Sucker Punch (30 page)

“There was a production at a theater in Vail a couple of years ago.” Colleen sounded hesitant at first, but she rapidly warmed up to the idea. “It was
1776
. Laurence was musical director, I was assistant director.”

That made me sit up and take notice. “
Two
years ago? I thought you hadn’t seen him in ten years.”

“I never said that,” Colleen corrected me. “We worked together two or three times, we just didn’t have much to do with one another. During the production in Vail, he was involved with someone and that took up a lot of his time.”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t the impression she’d given me the last time we talked about this, but I wasn’t going to quibble. All I wanted was the truth. If Nate could get it and let me hang around to listen, more power to him.

“Anyone else from this group work on that one with you?” he asked.

Colleen brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. “A couple of people from the cast look familiar. I don’t know their names, but I can find out for you.”

“Do that.” Nate motioned for one of the uniformed officers to join us and take notes. “Anything unusual happen with that play?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Okay.” The toothpick shifted again. “What about before that?”

Colleen wobbled a little and leaned against the 4Runner to steady herself. “We worked together in Breckenridge a couple of years before that. He was in a lead role. I was casting director.”

“Same questions,” Nate prompted. “Anybody else from this group work on that one? Anything unusual happen?”

Colleen had to think about it for a minute. “Nobody that I can think of, but we did borrow some props from Vonetta. It was a production of
The Civil War
, and she ended up consulting on some of the scenes. She was there for a couple of weeks, I think.”

My heart beat a little faster. For the first time since Laurence’s murder, a couple of pieces actually fit together.

“Anybody else?”

Colleen shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember. And nothing unusual happened while we were in production, but one of the girls in the chorus found out she was pregnant right before our run ended, and I heard a few months later that another one committed suicide.”

“How long afterward?” I asked. “Could it have been connected to the play in some way?”

“Oh no.” Colleen looked shocked that I’d even suggest it. “It was months afterward, and I only heard about it through a friend I ran into somewhere. It had nothing to do with us.”

“And the next one?” Nate prodded.

“Eight years ago.
Cinderella
in Estes Park. I don’t remember anyone else being involved. This is a wild-goose chase.” Nate didn’t respond except to ask, “That the last one?”

Colleen started to nod, but stopped herself and flashed a look at me filled with misery. “Ten years ago in Aspen.
How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying
. Nobody else from this group involved, and nothing unusual.” Nate checked with the officer to make sure he had everything written down, then released him to go back to whatever he’d been doing. “Doesn’t seem like much to go on,” he said, “but keep thinking.” He actually patted her shoulder like a real person. “If you come up with anything, let me know.”

“I will,” Colleen promised, but I knew she’d never tell Nate about the real connection she had with Laurence. Nate would have felt honor-bound to tell Doyle. I knew Colleen would do almost anything to prevent that, but I also wondered whether Doyle had already put the pieces together. Because two attacks on the same person in one night . . . Well, that felt kind of personal to me.

I called in sick the next day. The police had kept us in the parking lot until almost one A.M. taking our statements, and Nate had insisted that we go to an all-night clinic—the closest thing Paradise has to an emergency room—to make sure we were all right. He’d also dropped Max off at Karen’s so he wouldn’t be left in the cold while we were getting treatment, which was a thoughtfulness that surprised me. I wasn’t surprised, however, to learn that he’d called Doyle to drive Colleen home, though I knew it worried her.

By the time Doyle drove off with Colleen and Officer Jackson retrieved Max from Karen’s and helped me up the stairs to my apartment, the sun was already coming up. Too cold and tired to care about much, I crawled into bed still wearing my jeans and sweater and vowed to sleep all day.

I didn’t manage to sleep
all
day, but thanks to the magic of the painkillers I’d been given at the clinic, I slept until the medicine wore off later that morning. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was in for a rough day. Pain throbbed from the back of my head to the spot behind my eyes, and the soreness in every other part of my body almost made me cry when I accidentally moved one leg.

Max inched up on the bed and looked me over. He was so concerned, I managed to get one arm working well enough to scratch between his ears. Poor guy. He’d tried to warn me. It wasn’t his fault I hadn’t paid attention.

I swallowed another pain pill and dragged my aching body into the bathroom. Against my better judgment, I checked my reflection in the mirror and winced. Bruises had formed beneath my eyes and on my left cheek. I was pretty sure I saw some on my neck, too, but I couldn’t move my head to check. My head felt as if it had been split like a ripe melon, and my vision wasn’t clear by a long shot.

Moving slowly, I managed to strip off my clothes and turn on the shower. Climbing into the tub and pulling the curtain shut behind me took a little longer. The hot water felt good at first, but when I turned to let the spray hit my back, I could have sworn the water evaporated and a thousand burning needles took its place.

I let out a cry that brought Max to his feet, and turned away from the water as quickly as I could. It just wasn’t fast enough. I fumbled the water off and pushed the curtain open again, but by that time tears were streaming down my face. I just wasn’t sure whether they were brought on by pain, fear, or anger at the person who’d attacked us.

As I stood there, trying to regain control over my emotions, a knock sounded on my front door. I was tired of wallowing in self-pity, so I shouted, “Just a minute,” and hustled as quickly as I could to my bedroom. I tugged on an old pair of sweats that I found on my closet floor and pulled a soft old sweatshirt over my head, then hurried into the living room and threw open the front door.

Vonetta stood on my landing, looking as regal as ever in a long leather coat with matching hat, gloves, and scarf. “I heard what happened,” she said. “May I come in?”

She’d barely said two words to me in days, so I didn’t know what to expect. I nodded and stepped aside to let her in. After closing the door on the cold, I motioned her toward my sagging old couch. She sat at one end. I perched on the other.

Once there, I didn’t know what to say to her. Had she come to yell at me for asking questions, or was she here as a friend? Almost as soon as I sat down, I was on my feet again and aiming for the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I could put on a pot of Chocolate Mudslide or—”

She waved me back toward my seat. “Nothing for me, thank you.” And when I didn’t disappear into the kitchen to make some for myself, “Sit down, please.”

I returned to the couch and sat gingerly. I tried not to cringe, but judging from the frown that creased Vonetta’s face, I knew I’d failed. “The police told me what happened, Abby. I came by to tell you how sorry I am. And, of course, to see if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Why should you be sorry?” I asked. “You didn’t do this.”

“No, but I still feel responsible. Maybe if I’d been more careful this could have been prevented.”

I sat back cautiously, testing the pressure of the couch against my back before I relaxed. It hurt, but the pain medication must have been working because the discomfort was bearable. “Why?” I asked. “What do you know that you haven’t told me?”

“Nothing. You know about Serena’s past.”

I nodded. “She told me about the baby, and about the abortion. I’m sorry Vonetta, I know it must have hurt.”

Vonetta nodded miserably. “I know I was rude to you, but I didn’t want anyone else to find out. It wasn’t personal. It’s just all too painful for her, and it’s too fresh for me. I can’t talk about it yet.” She crossed her legs carefully and smoothed her hands across her lap. “Laurence was a dreadful man, Abby. I didn’t kill him. I want you to know that. But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

I fell silent for a minute and let that hang in the space between us. It seemed so odd to hear Vonetta talking like that in her cultured, controlled voice I needed to process, I guess. “Tell me about the play you worked on with Laurence and Colleen in Breckenridge,” I said at last.

She pulled back in surprise. “What play?”

“
The Civil War.
Colleen said that you loaned the theater some props and that you consulted for a couple of weeks.”

“Gracious! I’d forgotten all about that. I really wasn’t involved in that production. What makes you bring that up now?”

“There has to be a connection between the people who have been attacked. You. Laurence. Colleen. So far, that’s the only common thread I’ve been able to find.”

“And you,” Vonetta said. “Don’t leave yourself off that list.”

I lifted one shoulder carefully. “I think the attacker went after me because he knows I’m trying to catch him. The rest of you are a different story. Do you remember anything about that group of people? Anyone who was different, maybe? Did something happen that someone might be holding a grudge over?”

Vonetta’s lips curved gently. “Against Laurence? I’m sure there was something. But Colleen and me? I don’t know what it could be. I consulted on a couple of scenes. She was casting director, if I remember correctly. We had nothing to do with one another.”

“There must be something,” I argued. “Something that ties the three of you to the murderer. Otherwise, these are all just random acts of violence, and I don’t believe that.”

“What else could they be? There
is
no connection. Besides, every attack is different. The police said that Laurence wasn’t just hit, he was poisoned. You’re obviously hurt, and so is Colleen. I’m walking around with barely a scratch, and thank goodness none of us has been fed potassium cyanide.”

She was right, but I still couldn’t shake the idea that there was a connection. I just hadn’t found it yet. And I had more questions to ask before she left. “I understand that Geoffrey Manwaring is refusing to let you use the music Laurence wrote for this production.”

Vonetta rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Geoffrey’s as miserable as Laurence was. I’m not a bit surprised that he’s hanging on to those pieces to see what he can get for them.”

“And is it definite? He inherits Laurence’s estate?”

“As far as I know. The two of them worked together for years. I think he’s the only person Laurence ever met he didn’t alienate. They’re two of a kind, that’s for sure.”

“So you’re not upset about the music?”

Vonetta laughed softly. “I didn’t say that. I’m just not surprised.”

“Do you think Geoffrey could have killed Laurence to get his hands on the money?”

She tilted her head to one side, as if she hadn’t considered that idea before. “Anything’s possible. He’s certainly capable of it. But unless the rumors are
very
well hidden, he’s done quite well over the years. To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t need the money. Without a desperate need, I just don’t think he would have killed his only friend to get it.”

Vonetta got to her feet and smiled down at me. “I don’t want to keep you up. I just needed to see for myself that you’re all right. And you might as well know that we’re shutting down the production.”

“Can you do that and survive? Financially, I mean.”

She nodded. “I have insurance. It’s not the greatest, and we’re going to take a substantial hit, but we should be able to keep our heads above water if we’re careful. Now rest so you can heal. Is there anything I can get you?”

I started to shake my head, but that only made the pain move forward further still. “No. I’m fine. I just need to sleep, I think.”

Vonetta brushed a kiss to my cheek and walked to the door. “I want you to call if you need anything,” she said, sounding more like herself than she had since she arrived. She paused with one hand on the doorknob and locked eyes with me. “Promise?”

“Sure.” I’d made that promise before, but I’d never meant it. Unfortunately, I doubted I could get down the stairs and out the door on my own today. If I wanted anything to eat or drink, I was going to have to ask for help. And that wasn’t all. I hadn’t been able to take Max outside all day. So far, he’d been good about holding it, but sooner or later he was going to need a walk. Difficult as it was for me to let someone do things for me, for once I might be forced to make an exception.