed it over his shoulder.

“Her and Terence were headed out to the bus, just a second ago.”

I ignored his terrible grammar. “Thanks.”

It was still light outdoors. In the parking lot people were climbing in and out of the bus, chattering loudly. The big luggage hatch along the side was gaping open and Elm was helping to stow some of the props and scenery inside.

“Have you seen Pat?” I asked him.

He tried to shove a small table in among the other stuff. It wouldn’t fit. He muttered a swear word as he manipulated it, and suddenly seemed to notice me.

“Oh. Sorry. Pat? I think I saw her with Terence and Danny, going over there.” He pointed across the empty parking lot, away from the bus.

I should have left well enough alone, but I was one of those obnoxious children who needed to have every duck safely in a row for the sake of her own sanity. (I still am.) It was the very definition of a dilemma for me: throwing away the ruined costume might be wasteful and taking it home would be stealing. I needed permission to do one or the other.

I walked toward a small, roofless outbuilding with the hotel’s logo emblazoned on the side. It had a big gate with a padlock. There was a faint odor. Elegant, expensive places like the Belle Colline made sure their trash was kept behind closed doors.

As I approached, I could hear voices, and they didn’t sound happy.

Terence yelled, “You called him, didn’t you? You called your uncle!”

“Of course not!” Loudly, Danny called Terence an unrepeatable name. “You’re not pinning this on me!”

“Don’t you dare!” I heard Pat scream in a hoarse voice.

I glanced over my shoulder as I started running around the garbage enclosure. Nobody else had heard. It was up to me.

~~~

“What were you going to do, Wonder Woman?” Gil asked, chuckling. “Smack the offender with a coat hanger?” He suited the action to the words, striking a fencing pose.

I was folding and sorting laundry. I turned my back.

“This is me, ignoring you.”

I continued my narration.

~~~

Terence himself couldn’t have blocked the scene any better. It was clearly a confrontation. Danny gripped a handful of Terence’s shirt and had his fist pulled back, ready to strike. Pat was reaching to restrain his punching arm. All three were obviously very, very angry.

I skidded to a halt about ten feet away. My abrupt appearance caused them to become a frozen tableau, almost comic, with wide, wild eyes turned suddenly on me.

“I—um—” I held up the costume, as if that would explain my presence.

The tension immediately began to dissipate. Each one of the three dropped his arms and took a step back. The expression on each face softened just a little as they looked at me.

Terence spoke first. His tone was determinedly calm. He spoke slowly.

“Amelia, you need to go get on the bus. We’ll join you in a minute.”

“You will without me.” His expression grim, Danny turned on his heel and began jogging back across the parking lot.

I couldn’t help myself. I ran after him, catching up halfway to the hotel building.

“What do you mean? Are you leaving? You can’t be leaving! What about
Merry Marinade
?”

He had the male lead. I’d watched him rehearse. He was wonderful.

“They know what they can do with their
Marinade
,” Danny growled. He stopped suddenly and turned toward me with a faint smile. “I’m sorry, Amelia Earhart. There’s no time to explain.”

“Please don’t go! Please!”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head and started jogging again.

I ran back to Pat and Terence. “He’s really leaving this time! Why are you letting him go?”

Pat and Terence exchanged glances. “No need to get so upset, dear. It’s a business matter,” Pat said briskly. “Run along now. Hop on the bus.”

I wanted to argue. But I was a good child and did as I was told. I was also still damp-haired and exhausted, too exhausted to put up resistance. It was none of my business, as Lily had said. Let them handle it.

The ultimate fate of my bedraggled costume was totally forgotten as I carried it and my other paraphernalia onto the bus. Lily shared the seat and began to regale me with whispered accounts of how she’d snubbed Neil during the performance. I nodded but didn’t really hear much of it.

Terence and Pat finally took their seats for the return trip, trying to act as if nothing had happened. Their faces seemed stiff as they went through all the motions.

As he had predicted, Danny wasn’t on the bus. Nobody else said anything, though they exchanged puzzled glances. I couldn’t stop the questions in my mind: Where would he go? As far as I knew, he didn’t have a car, at least not in Lake Placid. Terence had accused him of calling his uncle. Would he actually do that now?

I fell asleep on the bus and dreamed about Danny in a dark suit, carrying a violin case. In the dream, Lily was hiding under a table, eating spaghetti with Neil.

I slept most of the way. My father was waiting, parked in the alley next to the theater when we arrived, rumpled and heavy-eyed. He helped me gather up my things and tucked me in the car.

Three days later, our family drove to Florida and spent a week at Disney World.

I forgot my costume on the bus. Now I rather wish I’d kept it as a souvenir, marking the end of my show business career.