Never Thwart a Thespian: Volume 8 (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series) (17 page)

“What’s the connection?” Maura asked.

Allison squirmed in her seat. “Well, yesterday I saw him talking to Gordon Applegate.”

Leigh stiffened. “You saw Gerardo
talking
to him? I didn’t think Mr. Applegate was even at the building yesterday!”

“Well he wasn’t, exactly,” Allison qualified. “And I can’t be sure they were talking. It’s just that while we were on the second floor putting away props, I saw Mr. Applegate’s limousine out the window. Or at least another white one just like it. It didn’t turn into the parking lot — it just pulled up on the curb by the entrance. And Gerardo was supposed to be guarding the door then, but he walked over to the car and talked to somebody in the back.”

“You couldn’t see who he was talking to?” Maura asked.

Allison shook her head. “No, the window was tinted and it was only rolled down partway. But it sure looked like Gerardo was talking in full sentences — not just gesturing for them to move along, you know.”

“How long did they talk?” Leigh asked.

“Only, like, ten seconds,” Allison replied. “Then Gerardo looked around and ran back to the door. I don’t think he realized we could see him; you really can’t see that spot from anywhere else in the building.”

Leigh exhaled uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t like the sound of
that.”

“Who’s paying the men for their work?” Maura asked her. “Bess or Mr. Applegate?”

“I think the society is, but I’m not sure,” Leigh replied. “Allison, why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Allison squirmed again. “I was going to. I just wanted to see what Aunt Mo thought about it, first.”

Maura studied Allison. “You have a theory of your own. Don’t you?”

The girl nodded self-consciously.

“Well?” Leigh demanded.

“I’m afraid it might upset Aunt Bess,” Allison said mildly.

Maura smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it will. Spit it out, Allie.”

Leigh looked from one to the other with annoyance. Was she missing something?

“I think Gerardo’s a spy,” Allison announced. “I think he’s really working for Mr. Applegate.”

Maura grinned broadly. “A brilliant deduction!” She looked up at Leigh. “See there? Police academy, here she—”

“Stop that!” Leigh ordered.

Maura chuckled. “Gordon Applegate does have a reputation for micromanagement. Which is to say, he’s a grade-A control freak. Warren could have told you that.” She looked back at Allison. “I think you’d better tell your Aunt Bess what you just told me. She’s a big girl. She can take it from there.”

“Okay,” Allison agreed calmly.

“Back to the Marconi case,” Leigh said, anxious to change the subject, lest she feel even stupider than she already did. “Is the detective you mentioned going to be questioning my mother, now? Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely,” Maura answered. “But it’s Detective Stroth you should be worried about.”

Leigh chuckled. “Yeah, you got that right. Mom will
not
be pleased.”

Maura smiled reassuringly. “Stroth knows my opinion of your mother, and your aunts, and he’s sharp enough to value that opinion. But the neighbors’ theory that somebody who opposed the strip club might have become unbalanced enough to do Marconi bodily harm isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds. Your mother knows the people involved; I’m betting she could be helpful to the investigation.”

“But what about the other murder?” Allison piped up.

Leigh’s panic sensor started to flicker again.

“What other murder?” Maura asked. “You mean the one that happened in the same building? Back in the sixties?”

Allison nodded mutely.

Maura turned to the card table on the other side of her bed and picked up a folder. “What about it, Allie?”

Leigh stifled a sigh. It was, of course, too much wishful thinking to hope that the Pack hadn’t heard every detail of the sordid “satanists sacrifice church custodian on altar” story by now. All it would take, after all, was five minutes of working in the same room as Chaz.

“I was just thinking,” Allison began tentatively, “that there are some similarities between the two.”

Leigh frowned. “Just because they happened in roughly the same location doesn’t mean they’re connected,” she insisted.

“Maybe not,” Allison agreed. “But the two men were killed the same way.”

Leigh cast a glance at Maura. Her pulse increased. “Did you investigate that other murder? I mean, I know you weren’t even born yet, but is it covered in the Marconi file?”

“Not well,” Maura said thoughtfully, looking at Allison. “But I do know that the custodian was also killed with a blow to the head. That’s true.”

“Well, it’s a common enough way to kill somebody,” Leigh argued. She wasn’t sure why it was so terribly important to her that the two murders had nothing to do with each other. But she
was
sure that she wanted Allison to stop thinking about it. “The two events happened fifty years apart, for heaven’s sake! Half the people on the planet the first time were dead by the second.”

“Mom,” Allison said with maddening calmness, “you’re including the time it took to find Marconi’s body. The actual murders were only forty-something years apart.”

Leigh’s face reddened. “Be that as it may, the similarity is just a coincidence,” she proclaimed.

Allison frowned and looked away. Her small voice was barely audible. “I don’t
like
coincidences.”

The bedroom door opened to reveal Maura’s husband Gerry holding a telephone handset and looking extremely unhappy. “It’s Stroth,” he announced, with the same tone of doom and gloom he might have used to say, “It’s an Ebola virus.”

Maura’s lips curved into a smile. “Well, are you going to let me talk to him?”

The Lieutenant’s jaw muscles twitched. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Gerry,” Maura said heavily. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to make me get up from this bed. I promise. I can think, and talk, in complete repose. Have I not behaved so far?”

“You’re not supposed to get stressed.”

“Work doesn’t stress me,” she assured. “Boredom does. Now give me the damn phone. Sweetheart.”

Gerry’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. He handed the handset to his wife, then kissed her on the lips. “I’m taking it back in five minutes, whether you’re done or not. Deal with it.” He gave a friendly nod to Leigh and Allison, then walked back out.

Leigh smiled, and Allison giggled. The two policemen had always been a bizarre pair, hardly seeming to be a couple at all most of the time, as they were both so reserved. But ever since they found out that Maura was pregnant, they’d been acting like lovesick teenagers.

“That man!” Maura sighed with an exaggerated simper. Then she made a gesture for her visitors to hang tight a moment, grabbed her notepad, and put the phone to her ear. “Yo, Stroth! What’s up?”

As Maura’s smile faded into a full-on frown of concentration, Leigh’s anxiety grew.

“Where did it happen exactly?” Maura asked, scribbling madly. “Any witnesses?” The silence between her questions seemed to drag interminably. “What’s the prognosis? I see. So you’re going to— Right. I agree. No, that’s good. I’ll check out what I can from here. You keep me apprised, all right? Every hour, if you need to. No matter how Gerry barks at you. Right. Good work.”

At long last, she hung up the phone. She said nothing for a moment, just continued catching up on her scribbles.

Finally, Leigh could stand no more. “Please tell me that call had nothing whatsoever to do with my Aunt Bess’s building or the Marconi case.”

Maura looked up and met her eyes, and Leigh’s hopes sank. “Sorry, Koslow,” the detective answered. “No can do.”

“Oh, crap.” Leigh, who had been standing up for the entirety of the visit so far, sank down onto the foot of Maura’s bed. “What is it? What’s happened now?” As much as she hated for Allison to overhear, she had to know. Allison would doubtless find out anyway. She always did.

“It’s Sonia Crane,” Maura explained. “She was assaulted as she went into work this morning. She’s in the hospital.”

“Assaulted?” Leigh repeated, horrified. “Why? How?”

“Too soon to tell,” Maura answered. “All we know is that a passer-by found her unconscious outside the door to her office and called an ambulance.”

“But…” Leigh stammered, still disbelieving. “There were security cameras, I hope?”

Maura shook her head. “If she worked for any of the firms downtown, there would be. But Sonia Crane hung out her own shingle two years ago. Her new office is in Sewickley, just off the Boulevard. There weren’t any cameras. Or any witnesses either, at least not that we know of. Yet.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Allison asked.

Maura considered a moment. “I can only tell you what the press already knows. She’s in fair condition.”

Leigh’s jaws clenched tightly. Musing over ancient crimes was one thing — dealing with current ones was another. Sonia was supposed to be a suspect, not a victim.
Nobody
was supposed to be a victim.

She straightened and cleared her throat. “Well, that’s frightening to hear. I hope she’s okay. But we have no reason to believe the assault had anything to do with her bid for the building. She could have scads of enemies out there. Other business deals gone sour. It could have been a random mugger. There’s no reason to think it has anything to do with the theater or with any of us.” She looked at Maura hopefully. “Right?”

“There’s no obvious link, no,” Maura replied.

Leigh found that answer less than comforting.

“Aunt Mo?” Allison asked, her voice a squeak. “Can you tell us what kind of assault—” She broke off awkwardly. “I mean, why she’s unconscious, specifically?”

Maura drew in a measured breath. Her eyes flashed a warning note to Leigh, even as her gaze centered on Allison.

“She was struck on the back of the head.”

Chapter 12

Leigh had promised herself, ardently, that she would keep the Pack out of the wretched building all day for at least one day. And yet here she was, driving herself and Allison straight back into the lion’s den so that Allison could give Bess the scoop on Gerardo. Maura had thought it best they do it promptly, and Leigh had agreed.

But they were
not
sticking around.

Really. They weren’t.

They arrived at the building to find Bess in as close to a tizzy as Bess ever got. Getting a private moment with her required following a moving target — she roamed through the building from end to end at a frenetic pace, directing the men to hurry, opening closet doors, switching lights on and off, flushing toilets, and peering into every nook and cranny for heaven only knew what. “The inspector is coming today,” she explained. “We can’t open the show unless he’s happy — you have no idea how important this is!”

“It looks fabulous, Aunt Bess,” Leigh said honestly. Although the majority of the annex was still a mess, the parts of the original building that made up the theater proper had undergone an amazing transformation. The auditorium was spotless, the hallways and bathrooms were beyond reproach, and Frances had worked wonders in the basement practically overnight. The men were still repainting the basement walls and the ancient tile floor desperately needed a good polish, but the clutter, dirt, and grime had been thoroughly vanquished. “Really,” Leigh gushed. “I’m sure the inspector will be more than satisfied.”

Bess stopped moving at last and huffed out a breath. “Well, he certainly should, shouldn’t he? I only wish I knew when he was coming. All I know is ‘sometime today.’ And the rehearsal is going to begin shortly!”

“Wait,” Leigh said, confused. “It isn’t even noon yet. Isn’t the dress rehearsal tonight?”

“Yes,” Bess replied. “But Camille will be at that one. A couple of the actors are still struggling with their lines — they get to say them so infrequently at the regular rehearsals, you know — so everyone who could take a long lunch is coming for an emergency run-through.” She looked down at Allison. “You had something you wanted to talk to me about, kiddo?”

Allison nodded and pulled Bess into one of the second-floor classrooms so they could talk privately, but just as Leigh began to follow, her phone rang. She stepped out in the hallway and answered it. “Hey, Warren. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if Allison had hit you up with her plan yet.”

Leigh’s heart beat faster. “Evidently not. What am I in for now?”

“I’ll let her tell you,” he said evasively. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t mind if you don’t. Are you still at Mo’s?”

Leigh slipped into another classroom across the hall and gave him a quick summary of the morning’s revelations.

“I don’t like it, either,” he said worriedly. “Any of it. But if it makes you feel any better, I’d be surprised if Sonia Crane hasn’t collected a fair number of enemies over the years. There’s no reason to assume that what happened to her this morning has anything to do with Bess. And as for Gordon hiring a spy… well, that wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I told you, the man is a master manipulator. He enjoys a good game. As uptight as he’s been
pretending
to be about whether or not he should sell the theater, I really don’t think he gives a flip about the money. Or his local reputation. The more I think about it, the more I think he’s really just looking for a way to get to Bess.”

The door across the hallway burst open and a red-faced Bess stormed out.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Leigh said quickly.

“Okay, I’ll be there soo—” Warren’s voice cut off as Leigh stuffed the phone back in her pocket.

“Aunt Bess!” she said, lunging forward to stop Bess in her tracks. “Where are you going?”

“I am going to get in my car, go find Gordon Applegate, and then beat the man to within an inch of his miserably privileged life!” Bess replied hotly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leigh chastised. “If you kill him, his heirs would sell the building.”

Bess growled low in her throat. “You’re right, dammit. But I can still maim him, can’t I?”

“Only if you want to spend opening night in the Allegheny County jail.”

Bess crossed her arms over her chest and let out a humph. “But he deserves it! The gall! As if him dropping in here himself practically every day wasn’t keeping enough of an eye on me and his precious investment!” her eyes flashed fire. “I should have known something was up when the woman at the Outreach foisted Gerardo on me. He didn’t have any prior work experience with them, but she kept insisting he came
highly
recommended… and now I know by whom! Gordon knew I was going to look for men through the Outreach; he paid them off!”