Allergic to Death (29 page)

Carlo returned with a glass of white wine for Gigi and juice for Sienna. The girl with the spiky hair who helped Sienna in the Book Nook drifted past on the arm of a young man in a polo shirt with a popped collar and carefully pressed khakis. Gigi watched them go by. She supposed they were proof that opposites did attract.

The lights blinked once, in warning.

“I’ll take those.” Carlo took their empty glasses and headed toward the bar, which was now strewn with discarded plastic tumblers and screwed up napkins.

Gigi turned around, and coming toward her was Detective Mertz. With a young girl on his arm. Gigi looked her over—young and pretty. Maddeningly pretty, with long hair, long legs and a perfect tan. Gigi was suddenly seized with irrational jealousy. There was no reason why Mertz shouldn’t bring someone to the play. It was just that she’d hoped…

Mertz glanced in Gigi’s direction and obviously noticed her staring at them. A strange, startled look crossed his face, and he grabbed the girl’s arm and began to steer her in the other direction.

“Isn’t that your policeman?” Sienna asked, staring after the couple.

“He’s not my policeman. Obviously.” Gigi dabbed at her upper lip with her crumpled cocktail napkin.

“Honestly, Gigi, if you played your cards right, I think he very much could be your policeman. Or”—she turned to Gigi and smiled coyly—“is it Carlo you’re after? Either way, you have to admit, they’re both quite the catch.”

“I like Carlo. Very much. But he wouldn’t be right for me. I’m ready to settle down, and,”—Gigi glanced at Sienna’s belly—“and maybe have a family. Carlo’s still a boy.”

Sienna pounced. “So it’s Mertz you’re interested in. I knew it.”

She smiled smugly, and Gigi could easily read the look in her eyes. It said,
I haven’t known you for this long without being able to read your thoughts.

Gigi was ready to protest, but fortunately the lights blinked their warning again. “Come on, let’s get back to our seats,” she said instead as the crowd began to edge toward the theater.

Gigi and Sienna went back to their seats. Something nibbled at the edge of Gigi’s mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was an idea that had begun to formulate while watching the first act. Maybe she would be able to track down the elusive figment during the second half.

The curtain rose on a living room scene. Gigi recognized the armoire that Sienna had painted. Adora was wearing the too-tight shorts in this scene, although Gigi thought they looked just a bit looser, so maybe Adora had lost some weight after all. She squinted at the stage. Yes, it looked as if Adora must have shed at least five pounds.

Emilio appeared in the second act as Adora’s character’s love interest. Gigi wondered if practicing this scene had led to their real-life affair. It certainly lent an air of realism to their performance. She found herself forgetting that these
were people she knew and began thinking of them as their onstage alter egos.

Poor Emilio was in a suit and tie, and Gigi could see the sheen of perspiration breaking out on his forehead. The air conditioner had only managed to cool the theater to lukewarm—it must still be beastly hot under the lights.

Thinking about that tickled that elusive thought she’d had earlier. Something to do with the heat perhaps? Certainly something to do with Martha’s death. Everything about the theater brought that day back in sharp focus. She tried to forget it and concentrate on the play, but scenes from that afternoon kept flashing like streaks of lightning across her mind.

She remembered arriving with the lunches, and the tension she’d sensed crackling in the air. Then the rain, Barbie and Winston going out to their car, the smell of Martha’s wet coat in Gigi’s MINI and Martha taking her first bite of the melba toast. She closed her eyes for a moment. Should she have stopped Martha from eating the food? But why? She knew there hadn’t been any peanut oil near Martha’s lunch.

The thought she’d been chasing suddenly swam into focus, and she sat bolt upright in her seat.

“Are you okay?” Oliver turned toward her, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, fine, sorry. Foot fell asleep.”

Gigi thought furiously. It all made sense now—Martha, Emilio and Al Forno, the teenage boy the UPS woman had seen. Like dominoes, everything plunked into place.

Gigi could barely sit still. She had to tell Detective Mertz right away.

Gigi had no idea how the play ended. All of a sudden the audience was on their feet applauding. She jumped up to
join them and clapped furiously, as if that would make up for her lack of attention.

“It was wonderful, wasn’t it?” Sienna said.

“Oh, yes,” Gigi enthused, in spite of not having the least idea of what had taken place in the second half.

“Adora really is quite good,” Sienna commented as Adora came forward for her bow. “It’s a shame Martha ruined her career the way she did.” The clapping and cheering went up a notch, and there were several whistles from the delighted audience.

Winston emerged onstage bearing an enormous bouquet of red roses. He presented the flowers to Adora with a curt nod.

The entire cast came forward again, hands clasped, bowed before the audience, and then the dark red velvet curtain came tumbling down.

The audience shuffled in their seats, retrieving programs and discarded wraps. Gigi was thinking frantically. She had to talk to Winston again to confirm her suspicions. She was positive now that he
had
seen someone outside by her car the day Martha was killed. But first she had to get rid of Sienna and Oliver. Later she would worry about how she would get home. She could always ring for Woodstone’s lone taxi—an ancient, dusty van with an even more ancient driver.

“I’ll go bring the car around.” Oliver pecked Sienna on the cheek and joined the crowd trying to squeeze through the open doors.

Gigi stood frozen for a minute. She had to get away from Sienna. “I’m just going to run to the…the ladies’ room,” she said, fingers crossed that Sienna wouldn’t insist on joining her.

“I’ll wait here. For once, I don’t have to go.”

Gigi let out a sigh of relief and quickly made her way through the crowd, head down, thinking furiously. She was rounding the corner toward the restrooms when she ran smack into a hard, masculine chest. She looked up slowly.

“I’m so sorry…”

Her words trailed off as she stared up into Carlo’s very warm brown eyes.

“My pleasure,
cara
,” he said, then blushed lightly under the caramel color of his tan. “Do you need a ride?” he asked hopefully.

“Thanks, but no, I’m going with Oliver and Sienna.”

“There is going to be a little party at Al Forno tonight for the cast. Please say you will come,” he said, and blushed again.

“I’d love to.” Gigi smiled brightly wishing he would let her go. She had to catch Winston before he left. She had probably already missed Detective Mertz and his glamorous young date, but she could always call him later at the station.

“See you soon, then.” Carlo gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved away.

Gigi stood for a moment, the crowd parting around her like water flowing around an obstruction in a river. She watched as Carlo disappeared into the crowd.

Carlo! That was it.

She turned around and began to make her way back toward where Sienna was waiting.

“That was fast.” Sienna started to move toward the door.

“Wait,” Gigi called after her.

Sienna turned around with a quizzical look on her face. “I think Oliver is here. I thought I saw our car.” She gestured toward the door.

Gigi shook her head. “Yes, but I ran into Carlo.” She felt
terrible lying to Sienna, but there was no other way. “He’s offered me a ride.” Gigi managed to blush.

“Looks like the universe is trying to tell you something.” Sienna gave Gigi a playful tap and winked. “Perhaps you should think about having a good time before you settle down,” she called over her shoulder as she began to walk toward the doors.

The crowd was thinning now, with only a few clusters of people left in the lobby. The air conditioner had picked up speed, and Gigi could hear its deep rumble as cool air blasted out of the ducts. She felt the chill tickle the hairs on her arms, and she shivered, pulling her wrap up around her shoulders.

Winston was probably backstage with the cast if he hadn’t already left. She had to talk to him right away. If he gave the answer she suspected, then she was right, and she knew who’d killed Martha Bernhardt. Gigi headed toward a door marked
Cast Only
. Just as she reached for the knob, the door swung open.

“Oh,” Alice cried as she and Gigi narrowly missed colliding.

“Sorry.” Gigi smiled, trying to control her impatience.

“Are you coming to Carlo and Emilio’s?”

Gigi nodded. “Yes, but first I want to talk to Winston. Is he still back there?” She inclined her head toward the door.

“I think so. My guess is he’s waiting for everyone to leave to close up.”

“See you in a bit then.” Gigi began to inch toward the door. She was relieved when Alice waved and walked away.

Gigi pushed open the door to the backstage area. It was dimly lit with only one naked bulb hanging suspended from the ceiling. She felt a chill as the door closed behind her with an ominous-sounding
click
.

She stopped and listened carefully but didn’t hear anything or anyone—just her own heart beating at twice its normal speed. She took a deep breath and looked around. There were several doors, including two marked
Men’s Dressing Room
and
Women’s Dressing Room
. She tapped on the door to the women’s dressing room and waited. Nothing. She hesitated for a second and then rapped on the men’s dressing room door. Nothing there, either.

Someone had finally turned off the air conditioner, and it was hot and close in the narrow corridor. A trickle of sweat slid down her back, and she jumped. What if she ran into the murderer? Everyone had probably left the theater by now. She could scream, and no one would hear. Every horror movie she’d ever watched ran through her head like a lightning-fast filmstrip. She mentally shook herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

She heard a faint sound and stopped to listen. Maybe it was Winston getting ready to lock up. She continued down the corridor, which was becoming increasingly dark and shadowy. She heard the noise again, louder this time. It must be Winston, she thought.

Suddenly the light went out, and Gigi was surrounded by black, velvet darkness. She stifled a small cry and felt in front of her with her hands. Nothing. She took a few steps forward, carefully, shuffling her feet along the ground, trying to feel with her toes. The blackness was oppressive. She felt smothered, as if a heavy pillow were pressed against her face, keeping her from breathing.

Her waving hands brushed against something soft. Fabric. Specifically velvet, her exploring fingers told her. She fought her way through the heavy folds, and suddenly there was a pinprick of light.

Gigi continued to bat at the enshrouding drapery until
she was able to push it aside. Blessed light greeted her. She closed her eyes against the sudden glare. When she opened them again she realized she was standing in the theater wings. The light was the ghost light casting a hazy glow over the theater interior.

A movement caught her eye. Coming across the stage was a teenage boy. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and had blond hair—just as the UPS delivery woman had described him.

Gigi stood rooted to the spot as he came closer and closer and closer. She tried to hide in the shadows, but he saw her and smiled—a chilling smile that made her gasp.

“You’ve guessed, haven’t you?” He reached up and pulled off the short blond wig.

Chapter 20

Adora swept the wig from her head, and her own long, blond curls tumbled out. She was still wearing her costume—shorts and a T-shirt—which, combined with the wig, gave her the appearance of a young man—at least from a distance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gigi insisted as she tried to quietly back away. If she continued to deny it, perhaps Adora would let her go.