Read To Have and to Kill Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
J
essie was keeping two ledgers. One was for the auction bids, and the other was for funds coming in for the Travis York Memorial Fund benefiting the Metropolitan School for Girls’ drama department. She would have to share some of the auction proceeds with other departments of the school. But, due to her quick thinking immediately after Travis was poisoned, anything that came in to honor him went for her projects alone.
Even with being cut short, the auction had raised over a million dollars and Jessie hoped Travis’s memorial fund would bring in even more. Already the morning mail had brought three U.S. Postal Service boxes full of envelopes from Travis York fans around the nation. There were checks in a wide range of amounts. Some were big and some were small, but all of them were accompanied by notes of gratitude and admiration of the pleasure Travis York had provided.
There was so much to do that Jessie was working on getting her fellow teachers to come in and help her during their free periods. The contents of each envelope had to be recorded, and letters of acknowledgment had to be sent out. An attorney was making sure that everything was done legally and within federal tax guidelines. Jessie was arranging to make it possible for donations to be made via credit card.
The magnitude of work involved in the last-minute memorial fund made the auction look like child’s play. The auction had been well planned beforehand. Since the guests were mostly students’ parents, the school already had their e-mail addresses. Just to be on the safe side, everyone had to provide their personal contact information if they wanted to be able to bid.
Many of the bills had been settled immediately, and the winning bidder took home his or her prize. But there were a good number of items, mostly professional services and gift certificates for restaurants or hotel stays, that hadn’t been paid for yet. Chief among those was the Martha Killeen photography session, which went for $100,000.
As Jessie composed an e-mail reminder to send out to the outstanding debtors, she was determined to collect every last dime.
A
n announcement was made. Detectives were coming to the
Little Rain
studio within the hour to question cast and crew members. They wanted to speak to anyone who had thoughts or speculation about why someone would want Travis York dead.
A rehearsal hall was set aside for the purpose of assembling the staff. While everyone was waiting for the investigators to arrive, Quent Raynor strode to the front of the room.
“Before the police get here, let’s go over a couple of unrelated things,” Quent announced. “In case it hasn’t spread through the grapevine yet, the reason we’re postponing shooting the dream sequence is that I’ve arranged for Walden’s Jewelers to lend us some of the store’s most precious diamonds for our actresses to wear. That will give the dream scenes some major bling and should pump the Martha Killeen photo session as well.”
“So when
are
we shooting?” called out a cameraman.
“Friday,” answered Quent. “And don’t get any ideas, anyone. Armed security guards will be accompanying the diamonds.”
The staff twittered with polite laughter.
“And, on a much more serious note,” Quent continued, “and just to reiterate, there will be no shooting at all tomorrow so everyone will be able to attend the service for Travis at St. Patrick’s Cathedral at eleven
A.M
. A huge turnout is expected and security will be heavy, so I suggest you arrive early. Afterward, there will be a repast at the Sea Grill for our cast and crew.”
T
he N train out to Queens was packed with riders commuting home from Manhattan. Peggy stood, bundled in her navy wool coat, hanging on to a stainless-steel pole in the middle of the subway car for support. She stared out the window. The view was mostly of nothing, just the darkness of the tunnel interspersed with light at the various station stops.
As she rocked gently with the swaying train, Peggy’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning. First she thought about the costumes, mentally matching each one to the actor who would be wearing it. The schedule was so tight now, there was no time for mistakes or omissions. Every hem had to be stitched, every wrinkle had to be smoothed. Peggy hadn’t left the wardrobe department all day, and still there was more to do.
Peggy couldn’t think of anything she had forgotten, but resolved to arrive at the studio earlier than anyone else for the rest of the week. If something came up, she would be there to take care of it.
The train came to a screeching stop at the Queensboro Plaza station. People surged toward the sliding doors. Peggy slipped into a vacated seat.
It had been good to see Piper today. Peggy had missed her. But it bothered her that Glenna’s nasty ex-husband had hurt her. Piper had shown Peggy the emerging bruise on her arm before she left for the day. Peggy reminded herself that a man like that really needed her prayers.
Looking down, Peggy caught sight of a white hair on the sleeve of her coat. She plucked it off, thinking about the police detective who had interviewed her just before she left the studio for the day. He had been very interested when she told him that she had briefly been at the Metropolitan School for Girls, shortly before Travis was poisoned. She had been long gone before the police arrived that night, and so had never been questioned before.
“Did you see anyone or anything that you thought was strange or suspicious?” the detective asked.
“No, not really,” Peggy answered. “I was in and out of the building so quickly. I just ran in with the dress for Glenna, quickly helped her change, and then I ran right back out again. I had a cab waiting. It had already driven me from Queens to the studio and then to the school. It still had to take me back to Queens again. Even though Glenna was going to pay for it, I just wanted to hurry so the fare wouldn’t be any higher than it had to be.”
“All right, Ms. Gould,” said the detective, handing Peggy his card. “But, please, keep thinking. Anything you remember might help. Sometimes, we don’t even realize what we’ve seen until later.”
P
iper sat on her bed with legs akimbo, sketching on a pad of paper. She had drawn two versions of the wedding cake. One with square tiers, the other with round ones. Even though she knew the square-shaped cakes were more contemporary and popular for New York weddings right now, Piper was leaning toward the round tiers for Glenna and Casey’s cake. Round was more traditional. It went with the fabulous old mansion where the wedding was taking place.
Having borrowed her mother’s recipe file, Piper calculated the size and number of tiers needed to serve one hundred people. There were various combinations that could work, but Piper had set her limit at three tiers. This was her first cake and she didn’t want to be overly ambitious. A combination of six-inch, ten-inch, and fourteen-inch rounds would be enough.
She had decided not to use pillars to separate the tiers. Instead, she would stack them directly on top of one another. But even stacking required exacting measurement and dowels carefully cut and inserted within the tiers, distributing weight and making sure the cake didn’t collapse into itself.
Glancing at the clock radio on her nightstand, Piper bolted off the bed. It was almost eight thirty, and her mother would be going to bed soon because she had to get up early in the morning to go to the bakery. Piper wanted to catch her before she went to sleep.
The door stuck as she pulled at the knob, the jamb still sticky from her father’s recent paint job. The round knob fell off in her hand. As she tried to reattach it, Piper laughed in spite of her momentary frustration. The doorknob had been coming loose since she was a kid.
“Mom,” she called as she finally extricated herself and hurried down the short flight of steps that led to the living room, dining room, and kitchen.
Her mother was standing with her back to Piper at the counter next to the sink. Piper saw her mother was putting a rubber band around a small container of chili powder.
“Why are you doing that?” asked Piper.
“I grabbed the chili powder instead of the cinnamon this morning when I was making French toast for your father,” answered Terri.
“Good one, Mom. That must have been fun for Dad to bite into. I bet he loved that.”
“Actually, your father was a good sport about it,” said Terri. “He knew it was an easy mistake to make. The cans are the same size and same color. I’m putting a band around the chili so I’ll be able to distinguish between the two.”
“Reading the label also works, Mom.”
Terri ignored her daughter’s remark, placed the can of spice on the shelf, and closed the cabinet door.
“I’ve been working on the wedding cake,” said Piper. “Want to see the plan?”
“Of course.” Terri took the paper from Piper and sat at the kitchen table. She glanced at the sketches quickly.
Too quickly
, thought Piper.
“What flavor is the cake going to be?” asked Terri.
“Glenna likes chocolate and Casey likes vanilla, so I was thinking of marble.”
“And icing?”
“I’m not sure,” said Piper. “What do you think? Buttercream or fondant?”
“Buttercream is simplest and quickest and it can look wonderful, but if you decide on fondant, I can help you. You haven’t done fondant in a long time and it takes quite a bit of practice to achieve that really smooth finish,” said Terri. “What color are you thinking?”
“White,” said Piper. “I think that will go best with the gold stars I’m envisioning. How do you think we could make big stars like those?” Piper nodded toward the sketches.
“Out of icing, with piping tips?” suggested Terri.
“No, I was thinking more of flat stars, almost like thin cookies that would be affixed to the sides of the tiers—or maybe even attached to wires so they look like shooting stars.”
Terri considered the question. “We could roll out sheets of fondant and stamp out five-point stars with a cookie cutter,” said Terri. “Then we could brush the stars with edible gold-luster dust. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” said Piper.
The wedding cake was supposed to symbolize prosperity, happiness, and longevity. Cutting the cake was one of the most cherished moments at any wedding reception. Piper wanted to make sure that moment would live up to Glenna’s highest expectations. If the day was less than Glenna had imagined, the cake would not be the reason.
P
iper went back upstairs, leaving the sketches of the wedding cake on the kitchen table. Terri picked up the paper and slipped it into her bag. She would take it with her to the bakery in the morning and slide it beneath the screen of the new vision-enhancing machine her husband had just installed in her tiny office at the back of the shop. Then she would really be able to see what Piper had planned.
Tonight, she had been faking it.
S
leep wouldn’t come.
Piper lay in bed, first on her back, then on her side, finally on her stomach. She couldn’t turn her mind off. The episode in Glenna’s dressing room with Phillip Brooks kept replaying itself in her mind. She also had a physical reminder. Her left arm was sore where he had grabbed it.
She hadn’t mentioned it to her parents. Why worry them? Besides, who knew what her father would do if she told him? Piper just wanted to ignore it and keep on going.
Ignore it, but not forget it.
Phillip Brooks was jealous and he could be dangerous. He was also obsessed with Glenna. Piper wondered if Phillip would actually be angry enough to punish Travis York for his relationship with Glenna when Phillip was away in prison.
These kinds of thoughts are not going to help me fall asleep.
She switched her focus to the wedding cake. If she did say so herself, her ideas were really quite good. She wished her mother had taken a better look at the sketches. It didn’t make sense. Since Piper was small, her mother paid attention to every drawing that Piper brought home. Why now, especially when it was drawings of a subject she loved, had her mother barely glanced at Piper’s work?
Something was wrong.
Piper’s face grew hot as she began to put together what she had observed. Her mother had been knocking things over, mixing up labels and ingredients when she cooked, and, most of all, she had been avoiding looking Piper in the eye. Though she usually insisted on operating the video camera herself, she had turned it over to Piper for the bakery commercial. And, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her mother pick up a piping bag lately. Cathy had been doing the cake-decorating every time Piper had come into the bakery.
Springing out of bed, Piper turned on the lamp and went to her computer. After searching around and reading for fifteen minutes, she was almost certain her mother had macular degeneration.
Her mother wasn’t saying no to the wedding cakes because she was too busy. She was saying no because she couldn’t see.
Tuesday, December 14 . . . Ten days until the wedding
F
ifth Avenue traffic was jammed, caused by the combination of motorists slowing to get a glimpse of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and rubbernecking to see who was arriving on the sidewalk in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral to attend Travis York’s funeral. Uniformed police officers were stationed in the middle of the street, blowing their whistles and urgently waving drivers to keep it moving. Pedestrians crowded crosswalks. Car horns blared intermittently, adding to the tension.
Certain that traffic near the cathedral would be a mess, Piper parked the car in a garage eight blocks away. As she walked with long strides toward the church, she calculated how much it was going to cost to get the car back. She estimated $40 to $50, which she really couldn’t afford to spend. She should have gotten up super-early and taken the train into the city. That had been her plan, but when her alarm sounded while it was still pitch-dark outside, Piper had rolled over.
Going back to sleep was something she would never do on a morning when she knew she had to get to the set for a taping or a rehearsal. Those she was eager to attend; the service for Travis was something she dreaded.
P
olice barricades had been set up to keep spectators and press back from the VIPs getting out of limousines and yellow taxis. Camera crews jockeyed for the best positions, eager to capture images that the producers of their respective shows would prize. They elbowed their way forward when they spotted a celebrity.
Piper squeezed her way through the crowds on the sidewalk, edging closer to the magnificent, neo-Gothic-style cathedral. She could see that lines had formed in front of each of the side entrances flanking the massive main bronze doors, cast with images of American saints. She suspected that the backup at the side doors had to do with security checks inside.
Finding the end of the line, Piper settled in for a long wait, but things moved along steadily. She soon progressed from the sidewalk to the cathedral steps. From the slightly elevated position, Piper could better see who was waiting behind her. She recognized Arthur Walden. And several people behind him, was Phillip Brooks. Piper hadn’t expected to see Phillip paying his respects to a man he had so clearly resented.
Near the top of the steps, the woman in front of Piper turned around. Her face was somewhat familiar.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” the woman said, shaking her head. “It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Amazing,” answered Piper.
“I wonder what Travis York would say if he could see.” The woman gestured expansively with her gloved hand. “It’s quite a tribute.”
“Did you know Travis?” asked Piper.
“Not really,” said the woman. “I only met him on the night he died. But I’ll be forever grateful to him for the way he helped our school financially. Not just that night at the auction, but the donations have been flowing in in his honor since.”
“Oh? Do you have a child who is a student at the Metropolitan?” asked Piper.
“No, I’m a teacher there, head of the drama department.” The woman took off her glove and held out her hand. “I’m Jessie Terhune.”
Piper realized she was talking with the woman who had been involved with Casey Walden before he met Glenna.
“I’m Piper Donovan,” she said, shaking hands.
“And how did you know Travis?”
“I used to work with him on
A Little Rain Must Fall
.”
“You’re an actress?”
“Yes,” said Piper.
Immediately, Piper sensed that Jessie was assessing the information, knowing that if Piper had worked on
A Little Rain Must Fall,
it stood to reason that Piper would also know Glenna Brooks. Piper was prepared to say only the most glowing things about her friend in response to any comment Jessie might make, but Jessie didn’t pursue the conversation. She just nodded and turned around again.