The Jewelry Case (36 page)

Just then Kevin jumped onto the stage like a pole-vaulter and skidded to a stop. "What happened?" he demanded, his eyes going from her face to the mainsail.

“
I saw a piece of rope, and I didn't want anyone to trip on it." Paisley slowly got to her feet again
—t
hey felt steadier now
—a
nd held up the broken section of rope. "When I picked this up,
bang!
The whole set piece came down." She blinked. "Hey, what are you doing here, Kevin? The cast isn't due for twenty minutes."

The teenager ignored her question. "You're sure you're okay? Wow, that must have been a close call." He crouched to inspect the crumpled mainsail. "Lucky we came early, huh? Steve gave me a lift because I wanted to run through my solo before rehearsal. You had a great idea for staging, remember? Something about me swinging onstage from
….
"

Kevin broke off. His head swiveled toward the broken rope, and the color drained from his face, leaving it an ugly gray color.

Paisley didn't see Steve until he bounded onto the stage, with far more grace if less speed than his step-son. He seized her in his arms with the surprising strength she remembered from the fire. His heart beat wildly under his tailored, pin-striped button-up shirt which was, as always, freshly pressed and smelled of starch and Arm & Hammer detergent. He really was the best dressed farmer she had ever met, she thought distantly
,
not that she had met many farmers. And did vintners count as farmers? Probably not.

"Paisley! Thank heaven you're all right!"

When she winced, he said quickly, "I'm sorry." He stepped back but kept his grip on her upper arms, as he stared down into her face from worried warm brown eyes. "I'd just gone up to the light booth to turn on the stage lights when I heard the crash. For a moment, I thought…."

With her good arm, Paisley pushed him away. "I'm all right," she repeated, although her legs still felt wobbly and she wanted to sit down again.

Once again, the auditorium doors banged open. This time, Shirley appeared, her legs encased in bright-orange sweat-pants making her look like a moving bag of Fritos as they moved with unexpected speed down the center aisle and up the steps. Panting, she elbowed Steve out of the way.

"Shut up and let me have a look at her. What happened, Paisley? How did the mast come down? Did it hit your shoulder? Let me see."

"No!" Paisley jumped back before Shirley could prod her wound with fingernails tipped with peeling green polish. "If someone can find me an ice pack, I'll be fine. If anything was broken, I wouldn't be able to move my arm. See?" She turned to Steve. "Pull the mainsail backstage and find someone to fix it. And," she added, looking at all three of their concerned faces in turn, "please don't tell the others. We can't conceal that it fell, but don't say I was here when it happened. It'll upset the cast unnecessarily."

"But
….
"

"I don't want anyone distracted," she said, raising her voice over Shirley's instant objection. "The kids are stressed enough, with tonight being the last rehearsal. It's over, and no one got hurt." A nasty bruise didn't count, she told herself.

After a quick conference, the others reluctantly agreed, but Paisley saw Shirley sneak concerned looks at her as the other cast members trickled in. Paisley smiled back reassuringly. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. No one would try anything with witnesses around.

Then her smile flagged. What if the accident wasn't rigged for her? Kevin could have been the one standing under the mainsail when it dropped. If she hadn't arrived early, he would have been the first one on the stage. And no one knew she was going to be here an hour before rehearsal; she had told no one.

Ray Henderson was the last of the cast members to arrive. Although he was running late, fortunately he was already in full makeup. His beard was glued on, and he was wearing the Major General's military costume with its double breasted buttons and bicorn hat with an enormous, flowing ostrich feather. His big face seemed flushed and his eyes sparkled as if excited for dress rehearsal.
I always knew he was a ham
, Paisley thought, smiling to herself.

He winked at Paisley as he passed her on his way to the refreshment table. "Here," he said, returning and handing her an open can of cold Pepsi. "I noticed you're always sipping on some beverage. Must be working. You don't sound like a four-pack-a-day smoker any more. Although you look a little pale. You really ought to get out in the sun more. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation for you."

"Thanks," she said wryly. So she didn't sound like a four-pack-a-day smoker anymore? Well, at least it was an improvement.

She took the can and took a refreshing gulp before plopping into her usual seat in the center of the front row, where she could watch the actors up close. Ray grabbed a few M&Ms from the refreshment table and tossed them in his mouth as he went backstage, whistling to himself. She was glad he was in a good mood. Maybe he'd sold a house that day.

Steve came over next. "Everything's cleaned up backstage," he told her, searching her face anxiously. "Are you sure you're
okay?
"

"I'm fine," she said a bit too sharply. "Go away, Steve. There's nothing more you can do. I'll make sure Kevin gets a ride home after rehearsal."

He left, looking handsome but crestfallen, and she kicked herself for not being nicer to him. Really, why was she always so hard on Steve? There had been a time when she had actually thought that something might happen between them
,
someday in the distant future. When she was ready for a relationship. He was trying so hard to be a good stepfather and to get his struggling winery off the ground. And he really
was
very good looking, with that shiny black hair and those slim hips. She’d always been attracted to dark men.

A chorus of high-pitched giggles distracted her. The Major General's daughters were lining up in front the curtain, corkscrew curls bobbing, pastel-colored crinolines swaying, and ruffled parasols twirling. On the other side of the stage, the young pirates joked and jostled each other, brandishing their plastic cutlasses and checking their glued-on beards and mustaches. The broken mast had been cleared away before the actors arrived, and none knew of the accident.

She mentally thanked Steve for taking care of everything so quickly. His quick action had averted a lot of distracting questions. She only wished she had shown more gratitude.

As the first lively notes of the overture began, Paisley's mind returned to the what had happened earlier. There was no way to brush this one off, she thought. Ian was right: someone was trying to injure or kill her. The culprit was doing it in a slapdash, amateurish way, but that didn't make it any less serious. Apparently they didn't care who else got hurt, either. Her hands curled into fists at the thought of how easily the mast could have fallen on Kevin, or any other crew member who arrived early.

She mentally kicked herself for not insisting someone call the police right away to report the sabotaged set-piece. Everyone thought it an accident, and she had not contradicted them, not wanting to disrupt the rehearsal. True, her previous experiences had prejudiced her against the local law enforcement, but that was no excuse. She'd better call them now, and make the report herself.

Her cell phone was not in her purse, however, and she remembered with a wave of annoyance that, in her excitement over finding the jewels, she'd left it on her bed at home, after her failed attempt to reach Ian earlier that evening.

Well, she'd just borrow someone else's phone after rehearsal. There was no hurry, since all the police could do was take another report. Certainly they'd find no clues, for by now the crime scene had been swept clean by an over-enthusiastic stage crew and compromised by dozens of bustling actors. Nor could they do anything to protect her against future incidents. She hardly rated round-the-clock body guards.

It all boiled down to one fact: she must leave River Bend. The thought had already occurred to her, but it returned with a dreadful sense of finality. Too bad, she thought humorlessly, that the unknown enemy didn't know she had already decided to do just that. If the falling mast was a message, it had been a wasted one.

Then her mouth tightened. She'd leave, all right
—
after
opening night. Tomorrow. No way would she'd leave River Bend before seeing the payoff for all her hard work.. After the cast's final bow, she'd recover the jewels from their newest hiding place, drive the VW to San Francisco, and fly out on the first plane. Nigel would be thrilled to see her. After receiving her message, he might already have set up some auditions, allowing her to segue smoothly into her old life. And all this would be over.

Instead of feeling satisfied, she sensed a strange new emotion wash over her, unrelated to either her headache or her still-throbbing injured shoulder. In front of her imagination swam a picture of the cozy house Ian and his friends had labored to fix up; Shirley's kind eyes and sympathetic air, the friendly t
ê
te a t
ê
tes over bowls of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and aromatic, out-of-print books. Ian's tousled hair and whipcord-strong arms, and.... She didn't want to think about Ian.

At least, Ruth's rubies were safe. Although Paisley had read some famous jewels were thought to bring bad luck, such as the Koh-i-noor and Hope diamonds, these gems were different. They reminded Paisley of strong women who had showed courage and perseverance in the face of difficulty. The jewels had survived for nearly a hundred years, In a crazy way, she felt a responsibility to continue to guard them.

"Are sure you're all right?" It was Ray, towering over her with an odd expression on his face. The house lights had come up, and she looked up, blinking in surprise, to find the actors fanning toward the exits. She had missed the whole last act.

Ray removed his plumed bicorn hat and false beard and wiped sweat off his broad, pink forehead. Shirley was nowhere to be seen; no doubt she was backstage taking care of some business as usual.

"I'm fine," Paisley mumbled, getting to her feet and staggering.

He caught her by the arm with his free hand, and frowned when she winced and pulled away."Hey, you're hurt."

"It's nothing serious. I had a...a little accident before the show."

With unexpected sensitivity, he didn't press her about it. Perhaps her face told him she did not want to talk about it. Nevertheless he drained his coffee and said firmly, "Well you certainly can't drive in this state. Let me take you home."

The thought was tempting, but she remembered, "I can't leave my car here overnight. I'll be using it tomorrow."

"That's no problem. Kevin lives by you, doesn't he? Why not let him drive it to your house?"

She turned her head. Kevin had changed back into street clothes. His lower face was still bright pink from where the spirit gum had adhered to his false mustache and sideburns. Ray's florid jaw was pink too, where he had stripped away his beard. He must have had trouble doing so, for one side of his face looked raw and discolored. She really should give Alixis, the sixteen-year-old makeup director, tips on applying artificial facial hair correctly, she thought.

Kevin brightened up at Ray's words. "Sure, Paisley, I'll drive your car home. Don't worry, I got my license a month ago."

"Good," she said, smiling at the pride beaming from his young face. Boys and cars. Some things would be the same a hundred years from now. "Are you sure you don't mind giving me a lift, Ray? My house is out of town."

"One of the advantages of a small town is that everything's relatively close." He offered his bulky arm with old-fashioned courtesy, and she took it, grateful for the support. She was still feeling shaky.

"Then I'll take both of you gentlemen up on your offers," she said, taking her car key off the key ring and handing it to Kevin. "Just drop off the VW in the driveway. And, please," she added, remembering that she was talking to a teenager, "drive carefully."

"Sure." To give Kevin credit, he didn't roll his eyes at her warning. Kevin and Chloe left together, followed by a gradual exodus of the other cast members.

Paisley expected that Ray would want to leave right away as well, but the real estate agent offered to wait while she made sure everything was ready for tomorrow. "I know you have a lot to do," he said. "No worries, I have plenty of time."

Grateful and a little surprised at his considerateness, she checked that all the props were in their proper places, the costumes were hung up neatly, and the stage was swept clean. And that, this time, the building was locked up securely. She tested and double-tested the doors, to make sure.

There was another reason Paisley lingered as long as possible, although she would not have admitted it to Ray or anyone else: she was not looking forward to spending the night alone. Her vulnerability had finally sunk in. All her claims that she could handle things by herself felt particularly hollow tonight.

Maybe she could ask Ian to stay over tonight, she thought as she walked behind Ray to his big Explorer, which was parked behind the high school. She could tell Ian to sleep on the couch downstairs or in the spare bedroom, so there was no confusion about the purity of her motives. Or, better yet, maybe he'd invite her to spend the night at his house. That way, she wouldn't jump at every strange noise that disturbed her sleep. Yes, that was what she would do. As soon as she informed the police about tonight's accident, she'd dial Ian's number. Too bad she hadn't thought of it sooner.