Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series) (2 page)

Liquid Lies
: Novel
(Mystery, Thriller, Suspense)

Christmas Corpse Caper
: Short Story
(Mystery/Romance: Prequel to Liquid Lies)

Chubby Chicks Club: Cozy Southern Mystery Series

Dying For Dinner Rolls
:
Book One

Murderous Muffins
:
Book Two

Homicide by Hamlet
:
Book Three

Killing with Kings:
Book Four

Puzzled by Purple:
Book Five

Thomson Twins Tales: Chubby Chicks Club Spinoff

Thomson Twins Tales
(Short story box set) contains all three stories below:

Picture Not Perfect
:
Volume One YA Short Story (Mystery/Sweet Romance)

Turnabout Twist
: Volume Two YA Short Story (Sweet Romance)

Treat or Trick
: Volume Three YA Short Story (Suspense)

For my eldest son, Sean Thomas Lavrisa, USA Airman and former high school theater major. “All the world's a stage. And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts…” ~William Shakespeare. May your world’s stage be filled will deep fulfilling relationships, abundant happiness and countless adventures.

I love you Sean.

I took in a breath as I ran my fingers down the faded red velvet drapes. The theater had that familiar musty smell that I’d come to love so much. I was going to miss the students, the faculty, and the college atmosphere when summer ended.

I was about to retire after thirty years as the first black female drama professor at Armstrong State University in Savannah, Georgia.

My heart felt a tug of sadness. My last responsibility was to advise local high school students participating in the University’s summer one-act play competition. I’d been working with the high school students for the past few summers. It was always a thrill seeing the kids take on Shakespeare and turn it into something fresh and modern in just a week.

Footsteps and chatter distracted my reminiscing. My team, a group of ten students, made their way toward me.

“Dr. Maple, I hope you don’t mind, but we were talking, and they decided I could have the lead in Hamlet, since it’s my last year here,” said Wilbert. He wore black-framed glasses and stood a lanky six feet tall, with long arms and legs. “And the team elected Umika as assistant director, and me as director.”

Umika, a gorgeous Indian girl with large, cocoa brown eyes, who wore her thick inky-black hair in a loose braid, raised her hand. “Only if it’s okay with you, Dr. Maple.”

“Sure. If that’s what your team wants, that’s fine with me. But I know how hard it will be, Wilbert, to be a principle actor and director, but if anyone can do it, you can. Remember, this is your play and you, as a team, make all the decisions. I’m merely an advisor.”

I looked at the group of eager high school students from freshman through seniors. Gosh, how I was going to miss the excitement, chaos, and challenge of competition.

Wilbert said, “We know, but since this year is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the contest, it’s even more important. They’re also awarding scholarships for the first place team.”

Umika gestured at me. “Dr. Maple, this is your last year, too. We want to win for you. You’ve got a four year winning streak to beat!”

I shook my head. “Don’t you worry about that. It adds unnecessary stress. Just do your best, work as a team, be creative, and most of all, have fun.”

“But, Ms. Annie Mae, I mean, Dr. Maple, I think we’re destined to win,” said Umika. “My mom had my astrology charts checked, and she said that something big would happen this week.  Apparently the stars are aligned just right.”

“Big? Like in good, or bad?” Wilbert asked. “I mean, it could go either way.”

“Well, I just assume good.” Umika shot him a glance. “Like victory. After all, I’m named for the Goddess Parvati. She represents feminine energy of the universe, like intuition. So, I know things.” She folded her arms across her chest, giving Wilbert a look that dared him to argue with her.

I laughed as I held up my palms. “Oh now, there are five other talented teams who want to win as well. Nothing is guaranteed. Let’s stop dawdling and get to work. Did you choose a theme for your interpretation of Hamlet?”

“Yes.” Wilbert smiled. “Rap.”

“Inventive,” I said.

“Isn’t it great?” Umika spread her arms wide. “We’re so excited about this. We’re also going to create a large ghost that will fly into the set.”

The rest of the team nodded with enthusiasm.

“But until we submit our theme this afternoon, we have to keep it secret,” Wilbert stated. “So no one steals it.”

Umika bounced on her toes, her hands clasped in front of her. “I have an idea. If anyone comes in here while we’re rehearsing, we need to stop what we’re doing and, I don’t know, do ballet or something.”

Wilbert raised his cleft chin in indignation. “I’m so not doing that.”

There was a general grumbling amongst the rest of the team members.

Umika squared her shoulders. “Then you think of something else.”

Wilbert shrugged.

“Whatever you decide is fine with me,” I grinned. “But I agree, you need to keep your theme confidential, at least for a while.” I clapped my hands. “Let’s get to work. The building materials for your set, including wood, paint, and tools, are in the prop shop behind the stage. Costumes and fabric are there as well. What you do with all of it is up to you.”

Just then Wilbert gasped and his mouth dropped open. He shouted, “Swan Lake now!” He began what looked like a pirouette. The others quickly followed suit, attempting various ballet moves.

Wilbert looked like he was in pain as he twirled, his face contorted and his balance off kilter. Some of the others looked as though they were going to fall over as they spun around.

I laughed. “Now hold on there, what’re you doing?”

Wilbert motioned behind me.

I turned and saw a woman walking toward us and recognized my nemesis. The tapping of her high heels on the wooden floor echoed throughout the room.

Priscilla Woodham, a theater summer camp team leader, stopped in front of me and smirked. “My, my. It appears your Hamlet theme is well, um, rather classical. It looks like some bizarre form of ballet.” When she spoke, her S’s whistled like a teakettle. “But I didn’t expect anything less than that from a seasoned, albeit retired, professor who is doing her last summer theater camp.”

She wore her standard uniform—a black designer pantsuit, with a white silk blouse and black pointy heels. A leopard print Gucci bag the size of a suitcase hung from one shoulder and diamonds sparkled on her neck, wrist, and manicured fingers. Her thick auburn layered hair framed her heart shaped face.

I held back rolling my eyes. “You know, I can never tell if what you say is really praise or merely a criticism concealed under layers of sugar coating.” I can dish it out as good as I get it when I’m backed into a corner—which she did to me every chance she got. “It’s a shame I don’t see you more often.”

Priscilla played with her diamond necklace and stared at me with her cat like hazel eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your team’s burst of creativity.”

Why did I feel so frumpy next to her? At sixty-five, I was in decent shape. I did water aerobics three times a week. Maybe, my waist is a little thicker than it once was. I guess chubby would best describe me.

People tell me that bright colors flatter my dark skin and black hair. I tugged my yellow blouse down over the top of my navy slacks. “Why are you here, anyway?” I snapped. “You know the rules. Until each team declares a theme tonight, no one is allowed into the rehearsals.”

She huffed. “I wasn’t spying, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Why, of course not. I would never accuse you of anything so Machiavellian.” Turning to my team, I said, “Take five.”

“I came here to ask a favor, that’s all,” Priscilla said.

“Oh?” I arched an eyebrow. This woman would rip the shirt off your back and then ask for your pants, too. I bit my lip to keep from unleashing what I really thought about her.

“My thespians would like to use your rehearsal space later this afternoon,” she said.

I started to protest.

She held up a hand. “I know you don’t owe me anything. But you have to admit it puts the other teams at a disadvantage when the previous year’s winning team, in this case yours, is awarded use of the theater while the others get scattered around campus.”

I knew what Priscilla was thinking. She thought if my team won first place again this year, it would be because they were given the theater for rehearsals, not because of their talent, skill and work.

“I heard your group was assigned the gym, there’s plenty of room to rehearse there,” I said through clenched teeth.

“The space is rather cavernous.” she said. “We need to strategize our set in the actual performance venue.” She tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. “Of course, you’re not obligated to me in any way.”

Regardless of my disdain for her, I couldn’t return her callousness. I sucked in a breath. “No, I’m not.”

“On the other hand, you wouldn’t want me to tell everyone that one of the judges is your boyfriend.” Priscilla smirked.

“Are you referring to Professor Gill?”

“Do you have more than one boyfriend?”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but Professor Gill and I are just good friends.”

My chest tightened. After my husband died just over a year ago, I felt too old to date, and I’d resigned myself to being alone, a widowed and childless retired old lady. Accepting this was easier than hoping for something better, only to be disappointed in the end. Although Gerald Gill, a widower himself, was a kind, handsome man, and we had a lot in common, the romance part of my life had ended when Ernie died.

Priscilla glared. “Is that why someone saw you last night at Tequila’s Town head to head over margaritas?”

Was my every move being observed? “Are you implying, that because of our friendship, Gerald might not be impartial when it comes to doing his job as lead judge and director this week?”

“I didn’t say that,” she sneered.

“Well you may as well have.” I threw the question back at her. “Is that what you think?” It was hard to read her facial expressions, because her eyebrows didn’t move. I had a feeling she used Botox. “Don’t you know me by now?” I persisted.

She pursed her lips. “If you are indeed in a relationship that could affect your work here this week, then you’d best disqualify yourself now. This contest needs to run with objectivity, not
favoritism
.”

I knew where she was heading, but I thought if she said it out loud she could hear how ridiculous she was. “Spit it out. What are you getting at?”

Pricilla squinted at me. “If Gerald helps a particular team win, just because of a friendship he has with that team’s leader, well that wouldn’t be fair, now would it?”

Flames of anger shot through me. “You really are a piece of work. What I do think, is that you need not worry about me. I’m a professional, and so is Gerald. Our friendship will in no way cause any issues at camp this week.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Priscilla lowered her eyelids. “You never answered me. Can my team get in here today or not?”

I wanted to get rid of her, so I said, “Against my better judgment, I’m giving you one hour. Three to four o’clock. That’s it.”

“How generous of you.” She half grinned. “You’ve proven, once again, what everyone says about you.”

“Oh?” Dang it. She had lured me in and my curiosity got the better of me. “What are they saying?” I asked.

Priscilla tugged her sleeve. “That you’re quite magnanimous.”

“Is that so?” I let the praise settle in, filling me with a cozy feeling. “I didn’t realize people talked so kindly about me.”

“They also talk about your, how would you call it, your gumshoe skills? You know, how you found the murderer of your friend Lucy. They say that was such a display of intelligence and loyalty.” She grinned. “I have a golden retriever with those qualities too.”

There it was again. She made me feel good, then simultaneously slammed me. “Well, that’s a first.”

“What?”

I snorted. “Being compared to a dog.”

Her large hazel eyes narrowed. “Oh no, I certainly did not do that. I hope you’re not turning my genuine and sincere remarks into anything but what they were intended to be.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I glared. “Trust me, I know exactly what you intended.”

Pursing her red lips, Priscilla glanced around the room. “And how in the world did you wrangle it so that your friend Betsy got the catering job for this week’s theater camp?”

“Her name is Bezu, and she got the job fair and square.” My skin began to crawl, which meant my patience was running thin. The last thing I needed was her implying anything negative about my dear friend.

“Oh! I’m sure she did.” She clicked her tongue. “My brother owns a catering company. I don’t know if you were aware of that.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

She was going someplace with her line of questioning, like a slippery snake slithering out from underbrush to catch it’s unaware prey, but it was too late to get out.

Priscilla tapped her shoe on the wooden floor. “Anyway, he must’ve missed the required public announcement to submit bids. He’s up to date on all the business and health permits and so forth, and I’m sure your friend is as well. I mean, Biddy’s running a legit business, right?”

“Legit?” I wasn’t even going to acknowledge that she called Bezu the wrong name again.

She glowered. “I’m sure she has all her documentation and license for running a business. Plus, I’m sure she’s following all the necessary city codes to conduct a food-related business.”

“Bezu’s business is none of your concern.”

“Anyway, I do have a message for her. Please let her know that Dwight says hello.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Oh, you probably know him as Bradley, but he goes by his middle name now. It’s much more sophisticated.”

“You know Bezu’s ex-fiancé?” I asked. My, how this woman got around.

Priscilla leaned toward me and whispered, “He’s my beau now.”

My mouth fell open for a moment. Priscilla was around fifty or so, Dwight was closer to Bezu’s age, late thirties. I looked away for a moment to compose myself. I didn’t want her to have the pleasure of knowing that she’d dropped a bombshell on me.