Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series) (11 page)

The next morning, when I entered the crowded theater lobby, Bezu approached me. “You look like you opened the gate and all the cows ran out. What’s going on?”

“Gerald broke up with me,” I said.

She fastened a turquoise flowered apron around her thin waist. “I didn’t think y’all were dating.”

I shook my head. “We weren’t.”

Bezu frowned. “Then please forgive me for being confused.”

“Let me explain.” I shared with her what Gerald had told me last night.

When I finished, she held a hand to her heart. “Good heavens, bless your heart Annie Mae. And poor Gerald too.”

“Right,” I said. “Now that I finally figured out I like him romantically, I find out that he was, albeit unknowingly, a getaway driver in a crime. After he told me all that, he decided, actually insisted, it was best if we didn’t associate outside of work. He’s worried about tainting my reputation.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” I breathed deeply, getting a whiff of chocolate chip muffins. “Remember how you felt when things were going so well for you that you thought you couldn’t enjoy it because it could all crumble like a dried biscuit?”

Bezu grinned. “Yes, I said something along those lines.”

“Well, that’s how I feel. For a moment I believed that I could have it all—romance, adventure and fun. A new beginning. And I’d have it with Gerald.” I shrugged. “I thought my future was looking up. Now it’s gone to hell in a hand basket.”

“Oh, Annie Mae, you poor thing.” She hugged me.

Glancing at the breakfast buffet table, I said, “I’m sure one of your muffins over there could cheer me up.”

“Why, of course, sweet treats are a great elixir for a broken heart,” Bezu giggled. “You go ahead and help yourself.”

“I might take two. I need fortification for the last day of camp and the competition.”

“Did I tell you the new restaurant, The Corner Café, hired me to make all of their desserts?”

“No you didn’t. I’ve wanted to go there. Now I have more reason than ever,” I said.

She looked around the lobby. “I tell you, it’s been busier than a bee here all morning.”

A group of students walked by, carrying various props and costumes. Other students milled about, some in the process of rehearsing, while others talked animatedly. Excitement hung in the air.

After grabbing two muffins, I glanced around hoping to see Gerald. Did he go to the police last night? And would he show up today? Was there any way that I could get our relationship back on track?

I checked the roster, and spotted that my team was scheduled to perform first. Making my way backstage I saw Wilbert. “Do you need any help with final preparation?”

“Nope. We got it all set.” He wore full costume and stage makeup. “But I think Umika might need you.”

“Oh?” I asked.

Wilbert twirled a finger by the side of his head. “She’s all freaked out about another vision or dream or whatever.”

“I’ll go talk to her.”

“We’re going to win today,” he called after me.

I saw Umika, who didn’t have her theater makeup on, and was still in her street clothes. Why wasn’t she ready? The competition began soon. “Wilbert said I should talk to you.”

She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Dr. Maple, I’m so worried. I had this vision and I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“What was it?” I asked.

We sat down on two wooden boxes behind their set.

Her eyes widened. “You remember when I told you that night Ms. Woodham was killed, I had a premonition about an angry animal, or small child, or a spirit?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I had it again. But this time, there was, I don’t know, something evil.” She twisted her braid in her hand and she tapped her foot.

“Like what?” Poor kid. She seemed really upset.

“Wilbert made fun of me,” Umika spoke softly as she hung her head. “You’re not going to laugh at me if I tell you?”

“Of course not,” I said. Although, I had no idea what she was going to tell me, I’d have to make extra certain I wouldn’t laugh.

“Okay then,” she said. “You know how we’re rapping Act I Scene V, where the ghost comes back to talk to Hamlet?”

I nodded. I also remembered getting knocked over by that same ghost. I still didn’t know who cut the rope. That triggered the thought of another loose end—who had driven Bezu’s car the night that Dwight and Priscilla were nearly run over?

“You know when Hamlet’s father’s ghost tells Hamlet his brother Claudius killed him?” Umika said.

“Yes, you created an entire rap song for that scene.” I smiled. “I saw you rehearsing the other day. Your choreography is incredible.”

“Thank you.” She continued, “But that’s not the problem. Remember when the ghost of Hamlet’s dad talks about purgatory and the fires of Hell? That’s when we planned to set off a smoke machine as the ghost enters, and then again when he talks about Hell.”

“Is there a problem with the machine?” I asked.

“No.” Umika’s eyes welled up. “In my dream that’s when someone dies.”

“There’s no death in the scene you’re performing.” I recalled it wasn’t until well after Act 1 that any character perished.

“But today, there will be,” Umika said.

“Oh? Did you change the script?”

“No. I mean someone real gets killed, not a character. Like one of us.” Umika began to sob. “It was all in my vision. Dr. Maple, it feels so real to me. I just can’t go on. We need to stop this competition.”

Putting my hand on her back, I patted her. “I promise you I’ll make sure nothing happens to you or anyone else.”

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “You will?”

“Yes,” I said. How else could I reassure her that I would protect her from her nightmare coming true?

“I know people think my dreams are silly, but they are
very real
to me,” Umika said. “Just like Hamlet being the only one to see the ghost of his father. No one believed him, either. They thought he was crazy. I’m not crazy, Dr. Maple.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

She sniffed. “Thank you for not laughing at me.”

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

“As long as you protect all of us, I will be.”

“I will do my best. I promise. If I can’t check over every detail personally, every prop, the rigging, I will call someone who can. I’ll make sure that it is safe. Will that reassure you?”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I have to get in costume now.”

“Good idea.”

“Thanks for listening. It’s a curse and blessing to have my powers from the Goddess.” She stood and rubbed her hands on her jeans.

“I imagine it is.” I stood and gave her a hug, her hair smelled sweet, like rosewater.

“Thank you. I know you’ll make sure everything is okay,” she said before she made her way to the dressing room.

Although my late husband, Ernie, and I never had children, teaching college had given me occasional opportunities to fulfill some of my maternal instincts. Like I just did with Umika, calming her fears after a nightmare.

Not wanting to dismiss her dream, I glanced up at the rigging to see if it looked secure. I gave a quick call to our maintenance crew and asked them to double check it, and while they were at it, the smoke machine, lights and any other hazardous items. The theater was loaded with potentially lethal objects.

A creepy feeling washed over me.

Shaking it off, I realized I’d let my imagination run wild again, just as I had done last night at Gerald’s, thinking he wanted to stab me. How ludicrous.

Sometimes my runaway thoughts got the best of me.

On the other hand, could Umika’s vision come true? There was no way and no time to find out.

While backstage, only to reassure myself, I picked up my team’s smoke machine and checked it. I didn’t see any loose wires or any signs of overt damage.

“Looking for your next weapon?” Dwight asked.

Winona came up behind him. Poor thing, first she was Priscilla’s lackey, and now Dwight’s helper.

I set down the device. “Death by smoke? That’s self-inflicted if you smoke cigarettes.”

He chuckled. “You’re quite the public service announcement.”

“Did you want something?” Other than to annoy me, was what I really wanted to add.

“Yes,” he said. “How well did you know Priscilla? I mean, beyond a professional relationship?”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Winona darted her eyes around, as though trying to locate something.

“Winona,” I ignored Dwight. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re looking for something. Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Back to my question,” Dwight said, “Winona told me there was a note Priscilla wrote to Dr. Gill. It was something about their past. And I’m trying to find it. Do you know anything about it?”

I shrugged. That way I wouldn’t be lying because I didn’t say anything. “Why, do you need it?”

“I think it could be important. Might even prove that Dr. Gill had motive to kill her,” Dwight said. “Of course, you’re still a suspect, at least in my mind.”

“You know, Dwight, you’re way off base about me.” I huffed. “And I think you should let the police handle this.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him to leave it alone,” Winona said.

“But I can’t. The life insurance company won’t pay. They’re claiming some period of contestability provision included in the policy,” Dwight said. “They said that Priscilla’s death is being investigated as a murder, that makes it suspicious with questionable circumstances. Which translates to no payout. So if I find out who killed her, that would force them to expedite the claim.”

“Well, I hope that works out for you.” Was it all about the money for him? Did he miss her? For months after Ernie passed, I couldn’t say his name or even think about him without weeping. “Have you completed any plans for the funeral?” I asked.

“Not yet. Winona and I are working on finalizing details for the memorial service.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “It’ll be in a few days. I’m busy getting finances in order. At least the house is in my name so that’s not an issue.”

Winona rolled her eyes.

Gerald entered the lobby and rang a bell. “Fifteen minutes to go, ladies and gentlemen, fifteen minutes. Dr. Maple’s team should be the only group backstage now. Everyone break a leg.”

I walked over to him. “So, how’s it going?”

Gerald smiled. “You’re still speaking to me?”

“I like bad boys,” I said. “Actually, that’s not true. In high school, I dated a Boy Scout and in college I married a preacher’s son.”

He chuckled. “You like decent boys.”

“Which you are.”

“That ship has sailed.”

“I don’t think it left the harbor.” I tapped his arm. “Maybe I want to get on board.” What the heck was I doing? I was so rusty with my one-liners that I sounded like some two-bit trollop.

He cleared his throat. “Annie Mae, I’m going to the police tonight, after the competition. I decided to wait; after all, the students had enough chaos this week with Priscilla’s death. And if my confession caused issues, which it very well might, I don’t want it to ruin what is left of camp.”

“Surely you can’t be jailed for being an unwilling participant in a crime that happened so long ago?”

“Last night, after you left, I thought about it a lot. I don’t think I’ll be incarcerated, but once my story comes out, and if the newspaper gets a hold of it, and they probably will, it could very well affect my role here. Regardless of my innocence, it could taint my reputation, which could affect the students.”

“Good point,” I said.

“For the kids’ sakes, I want to let them finish camp with no more issues. After all, I’ve kept the secret for over forty-six years. What’s one more day?”

“Here’s another thought, what if you just decide to let the past be the past?” I said.

Gerald sighed.

“There’s no need to stir up a hornet’s nest,” I offered.

“In this case, I have to. Even if I get stung,” he said. “I’ve got to gather the judges soon. I wish your team the best of luck today.”

“Wait. Bezu mentioned a new restaurant, The Corner Café, to me. I think we should go—” Stopping myself, I remembered he said he couldn’t spend time with me outside of work because he didn’t want to drag me down. “I forgot that we weren’t hanging around together anymore.”

“I’m really sorry, but it’s for the best.” He touched my arm. “I never want to hurt you, Annie Mae.”

Unbeknownst to him, he’d already broken my heart. “No biggie. I understand.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Obviously, he could read my insincerity. “Yes, I’m sure.”

The tables had turned. When he’d pursued me in a romantic way, I’d been clueless to his overtures. Yet once I realized I liked him, he pulled away to protect me. My heart was heavy.

Bezu approached us. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt y’all.”

“No problem, I was just leaving,” Gerald said. “And one day I would love to get that pecan pie recipe from you.”

“You got it. Or better yet, I could just bake you one,” she said.

“And I would gladly accept it,” he said before he walked away.

Bezu glanced around, then whispered, “Annie Mae, what you told me earlier about Gerald. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Welcome to the club.” I smiled.

“It’s such a shame that you two couldn’t work this out,” she said.

“I agree,” I said, forcing a smile. “If having the most incidents in one week and losing a potential boyfriend were a competition, no doubt I’d win first place—hands down.”

“You haven’t lost me.” Bezu patted my arm.

“Nope, you’re right here.”

“I know you’re probably busy, since it’s the last day of camp.” Bezu rested a hand on her hip. “But, do you have a minute to spare?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I’d like you to look at something that’s been troubling me.” She took my hand and led me to the wall in the lobby with the judges’ and team leaders’ posters. “Look at Priscilla’s poster.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it already,” I said.

“But here.” Bezu poked at Priscilla’s high school picture. “Do you see her cleavage, how it’s spilling out, and very full? Isn’t it too much?”

“Whoa, Bezu, are you the fashion police or the modesty patrol?”

“No.” She tapped the picture, “But I noticed this week she wasn’t as endowed as she was then.”

“Actually, I had noticed that also. Maybe she had a breast reduction? Or lost weight? She looks a bit heavier in this picture—look at the fullness of her face and chest. Although with the empire waist dress you can’t see her figure.”

“That’s the problem.” Bezu bit her lip.

“Her dress?”

“Yes partly, but see how she’s standing behind the picket fence so you can’t see all of her, almost like she’s hiding.” She studied the picture.

Leaning in, I observed the details she’d mentioned. The chiffon dress had a deep scoop neck, empire waist and tiered skirt. In college I had worn the same type of dress, my mom said it was flattering for a denser framed girl like me with a round midsection.

“Okay, so?” Should I tell her that when I first looked at the picture I thought that Priscilla looked pregnant? I’d see what Bezu was getting at. She might be headed in the same direction as my original thought.

“Just having met her, I noticed that she was slim and small-boned with a normal sized bust line. And the clothes she wore this week were form fitting. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would hide her figure.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Not only that. Just from the few encounters I had with her, Priscilla seemed like the type who loved attention, showing off, being front and center, really being noticed.”

“Right again.” I paused. “If your cooking gig doesn’t work out for you, you need to go into fortune telling. You’re that good.”

“I’ll get a crystal ball.” Bezu giggled.

“Trade in your baking pans and aprons for tarot cards.” I glanced at the photo. “What else was bugging you about the picture?”

“All of it, her dress, her ample bust, the way she’s standing, almost like she’s concealing herself.” She paused. “Annie Mae, it might be far fetched here, but I think she was pregnant.”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I had the same thought when I first saw this picture,” I said.

“Like minds think alike,” Bezu said.

“Even further, Winona told me that Priscilla meant to designate someone else as her beneficiary instead of Dwight. A family member. But it also seemed that Winona slipped up when she told me that part. I wonder if she meant it should have been her—” Stopping mid-sentence, I studied the photo. What stood out was the shape of Priscilla’s face, her full lips. “This makes perfect sense, the same hazel eyes, and the familiarity I sensed when I was with her. I think Winona’s her daughter.”