Read It and Weep (A Library Lover's Mystery) (12 page)

“W
ell, you weren’t supposed to get it that quick,” Lindsey said.

“It’s nothing I hadn’t thought myself,” Charlene said. “Mom, of course, refuses to listen.”

“Of course,” Lindsey agreed. “That’s why we’ve all agreed to keep watch over her. She won’t be allowed out of our sight.”

Charlene smiled. “I might have known. Meanwhile, I’ve been nagging Emma to assign an undercover officer to tail her twenty-four-seven.”

“Excellent. Between all of us, she should be safe.”

Charlene nodded. She looked as if she wanted to say more but she held back.

“I did know that Robbie fathered a child,” Charlene said, “but I don’t think that had anything to do with what happened.”

“Does Emma know?” Lindsey asked.

“I don’t know,” Charlene said. “I don’t feel right telling Emma about Robbie’s personal business.” She looped her arm through Lindsey’s and led her away from the house. “It was so many years ago, and Mom said when he refused to get married and settle down, the mother put the baby up for adoption. It was before Robbie was famous, so the mother probably didn’t think he’d be a contributing factor and she couldn’t do it alone. They were just kids themselves.”

“Don’t worry,” Lindsey said. “I’m not judging. It just made me think that maybe, given his success, the mother might have come looking for him.”

“No, not that I know of,” Charlene said. “I mean, I would think he’d have mentioned it if she had.”

“I suppose so,” Lindsey said.

“What does Sully think about your interest in Robbie’s background?” Charlene asked.

“Nothing as far as I know,” Lindsey said. “I mean, Sully and I don’t talk that much anymore, so it’s not like I mentioned to him that I’ve been reading articles about Robbie to see if they shed any light on who might have a vendetta against him.”

“So, are you and Sully really over?” Charlene asked.

Lindsey glanced down the stairs and across the small dock to the boat where Charlie and Heathcliff sat waiting. Was her relationship with Sully done for good? The thought was a tough one to process. She didn’t like it but she didn’t see much hope for them if Sully didn’t learn to better communicate.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good,” she said.

Charlene glanced over her shoulder at the cabin as if to be sure that the kids were all right and then back at Lindsey. She studied her for moment and then asked, “Do you think you would have dated Robbie, you know, if—”

“If he hadn’t been murdered?” Lindsey clarified. “Hard to say, but I did like him. Yes, I’m admitting it; I really, really liked him, despite my good sense. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering,” Charlene said. “If Robbie hadn’t, well, if things had been different and you fell for each other, then Robbie would have stayed here and we could all have lived happily ever after.”

“Yeah, his wife might have had something to say about that . . . oh, and his girlfriend, too,” Lindsey said.

She could feel her face get warm at the thought of having Robbie Vine for a boyfriend—which was ridiculous, since he was gone—but the thought that she never got to have him be something more in her life made her sad.

“Yeah, well, it would have been nice,” Charlene said. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Lindsey said. She suspected Charlene just needed to hear that Robbie’s story could have had an alternate ending. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Charlene said, and she hugged Lindsey close. “For everything.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said. “Call me if you need me.”

“I promise,” Charlene said.

Lindsey hurried down the stairs and untied the boat. She gave the boat a shove and scrambled aboard while Charlie fired up the engine.

Twenty minutes later, they were pulling up to the dock. Lindsey was about to hustle out when she recognized the tall figure standing on the dock waiting for them. Sully.

Heathcliff went right into spasms of joy, and Lindsey felt her own heart do a skip and a jump. Why was it whenever she thought she was getting over him, he showed up and she was knocked flat all over again?

He grabbed the side of the boat and tied it up while Lindsey and Heathcliff jumped out. Charlie followed as soon as he switched off the engine. Sully didn’t say anything but glanced between Charlie and Lindsey, obviously waiting for an explanation.

Lindsey just glanced at him and then at her watch. She wanted to get over to the theater and help Nancy and Mary.

“Charlie, are you heading home?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I have the phone here forwarded to my cell so I’ll get any taxi calls wherever I am.”

“Would you mind taking Heathcliff with you?” she asked. “I want to stop by the theater and see how things are going.”

“Sure, me and the dog dude can hang out and watch Animal Planet. He digs the
Gator Boys
,” Charlie said. Then he eyed Sully with a wary glance. “Everything all right, boss?”

“Huh?” Sully glanced between them. “Yeah, it’s fine. I just stopped by the office for a minute for a paperwork thing.”

“Cool,” Charlie said. “So, I’ll see you later, Lindsey. See ya, boss.”

She nodded and waved as Charlie and Heathcliff set off toward home. Lindsey turned in the opposite direction and headed to the theater. Halfway down the pier, Sully fell into step beside her.

“So, you needed the taxi?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Silence fell between them, and Lindsey sighed. She didn’t like how things were between them now. It was all awkward and wrong. She couldn’t help but feel that Sully didn’t say what he was thinking and she was afraid that if Sully didn’t learn now to say what he was thinking, then if they got back together she would always feel emotionally detached from him. And she just didn’t see that as a happy-ever-after.

“I’m guessing you went to see Charlene,” he said.

“I did.”

“Probably brought her a banana bread.”

“Pumpkin squares, actually,” she said.

“Oh, man, you didn’t give any to Charlie, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Because if he made out just because he was on taxi duty tonight, I would be seriously annoyed,” he said. Under the streetlights, Lindsey could see the teasing twinkle in his eyes; she remembered this Sully, the one who made her laugh, and she smiled.

“He didn’t get pumpkin squares, just a healthy tip,” she said.

They continued down the street to the theater, and things felt more like it used to feel between them. Lindsey felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Maybe she and Sully could find a way back to where they’d once been after all. Of course, that was assuming he was interested.

“So, how are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ve never seen anyone die before, so that’s been kind of tough to process, but I imagine we all feel that way.”

“Somewhat,” Sully said. “But I don’t think the rest of us knew him as well as you did.”

Lindsey raised her eyebrows and gave him an inquiring look. “How well do you think I knew him?”

Sully gave her a rueful smile. “Not as well as he would have liked.”

They paused in front of the theater. The breeze blowing in from the water pushed his dark curls forward over his forehead. Lindsey wanted to push them back, but she didn’t.

“I think I was just a novelty for him,” she said.

“I disagree,” Sully said. “I think he saw something wonderful in you, the same way I do when I look at you.”

Lindsey felt her breath catch and when she looked into his eyes, she was undone. She wasn’t sure which one of them started it, but she realized they were leaning toward one another, caught up in the moment.

“Hey, you big shirker!” Ian yelled as he banged open the theater door and popped his head out. “I’ve been looking for you. Get in here! We have a set to finish for dress rehearsal tomorrow night.”

Sully muttered something under his breath that did not flatter Ian, and Lindsey bit her lower lip to keep from smiling.

“Excuse me, duty calls,” Sully said.

Together they strode in through the door that Ian held open, and Lindsey could swear she saw a mischievous sparkle glinting in Ian’s eye.

Ian and Sully jostled one another as they strode down the side aisle that led backstage. Lindsey shook her head and went across the theater toward the costume room.

Once she got there, Nancy grabbed her by the arm and said, “Thank goodness you’re here. Dress rehearsal is tomorrow and I swear Brian has put on ten pounds since I measured him for his costume. Could you let it out?”

Without waiting for an answer, Nancy shoved the costume into Lindsey’s hands and grabbed a rolling rack of costumes, which she began to push toward the stage.

“Let me help you,” Lindsey said. She draped Brian’s tunic over her shoulder, grabbed the back of the rack and helped Nancy wheel it out the door toward the stage.

The costume-changing area backstage was a small one, but most of the players had few costume changes, and they were at staggered times, so the rolling rack would provide all of the cover they might need. There was also a small makeup table for touch-ups.

Nancy wheeled the rack into position, and then had the actors playing Demetrius and Helena, come and try on their costumes. Kitty was playing Helena and Lindsey was pleased to see that although she looked a bit down, she was polite to Nancy during the costuming and even managed to thank her.

One of Lindsey’s favorite parts of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
was the complicated love lives of Shakespeare’s young lovers. Hermia loves Lysander, but her father wants her to marry Demetrius, and he has Theseus threaten her with a convent or death if she doesn’t comply with her father’s wishes. So, of course, Helena, who was thrown over by Demetrius when he fell for Hermia, rats out Lysander and Hermia when they plan to elope. It was great stuff.

Lindsey helped the actors with their costumes, and when everything was a go, Nancy sent them away and called in the actors playing Hermia and Lysander. Lola was playing Hermia, and Lindsey was pleased to see that she hadn’t quit the show despite her grief.

“How are you holding up?” she asked the fragile-looking brunette as she adjusted the actress’s headpiece.

Lola tipped her chin up and said, “I know Robbie would want me to give the performance of my life. So that’s what I plan to do.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lindsey said. She watched as Lola walked out onto the stage to have Violet approve her final costume.

While Nancy cinched Lysander’s tunic, Lindsey heard harsh whispers coming from behind her. She turned her head, trying to see in the gloomy light. No luck. She went into the shadows and paused.

“Don’t lie to me,” a man said.

Lindsey peeped around a large canvas backdrop and saw Brian standing there, looking red-faced and angry, with his hands on his hips.

“I’m not lying,” a woman answered.

Lindsey leaned farther forward and saw that it was Brian’s wife, Brandy.

“I didn’t sleep with Robbie,” she said. Her voice sounded weary, as if she’d had this argument so many times she was utterly bored by it.

“You’re lying,” Brian snapped. “Do you think I can’t tell? You don’t want me to touch you anymore. You’re always tired or have a headache.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” Brandy asked. “You exhaust me with your crazy, jealous hysteria.”

Before Brandy could react, Brian grabbed her by the throat and shoved her up against the wall. Lindsey jumped forward as Brandy clawed at Brian’s hand.

“Let her go!” Lindsey snapped.

“Mind your own business!” Brian retorted, but he released Brandy, who was gasping. “Stick to papier-mâché, Lindsey, or you’ll regret it.”

“Like Robbie did?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes and reached out to grab Brandy’s hand.

“Don’t touch me!” she snarled. “Ever again.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I want a divorce,” Brandy said.

“You can’t do that,” he argued.

“Oh, yes, I can,” she said. “Because now I have bruises and a witness.”

Brian’s face crumpled and he looked as if he were about to cry. Brandy stepped up close to him and said, “We’re through, and just so you know, I never slept with Robbie.” She glanced at Lindsey. “His interest was elsewhere, but if he had ever offered, oh yeah, I’d have been with him in a heartbeat.”

Brian swung his arm back and Brandy clenched herself tight while Lindsey stepped forward to stop the blow. It never came.

Instead, Brian’s arm was twisted behind his back, and he dropped to his knees with a yelp of pain.

“I
never could stomach a man who would hit a woman,” Emma Plewicki said. She bent over and cuffed Brian’s hands behind his back. “Come on, we’re going to take a little stroll over to the station.”

She hauled Brian up to his feet and dragged him out behind the curtain onto the stage. Lindsey and Brandy followed as if to be certain that he was being taken off of the premises.

“You can’t arrest me!” Brian protested. “I’m in the show.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Emma said. “Violet, you’re going to need a replacement for the part of Nick Bottom. This one was roughing up his wife, so I think we need to go have a little chat about his anger management issues.”

Violet took in the scene at a glance. One eyebrow was raised in silent question.

“I’ll let you know,” Emma said.

Lindsey knew the unspoken question was whether Brian was Robbie’s killer or not.

“Fine,” Violet said. “Brian, you’re out. Do not return to this theater again or you’ll be arrested for trespassing. Am I clear?”

“What? No!” Brian protested. “It’s her fault!” He nodded his head toward Brandy. “If she wasn’t such a slut, I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

“Brian Loeb, you have the right to remain silent . . .” Emma read him his Miranda rights while she dragged him up the main aisle to the front of the theater.

“All right,” Violet said. “We need a new Nick Bottom. Who was slated to understudy that part?”

The cast on stage looked at one another. No one stepped forward. Violet frowned and looked down at her legal pad, where she kept all of her notes.

“Oh, my god,” she cried. “I never assigned an understudy to that part because Brian was such an ass—literally—that I knew he’d rather die than miss his performance. Opening night is two days away. What am I going to do?”

“Don’t panic.” Nancy stepped from behind the curtain and crouched down at the edge of the stage, in front of which Violet was now pacing. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” Violet cried. “Who here knows Nick Bottom’s part? Anyone?”

“‘That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure,’” a deep voice said from the back of the stage.

“What?” Violet looked up. “Who said that? That’s Bottom’s part in Act I, Scene II. Continue!”

Ian Murphy strode forward and bowed. Then he continued, “‘To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.’”

“Ian Murphy, I could kiss you, you brilliant man,” Violet said. “Why haven’t you auditioned before?”

Ian looked down as he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the wooden floor of the stage. “I’m shy.”

“Ha!” Violet laughed. “Well, now you’re a star. Lindsey, take him to Mary to get fitted. Ian, I want you back here in fifteen minutes for a run-through.”

“Yes ma’am,” they said together. Ian gave Violet a snappy salute and jumped off the stage to stand beside Lindsey.

Lindsey led him to the back room, where Mary stood finalizing the stitching on one of the faerie costumes. She glanced up in surprise and looked questioningly at Ian.

“Mary, meet our new Nick Bottom,” Lindsey said. “I think you might be familiar with his measurements.”

“What?” Mary asked. “Ian, what is she talking about?”

“Brian, the original Nick Bottom has been fired,” Ian said. “Apparently Violet didn’t assign anyone as understudy, so she needed someone who knew the part.”

“You do?” Mary asked. She looked at Lindsey. “How do I not know this about my husband?”

Lindsey shrugged.

“So, I need a costume,” Ian said. “What do you think of a pair of leopard-print tights and a gold lamé tunic or is that too much?”

Mary grinned at him and shook her head. “Well, the donkey mask will certainly be appropriate.”

“Hee-haw.” Ian brayed and pranced around his wife while she laughed.

“Don’t forget, you have fifteen minutes until Violet wants you on stage,” Lindsey said.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I have to admit, I’m a little afraid of Violet,” Ian said. He stopped prancing while Mary got out her measuring tape.

“We all are,” Mary agreed.

Lindsey left the room and went back into the theater to see if Nancy needed any help. The players were on the stage and Dylan was practicing his final speech as Puck.

“‘If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here. While these visions did appear.’”

Not wanting to interrupt, Lindsey sat and watched him. He was a perfect Puck: less polished than Robbie, but he had the same twinkle in his eye and the same perfect pitch with his delivery.

She saw his mother sitting in the row in front of her. She was mouthing the lines with her son, and Lindsey thought it was remarkable how her tune had changed with his advancement to a larger role.

When Dylan finished, Violet called him forward. “That was excellent,” she said. “You’ve really nailed it.”

Dylan beamed at her, and Lindsey noted that his mother looked quite pleased. She found this ironic given how much she had previously expressed her dislike of Violet and her immoral lifestyle.

As Joanie Peet rose, Lindsey leaned forward and said, “He really is a wonderful actor. He must have some very strong acting DNA.”

Joanie frowned at her. “Why do you say that?”

“He just seems gifted,” she said. “He almost looks like Robbie Vine up there.”

“I don’t see any resemblance,” Joanie said. “In fact, I think Mr. Vine’s talents were always a bit overrated.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I meant it as a compliment. Dylan is very talented for a seventeen-year-old.”

“He’ll be eighteen in a few weeks,” she said. “He’s very mature for his age.”

“Yes, well, he’s really something special,” Lindsey said. She was getting the feeling that Joanie was annoyed with her, but she couldn’t for the life of her think why unless she really resented having her son compared to Robbie Vine.

“I’m fully aware of how special my son is,” Joanie said. She moved around Lindsey. “I haven’t spent all these years nursing my sickly boy back to health to not know what a gift he is. Please, excuse me.”

Lindsey watched as she approached her son. He was crouched on the edge of the stage, listening to directions from Violet. When he turned his head, the lighting lit up his reddish-brown hair and he grinned a sort of sideways smile that looked so much like Robbie Vine’s that Lindsey felt her breath catch.

Suddenly, Lindsey remembered the tattoo on Robbie’s arm. It was a stylized sun with a date in the middle of it. He had told her that the date was a reminder of the most significant day of his life.

It had been 10-23-95, just a few weeks short of being eighteen years ago. Lindsey had assumed it was the date of a big show or maybe the first lead role Robbie had gotten, but looking at Dylan and remembering the article about Robbie having fathered a child, she wondered.

She must be crazy. No, it was impossible. But hadn’t Heather said that Dylan told her he was adopted? Still, the odds that he was Robbie’s son were slim to none. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it was true. There was only one way to be sure.

She made her way down to the edge of the stage, where Joanie was listening in on Violet’s instructions to Dylan.

“Now remember,” Violet was saying, “you are Puck, the merry wanderer of the night. When you cross the stage, it needs to have a certain ethereal magic to it.”

“You aren’t suggesting he prance and mince his steps, are you?” Joanie asked. “That would make him look silly.”

Violet turned her head to look at her. Lindsey knew Violet well enough to know that she was not pleased to have Joanie adding her two cents to her directions.

The fire in her eyes made it quite clear that if Joanie didn’t shut her yap, she was going to go the way of Brian Loeb and be banned from the theater for the duration of the show.

Lindsey stepped forward. “Dylan, you were wonderful. Robbie would be very proud.”

Dylan flushed and looked down at the stage. Lindsey couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or embarrassment making him shy. She hoped it was the former.

“Thank you, Ms. Norris,” he said.

“Your mother tells me you’re having a birthday soon,” she said. “What date is it? I’ll be sure to have cupcakes at the library just for you, our star.”

“It’s the twenty-third of October,” he said.

Lindsey had to concentrate on keeping her expression completely neutral. She could feel her blood pounding through her body. She did not believe in coincidences, and this was a huge one.

“I’ll be sure to note it on the calendar,” she said.

“If you two don’t mind,” Violet said, “Dylan and I have work to do.”

“Yes, of course,” Lindsey said. “I’m heading back to wardrobe right now.”

Violet turned to Joanie and asked, “Aren’t you assisting with ticket sales and ushering?” Her point that Joanie needed to go find something else to do was lost on no one. Joanie’s mouth turned down in the corners.

“Yes, I am.” She turned to her son. “I’ll meet you here after rehearsal.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said.

Lindsey watched as Dylan’s mother made her way up to the front of the theater, where the ticket office was. She knew that several of the spouses and parents of the cast and crew were helping to take turns selling tickets and working as ushers on the nights of the performance. Right now they were all meeting in the lobby of the theater for training.

“Your mother seems very excited about your part in the play,” Lindsey said.

“She’s done so much for me,” Dylan said. “I’d do anything to repay her.”

He had a fierce light in his eye, and Lindsey felt a sense of unease drape over her like a cloak. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly how far he would go to repay his mother for all her years of care.