Never Thwart a Thespian: Volume 8 (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series) (15 page)

Chewie sniffed eagerly around the small patch of overgrown grass at the base of the building’s front steps. Many dogs had visited the accommodations before him, and he was delighted to sign the guestbook.

Leigh wished he would hurry. She had waited until the street was free of loiterers before coming out, and she had no desire to meet the next wave. Her gaze drifted up towards the attic window, and she noted with chagrin that the wood trim along the eaves of the gable was liberally coated with little brown lumps.

Bats.
They might have gotten locked out for the day. But they obviously weren’t giving up easily.

“Yoo hoo!” A familiar voice called. “Come on over!”

Leigh glanced across the street to see Merle leaning far out over her porch railing and waving a hand. Earl, beside her in his usual chair, waved his own hand high above his head, beckoning with equal enthusiasm.

Leigh couldn’t bring herself to refuse. As soon as Chewie finished his business, she picked him up and darted across the highway.

“Ooh, hasn’t
this
been a week!” Merle said with a grin, her eyes sparkling. “Earl and I’ve become the most popular people in West View!”

Leigh looked around to see that a variety of new places to sit had been added to the porch, including two lawn chairs, four dining room chairs, and one tired-looking bean bag. And although she was the only guest at the moment, a collection of used plastic cups and dirty ash trays gave evidence to previous crowds.

“I’ll bet you are,” she agreed. And if today was exciting, coming after the recent headlines, yesterday must have been even better — a veritable parade of local police, county detectives, crime scene technicians, a coroner’s van, reporters with television cameras, random gawkers, and some dude in a pickup that said “wildlife management.”

Oh, my.

“Have a seat! Have a seat!” Earl insisted, gesturing to the oak dining room chair next to him. Leigh wondered if they had left anything inside to sit on. Most likely, they’d been taking their meals out here.

“Bring your pup on up, too. It’s fine,” Merle insisted. “We love dogs!”

Leigh settled in the chair Earl had indicated and plopped Chewie down on the porch, where the corgi immediately set about the critical task of crumb removal.

“So now you have to tell us!” Merle said with enthusiasm, sitting down on Leigh’s other side. “What’s your Aunt Bess going to do about the theater? She came over the other day, you know, before all this happened. Introduced herself and invited us to opening night. Even promised us free tickets!”

“Nice woman,” Earl commented with a nod. “
Quality.”

Leigh tried not to chuckle. What he meant by that last part, she wasn’t sure, but she had the feeling Bess would get a kick out of it.

Merle gave her no chance to answer, but plowed on. “We were a little concerned about a theater over there, you know, but Bess assured us it was all going to be quite sophisticated. No alcohol, no partying, just people from all over dressing up to come see a good stage production. Now, we could go along with that!”

“It would be a
cultural attraction,”
Earl said knowledgeably.

Leigh’s smile broke through. So that was how Bess had played it, had she? Classing up the neighborhood. As for the “no alcohol” part, Leigh would believe that when she didn’t see it. “Bess is determined to make it as nice a venue as possible,” she said honestly.

Merle and Earl both looked at her hopefully. “You mean,
still?”
Merle asked.

“Oh, yes,” Leigh answered. “Nothing stops Aunt Bess when she sets her mind to something.
Believe
me.”

The couple grinned at each other. “Well, that’s just wonderful!” Merle crowed. “We’d just got to thinking how nice it would be to have it all fixed up, but after what happened yesterday, we were sure it’d just go empty again!”

“Nope,” Leigh assured. “Last I heard, opening night was still a go.”

“Marvelous!” Merle replied. Then her expression turned suddenly dour. “I just hope all the publicity doesn’t wreck it. It’s unbelievable that that man Marconi could ruin this building’s prospects even after he’s dead! We always thought he was murdered, you know.”

Earl nodded gravely. “Only thing that made sense.”

Leigh nodded. She was quite sure that neither of them had even mentioned the name of Andrew Marconi in their last conversation, despite considerable talk of strange occurrences in the building, including murder. She suspected that despite their protestations to the contrary, they had, like most of the population of West View, assumed that Marconi had skipped town and then basically forgot about him.

Until now.

Earl’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise. His chair, in a series of jerky motions, was steadily scooting away from Leigh.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, jumping up to unwind Chewie’s leash from around the chair legs. What the dog had found, she had no idea, as he was already tossing it back with a giant gulp when she located him behind the bean bag.

Merle laughed out loud. “Oh, just let him go,” she insisted. “It’ll save me a sweeping later.”

“I thought we was having an earthquake,” Earl said without humor. “Damn fracking wells. Those gas companies will kill us all.”

Leigh dropped Chewie’s lead and moved to a chair where she could catch him if he tried to leave the porch, although she considered it highly unlikely. Whatever he’d eaten had left a grease spot.

“Were you there when they found the body?” Merle asked.

Leigh’s heart skipped a beat. “I was in the building, yes,” she said vaguely. “But we cleared out pretty quickly when the police came.” The less anyone knew about her or Bess’s personal involvement in the matter, the better. Certainly anything she shared with Merle or Earl would become public knowledge within the hour.

“So, who do you think killed Andrew Marconi?” Leigh asked lightly, more to prevent further questions than to get an answer.

“Serial killer,” Earl said confidently.

Merle made a rude snort. “Where’s the others, then?”

Earl looked confused. “What others?”

“Well, you’ve got to kill a bunch of people to be a serial killer, don’t you?”

Earl thought a moment. “There could have been more. We don’t know.”

Merle gave a huff and settled back into her chair. She turned her attention to Leigh. “If you ask me, and you just did, I’d say it was one of those religious crazies.”

“Religious crazies?” Leigh asked, perplexed.

“Could have thrown ’em in the river,” Earl proposed.

Merle ignored him. “You know, all those people who tried to stop his opening up that bawdy house of his, the ones preaching about indecency and whatnot.”

Leigh felt a slight clenching in her chest. “You mean, West View Citizens Against Indecency and Moral Turpitude?”

“That’s them. Not that I didn’t agree with their aim, you understand,” Merle said pointedly. “I had a sign on my lawn, too, you’d better believe. Last thing Earl and I wanted was nonsense like that happening right outside our door. But you put it somewhere else, see, and I don’t give a damn. Men want to waste their money being men, that’s their business, as long as they pay their taxes and follow the law. That’s the way I see it.”

Earl leaned toward Leigh and pointed a finger. “Lori Ann used to be a stripper.”

Leigh quickly covered her face with her hands, feigning a frog in her throat.

“She was a pole dancer, Earl!” Merle corrected.

“Well, that’s a stripper, ain’t it?” he snapped back.

Leigh “coughed” violently.

“Point is,” Merle went on, “some of those women were mighty ‘righteous’ about the whole thing, and you know what happens when people get all whipped up about sex and sin and punishment and hellfire… they turn into vigilantes, that’s what. It’s what everybody’s been saying. Now, I never knew any of the women in charge of it myself — it’s not like I went to any of the meetings. Somebody gives me a yard sign, and I take it, and that’s that. But from what I heard, the woman who started the whole thing was crazy as a loon.”

Merle leaned over and gave Leigh’s hunched figure a thump on the back. “Are you okay, hun?” You’re awfully red in the face. “You need a glass of water?”

“Maybe she needs that choking squeeze thing,” Earl commented. “What’s that called?”

Leigh forced her head up and breathed. “No Heimlich needed!” she squeaked. “I’m fine. Thanks. But I really should be going now. There’s… a lot of work to be done inside still, getting ready for opening night, you know.”

She rose abruptly and reattached Chewie’s lead to his collar. “Will we see you at the show?” she asked, moving toward the steps.

“Oh, we’ll be there!” Merle said cheerfully. “You tell Bess that!”

Leigh’s arm pulled away from her body as she moved. She gave a tug on the lead, but Chewie wouldn’t budge. He was too busy licking the concrete. She walked over to pick him up, then maneuvered her way back through the extra chairs to the porch steps. She blew a stray tuft of corgi fluff away from her mouth, bade farewell to Merle and Earl, and darted across the highway.

The front doors of the building, as well as the old signpost on the curb, were now decked out with striking show posters, courtesy of Cara. The advertisements showed a rather delicious-looking white wedding cake collapsing on one side, with the plastic bride and groom figures teetering perilously off the edge of the top layer.
See You in Bells,
the
poster proclaimed,
brought to you by the North Boros Thespian Society,
would open Friday night and run through the weekend. Patrons were encouraged to support their new local theater; all tickets would be sold at the door.

Leigh felt another twinge of angst. The posters promised a delightful evening of fun and laughter, and for Bess’s sake, she certainly hoped that’s what would happen. But tacking such a jolly promise on the outside of this particular building seemed rather like advertising fresh-baked cookies outside a funeral home.

She put Chewie down and pulled on the front door. Naturally, it was locked. She banged on it impatiently, and eventually Gerardo appeared. He gave her another cheesy smile and swung upon the door, avoiding her eyes.
You are so busted,
she thought. But she said nothing. He closed the door behind her and followed her back into the sanctuary.

As she looked around the transformed room she thought for a moment that opening night had already arrived. Everyone working in the building seemed to have converged into the one room, and a few extras had been added for good measure. Up on the chancel, Camille was having a meeting with a dozen or so people Leigh assumed were actors in the show. A lighting guy was fussing with the lights. Ned and Chaz were still setting up and wiping off chairs, and the Pack were arguing over how to arrange them. Lydie was fixing a broken chair with Cara’s help, and there were a line of others awaiting their attention. Frances was inspecting the chairs as the Pack placed them and then dragging half of them back to Ned and Chaz. And Bess was hurrying up to Leigh like the place was on fire.

“She’s coming
here.
Again! Do you believe it?” Bess railed.

“She who?”

“That despicable Sonia Crane!” Bess answered. “And with Gordon’s blessing!
Again!”

“You mean she’s meeting him here?” Leigh asked, intrigued. Perhaps Sonia was withdrawing her offer for the building. The lawyer would give some fabricated excuse, of course, but regardless, the timing would be suspicious. She should inform Maura…

“No, no,” Bess replied. “Gordon isn’t coming. But he did set it up, despite my protests. Sonia wants to talk to
us,
the Thespian Society. Me, Camille, and the actors, too. She wanted to talk to the board, but I told Gordon that was impossible — we just met last night and I’m not calling them all together again for that miserable woman’s convenience!”

“But why does she want to do that?” Leigh asked, confused.

“Lord only knows,” Bess responded, her voice agitated. “Gordon wouldn’t say. That man is as stubborn as a mule!”

Leigh wondered if her Aunt Bess had any idea just how much she and Gordon Applegate had in common, but she decided to keep her mouth shut.

“So now we have to hold up the entire rehearsal for her,” Bess continued to rage, “because Gordon made me promise to give her ten minutes of our time to say her piece! It’s absolutely infuriating! Chewie is licking the chair leg.”

Struck by the non sequitur, Leigh looked down to see her corgi splayed out full length on the hardwood, lapping with determination at the underside of a metal chair rung.

“Some more remnants of strawberry yogurt, no doubt!” Frances announced as she hustled forward. She picked up the chair, turned it upside down, and scowled. “As expected. How these two perfectly capable men continue to miss such egregious cases of food detritus adhered to metal I have no idea. Why would anyone have served something so drippy as yogurt in a place like this anyway? It hasn’t been a banquet hall for ages. Ridiculous!” She folded up the chair and tucked it under her arm, then looked at the corgi critically. A rather frightening-looking smile spread across her face, and she reached out a hand for his lead. “You leave him with me for a while,” she said smugly.

Leigh watched her dog happily toddle off with her mother and felt a wave of pity for Ned and Chaz. Chewie’s food-particle location abilities were unparalleled; with both he and Frances on the case, the men would be wiping down seemingly clean chairs for the rest of their natural lives.

“There she is,” Bess said in a low voice, her expression menacing.

Leigh turned toward the main doors to see Sonia Crane enter, survey the room, and make a hasty beeline for Camille — avoiding any eye contact with Bess.

“I didn’t even have a chance to tell Gerardo I was expecting her,” Bess groused. “He shouldn’t have let her in. I was looking forward to taking my time getting to the door.”

Sonia charged up to Camille and extended her usual rocklike hand. Camille responded by cradling Sonia’s hand gently in her own limp ones. Leigh and Bess moved closer to listen in, but before they could hear anything, Camille turned abruptly to the assembled cast and raised her voice. “Meeting, everyone! Important meeting! Will you all please take seats in the first rows? You too, Elizabeth, dear!”