Meet Your Baker (25 page)
“No biggie, I told Stephanie I’d keep my eyes out for him, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.
“That’s all. Why does it matter? You have Richard, right?”
Thomas lowered his head and shot me a serious look. “I know you’re up to something. Richard or no Richard.”
“Who, me?” I held the bouquet of lilies. “Thanks for the flowers, gotta run.”
“Jules!” Thomas called. “You be careful out there.”
I hurried down the street before he could follow me, dropped the flowers off at the apartment, stuck them in water, and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. If a search of downtown was in order, I might as well be comfortable and at least attempt to minimize the amount of sweat.
Stephanie had given me a couple places to start. I opted for the park.
Crossing Main Street, I hurried to Lithia Park. Typically at five
P.M.
the park would be packed with picnickers, kids on bikes, and the theater crowd getting in a stroll before the dinner hour. Tonight, due to the dirty air and heat the park sat nearly empty.
I passed a group of theater students or hippies (sometimes it’s hard to tell) sitting in a circle under an oak tree. One of them pounded on a drum. The others swayed to the beat, seemingly unbothered by the stagnant air.
They flashed me a peace sign as I surveyed the group to make sure Sterling wasn’t among them. This didn’t look exactly like his crowd, but it would be an easy way to disappear in plain sight.
Alas, no hoodie or haunting eyes. I continued on the paved trail toward the waterfall. My breathing quickened as smoke tickled my throat.
I checked secluded alcoves and wooded corners of the park as I followed the paved path. No sign of Sterling. Of course, a thorough search of Lithia Park would require Thomas’s help. If I couldn’t find Sterling on my own, or if he didn’t make contact with Stephanie tonight, I would have to reach out to Thomas and the Professor.
After thirty minutes of exploring all the areas I used to sneak off to as a kid, I decided to head to the bricks.
The bricks were deserted tonight too. Theatergoers hustled inside. I hung around for a few minutes anyway, in hopes that maybe by chance Sterling would wander by.
A note taped to the box office door announced that the evening performance was canceled due to poor air quality. Those with tickets could receive a full refund or attend a future performance. I bet Lance was feeling the wrath of angry patrons.
I stepped inside and smiled at the girl behind the counter. “Bummer weather, huh?”
“The worst. You here for a refund?”
“No, I was hoping to see Lance. Is he around? I’m a friend.” That was a half lie. I’m not sure Lance would consider me a friend, but who cares if it got me in.
“Um, I’m not really supposed to let anyone in without a ticket.” She picked up a piece of paper. “What’s your name?”
I tried another tactic. “My name won’t be on the list. Actually, I’m supposed to pick up a few things from Caroline’s dressing room for her.”
“Oh, how is she? I haven’t heard.”
Nice one, Jules.
“She’s doing better. I saw her last night. She’s awake. Obviously, she’s pretty weak and recovering, but considering what could have happened, I’d say she’s doing remarkably well.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. She’s so nice. She always brings me cookies and stuff that the cast doesn’t eat.”
“She does?” This news made me like Caroline even more. I had her pegged as a gossipmonger, which she might be, but I was happy to hear that she was kind to the box office staff. Theater types, especially senior actors in the company, can have a reputation for being, for lack of a better word, divas.
The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Even the night of her accident, she brought me a slice of this delicious torte. She wanted to know if anyone had come around asking for her.”
This was getting interesting. Maybe Caroline had another agenda for buttering up the box office girl with sweets. Who was she expecting? Sterling?
“Was it a chocolate hazelnut torte?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I made it.”
“Wow, it was really good.”
“Thanks, I work at Torte, down on Main.” I pointed behind me.
“I love Torte! You guys make the best stuff.”
“It’s not a bad gig, that’s for sure.” I bent forward toward the window. “Who was Caroline waiting for that night?”
“I don’t know.” The girl scooted her stool closer. “Are you and Caroline friends?”
“We are.” It was scary how easily the lies spilled out of my lips.
“Do you know if she was in some kind of trouble?”
“What kind of trouble?”
The girl looked conflicted.
“It’s okay, I won’t say anything to her,” I assured her. “If you think she was in some kind of trouble it might be important to let the authorities know, especially after her accident.”
“Maybe ‘trouble’ isn’t the right word. For the last five or six performances, every night before the show, she’d come and ask if anyone had been by asking to see her.”
“Had anyone?”
“Twice.” She chewed her fingernail.
“Who?” I pressed.
“I don’t know him. He wore a hoodie and dressed in black. When I told Caroline he’d come by she freaked out.”
“Freaked out how?”
“Told me if he came back to let her know immediately. I mean, what was I supposed to do? She was in the middle of a show. I couldn’t go stop the show and tell her she had a visitor up front. Plus, he was kind of skittish. When I asked if he wanted me to leave her a message, he took off.”
Sterling had been to visit Caroline at the theater.
“When was this?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “A couple days ago, maybe?”
“Did he come back again?”
“Yeah, the night of her accident.”
“Did you let him in?”
She frowned. “I did. I know I shouldn’t have, but Caroline made me promise to let him in if he came back. I took him to her dressing room and told him to wait there until the show was over.”
Things were looking worse for Sterling by the minute. Could he have been the guy in the mask who locked me in Caroline’s dressing room? What was so important that Caroline needed to talk to Sterling about?
“You’re not going to tell Lance, are you? I don’t want to get fired. I know I shouldn’t have let him in. It’s just that she was so adamant about it.”
“I won’t tell Lance, but I do need to tell my friend Thomas, he’s a deputy. He might need to come by and take your statement, okay? It could be connected to a murder.”
“I thought you said Caroline was doing better.”
“She is, not her murder. Someone else.”
The girl’s face turned scarlet.
“You did the right thing by telling me. Is it okay if I go grab Caroline’s things?”
She nodded. “Tell her I hope she’s feeling better.”
“I will. Thanks for your help.”
Jackpot.
I darted along the corridor toward Caroline’s dressing room. I didn’t want Lance to see me. The box office attendant had confirmed that Caroline and Sterling knew each other. Caroline had bribed the poor girl in order to ensure that she had a chance to talk to Sterling. What in the world did they talk about? If Sterling was in Caroline’s dressing room the night of her accident, could that make him a suspect?
My mind swirled. What motive could Sterling have to injure Caroline? Could he have killed Nancy too?
I blended into the preshow activity behind the scenes. Indoor shows at the Bowmer Theater were still a go. Actors warmed up their voices, trilling out scales on stage. Costume designers raced through the crowded halls wielding sewing needles like swords. The lighting crew flashed spotlights and tested fog machines.
Straightening my shoulders, I walked with a purpose straight for the dressing rooms. No one stopped me. I’ve found if you act like you’re supposed to be somewhere, most of the time people will believe that you are.
When I reached Caroline’s dressing room, I checked to make sure no one was watching and ducked in. I clicked on the lights and gasped as I surveyed the tiny room. The space had been destroyed. Scripts, makeup, costumes, and books littered the floor. Her wardrobe had been torn apart. Someone had been in here, looking for something—that photo perhaps?
I reached in my shorts pocket and grabbed my cell phone. Fortunately I remembered to bring it this time.
“Thomas,” I whispered into the phone when he answered
“Jules, is that you? I can barely hear you.”
“I know, I’m at the theater. Caroline’s dressing room has been ransacked. You better get over here.”
“Did you say you’re at the theater?”
“Yes.”
“You’re gonna have to speak up a little.”
“Caroline’s dressing room,” I hissed into the phone. “It’s been destroyed.”
“What? Okay, sit tight. I’ll be right there.”
No problem. I didn’t intend to move a muscle until Thomas arrived. My head spun with questions. Could Richard have done this? Maybe he tried to find the photo in order to keep the fact that he was Mia’s father a secret?
Or could I be mistaken? Was there a chance that Sterling could have done this? I knew that I’d seen him backstage. What if he was the man in the mask that night? But Caroline had already given him the photograph. What else could he have been looking for? I felt like I was missing something important.
I didn’t want to touch anything, so I stood next to the door, not moving. The hallway pulsed with noise. The frenetic energy before a show is palpable. As if the combined energy of actors and crew creates an invisible force field. It’s one of the things I loved about acting in my younger years.
As I listened to the eager anticipation of the company, the handle on Caroline’s door turned.
Wow, Thomas got here fast.
The door creaked open. Something felt wrong. Goose bumps erupted on my arms. I took a step backward.
Wouldn’t Thomas announce that he’d arrived?
I held my breath as the person on the other side of the door stepped inside. The door swung into me. I caught it with my hand. Should I hold it and try to hide behind it?
The person on the other side tugged the handle to shut it, pulling me forward with the door. My hand slipped. The door slammed shut.
Sterling stood there, staring straight at me.
“Sterling, what are you doing here?”
He reached for the door. I held it with my foot.
“Don’t leave. I just want to talk to you. I’ve been looking for you all over town.”
Was I an idiot? I could be locking myself in a room with a murderer. This was becoming a pattern. Thomas would be here any minute. As long as I kept Sterling talking, I’d be fine.
“Why are you looking for me?” His eyes darted around the room.
“Stephanie asked me. She’s worried about you.”
“She is?” Sterling sounded surprised. “I thought I freaked her out the other night.”
“You mean when Nancy hurt her?”
“You know about that?”
“She told me everything.” The lies were really flowing now.
Sterling’s posture relaxed. He seemed to take notice of the dressing room for the first time. “What happened here?” I noticed he didn’t have his skateboard.
“No idea.” I shrugged. “Listen, Sterling, I want to help you, but you’re going to have to tell me everything you know—
everything.
”
He picked up a sequined crown.
“Don’t touch that. There could be fingerprints.”
He dropped it on the floor, like it was hot to the touch.
“Sterling, I know you locked me in here the other night, but I don’t understand why.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you want my help, you’re going have to be straight with me.”
“Who said I wanted your help?”
I debated how to approach him. I decided the truth was probably my best bet. Sterling had no reason to trust me.
“The police are on their way here as we speak. Things don’t look good for you, Sterling. You threatened Nancy when she hurt Stephanie. You were seen here at the theater the night of Caroline’s accident. You locked me in here the night of her accident and took off with that photo. I’m guessing you did this.” I held my hand over the mess on the floor. “The police are going to find your prints.”
Sterling’s eyes shot to the crown he’d just touched. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do this and I didn’t lock you in here.”
He sounded sincere.
Maybe he’s a good liar,
I thought.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to believe, but I know whatever’s going on has something to do with that photo of Richard and Nancy. I saw you and Caroline at Torte. Whoever locked me in here took the photo.”
Sterling twisted the piercing in his ear. “Look, I swear I wasn’t here.”
“Then where have you been?”
“Around.” He traced a tattoo on his forearm.
“Not helpful.”
“Whatever.”
“If you don’t want to talk to me, like I said, you can tell the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
“Great.” He looked at the cluttered floor. “See any handcuffs lying around? Might as well book me now.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The cops and I go way back. They take one look at me.” He rubbed the tattoo on his right arm. “One look at my record. I’m toast. That’s why I’ve been hiding out the past couple days.”
The goose bumps on my arms had faded. For some reason I trusted the kid. “Look, I can see you’re scared. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll listen and I’ll try to help.”
Sterling tugged on the strings of his hoodie. “Why do you want to help me? No one wants to help me.”
“Maybe that’s why. Honestly, I’m not sure of anything right now. Nancy was murdered at my shop. I want to get her killer behind bars and move on. You’re the only person who can help me do that right now. Maybe we can help each other?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’m in no hurry.” I now prayed that Thomas would take his time. I had a feeling that Sterling would clam up again when he arrived.
