Obsessed (42 page)

Carla sighed, and slipped her arm around Mi chael’s shoulder again. This time he didn’t pull away and she was glad. “Look, Michael . . . those are all what ifs. Sure, you could have killed her. But you didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“Maybe I did. What if I knew that Vera was up to something? I knew you were drunk and Andy told me that she was spiking your drinks. What if I didn’t drive home? What if I came back, looking for you, and found Vera on the beach? What if I hit her over the head with a rock and killed her? And stuck that arrow in her chest so it would look like the Cupid Killer had done it?”

“But you didn’t do that.” Michael pulled Carla close. “I know you didn’t.”

Carla nodded. “Of course I didn’t. But I could have, just like you could have. Think about it, Mi chael. I’m trying to make an important point. You don’t believe that I’m the killer, and I don’t believe that you are. It’s all a matter of trust.”

“I guess you’re right.” Michael began to smile, and he hugged her tightly. “I trust you, and you trust me. I’m a lucky guy, Carla.”

But after Michael had left to go out on stage, Carla sat there for a moment, with a puzzled expression on her face. How could Michael possibly consider him self lucky? Most of the girls he’d dated had been murdered, the police suspected him of being the Cu pid Killer, and almost all of his friends had turned against him. If that was luck, Carla hoped she’d be very unlucky in the days to come!

Sixteen

Carla wasn’t intending to eavesdrop on anyone’s private conversation, but when she let herself in the front door of Covers at four on Saturday afternoon, she couldn’t help but hear every word that was com ing from the kitchen. Tammy, Winona, and Berto were arguing, and their voices were so loud, they could have roused the dead. Actually, that’s what they were arguing about. The dead . . . as in, Judy Lam pert’s ghost.

The swinging door to the kitchen was open, and Carla didn’t want to walk past it. Then they’d know that she had overheard. But she didn’t want to turn around and go back outside, either. It was hot in the parking lot, and she had a lot of work to do before they opened for the evening.

Carla sighed. Since she was here, she might as well stay. She was about to sit down on a chair and wait for the end of the argument, when the front door opened and Michael came in.

“What’s going on?” Michael looked puzzled as he saw her standing there.

Carla gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m not sure. It sounds like Berto, and Tammy, and Winona are arguing about the existence of Judy’s ghost.”

“Again?” Michael chuckled. “Maybe we ought to bill them as a comedy routine. They’ve been doing this for over a week.”

“Well, I say it’s true!” Tammy was so excited, her voice squeaked. “There were two packs of French fries gone this morning, and you know how much Judy always loved French fries!”

When Berto spoke, he sounded disgusted. “What did you do? Count the whole carton?”

“Yes! And Winona helped me, didn’t you, Wi nona?”

“It’s true. I did.” Winona didn’t sound quite as ex cited as Tammy. “You’ve got to face facts, Berto. Somebody’s been eating our food. And somebody’s been sitting in our chairs. They’re all out of place when we come in.”

Tammy took up the argument again. “And some body’s been sleeping in the girls’ dressing room! What do you have to say about that?”

“Goldilocks.” Michael spoke softly in Carla’s ear as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I won der if Berto’ll pick up on that.”

“Come on, girls. You sound like the three bears.”

Berto sounded amused, and Michael and Carla be gan to laugh. Berto must have heard them, because the argument abruptly stopped, and he stuck his head out the door. “Hi, guys. Why don’t you come in here, and beat some sense into Tammy and Winona’s pointed little heads? They’re still blabbering on and on about Judy’s ghost.”

Tammy and Winona looked embarrassed as Carla and Michael trooped into the kitchen. Tammy was the first to recover, and she gave a nervous little laugh. “Berto doesn’t believe us, but there’s more stuff missing. Look at this!”

Michael and Carla looked where Tammy was pointing. There was a plate on the table with two limp French fries, sitting in a gob of dried mustard.

“Judy always dipped her french fries in mustard.” Winona explained. “Everybody else I know uses ketchup. There’s something going on here, and I don’t like it.”

Michael nodded. “I don’t like it, either. And nei ther does Mr. Calloway. He’s losing money on all this missing food. I don’t suppose you’ve been keeping a list?”

“I have.” Berto opened the kitchen drawer, and took out a notebook. He opened it, and handed it to Michael with a frown. “Twenty-three hamburgers with buns, a bunch of French fries, four packs of sliced cheese, and six gallons of strawberry ice cream.”

“That’s your proof!” Tammy pointed to the last item on the list. “Strawberry ice cream is Judy’s fa vorite!”

Berto frowned. “Don’t be an idiot, Tammy. Straw berry ice cream is a lot of people’s favorite. We sell at least four gallons a night.”

“With chocolate sauce?” Tammy pointed to the container of chocolate sauce on the counter. “I filled that up last night, and now there’s some missing. I just wish Vera had gone through with that exorcism, no matter how stupid it sounds. I’d feel a whole lot better.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Carla cleared her throat. She could tell that Tammy’s care less comment had disturbed Michael. He still didn’t like to talk about Vera, especially since her brother had confessed that they’d planned to extort money from Michael’s parents. “Look, Tammy . . . do you really think Judy’s ghost is eating this food?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Tammy hesitated. “All I know is, it scares me to come in and find all this stuff missing. Somebody’s been here. You can’t deny that.”

“I don’t deny it. I think someone’s been staying here, too. But I don’t think it’s a ghost. I think it’s a real live person.”

“That’s impossible.” Winona shook her head. “Mr. Calloway changed all the locks and put bars on the windows. Nobody can get in.”

“So it’s got to be a ghost because ghosts can walk through walls?”

Tammy frowned. “Exactly!”

“Then tell me how I got in.” Carla started to smile.

“You used your key.” Winona looked at Carla like she was crazy. “That’s obvious.”

“But I didn’t. I didn’t have to use my key because the door was open. We don’t lock it behind us in the daytime. And that’s probably how our food thief got in. He or she could have opened the door and walked right past the kitchen while we were arguing.”

“Oh, my God! You’re right!” Tammy gave a little shiver. “I never thought of that! The food thief could be sneaking in during the daytime, and hiding out until we leave for the night. And that means there’s no ghost. Judy’s really dead.”

Carla turned to wink at Michael. Proving a point to Tammy and Winona was a lot like teaching a kin dergarten class. You had to spell everything out, and it took infinite patience. But Michael didn’t look amused. He just looked very sad, and Carla knew he was thinking about the awful way that Judy had died.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” A voice floated out from the main room, and everyone jumped.

“We’re in here!” Carla frowned slightly. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, but it could be someone Mr. Calloway had signed up to appear as a guest in to night’s show.

The owner of the voice stepped into the kitchen. She was a gorgeous brunette in her early twenties, wearing shorts and a halter top. Her skin was golden, her hair fell to her waist in a shining curtain of ma hogany silk, and her face was something a model would die for. As she spotted Michael, her deep brown eyes began to sparkle, and she rushed across the room to hug him tightly.

“Scooter!” Her voice was low-pitched and breath less. “Your mother told me you’d be here, so I rushed right over.”

Michael looked dazed as he glanced down at the gorgeous creature in his arms. “Stinky? Is that you?”

“In the flesh.” The girl laughed, and stood on tip toe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise you won’t call me Stinky, I won’t call you Scooter.”

“Deal.” Michael laughed and hugged her again. Then he turned to introduce her to the rest of the group. “This is my sort-of cousin, Angela Price. She used to live next door to me until her parents moved away. Angela . . . meet Berto, and Tammy, and Wi nona, and Carla.”

Angela’s beautiful lips parted and she smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “Hi. I’m glad to meet you. Aunt Ginnie told me all about Covers, and I could hardly wait to see it.”

“Will you be in town long?” Michael draped a friendly arm around Angela’s shoulders.

“Forever!” Angela smiled up at him. “At least it seems like forever. I just got accepted at U.C.L.A., and I’m transferring here.”

“Great!”

Michael sounded really pleased, and Carla felt an unwelcome stab of jealousy. She tried to stifle it by telling herself that she was being ridiculous. Angela was so beautiful, she probably had hundreds of boy friends. It was perfectly understandable that she’d wanted to look up her former neighbor. She’d do the same thing herself, if she went back to her old home town.

“What’s your major, Angela?” Berto did his best to make polite conversation.

“Theater Arts. I went to Washington State for my first two years, but everyone told me I’d be better off coming down here. After all, this is the capital of show biz, and I want to be where the action is.”

“Are you a performer?” Tammy asked the ques tion that was on everyone’s mind, Carla’s included.

Angela laughed. “You couldn’t keep me off a stage if you tried. I sing and dance, and I can get by on a guitar or a keyboard, but that’s about it.”

“That’s plenty.” Michael sounded impressed. “Wait until Mr. Calloway comes in. If he likes you, he might give you a guest shot. You probably need the extra cash.”

Angela laughed again, a wonderfully musical laugh that set Carla’s teeth on edge. No one should have such a marvelous laugh. It just wasn’t fair.

“Cash is no problem, Scoot . . . I mean, Michael. My grandfather left me a trust fund that covers all my expenses. But I’d love to do it for the experience.”

“Come on, Carla.” Michael motioned to her. “Let’s go show Angela around. You’ve got time, haven’t you?”

“Uh . . . sure!” Carla gave him a blinding smile that she knew wasn’t as pretty as Angela’s. She didn’t have the time, and she’d have to work her tail off to get everything done by the time Mr. Calloway ar rived, but she didn’t want to leave Angela alone with Michael.

They walked out of the kitchen and across the floor, and climbed the steps to the stage. Angela shiv ered a little as she stepped out on the boards. “I hope I don’t run into that girl again. She was very strange. I asked her if you were here, and she turned around and ran.”

“What girl?” Carla began to frown. She hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“The girl who was up on the stage. She was a blonde, a little taller than I am, and she was dressed all in black.”

Carla turned to meet Michael’s eyes. He looked just as startled as she was. A blonde dressed in black was the exact description Vera had given when she’d told them about seeing Judy’s ghost!

Seventeen

Carla and Michael had insisted that Angela tell Mr. Calloway about the girl she’d seen, and they’d made a thorough search of the building. Mr. Cal loway had even called the police to look for the in truder, but the girl had vanished into thin air. Everyone hoped that they’d frightened her away, but the girl was bolder than they’d thought. On Tuesday, Andy had reported that there was more missing food, and on Wednesday, Marc had found a bedroll tucked into a corner of the prop closet. Just yesterday, Linda had discovered that several costumes were no longer on the rack in the dressing room, and Carla had come up short when she’d counted petty cash. It was clear that the girl was hiding out in the building, but no one had caught a glimpse of her since Angela had startled her on Monday afternoon.

It had been a miserable week at Covers, and ev eryone was very nervous. Linda, who was usually calm and collected, had broken down in tears at their after-show meeting when she’d told Mr. Calloway that she thought someone was watching her. Phil had admitted he’d had the same feeling, and so had most of the Covers staff. Even Carla had felt uneasy when she worked alone in the office. She’d almost jumped out of her skin last night, when a squirrel had scam pered across the roof.

And then there was the problem of Angela. Ev eryone at Covers was wild about her, and they all thought it was only a matter of time before she’d be discovered. Angela danced, and sang. She played several musical instruments, including the guitar, and she’d done a couple of comedy sketches with Michael that had left the audience in convulsions. Everyone thought that Angela was an incredible tal ent, and Carla agreed. But Angela seemed to think that being Michael’s old neighbor entitled her to monopolize all his time.

Michael and Angela had been practically insepa rable, and he seemed to enjoy playing tour guide. They’d gone to a tourist attraction every day. Even though Michael always invited her to come along, Carla couldn’t help but feel excluded. When Michael and Angela weren’t re-living their childhood esca pades, they were talking about how they were going to set the show biz world on fire after they graduated from U.C.L.A.