Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (19 page)

“Doris told Nellie and Nellie told me. Marvin must have known, considering the way he’s been carrying on.”

The evidence was mounting against Lane. At the very least, he had had some type of abusive incident with Doris. At the worst, he was a killer. Bill might be doing more than questioning Lane tonight; he might be arresting him.

“One more thing,” she said. “Do you think Lane would ever hurt Doris?”

“Lane? Are you kidding? I may not care for that man, but, trust me, he’s a pussycat. Does he break hearts? Yes. Anything else? Definitely not. So … are you gonna give us the rain or not?”

“Let me get back to you on that,” she said, still processing everything Myrtle had told her.

“Well, I gotta go. Nell and I are grabbing a bite before rehearsal.”

Colleen waved as her cranky former teacher turned ally exited the building. She was more confused than ever. If there was anyone that would be suspicious of Lane, it would be Myrtle. But, despite the knowledge of his fling with Doris, Myrtle didn’t think him capable of hurting her. So where had the bruises come from? Myrtle hadn’t mentioned any. Could Marvin have made them up? It was possible Doris had kept them hidden. Nobody knows what really happens behind closed doors. Perhaps things got a little rough? Myrtle’s visit had only succeeded in raising more questions.

“I saw Myrtle pull out,” Jimmy said, bringing her a glass of iced tea. “You survive?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking the glass.

“So, what’d she want?”

“You’re never going to believe it,” she said. “But first tell me how this morning went.”

The two retreated to Colleen’s office to go over equipment-maintenance needs, station duties, rookie training, the upcoming EMT recertification tests, and, yes, Myrtle’s request to make it rain.

Chapter 15

“If you’re early,
you’re on time; and if you’re on time, you’re late.” These were words firefighters and EMTs lived by, and, according to her roommate in college, theater folks, too. This was why Colleen had left the station twenty minutes before the scheduled start of rehearsal at the Whalehead Club, even though her drive time was at most five.

She felt better about having tended to her duties at the station and drove to the rehearsal feeling more grounded and with a clearer sense of purpose. Despite Jimmy’s assurance that things were under control, she felt as if she had neglected the guys for the last two days. In actuality, the last week had been relatively quiet at the station … well, if you discounted the calls for Doris and Rich. Prior to that, there had been the usual water rescues, medical treatments, and a fender bender at the TimBuck II shopping plaza, but, thankfully, no serious fire-related calls.

After she and Jimmy had discussed station duties, she had updated him on Myrtle’s request for rain. He had said yes to the idea right away—any chance to use the engine—and agreed that the guys would all be on board if it was okayed by her and Adam. She had also informed him about the squatter at the Burn-to-Learn house. She knew Bill wouldn’t want the information getting out, but she trusted Jimmy beyond measure and needed him to be ready in case anything should happen.

She was hardly delighted about returning to the drama and intrigue of the community theater group. On her last encounter, she had witnessed the discovery of Rich’s body in the dumbwaiter, the group’s infighting, and Fawn’s rather up close and personal aura reading. At least she and Bill would be there together. Maybe with the two of them working collaboratively they could keep the group in check. She pulled into the parking lot and exited the vehicle with Sparky, who immediately spotted a Canada goose waddling near the reeds along the shore and took off in pursuit of the bird.

She followed Sparky onto the lawn that had served as a landing strip for guests of the wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Knight back in the 1920s. Since then a pond had been dredged to break up the large expanse of green, but if she squinted her eyes, she could almost imagine the fashionable visitors from Washington, D. C., and New York happily alighting from propeller planes for a week of relaxation and hunting. Sparky bounded toward her, tail swirling in circles, and he barked at a blue heron that soared above them in pursuit of an evening meal.

She strolled to the front of the Whalehead Club, an area that visitors often mistakenly thought of as the back of the house because it faced away from the park and toward the sound. Rows of white plastic chairs were set up facing the house. She wondered if it was for one of the many weddings that took place on the grounds, then remembered that this was where the group was going to perform the play. Clever, she thought. They can use the veranda as the stage and the interior of the house as the backstage.

She heard the sound of tires on gravel and waved as Bill pulled next to her SUV. Rodney’s car arrived next. Bill had brought backup. Was he planning to make an arrest? Would it be Lane? Myrtle’s comment about the actor being a pussycat came back to her and she wondered if Bill was right to suspect him in Rich’s death. What if the only thing Lane was guilty of was being a gigolo? Then again, Lane had had a fling with Doris and had been living under another name—things that, while not illegal or even unusual, drew suspicion upon him.

“Hey,” she said as the men approached.

“I saw Lane’s car parked at the side of the building,” Bill said. He motioned with the folder that contained the ear photographs and headed toward the building with Rodney.

She jogged to catch up with them. “In case Lane isn’t our guy, maybe we shouldn’t go in with the entire army.”

Bill stopped. The muscles in his jaw tightened. A mild tension filled the air.

“Why don’t I wait for you on the porch,” Rodney said, and scurried away toward the Whalehead Club.

Sparky bounced to the deputy and joined him on the walk across the lawn, leaving her alone with Bill. She knew he was annoyed with her for telling him how to do his job, but she wanted to be certain that if anyone was going to be arrested that it be the right person.

“Myrtle stopped by the station for something unrelated to this, but we got to talking. Apparently, Lane had a one-night stand with Doris.”

“So why the reservations about him?”

“When I asked her if she thought Lane might have injured Doris, she was adamant about the fact that Lane isn’t violent. There’s no love lost between the two. Believe me, if there was even a hint that he could hurt someone, Myrtle would have said so.”

“But he did lie about having an affair with Doris.”

“Which makes you wonder what other secrets he has,” she said.

“And if any would be worth killing to keep.”

She sighed. “I just think we should keep what Myrtle said in mind … that’s all.”

“Is this your gut speaking?” he asked, studying her.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew how he felt about her gut instincts. But right now, her gut wasn’t telling her anything except to consider all the facts. “No,” she said. “This time, it’s my head.”

He stared intensely into her eyes, and she found herself unable to look away. She could see why suspects caved under his scrutiny. Just when she couldn’t stand the awkwardness a moment longer, he said, “Okay. I’ll hear him out.”

They crossed the lawn to the Whalehead Club.

“Why don’t you wait out here,” Bill said to Rodney when they reached the porch.

“You sure?” his deputy asked, surprised.

Bill nodded. She leashed Sparky, tied the lead to one of the porch posts, and followed Bill inside. They found Kyle pacing in the hall.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the museum intern said, spotting them as soon as they entered the foyer. “I was about to call.”

“Has something happened?” Bill asked, now on alert.

“No. But I am concerned about how
active
it is in there. Something could get broken. The Steinway is priceless, you know.”

As if to punctuate what Kyle had said, a wail the likes of which Colleen had never heard before ripped through the building. She and Bill took off running, with Kyle on their heels. They came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to the library, startled by the three-ring circus they saw before them.

At first, she didn’t know where to look, there was so much activity and noise. The sound of tap shoes drew her attention to the left corner, where Nellie, dressed in a costume that resembled that of a horse with a mane and tail, was practicing a tap number that mimicked the movement and sound of a horse trotting. The shifting of her weight as she danced caused her tail to bounce to the beat. Gives a whole new meaning to tap dancers being called hoofers, she thought.

“Ouch!” Myrtle exclaimed, and Colleen turned, to see Rita stitching a tail onto Myrtle’s derriere. Colleen suspected the stick hadn’t been accidental.

“Could we get more wind?” Adam yelled above the noise.

Sam cranked up an enormous floor fan and aimed it at Fawn, who was holding flowing yards of blue satin fabric. The fabric billowed across the room like waves and Adam gave Sam a thumbs-up. Then came the pleading wail again, louder this time, and Bill charged into the center of the room, past the sheets of fabric to the great fireplace, where Lane stood bent over Hayley, his hands wrapped around her throat.

“Release her!” Bill barked, and grabbed Lane’s arm.

“Hold!” Adam yelled, and everyone in the room stopped what he or she was doing. Sam cut the fan, the fabric fell to the floor, the room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Bill, Lane, and Hayley.

“Ouch,” Lane said as Bill squeezed his arm.

“Are you okay?” Bill asked Hayley.

Hayley gave him a dismissive wave. “I’m perfectly fine. Lane and I were doing a scene from
Othello
. Turns out we were both in productions.”

“Yes, but obviously I wasn’t Othello,” Lane said to her. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Bill hesitated. Despite the antics they had just witnessed from the theater group, everyone was looking at him as if he was the one acting strangely. Time to turn the tables, Colleen thought.

“Given Rich’s recent tragic death,” she said, stepping forward. “I’m sure everyone understands why we’re on edge. Perhaps doing that particular scene, especially here, was a bit insensitive.”

Colleen stared pointedly about the room. Nellie and Fawn muttered agreement. Rita and Sam hung their heads. Myrtle pursed her lips and looked out the window. Lane and Hayley squirmed uncomfortably. That’s right, she thought. Never underestimate the power of an Irish woman’s guilt trip. She caught Bill’s eye and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Adam said. “It’s time to eliminate distractions … or do I need to remind everyone we open in two days?”

She silently applauded Adam. He was taking the reins and putting his foot down. It must be a challenge for him to direct this group, given his youth, the insular nature of the theater company, and the strong personalities and egos of its members, she thought.

Jason, Hayley’s assistant, entered the room from the hall, innocent about what had transpired. “Hayley, we should be going. You’ve got an early call tomorrow.”

The actress threw a pale yellow silk scarf over her shoulder. “Thank you for inviting me to your marvelous little group,” she said to Lane. “Have a wonderful rehearsal, all. Ta-ta.”

“Ta-ta,” the thespians responded in unison, and then she and Jason were gone.

Bill released his grip on Lane. “I need to have a word with Mr. Schneck,” he said to Adam.

“Mr. Schneck? Who’s that?” Rita whispered to Sam, who was standing next to her. Her husband shrugged.

Lane’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Are you talking about Lane?” Fawn asked, noticing his embarrassment.

“Your real name is Schneck?” Myrtle asked, took it in for a second, and cackled.

“It’s Floyd Schneck, if you must know,” Lane said, lifting his chin and pulling himself up to his full height.

“Floyd,” Myrtle said with such merriment that she snorted like a pig.

Sam and Rita raised their brows in surprise.

“Really, Myrtle,” Nellie reprimanded.

Myrtle tried to speak through her laughter but only succeeded in snorting again.

“It’s not that funny,” Rita said. “A lot of people change their names.”

Sam tapped his wife’s arm. “Honey, stay out of it.”

“I agree with Rita,” Nellie said. “I’m sure Lane had a perfectly good reason for changing his name.”

Colleen and Bill exchanged looks. Were they going to hear the truth or another lie?

Lane sighed. “I was in my twenties, going on auditions. I didn’t think anyone would hire me as Floyd Schneck. A lot of actors have worked under different names.”

“It’s true,” Sam said. “Look at Cary Grant, or Judy Garland.”

“Or Natalie Wood,” added his wife.

“Or Lady Gaga,” Fawn added, baffling her fellow thespians.

“Lane Walker
is
a more stageworthy name,” Nellie said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Myrtle?”

“Yes, I suppose,” her friend reluctantly agreed.

With the group’s reassurance, Lane turned to Bill with renewed confidence. “So … why, might I ask, is this of special interest to the police? Last time I checked, changing one’s name wasn’t a crime.”

“Not unless you have something to hide,” Bill said.

Lane’s eyes darted about the room. “Perhaps we could speak in private,” he whispered.

Wow, that’s a switch, Colleen thought. One minute the actor is reveling in having an audience and the next he wants to avoid one.

Bill motioned for Lane to step from the room. She followed them down the hall. As she stepped onto the veranda, she heard Kyle asking the group to please respect the property and be careful of the antiques. She reached to close the door and caught Kyle’s eye as he was leaving the library.

“Why the Board let Rich talk them into allowing rehearsals here, I’ll never know,” he said in a huff, and disappeared through the foyer door on his way to his office.

She found the comment troubling, given what had happened to Rich. Kyle was right: It probably wasn’t a good idea letting them use the historic property. Live performance was often unpredictable and things could get damaged. Still … to blame a dead person seemed rather cold and unfeeling. She had a new suspect to consider in Rich’s death, one who obviously knew Rich and the building. Perhaps she had been too narrow in thinking only of members of the group. She left the door open a crack so she could hear in case any further drama occurred inside.