Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (29 page)

“There’s not much to tell. His truck wouldn’t start, we found the bomb, we ran, kaboom.”

“Wow, you’re a great storyteller,” Mac said. “I’m amazed you aren’t on all the bestseller lists yet.”

I glared at him.

“What about Prufrock?” Randy asked.

“He and his secretary are fine. I managed to get them out of the building before the truck blew up.”

“I bet he wasn’t happy to see you near his office after what happened the last time you were there,” Randy said.

“No, he definitely wasn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s threatening to file a restraining order against me.”

“Wow, you know how to make friends, don’t you?” Mac laughed.

“Can he do that?” Randy said. “I mean, does he have probable cause?”

“Mike says he can. I don’t know if he will, though. Maybe after he calms down, he’ll realize I had nothing to do with what happened.”

Randy snorted. “Fat chance of that.”

“You’re probably right. Oh, I have a phone again. The number is the same.”

“Where’s the other phone?” Mac wanted to know.

“Do you still have that extra laptop in the back?”

“Yeah, I think it’s still there,” Randy replied. “Why?”

“Because mine is history.”

“With the truck?”

“And my phone, keys, wallet, and messenger bag.”

“Did you already contact the bank?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to take a few days for the replacement to get here. I pulled out some money to tide me over, but I just spent half of it on the new phone.”

“If you run low, let me know.”

“I’ll be fine. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to grab the laptop and head home. I have a couple of hours before I have to pick up Mike.”

“Stay here; I’ll get it.”

“So, is blowing up trucks a normal thing for you?” Mac asked while Randy was gone.

“I didn’t blow it up. Someone else did.”

“Not a pleasant experience, I take it.”

“No, definitely not.”

The store phone rang, and I heard Randy answer it in the back room.

“Any closer to figuring out who killed Susan and Clinton?”

I shook my head. “Things are getting more complicated. Someone has kidnapped a woman.”

“Who?”

“No clue. Every time I turn around, things seem to point at Joey and Ingram Construction. We must be asking the right questions, because someone is getting nervous.”

“You mean because of the explosion?”

“That, and someone threatening us an hour or so before that.”

“Good thing I’m dead. It sounds dangerous to hang around you.”

Randy came back with a purple backpack. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to me. “There’s a wireless mouse in there, too, and the battery pack.”

“Thanks.” I slung the bag over my shoulder. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

“No rush. I’m not using it. So you’re going straight home then?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. If you decide to go anywhere and need a sidekick, call me.”

“You’re first on the list,” I assured him.

He gave me another hug. “Just be careful, promise me.”

“I promise.”

By the time I stopped to put gas in my car, and picked up a few groceries at the store, I only had an hour before I had to pick up Mike. I was going to have to settle for a shower instead of a bubble bath. The shower still felt good, and at least I didn’t smell like smoke anymore. Just as I got out, my cell phone rang. I pulled off the shower cap. “Hello?”

“Cam?” Mother said. “Randy tells us there was a problem this afternoon when you were out with Mike.”

He called it a problem? “Nothing serious, Mother, I promise. I have a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Has the cast and crew left yet?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I managed to talk them into doing the other two performances. They should be rehearsing tonight at the theatre. Why?”

“Mike mentioned wanting to talk to them, but I told him I thought they were already gone. I’m going to see him in a little while. I’ll let him know.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Your father and I are on our way out to dinner. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mother.”

I took a couple of ibuprofen, and dug around in my clothes for something to wear. It had been a few days since I had done laundry, the pickings were getting mighty slim, and I didn’t want to wear one of my new outfits. I found a clean pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt that said “You are dangerously close to being killed off in my novel”. Not exactly super nice, but it would do.

“So you are a murderer,” Mac said as I walked into the living room.

“Son of a biscuit eater,” I said. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I know,” he chuckled.

I sat down on the couch to put on my socks and sneakers. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I just had a feeling you might need me.”

Leaning back against the couch, I crossed my arms and looked at him. “Actually, I want to talk something out.”

“Talk it out?”

“Just something I’ve been thinking the last few days.”

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Mac said.

I explained everything to him, presenting what little information I had to go on, and why I believed I was right. He listened and nodded as I laid it all out. “What do you think?” I asked him when I was through.

“It’s certainly plausible. But why haven’t you talked this over with your copper?”

“He’d tell me to butt out.” An idea suddenly hit me, and I smiled.

“Uh oh, I’m not sure I like the look on your face.”

“Mac, you’re absolutely right. I do need you. This is what I want you to do.”

Chapter 36

“Y
ou’ve got to be kidding me!”

I was standing in Mike’s office at the police station, where he had just handed me a restraining order from Charles Prufrock. I was not allowed anywhere near his place of business or his personal residence.

“I told you it was a possibility.”

“The nerve of that man!” I fumed. “I save his life, and this is how he thanks me? Next time, I’ll let his sorry butt burn to death.”

“No, you won’t.”

I wasn’t in the mood to admit he was right. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He locked his office and we made our way to the front. “Stan, I’m gone for the day, but if you hear anything about Pamela Dimwitty, call me on my cell.”

“You got it, Chief.”

“Long afternoon?” I asked him as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Long day.”

“Did you talk to Long and VanMeter?”

“When I called him, VanMeter told me he has been out of town at a conference for the past two days. But he was in town the day Clinton was murdered, and he did say he went over to the house to talk to him. However, he also said Clinton was very much alive when he left.”

“What about Long?”

“According to the woman who answered the phone at the construction company, he was in a meeting all afternoon. I sent a patrol car by to check, and was told that the only car in the parking lot belonged to a woman.”

“So he’s in the wind, so to speak.”

“If you don’t mind, I thought we could swing by his house, see if he’s there.”

“Any luck finding the theatre people?

“They are still listed as guests at that fancy Dallas hotel, but they haven’t been seen all day, either.”

“I have a source…”

“Randy does not count as a source,” Mike said.

“I didn’t say it was Randy.”

“Your mother doesn’t count, either.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said that. So, I guess you don’t want to know what she said.”

“Do I want to know?”

I turned into the theatre parking lot and stopped near the front door. Turning off the car, I opened the door and got out. I bent over and looked at him. “Coming with me?”

Mike sighed and got out of the car. “What are we doing here?”

“You wanted to talk to them. So we’re going to talk to them. But I want you to promise me something before we go inside.”

“What’s that?”

“Let me do the talking.”

“This is an official investigation. I can’t let you…”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do. But…”

“Then please, let me do this. Trust me, if I’m right, you’ll tie up one of your murders in a little while.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I fall on my sword and stay out of the rest of your investigation.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

I yanked the front door of the theatre open and went inside. We could hear people talking as we got close to the main room. “What are they doing here?” he said as we walked toward the stage.

“Mother got them to agree to do the other two shows.”

“Impressive.”

“Mother has a way with people. It comes in handy as a preacher’s wife.”

We sat down in a couple of chairs and watched. Mike stared at Rachel “She really does look like Susan, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does,” I agreed. “That’s why I was wondering if whoever killed Susan thought she was Rachel.”

“If they were looking at her from behind in the dark, I think it would be possible. Do you know everyone’s names?” Mike asked.

“Rachel Newton, Diane Martin, Simon Edwards are all onstage. Richard Danforth is the director.”

“Are we interrupting your conversation?”

We looked up to see Richard standing in front of us. “My apologies, Mr. Danforth,” Mike said, standing up. “My name is Mike Penhall. You might remember me from the other night.”

“Yes, I do. What can I do for you, Mr. Penhall?”

“Actually, it’s Chief Penhall,” Mike replied, pulling out his badge and showing it to him. “We’d like to ask you and your cast some questions about Susan Ingram’s death.”

“We told your officers everything we knew the night they found that poor woman,” Richard said. “I don’t see what more we can tell you.”

Mike looked at me and nodded. I took a deep breath before speaking. “We think it’s possible that Susan wasn’t the intended victim,” I told him.

“I don’t follow.”

“Richard, what’s the hold up?” Diane said from the edge of the stage. “Send them away, whoever it is. This is a closed rehearsal.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Danforth, I truly am, but we need to speak to the four of you. Right now,” Mike said.

“Fine, whatever,” Richard said, very annoyed. “Who do you want to talk to first?”

“All of you together is fine,” I said.

“Diane, Simon, Rachel, would you join us down here, please?” Richard said.

Simon went over to the bar. “Be there in just a moment,” he said. “I need a drink.”

“You’ve got alcohol in those decanters?” I asked Richard.

“Just a little Scotch,” he shrugged. “It helps fortify them during the show.”

Diane stomped down the stairs. “This had better be good. What a minute, I recognize you,” she said, pointing at me. “You were wearing that hideous blue shirt the night we found that dead woman on the stage.”

“Hideous?! I’ll have you know…”

Mike put his hand in mine. “Good evening, Ms. Martin. I apologize for interrupting your rehearsal. I know how important this is to you, although I must admit, you were doing an excellent job up there. Are you sure you need to rehearse at all?”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Diane said, touching Mike’s left arm. “A man who recognizes true talent when he sees it. Too bad the show is being brought down by rank amateurs.” She looked pointedly at Rachel, who had just joined us.

“Don’t stroke Diane’s ego too much,” Simon said. He was standing behind Rachel and Diane. “She’ll be impossible to work with.”

“She’s already impossible to work with,” Rachel said.

“Why don’t we turn some chairs around and form a circle?” Mike suggested. “I think it will be easier for us to talk that way.”

It took a couple of minutes to get everyone situated. Diane had chosen the chair to Mike’s left, while I was sitting on his right. Richard and Simon had wisely taken the two chairs to Diane’s right, leaving Rachel sitting next to me. Even they knew to keep the two women separated.

“I’m Chief Mike Penhall, and this is Camille Shaw. We’re working on the murder of Susan Ingram.”

Wait…what? He said “we”. He was actually including me in this?

“That poor woman,” Rachel said sadly. “I’ve never seen an actual dead person before.”

I wish I could say the same.

“Ms. Newton, you and Ms. Martin were overheard having an intense argument the night before Mrs. Ingram’s death. Could you tell me what it was about?” Mike asked them.

“It was nothing,” Diane said. “Just a minor disagreement about blocking.”

“Blocking?” Mike said. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s how we determine where the actors are going to be on the stage during the performance,” Richard said.

“Gotcha. So someone wasn’t following directions?”

“Something like that,” Diane said, glancing at Rachel.

“It wasn’t serious, Chief Penhall,” Simon said. “It blew over rather quickly.”

“That’s funny, because from what I understand, Ms. Martin tried to choke Ms. Newton twice. Sounds to me like it was pretty serious,” Mike replied.

Diane looked at me. “You were there the night of the rehearsal, weren’t you? You told him what happened.”

“He asked, I told him what I saw and heard. I’m not about to lie to the police.”

She muttered something under her breath that might have rhymed with “witch”.

“Is what Ms. Shaw told me true, Ms. Martin?”

“Yes, but I did it in self-defense.”

“In self-defense of what? A career that’s gone down the toilet? Hardly worth defending,” Rachel replied.

Diane flew out of her chair, her hands aiming for Rachel’s throat. Mike jumped up, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her back. “Sit down!”

Rachel snickered. Mike turned around and looked at her. “Don’t provoke her,” he warned her. “A woman is dead, and you two are fighting like a couple of junior high kids. Try to act like adults for once.”

Simon handed Diane his glass, and she downed the Scotch in one gulp.

“Obviously there’s no love lost between the two of you,” Mike said as he sat back down. “Just how far would you go to get rid of her, Ms. Martin? Would you actually kill her?”

“Certainly not! She’s not worth going to jail for.”

“You do realize I could charge you with attempted murder. You did strangle her twice the other night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t push me,” he warned her, “or you might find out just how serious I am.”

“I was wondering if you all would mind showing us where you all were between the first and second acts,” I said.

“Whatever for?” Diane said.

“We’re trying to account for everyone’s whereabouts right before Susan’s death,” I told her. “Were any of you on the stage?”

“I was in my dressing room,” Simon said, “talking to my wife on the phone. She’s pregnant with our second child, and I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

“Mr. Danforth?” Mike said.

“I was making sure the props were being set up properly for the second act, and then I talked to the light man about one of the spotlights.”

“Ms. Newton?”

“My dressing room. I had a headache that night, and the lights weren’t helping any. I took some ibuprofen, and laid down for a few minutes.”

“And you, Ms. Martin?” I said.

“Mrs. Ingram came to my dressing room, and I talked to her for a few minutes. She’s an old friend from New York. I went to the bathroom, before looking over my lines.”

“Would you all mind going up to the stage, and showing us where you’re supposed to be when the second act starts?” Mike said.

“Is this really necessary, Chief Penhall?” Richard asked. “We really need to get back to work.”

“Yes, it’s necessary. It will be very helpful to us and our investigation.”

“All right, places, people. Let’s get this over with.”

The four of them got up, went back onstage, and got into position. I noticed that Rachel wasn’t onstage, but off in the wings. “You don’t start the scene onstage?” I asked her.

“No.”

“Sometimes she stands onstage just before the curtain goes up,” Diane said.

“It helps me get back in character.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Diane admitted. “I’ve done that many times myself.”

“Have you done that for this play?” Mike asked her.

“No.”

“Did any of you see Mrs. Ingram after she left Ms. Martin’s dressing room?” Mike said.

“The only person I saw was Rachel,” Simon said. “The lights were dimly lit, and she was standing by the couch.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. I saw you, too,” Diane said.

“Why don’t we try an experiment?” I suggested. “Let’s close the curtain, turn down the lights to where they’re supposed to be between acts, and then everyone go to their exact positions that night?”

“I’ll go tell the light man to fix the lights,” Richard said.

One of the stagehands closed the curtain.

“Okay, now stand where you were about three minutes before the second act started,” I told them as the lights were dimmed.

Simon went over to the wings on my left, Diane went behind the set directly in front of us. Rachel also went over to the left side, but instead of stopping, she kept going. I could hear her footsteps fading. “Okay, stop right there, Rachel,” I called out.

“Rachel must have still been in her dressing room,” Mike said.

Mac and Lillian appeared in the wings on the right side. “Excuse me a moment,” I whispered to Mike, and hurried over to them. “Is this what you saw the other night?”

Lillian nodded. “Someone’s missing, though.”

“Who?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

Two people stepped behind the curtain. Lillian’s eyes grew wide. “Everyone’s here now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Are you ready for the next part?”

She nodded.

“Mac, the lights.”

“Got it.”

I went over and stood by Mike. The stage was suddenly plunged into darkness. “What the hell?” Richard said. “Art! Turn those lights back on like I told you to!”