A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare (4 page)

Although it was not a cold evening, Tori was shivering violently by the time they reached her apartment. Elizabeth settled her, wrapped in a blanket, in one corner of the sagging brown sofa and went into the kitchen to put the coffee pot on.

She re-entered a few minutes later just in time to hear Richard say to Gregg, “Yes, I understand what you’re saying, but do you really have the faith to be an atheist?”

Elizabeth shook her head. What could Gregg have said to bring this on? Philosophy again. It had once irritated her to no end the way Richard turned to theoretical contemplation in times of stress. But then, on a cold night on a precipice in the Rockies she had come to see the value of Richard’s thoughtful approach to life.

Now she smiled as she set her tray on the coffee table. It never ceased to amaze her how comfortable people seemed to feel opening up their deepest thoughts to Richard. Once she had let him past her own barriers, it had been their long, serious conversations that had first attracted her to him. And here he was now, showing the same concern to an almost total stranger. She couldn’t be more thankful that both men had the sense to talk about something other than Sally’s death. Tori looked dreadful. Elizabeth put a heaping scoop of sugar in her sister’s coffee as the men continued.

“Faith?” Gregg spat the word out. “I don’t have any faith. I’m not sure I ever had much, but when Ellen walked out on me and my whole family took her side, I just let them take their legalistic religion with them, too.”

“And you haven’t found anything to replace it?” Gregg shook his head, so Richard continued. “That’s the problem. Everyone has to believe in something. An atheist doesn’t have God to believe in, so he has to believe in himself or in money or power or philosophy— something.”

Elizabeth looked at her watch. These men had been talking for less than ten minutes and they were already on to the meaning of life.

Gregg took a slow sip of his coffee. “Sometimes I think I believe in art. The universality of truth in Shakespeare. . .”

“Is that enough?”

Gregg shrugged. “It’s a start.”

Richard nodded. “Yes. A good start, I’d say. Searching for universal Truth is the only place to start.”

“Mmm, but it gets confusing. There’re so many philosophies, so many religions out there. How do you choose?”

“Ah!” Richard leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright. “That’s the whole key. You don’t choose. Truth isn’t something you choose like a brand of toothpaste or a flavor of potato chips. Truth is eternal, unchanging. It’s there to be found.”

Gregg and Richard continued, and Elizabeth saw, gratefully, that Tori’s eyes were beginning to droop. “Come on, Miss Vicky, to bed with you.” She put her arm around her sister and guided her, zombie-like, to her bedroomas she had so often done for her little sister after their mother died.

When she returned to the sitting room some time later, Gregg had gone and Richard was sitting in deep thought. Elizabeth curled up beside him on the sofa. “So tell me, what was that all about with Gregg? How on earth did you get to be his Father Confessor after knowing him for only a few hours?”

“Well, sometimes it is easier to confess to a total stranger, but it wasn’t quite like that.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I’m not sure how it happened. I was just making conversation. Getting to know him.” He laughed. “I guess I got to know him a little better than I expected.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him something about his family. The innocuous sort of thing one asks.”

“But in his case it wasn’t innocuous?”

“Apparently he was married briefly several years ago.”

“Ellen.”

“That’s right. She had an adored older brother who was studying for the priesthood. Gregg felt he never could live up to the idealized standard Stephen set, and apparently Ellen agreed, so she left. I’m sure it was more complicated than that. There’s naturally a lot he didn’t go into.”

“It sounds like an uncomfortable situation. You’d think he might have found it a relief when she left.”

“I think he might have except his whole family—three sisters, if I got it right—all sided with Ellen.”

Elizabeth nodded. “So that left Gregg feeling abandoned and blaming the universe.”

“That’s about it.”

“Bitter enough that he might take his stored-up rage out on Sally? Maybe he suddenly thought she was this Ellen who had ruined his life and—”

“Whoa. You’ve always had an active imagination, but that’s really taking your hurdles at a gallop. And he was genuinely distraught at the thought that he might have killed Sally.”

“Yes. Except that he’s an actor. A very, very, good one. And Emilia seemed so certain.”

Richard shook his head. “He’s in a really difficult situation. Going through a bit of a rough time, I’d say.”

“Well, I’m sorry for him, but I don’t want him taking his troubles out on Tori. He doesn’t sound at all like the right person for her. She needs someone mature and stable and—” she looked at the man beside her. “Someone like you.”

Richard bent over and kissed the tip of her nose. “Thank you, Mrs. Spenser. But I’m taken.” Elizabeth returned his kiss, then, he continued, “But give him a chance. I quite liked him.”

“That’s fine, but you’re not thinking of marrying him.”

“And Tori is?”

“I’m very much afraid so. And I don’t trust him, or this highly-charged dramatic atmosphere around here. Especially. . .” She didn’t want to go further. All her strongest desires screamed at her to leave her next question alone. Warned her that she didn’t want to go there.

But Richard was right. Truth had its own demands. And Elizabeth couldn’t deny the certainty she felt pushing at her mind. Surely it was just too coincidental that both Desdemonas—apparently healthy young women—should have heart attacks within a few hours of each other.

Chapter 5

AND WHEN ELIZABETH, RICHARD and Victoria saw Erin in the hospital the next morning, the actress agreed. “It was meant to be me. I know it was! Whatever happened—whoever did whatever they did—I was meant to be the victim.
Now
will you believe someone is trying to kill me?” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch.

“I don’t know.” Dirk who was already there when Richard and Elizabeth arrived, answered. “It
is
an awfully big coincidence, but I don’t see how anyone. . .”

Erin, freed from yesterday’s tubes, jolted upright and hit the bed with her fist. “Don’t you use that ‘calm down, Erin,’ tone of voice on me. Flats fall on me. My makeup is sabotaged, my pills are switched, my understudy is murdered—”

“Murdered?” Tori turned so pale Elizabeth was afraid she’d faint.

“Of course she was murdered. Isn’t it obvious? And it was supposed to be me!”

Richard’s calm voice settled her back on the pillows as firmly as if he’d guided her with his hands. “We understand how upset you are, Erin. But think a minute. If your pills were switched, surely that would have been done by the same person you claim did something to Desdemona. And they would have known you weren’t playing the role last night.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth jumped in. “It looks far more as if someone wanted to get you out of the way so they could set Sally up.”

Erin was calmer, but no less certain. “No, don’t you see? They didn’t want me to be in the hospital, they just wanted to weaken me. Then whatever they had set up to happen would finish me off.”

Richard raised a dark eyebrow, making his long face even longer. “There is a logic to what she says. What could have been rigged onstage?”

“Something in the pillow?” Elizabeth suggested. “Chloroform or something?”

Richard shook his head. “The doctor would have noticed, surely.”

Tori’s brown-black eyes got almost as big as her oversized glasses. “The costume. A needle or something in it?”

“The drink. The bridal toast. She really drank that, didn’t she?” Elizabeth asked.

Erin nodded. “Yeah, it’s unusual to do that onstage, but with those crystal goblets the audience could see if she didn’t. It was just apple juice. . .” Her voice trailed off as her hand went to her throat. “Tell the police.” It came out in a whisper.

Richard nodded. “I expect the police have already thought of all this. And something may have shown up in the autopsy, but I’ll mention it to Detective Sergeant Lempson. He gave me his card in case we remembered anything else.”

Erin’s face contorted and she struggled to control her sobs. “You can’t imagine how awful this is for me. No one can. Nothing in my life has ever been like this. I’ve always been so happy. I know I was spoiled, but my parents were so good to me. My life was perfect. I just don’t know how to handle something like this—I haven’t had any experience. . .”

“None of us have had experience with murder, Erin.” Dirk stroked her hand.

Elizabeth didn’t want to talk about the experience she had had with murder. It was time to change the subject. “What about the play?” Then she realized that if the police didn’t take that tape down, there would be no performance.

But Elizabeth had no intention of mentioning that gloomy thought to Erin, who brightened with the dedication of a professional. “Shouldn’t be any problem. It’s
Hen
ry tonight, then
Twelfth Night
tomorrow. I’ll be back by then. Doctor said I can go home this afternoon, but he wants me to stay quiet for a while.”

In spite of her earlier near-hysteria, it seemed that they left Erin in a remarkably improved mood a short time later. Elizabeth commented on Erin’s mercurial disposition as they walked down Siskyou Boulevard. “I suppose it could have been Dirk’s presence. He was certainly doing his best to cheer her up. That fruit basket he brought her was gorgeous. But I don’t know, she didn’t seem to be responding to him as much as I would have expected. Most of the time she acted as if he wasn’t in the room.”

Richard shook his head. “Theatre people. All of life is played on the edge.” He grinned. “Academics, on the other hand, are capable of perfect calm until in need of feeding.”

Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “Right. I get it. Time for lunch.”

Richard held the door of a shop called Paddington Station and Elizabeth led through the aisles of stuffed animals, carousels and imported cards and soaps to the stairway down to the Underground Restaurant. It took them all some time to settle on which of the elaborately concocted salads they wanted. Then there was the choice of dressing. “Mmmm, I guess I’ll have the creamy avocado lime,” Elizabeth finally decided.

When the patient waitress had departed, Tori returned to their earlier conversation. “She doesn’t like him. Not really. She just tolerates him to irritate her beastly father.”

“Huh?” Elizabeth asked.

“Erin and Dirk. I think they met at Vail or Aspen or some jet set place like that. Sort of a shipboard-type romance a couple of years ago. Erin would have gotten rid of him ages ago if her father hadn’t hit the ceiling and demanded she never see him again.”

“So what about this ‘perfect childhood’ Erin claims?” Elizabeth had thought that definitely sounded like the lady doth too much protest.

Tori shrugged. “Well, at least there’s no doubt about the spoiled part. But I like her a lot anyway. It isn’t her fault her parents are filthy rich. And she can be really thoughtful and generous.”

“‘Daddy’ sounds charming,” Elizabeth said.

Tori grinned. “I think I agree with him about Dirk. But ‘Daddy’ doesn’t approve of Erin’s acting either, and he’s wrong there—she really is talented. I hope you’ll get to see her play Olivia tomorrow night. She’s great.”

The salads arrived to appropriate oh’s and ah’s. Elizabeth speared one of her succulent pink shrimp and dipped it in the creamy green dressing. After taking time to savor the bite she continued, “But what is Dirk doing here? Does he have a job?”

“I guess he must be independently wealthy. He’s always talking about places he’s been in France and Switzerland. Must be nice. Anyway, right now he’s just hanging around Erin as far as I can tell.”

Richard had been silent while Elizabeth and Erin talked, his brow furrowed in thought. Now he asked, “This father of Erin’s—just who is he?”

“I don’t know.” Tori’s long, thick braid swung from side to side as she shook her head. “He owns about half the oil wells and cattle ranches in Texas, I guess. And a construction company, too, I think.”

“Renton?” Richard repeated Erin’s last name.

“No. That’s her stage name. I think she uses it so no one can say she got a part on Daddy’s reputation. Her real name is Erica Wooton.”

The name didn’t mean anything to Elizabeth, but it was clear it did to Richard. “Eric Wooton! That’s her father? No wonder she wanted to get out on her own. I don’t think he owns quite half of Texas, but maybe half of their politicians.”

“And you tease
me
about using overstatement.” Elizabeth grinned at her husband.

Although they all declined dessert, Elizabeth dawdled over a pot of lemon grass tea. Since this was their honeymoon, a week that was
supposed
to have been filled with long quiet times with her husband in romantic spots and leisurely strolls through the flower-strewn park, Elizabeth had suggested they not plan to attend the matinees. Hard as it was to deny her English-teacher’s desire to see
She Stoops to Conquer
in a new setting as a musical and
An Enemy of the People
, her favorite Ibsen, which were performed on alternate afternoons in the beautiful indoor Angus Bowmer Theatre, and her curiosity to see the two modern, experimental plays being done in the intimate, theatre-in-the-round Black Swan, experience had taught her what head-spinning insanity it was to try to see nine plays in five days. That was not what she had wanted for her honeymoon with Richard.

Nor was a murder investigation.

Chapter 6

RICHARD SUGGESTED ELIZABETH AND Tori go on to Tori’s apartment while he check to see if he could find out anything about the results of the postmortem and leave Erin’s pill bottle with the police to be analyzed. Elizabeth thought longingly of the enticing double-wide hammock on the porch of The Bard’s Haven. How lovely it would be to spend the afternoon swinging gently in that with Richard. She envisioned them taking turns reading Shakespearean sonnets to each other, then sighed. Duty called.