Sucker Punch (13 page)

Karen set aside the glass container and sat, putting her feet on an empty chair. She flexed one foot, then the other several times. “Do you really think Nate will try to railroad Richie into court?”

“He might not railroad him,” I said, trying to be fair, “but I don’t think he’ll go out of his way to look for other suspects.”

“But surely Richie’s not their only suspect?”

“I hope not,” I said. “But you know Nate as well as I do. Maybe better. He’s not a big fan of the alternative lifestyle.”

Karen scowled at her feet as she began rotating both at the ankles. “I know he’s not, but he wouldn’t send someone to jail just for being gay.”

“I don’t think he’d send Richie to jail for being gay,” I clarified. “But you know how some of these guys are around here. If he thinks Richie is sick and twisted—and you know he does—it’s not much of a stretch for him to believe Richie’s a murderer, too.”

Liberty held up a heart so she could admire her handiwork. “Poor Richie. He must be scared half to death. Have you heard anything yet? Is he still at the police station?”

“As far as I know.” I pulled three mugs from the cupboard and carried them to the table. “What do you know about Doyle Brannigan?” I asked Karen.

“Doyle? Colleen’s husband?” Karen stopped rotating her feet and glanced up at me. “Not a lot, but he seems like a good guy.”

Liberty set aside one heart and started working on another. “Why are you asking about him? Do you think he did it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out where he was last night.” I sat at the table and sighed with frustration. “The trouble is, a falling light seems like such a careless way to commit murder. I can’t even get to
who
could have done it yet, because I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around
how
it was done. There’s just no way to guarantee that that would do the job.”

Karen put her feet on the floor and straightened one leg in front of her. “You don’t know for sure that the light killed him, do you? It was there, and you say the cable was obviously cut, but do you know for sure that it’s what struck the fatal blow?”

I stared at her, dumbfounded that I hadn’t even considered that. “No, I guess I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Liberty breathed. “So somebody, like, cut the cable and dropped the light to make it
look
like the light was what killed Laurence?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, it’s definitely possible.” I grabbed the coffeepot and carried it to the table. “The police will be able to say for sure when they get the coroner’s report back, but I have no idea how long that will take. I wish Jawarski was here. He’d be able to find out where things stood for me.”

“So the murder weapon could have been anything?” Liberty seemed to be enjoying herself. “He could have been shot or stabbed or anything for all we know.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” We were straying from the subject I wanted to discuss, so I tried dragging us back. “You said you don’t know Doyle well,” I said, fixing my attention on Karen. “But it seemed to me that he has a pretty bad temper. Do you know if he’s ever been in trouble before?”

Karen put both feet on the floor again and sat ramrod straight. “Not that I know of, but I’m hardly an expert on who’s done what in the past twenty years. I’ll bet you could check the archives at the
Post
and find out.”

“If
you
can’t remember anything,” I said, “there probably isn’t anything to remember.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Karen stopped rotating, flexing, and stretching, and picked up another freshly washed container to check for water spots. She knows everything about everyone, but she never seems to recognize her own ability.

“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Liberty said as she glued ribbon to yet another heart. “Maybe his wife is the killer. Didn’t you say she was at the theater when Laurence died?”

I nodded reluctantly. Much as I hated knowing that the police suspected Richie, I didn’t want to cast my old school friend in the role of cold-blooded killer either. “What about Geoffrey Manwaring? Did he say or do anything to make you think he was unhappy with Laurence when he was in here the other day?”

Karen shook her head slowly. “He didn’t say much of anything except that I should fire you.”

“Well, I’m not going to cross him off my list yet. You know what a miserable human being he is.”

“Unfortunately, being a jerk doesn’t automatically make somebody a murderer,” Karen said reasonably.

She had a point. “There’s always a chance that the killer was someone completely unrelated to the production,” I said. “When I left the theater last night, Nate was still trying to figure out whether Laurence had any family.”

Liberty finished with the hearts and sat back with her mug in her hands. “I don’t think he did,” she said. “I don’t remember ever reading about any. Isn’t that sad?”

“Family is everything,” Karen agreed.

“Well, I’m sure the police know by now,” I said. And if they hadn’t figured out how to use Google, the reporters (who were bound to show up soon) would fill them in.

We sat in silence for a minute, each of us pursuing our own line of thought until Liberty asked, “So what are you going to do?”

Cradling my cup in both hands, I inhaled the scent before treating myself to a taste. “Wait to hear from Dylan and hope the police don’t decide to arrest Richie without a lot more evidence.”

“You should go see how Dylan’s holding up,” Karen said. “He’s going to need a friend.”

“Good idea. I’ll go after work.”

She shook her head firmly. “I wouldn’t wait that long. Liberty and I can handle things for an hour or two this morning. You should go now.”

The suggestion surprised me, but I didn’t argue with her. That’s the thing about Karen. She’s one of the most compassionate people I know. Even if my leaving inconvenienced her, she was more concerned about Dylan than herself. Which is great, except that all that compassion made it even harder for me to stick to my guns on the gaudy paper heart decoration issue inside Divinity.

Ten minutes later, I had Max in the Jetta and we were chugging sluggishly toward the Silver River Inn.

The good news was that Richie was back by the time I got there. The bad news? I’d never seen him so depressed. He barely acknowledged me when he saw me, and instead of showering Max with air-kisses, he gave the poor dog a half-hearted scratch behind the ears before flopping onto a cushioned window seat that overlooked the street.

I sat beside him while Dylan turned a wingback chair away from the fireplace and perched on the edge of his seat, ready to leap up if Richie needed or wanted anything. After checking to make sure we were alone, I asked, “How are you two holding up?”

Dylan lifted one shoulder. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

Richie sat hunch-shouldered and staring at his hands. “It was humiliating, Abby. One of the worst things I’ve ever been through, and that’s saying something.”

“They didn’t arrest you, though,” I said. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“They haven’t arrested me
yet
.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and I was shocked by the despair I could see in them. “Give them a few more hours and they’ll probably be able to trump up enough evidence to execute me.”

“I’m as worried as anyone about Nate’s investigation,” I said, “but I don’t think he’d manufacture evidence just to get a conviction. I’m more concerned that he’ll ignore evidence because he’s made up his mind that you’re guilty.”

Richie’s lips curved slightly. “With all due respect, Abs, I have a little more experience with homophobes than you do.”

“Yeah, but Nate’s not just prejudiced against gay people. He’s also firmly convinced that women need to be kept in their place. He’s an equal-opportunity bigot.”

Richie let out a sharp laugh, and Dylan shot me a look of gratitude. “All evidence to the contrary,” Dylan said, “we’re trying not to panic or assume the worst. It’s not easy, though. We lost three couples this morning after the police showed up and hauled Richie off. They heard the word
murder
and they couldn’t check out fast enough.”

I hated hearing that, but it didn’t surprise me. It was just one more reason why clearing Richie of all suspicion was so important. “What did the police want to know?” I asked Richie.

He shrugged listlessly. “The same old stuff. What was I doing at the theater last night? Somebody told them that Laurence and I had an argument, so they asked about that. They wanted to know how I felt about him. Was I interested in him romantically?
As if!
They’re convinced that I was trying to seduce him, and he spurned me. They’ve cast me in the role of ‘woman scorned’ and they’re determined to prove that I climbed up into the rigging and bashed his skull in.”

“With a well-placed and very lucky swing of a spotlight,” I muttered. “That’s all they asked about?”

“They asked about my relationship with Dylan,” Richie said with a scowl. “They wanted to know how the two of us were getting along and whether our relationship was in trouble. And then they asked if I’d seen anyone else hanging around the theater, and whether I knew of anyone who wanted Laurence dead.”

“And did you? See anyone, I mean.”

He shook his head. “Besides Alexander and Vonetta and Colleen and Jason? No.”

“I knew about all of them,” I said. “They were there when we found the body. But where were they right before Laurence’s body was found? I thought they were there for a meeting, but I walked all through the Playhouse and couldn’t find anybody.”

“Probably out on the loading dock,” Richie said. “Alexander had some special piece of equipment he wanted to bring in, and Jason was trying to show him what our limitations were and why it wouldn’t fit.”

“What about Colleen’s husband? Was he there?”

Richie looked surprised by the question. “Not then. He was with her when she first got there, but he left.”

Which put him in the vicinity. My heart did a little quick-step. “What about Geoffrey Manwaring?”

Richie thought about that for a second, then shook his head. “I didn’t see him at all. I don’t think he was there.”

“Was Laurence on the loading dock with the rest of them?”

“At first. He got pissed off at Alexander for being such a prima donna, and went back inside.”

“And where were you when he did that?”

“In the men’s dressing room,” Richie said, looking embarrassed. “I was waiting, hoping to get a chance to talk to Laurence.”

I didn’t want to grill him. The police had already badgered him enough. But if I was going to help at all, I needed to know exactly what he’d seen and done. “This was after the misunderstanding you and Laurence had over your lunch invitation?”

Richie shot a withering look at Dylan. “You told her about that?”

“She’d already heard about the argument,” Dylan explained. “And I was groveling at her feet, begging her to help us. I wasn’t in any position to hide things. Besides, Abby’s on our side. She knows you weren’t trying to seduce anybody.”

Richie dragged his gaze back to mine. “Can you believe that? I mean, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but that guy was a real piece of work. I’ll admit I was a bit starstruck at first, but I wasn’t after . . .
that
.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I said. “But why did you want to talk to him? If he’d already been so nasty to you, why didn’t you just steer clear?”

“It was stupid, I know, but he’d asked me to do him a favor a couple of days earlier, and I decided not to be a jerk. I went back there to deliver a message.”

I sat up a little straighter. “What kind of favor?”

“He wanted to talk to someone privately, and he asked me to arrange it.”

“I warned him not to get involved,” Dylan said. “I knew it was just asking for trouble.”

“Who did he want to talk to?” I asked. “And why didn’t he just make the arrangements himself?”

“He tried. She wouldn’t talk to him, so he asked me to get her alone somewhere and then tell him so he could meet us there.”

The only woman I could think of in Paradise who would have avoided a conversation with Laurence Nichols was the one whose husband was convinced she’d been having an affair with him. I have issues about infidelity, so I was glad to know that Colleen had refused to meet Laurence alone.

Even though I was pretty sure what the answer would be, I asked again anyway. “Who was this mystery woman?”

Richie looked uncertain for about half a second, then laughed uncomfortably. “I promised Laurence I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I don’t suppose it matters now. He wanted to meet with Serena Cummings.”

I hadn’t seen
that
coming. “Serena? What did he want to see her about?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. I wish I had. Serena told the police I was lying, and I can’t prove that I’m not.”

“So you did set something up with her?”

Richie nodded. “She was going to meet me for lunch the next day. Which would make it today, wouldn’t it?” He snorted a laugh and closed his eyes. “I told her that I was having trouble with Paisley and I needed some advice about getting around her so I could talk to her mother. She bought the whole story at the time. I guess she knows it was a lie now.”

We all fell silent at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and an instant later a young couple stacked their bags near the front door and came into the great room. The woman held back and smiled nervously while the man strode toward the polished counter that serves as the inn’s front desk.

Dylan stood and did his best to put on a happy face. “You’re not leaving us, are you?”

“I’m afraid so. Something’s come up. Family . . . thing.”

Yeah, and I was Queen Elizabeth. The guilt on Richie’s face and the weariness in Dylan’s posture tugged at my heart. They couldn’t afford to watch business walk out the door any more than I could. If the mantle of suspicion wasn’t removed from Richie soon, these two could lose everything. I didn’t know how much good I could do, but I couldn’t just sit around and wait for a miracle.