Act V (12 page)

*****

“
Well,
Andy Wofford has
confirmed that the murder weapon had to be at least eighteen inches
long or longer, and as he said, diamond shaped. It was probably a
sword.” Brice told Addison after hanging up the phone. It was
Tuesday afternoon and nothing new had broken in the case. In the
meantime, they’d handled a jewelry store theft and a drunk who’d
managed to steal a tractor from the John Deer place and run it
through the store front. In both cases, the culprit had been caught
on the scene or close to it. The drunk was passed out in the John
Deer lobby and the jewelry store thief had tried to fence a
sapphire necklace at the pawn shop two doors away. You could count
on drunks and fools to be greedy and stupid. Too bad they couldn’t
all be that easy.

“
Big surprise there!”
Addison replied. “We pretty much knew it was a sword anyway. Got
any ideas on the Shakespeare thing?”

“
No, but I think I’ll go to
the source. Our Miss Nuckolls being a director, knows her
Shakespeare. Maybe we can get something out of her.”

Addison lifted his eyebrows
several times in succession. “You mean maybe
you
can get something out of
her?”

Brice rolled his eyes. “Quittin’ time,
Addy.”

“
Sure thing. Tell your
psychic that I said hello.”

*****

Glynnis rose from the rolling stool and
put the costume she’d been examining back onto the rack. The long,
flowing, slim-cut gown would be perfect for Lady Macbeth. It was
gold with black trim criss-crossing the bodice. They’d used it last
year for Lady Capulet and with a few alterations, some red braid
replacing the black trim, nobody would recognize it. She still
needed costumes for the witches, MacDuff, and some of the extras,
but that would come. She checked her watch—eight o’clock. It was
mostly dark outside and she was alone at the theatre. Everyone else
had gone home hours ago. Aaron had been the last to leave after
finishing up the final touches on the set. He’d been in a foul mood
all day because he’d planned to take the afternoon off for a family
situation but one of the set pieces had collapsed back stage. His
assistant, Jeff, had called and begged for help and Aaron had
grudgingly come back to work and fixed the thing. He’d left again
around six with a grunted goodbye.

Glynn’s stomach was beginning to growl
and if she didn’t hurry home Carl would make a mess in the house.
She’d gone home at lunch and taken him out, but it was getting
late. She flipped out the remaining back stage lights, opened the
front door and slipped through, locking it behind her. The street
was empty because this part of town pretty much closed down by six
on weeknights, unless there was a performance at the theatre. A
single street light blinked on a block away. A silent hand settled
on her shoulder from the darkness of the ally behind the theatre.
Glynnis froze only long enough to let all the possibilities play
out in her head, then she stamped down as hard as she could on her
attacker’s instep and started screaming. “Help! Help!” She couldn’t
run—the MS made that impossible—but she could surely walk fast and
make some noise, attract some attention.

“
Glynnis!” Her attacker
moaned. “Glynnis! Stop it! Cut it out.”

Stunned that a mugger or
rapist would call her by name, she turned and saw Detective Brice
Gearhart leaning against the wall massaging his injured
foot.
Oops!
“Oh no,
Brice, I’m so sorry. But you scared me.”

He put his foot back into his shoe and
looked at her. “Remind me not to make you mad. Dang,
woman.”

She bit her lip. “You should have
announced yourself. I’ve been jumpy since this whole Danning thing
started.”

“
I’ll remember that next
time.” He grimaced, and then through clinched teeth said, “Let me
try again. Hey, Glynnis, it’s me, Brice Gearhart. I’m right here
behind you so don’t freak out and try to kill me.”

He was rewarded with a tentative smile.
“Are you okay?”

“
Yeah. Want some
supper?”

She felt bad turning him down after all
that, but she had to take care of Carl. “Carl’s gonna bust open if
I don’t take him out. What if you follow me home for a minute and
then I treat you. It’s my turn anyway.”

“
You’ve got a
deal.”

Twenty minutes later she was turning
the key to her front door. Brice looked at the porch where they
were standing and the ramp leading up to it. “How long have you
owned this place?” He asked.

“
I bought it less than a
year ago, after Dorsey and I split up,” she told him.
“Why?”

“
No reason, I just thought
maybe you had inherited it from an elderly relative or something. I
mean the ramp and the counters and all are wheelchair
accessible.”

Carl interrupted them by barking
furiously and jumping up high enough to see out the window as
Glynnis pushed the door open.

“
Good Lord,” Brice
exclaimed, “how high can that dog jump?”

“
There’s a reason he’s an
inside dog, I don’t think a fence could hold him.” She motioned to
the den. “Sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”

She called over her shoulder from the
bedroom. “Okay with you if we go somewhere really casual? I need to
change clothes and I just don’t want to put on anything too
dressy.”

“
Naked is fine with me, but
it might cause a few problems in the restaurant.”

She walked out a few minutes
later wearing white cropped pants, a sleeveless red top, and
sandals.
Maybe not quite that
casual,
she thought, trying to keep the
blush from rising into her hairline. She clipped the leash onto
Carl’s collar. “Be right back.”

Brice didn’t respond. He was too busy
checking out her well-formed calves. He had to remind himself that
he was here to ask questions about Shakespeare, not start something
he’d regret. Since his divorce, Brice had kept his relationships
light. This was business and he didn’t have the time or inclination
to begin a relationship, light or not, with a possible police
witness. Not that the court would accept her testimony considering
the circumstances, but Brice wasn’t taking chances.

Glynnis returned and unclipped Carl.
Washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she called out. “Any
preferences?”

Brice just couldn’t let that one go.
His dark eyes were full of mischief. “You mean food or…”

“
Food,” she jumped in before
he could finish.

“
Too bad.

She rolled her eyes. “Where would you
like to eat?”

“
You’re buying. You
choose.”

“
Okay then. Come on, I’ll
drive.”

They hopped into her SUV and headed for
the Dermont’s Deli. It was only two miles north. “You can get a
great salad here or a sandwich if you want, and we can eat outside.
It’s cooling off a little and it might be nice.”

“
I’ve eaten here once
before.” He told her as they waited for a seat. “They make a great
hot ham and cheese.”

After they had ordered, Glynnis asked
Brice about the case.

“
I wanted to tell you before
they announce it on the news tomorrow. They did find traces of a
drug in the stab wound and in the wine.” They were keeping the
thing about the pearl out of the press, so he didn’t mention it.
“And it does look like the murder weapon was a sword of some kind.
We’re holding a press conference in the morning and it’ll be all
over the news by lunch time.”

“
That is just plain weird.”
Glynnis stabbed at a piece of lettuce with her fork. “You don’t
suppose this is some psycho just getting his kicks by killing
people do you?”

It seemed so far-fetched. People didn’t
kill others for fun here; well, they never had before anyway. If
there was a murder, there was a reason. Maybe somebody trashed your
VW convertible and you were out for revenge, or maybe you just
couldn’t stand to eat your wife’s meatloaf one more time. Who knew?
But people didn’t kill around here just to be killing.

Brice wiped his mouth. “Stranger things
have happened,” he told her. “Listen Glynnis, could you maybe give
me a more in-depth tutorial on Hamlet, just in case that’s what’s
really going on? It might help.”

“
I’ll do better than that.
I’ll…”

“
Detective Gearhart!” A
syrupy female voice that Glynnis recognized approached them from
the sidewalk. “How nice to run into you out here away from a crime
scene.”

Brice thought about ignoring her, but
he knew it wouldn’t work. “Sandra, I’m having dinner here. Could
you just wait until tomorrow?”

She brushed aside his comment as if he
hadn’t said it and offered her hand to Glynnis. “Hi, I’m Sandra
Fitchwell, and you are…”

“
Glynnis Nuckolls,” she
almost whispered, not sure why she felt she shouldn’t be giving
this woman any information, not even her name. Wait… “Oh, you’re
the reporter from channel four.” And then Glynnis remembered.
Sandra Fitchwell had been the woman standing at the snack table
when she had made a fool of herself at Sissy’s shower. She flushed
red, hoping the reporter wouldn’t remember. She hadn’t made the
connection herself, seeing her on TV, but meeting in person like
this had brought it all back.

Sandra Fitchwell’s smile didn’t quite
reach her eyes. “Yes, you must be Detective Gearhart’s
date.”

“
Well, I…”

“
Sandra, Ms. Nuckolls is not
interested in being on the eleven o’clock news. Go dig up dirt on
somebody else.”

“
Detective,” she took on a
wounded air. “You make me sound as if the only thing I want is to
raise the ratings.”

“
Good night,
Sandra.”

She ran her fingers through her hair.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Detective.”

Sandra Fitchwell walked away as if the
cameras were on her every move. “Wow!” Glynnis muttered. “I think I
need to go wash my hands.”

*****

Sandra almost ran back to her car.
She’d seen this girl before, Gearhart’s friend. Glynnis Nuckolls,
Glynnis Nuckolls. She thought back. Sandra had always been the
observant sort. That skill had gotten her into the anchor seat.
Glynnis Nuckolls…of course, the shower! She was the same woman
who’d freaked out and spilled food everywhere at Sissy’s shower.
Sandra had been standing only ten feet away when it had happened.
Oddly enough, the woman had spilled the stuff not a yard from
Claude, “Dan” Danning himself. Wonder why? Sandra flipped open her
cell phone and hit eight on the speed dial. “Hey, it’s me. What can
you tell me about the psychic? The one you told me about who
visited Gearhart and Paddix at the station last week?” She tapped
her three-inch stiletto on the pavement and waited. “Well, if you
can’t give me a name, can you give me a description?”

*****

It was there, in the display case. All
he had to do was take it, just reach in and take it. Would it set
off any alarms if he broke the glass? He’d managed to slip into the
museum and hide before they’d closed the place down. He’d hidden in
the bathroom for heaven’s sake. He’d stood on one of the toilets
until the guard had left. It’s as if these people had never heard
of a theft before. Why’d they even have a night
watchman?

He studied the dagger. He had quite a
few collectable weapons in his hideaway, but nothing like the
dagger. It was quite ornate, a leftover from the nineteenth
century. Not the kind he would use if he had a choice, but the
point would be made, so to speak. He laughed at his unintended pun,
and then covered his mouth. It wouldn’t do to be overheard. He
figured he’d go out the door if the alarm went off. If that was
locked, there were windows. Besides, the guard was an overweight
idiot who was a whole lot more interested in the inside of his
eyelids than in doing his job. He could overpower the slob if he
had to. Rent-a-cops, they were almost as stupid as the real
ones.

He tried opening, then lifting the
case, wearing latex gloves. No luck. Well then, he’d just have to
break it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the mag-light he
carried. One quick tap was all it took. He didn’t hear an alarm,
but he wasn’t fooled. These places used silent alarms. He grabbed
the dagger and ran for the door. It was locked, but it only took a
twist of the deadbolt to unlock it. Dim-wits. I guess they never
thought about somebody breaking out. He walked out the front door,
into the night air and strolled casually toward the quick shop on
the corner as sirens began to wail at a distance.

*****

“
Ladies and gentlemen, if
you’ll please hold your questions until Detective Paddix completes
his statement, then we’ll allow a limited number of questions. I’m
afraid we won’t have time for more than a few.” Brice hated this
mess. The captain couldn’t have done this himself? He’d given the
four of them the privilege; Handy, Hawkins, Paddix, and himself.
What a pain. Luckily, Paddix had drawn the short straw this time.
Then, of course, there was Sandra Fitchwell staring up at them,
smiling like she was ready to explode with some bit of information
or another, and it made his stomach squirm.