Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) (4 page)

Derek and LJ perked right up, but Miss Bea stepped in and declined, saying that we’d just had breakfast. ‘But a nice pot of coffee would be a right treat,’ she added, looking around for confirmation. Leslie and I nodded in agreement, while the boys just looked irked.

Skinny Joe rolled back in the direction of the bar, and soon the aroma of freshly brewing coffee filled the air. We settled alongside a table, segregating ourselves, boys on one side, girls on the other. Isn’t it funny how even adults still do this? Leslie and I chatted a bit, discussing the various ideas for our roles that we had come up with on the ride up to Manchester from Copper. Derek and LJ sat with their heads on their hands, looking vaguely bored. I guess they thought they needed that drink on the house in order to perk up a bit.

Miss Bea sat silently, gently kneading the meaty part of one hand while her eyes stared at something in the distance. She did this when she was deep in thought, I had noticed. I wondered what she was thinking about then.

Joe came bustling back into the dining room, balancing a large metal tray with six coffee mugs – it was break time for him as well, I guessed – a sugar bowl, a little pitcher of cream, and a carafe of coffee. With a groan, he set the tray in the middle of the table, then heaved his bulk onto the bench beside Leslie.

Someone had forgotten to tell him about the segregation thing.

Chapter Six

The coffee was smooth, and I could tell that the beans were of a higher quality than I usually purchased for myself. The cream was really cream, complete with a bit of foam on top, and the sugar was really sugar. No imposter ingredients for Skinny Joe. That was at odds with my overview of the town itself, but I could have been wrong about that anyway.

We sat and sipped in silence, the aroma of the coffee wafting above our heads as gently as a spring breeze. From somewhere outside, I heard a car door slam, then another. Voices could be heard, and Joe got up to greet the three young men who came noisily into the restaurant.

‘Miss Bea, this here’s Andy Grimes, Bert Landy, and Julian Sweet. They deal cards at the local casino, so they’re perfect for what you’ve got in mind.’ Joe patted the arm of the one called Andy. ‘Andy’s my brother’s kid and I know he’ll do right by you. I’ve known these other two for as long as I can remember. Boys, say howdy to Miss Bea.’

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that even Skinny Joe was trying to get ‘into character’, as Miss Bea might say. But the three ‘boys’ didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so maybe I was wrong about Skinny Joe as well.

‘It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,’ Andy stuck out his hand and pumped Miss Bea’s plump one vigorously. Bert and Julian did the same, and I was fearful that Miss Bea’s hair would come tumbling down around her ears with the motion. I didn’t carry any hairpins with me, and I was certain that she had already used her entire collection today in her hairdo.

Miss Bea looked them over, a pleased expression on her chubby face. I thought for a minute that she was going to walk around them much like a farmer at a cattle show, but thankfully she restricted herself to a quick look up and down. Probably sizing them up for a costume, I realized. The woman really had a talent for that sort of thing.

‘Come sit down and have a cup of coffee with me,’ invited Miss Bea, leading the trio over to the table. They lined up on the same side as Joe had; maybe in Manchester, they didn’t segregate as much as we did in the South. I saw that LJ’s beefy hands had moved across the table toward Leslie, and that the newcomers had spotted it. This seemed to give them the impetus to begin flirting with Leslie while ignoring me, and I could picture the closeness of the cast evaporating into thin air.

Miss Bea picked this up as well, because she suddenly stood up, marched to the end of the table, and directed us to move down toward her ‘with the regular actors on my left and the local talent on my right.’ We moved as we were told to do, and LJ’s face seemed to smooth out a bit as he settled into his accustomed place next to Leslie. Derek sat on the other side of her, and I smiled inwardly.
Our
boys had closed ranks against the intruders.

‘All right, we’re still waiting on a couple more to get here, but I’ll get started with your parts in this.’ She nodded at Andy, Bert, and Julian.

She then proceeded to outline the plot of the story, describe their characters and the parts they would play, and talk a bit about what she intended the outcome to be audience participation-wise.

‘We’ve already performed this and have worked out some kinks in the storyline. Hopefully we’ve gotten them all, but if not, we’ll modify as we go. I want the audience to be able to have two or three characters to look at as the murderer; that’ll make it a bit tougher to guess, which will keep them interested.’ Miss Bea turned to Derek. ‘Did you remember to pick up those cigars?’

‘Sure did, Miss Bea. I got the cheapest, so they won’t be super mellow, but at least we’ll have the ambience.’ He grinned at the locals. ‘Hope you boys smoke.’

‘I sure do,’ piped up Julian. He was the quietest of the bunch. ‘I smoke, too,’ added Andy. ‘But not Bert here.’

Bert nodded, his face solemn. ‘Gave it up three years ago.’

‘OK, that’s taken care of. Leslie, we got a few more sizes for the local girls, right?’ Miss Bea looked down the table at Leslie.

‘Yes, Miss Bea. I’m prepared for whatever size … for all possibilities.’ She grinned at me. We were both thinking about that conversation back in Copper.

I was aware of the door opening once more, and looked over my shoulder to see two gals in their mid-twenties or thereabouts walking into the restaurant. Andy jumped up right away.

‘Josie. Lily. Nice to see you two. Are you a part of this play as well?’ He bussed each young woman’s proffered cheek, lingering a bit longer with Josie. Hmm. I wasn’t sure that we needed another couple here on the tour with us.

Lily headed for the table, pausing shyly before choosing a spot next to Julian. She had a sweet face graced with brilliant blue eyes, a lipsticked mouth that smiled at each person in turn, and dimples deep enough to sink a finger in. ‘I’m so excited to do this, you have no idea!’ she exclaimed. ‘When Skinny Joe came to the library and told me about this, I couldn’t believe my luck.’ She beamed at Miss Bea. ‘Thanks, ma’am, for letting me join your troupe.’

Miss Bea smiled back. ‘Call me Miss Bea, Lily. And I’m delighted that you were able to join us. Leslie, could you take a moment and tell Lily what she’ll be doing?’

‘Sure thing, Miss Bea.’ Leslie got up from the table, motioning Lily to follow. They settled into chairs near the front door, and I could see Leslie rattling on about the part, and Lily’s earnest manner as she listened and asked questions.

By this time, Josie had made it over to the table, very much aware of the effect she was having on the male occupants. Her face was as pretty as Lily’s but there was something harder in her eyes and in the way she looked each person over. I thought about the different costume sizes that Leslie had chosen and packed, and I sincerely hoped that there would be one to accommodate her, well, extremely ample figure on top.

Miss Bea welcomed Josie to the troupe, introducing her to the others as the ‘gal who would play the “lady of the night”.’ I could see that the menfolk approved of that role. Josie liked it as well, preening her blonde head slightly as she acknowledged Miss Bea’s announcement.

We spent the next half hour discussing the storyline, checking and doublechecking for obvious holes in the plot. Chuckling, Miss Bea assigned the murderer’s role to Julian and that of the victim to Josie.

‘I clean forgot to have a murderer in my Murder Mystery Tour last show, so let’s get it straight right now, shall we?’ We all nodded, wanting this to be an A1 performance of which Miss Bea would be proud. Well, I knew that was the way that LJ, Derek, Leslie, and I felt; it was my fervent desire that these four newcomers would feel the same.

Finally it felt like all bases were covered and that all holes had been plugged. We agreed to meet at the fairground near the front entrance and have a practice that afternoon before the evening’s engagement. I could feel the slightest movement of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach; this audience would be much larger than the one at the Moose Lodge and I didn’t want anything to go wrong.

Looking back, I can see that we missed the warning signs right from the get-go.

They were flashing neon bright and none of us, me included, had an inkling of the trouble that would take place before we left Manchester.

But that was all in hindsight, which, as everyone knows, is 20/20.

Amazingly, I was hungry again and ready for lunch. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed our breakfast, and we loaded up the wagon and headed to the same restaurant.

Lunchtime was a bit more crowded and we had to wait for a table, but we were all perfectly content to do so. The hostess, a college-age girl in a gingham shirt, tight blue jeans, and cowboy boots handed us a menu to browse through so we could order as soon as we were seated. All around us, others were doing the same; who was I to break a local custom?

The menu featured full-color pictures of fruit pies portioned onto thick white china plates, topped
à la mode
or with a slab of cheddar, and thickly cut steaks that had been grilled to perfection, served with loaded baked potatoes or cottage fries, and coleslaw or macaroni salad. When I think about this time, it is the food that is the most memorable. I had come to Colorado to be an actress and had found Food Heaven.

We were seated next to the large window that looked out over the main thoroughfare. Noontime traffic was in full swing, meaning that a total of six cars were counted as we ate lunch. Foot traffic was much more common, and the neat sidewalks were full of people meandering to lunch dates or to one of the cute little stores that lined the street.

I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch. I had ordered the grilled prawns and scallops on a bed of linguine, the whole thing drizzled in a garlic butter. I could tell it was real butter, too; none of that faintly oily taste that I associate with vegetable spread was apparent. It came with a Caesar salad and garlic breadsticks, and I ate every bite, using my bread to sop up the last of the butter sauce. Delicious!

Once again stuffed to the brim, I silently promised myself to start eating more wisely. What that entailed, I didn’t define too clearly, but I figured if I left off the bread and only had butter once a day, I’d be in good shape.

Speaking of shapes, Leslie was having a difficult time matching a dress up with Josie’s buxom figure. The bottom of the dress would be fine, but the top was way too tight. Finally, with help from Miss Bea, she decided to have Josie leave the bustier unlaced and add a lacy camisole under it. That was the only possible way to get that girl into anything that looked right for a fallen woman.

Lily was easier to dress. She was slightly built, without the issues that Josie had (a polite way of saying she was flat-chested) and could use any one of the dancer dresses available. Leslie chose to put her in a bright pink number that had cream-colored lace marching down the front and on the short train. The bodice was laced up with pink silk ribbons, and a ‘modesty panel’ had been added for the reserved Lily. Even if I hadn’t known she was a librarian, I would have still guessed that. Or a nanny. She seemed to be one who could coax the most recalcitrant child into behaving. I had watched her at the meeting this morning and was confident that I had pegged her correctly.

That, dear reader, was definitely an error in judgment, as I was eventually to discover.

We made the move from the Manchester YMCA back to the KOA trailers, welcomed with open arms by the McLaughlins. Miss Bea and Mrs McLaughlin were still a bit cautious with one another, but Mr McLaughlin more than made up for his wife, cracking jokes and helping us move our bags into the trailers.

The boys had a two-bedroom affair near the entrance to the park, complete with a barbecue grill and deckchairs. We ladies were put into a three-bedroom mobile home on the edge near the line of spruces that marched next to the campground. It gave me a sense of privacy among the many other trailers parked near us, and I was happy to take the bedroom furthest from the front. I was thrilled to have my own room again, since I was not looking forward to another night of ‘bells and whistles’ from the two other gals. As much as I had gotten fond of Miss Bea and Leslie, I was fine with not sharing too much personal space with them.

We still had a little while before taking off for the fairgrounds, so I invited Leslie to go on a walk with me. I needed to get out into the open and stretch my limbs, and I also wanted a chance to chat with her outside Miss Bea’s keen hearing.

I’d had a funny feeling since that morning, one that I could not put my finger on, and I needed to air the topic from another perspective. I’m not psychic in the least, but I’ve always had somewhat of a gift, you could say, for discerning the intentions of others.

Someone who had joined our troupe had upset the emotional balance, and I wasn’t sure which it was. Well, that’s not precisely true. I had a strong suspicion that Josie was going to be trouble with a capital ‘T’, and I was fairly certain that I knew what kind of trouble she’d brought with her. What I wasn’t sure of was who her ‘partner in crime’ could be. Andy? He had seemed infatuated with her and had given LJ fits over his flirting with Leslie. To my mind, Julian was out of the running; he was too meek and laid back to cause any problems. The same went for Bert. I saw him as a decent guy, not given to obvious reactions to much of anything, and not one to start a fuss over a girl.

Leslie and I strolled down the path, having called out a farewell to Miss Bea and an assurance that we’d be back in twenty minutes or so. The day was clear and absolutely still; not even the slightest breeze moved the trees and the air was icy. I shivered, tucking deeper inside my sweatshirt and pulling the jacket tighter around me. I liked cold weather, maybe even loved it, but that was when I was snug inside a warm house, feet covered and a good book at hand. The faster we moved, though, the warmer I got, and soon I was able to relax the tight muscles in my back and enjoy the view.

‘So what’s on your mind?’ asked Leslie as we turned right at the office and continued around the campground’s perimeter. The McLaughlins had planted beds of flowers native to the area: creamy thistle and blue star, pensternon and Colorado blue columbine, milkweed and cowbane; a lovely mix of whites and blues against the green of the trees. The effect was breathtaking, and I found myself comparing these woods, so cold and clean, to the damp pine forests of Louisiana. I loved my home, but I was becoming quite fond of this new vista as well.

I stopped walking and turned to face Leslie, unsure how to phrase my concern.

‘Well?’ she asked, adding, ‘If you’re worried about the performance, don’t. You’ll do fine.’

I shook my head.

‘No, it’s not that at all. I … well, I just don’t like the way the mix feels this time around, you know …?’ I looked at her earnestly, hoping that she would indeed know what I meant.

‘What do you mean, “the way the mix feels this time around”?’ It was Leslie’s turn to look quizzical. ‘Do you mean the local guys? The way they’ll portray the characters?’