Ghost in the First Row (6 page)

Benny was swirling the ice cubes in his glass. “What is it, Henry?” he asked.

“There’s something weird about this last entry.”

“What’s weird about it, Henry?” Benny wanted to know. “Alice bought shoes that didn’t fit. You said that yourself the other day.”

“I said that then. Now I’m not so sure.”

“What are you thinking, Henry?” Violet wondered.

“Alice didn’t write ‘shoes won’t fit’—she wrote
‘shoe
won’t fit.’ ”

Jessie inched her chair closer. “You’re right,” she said, glancing at the appointment book. “It
does
say shoe—not shoes.” She looked from Henry to the entry and back again. “That is a bit weird.”

Henry said, “Maybe this entry has nothing to do with returning a pair of shoes.”

“What else could it mean?” Violet wanted to know.

Henry paused for a moment to sort out his thoughts. “What if Alice was talking about the butler’s shoe?”

Benny blinked in surprise. “Alice had a butler?”

“No, no.” Henry smiled a little at this. “I’m talking about Lady Chadwick’s butler.”

“What are you saying, Henry?” Jessie asked.

“What if Alice noticed the mistake in the play?” said Henry. “Maybe she realized the butler’s shoe wouldn’t fit a mold that was made in dried mud.”

“You think Alice wanted P.J.—Tricia—to make a change to the script?” Violet asked, after a moment’s thought.

“I’m only guessing,” said Henry. “But I think it’s possible.”

“If you’re right,” Jessie concluded, “then Alice must’ve read Tricia’s play.”

Violet thought about this. “Maybe Alice was giving her a few pointers.”

“Could be,” said Henry. “But why would Tricia keep it a secret? That’s the part I don’t get.”

Violet nodded. “There’s something here we’re not understanding.”

“I don’t know what to make of it either,” said Jessie. “Unless …”

“Unless what?” asked Benny.

Jessie’s mind was racing. “I keep thinking about Lady Chadwick’s hat.”

“That it was hanging from the chandelier in the lobby?” said Benny. “Is that what you mean, Jessie?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What then?” asked Henry.

“I’m talking about the yellow marigolds,” said Jessie. “Don’t you think it’s odd Tricia didn’t remember what kind of flowers Lady Chadwick was wearing?”

Benny nodded. “She called them carnations.”

“Exactly,” said Jessie. “And yet, she underlined ‘yellow marigolds’ in the script. At least, that’s what Fern said.”

Henry was curious. “Where are you going with this, Jessie?”

“Yellow marigolds were Alice’s favorite flower,” Jessie reminded them, hoping they would understand what she was driving at. Seeing their puzzled faces, she added, “Alice always put yellow marigolds in her plays.”

“You think it’s more than just a coincidence?” Violet wondered. “That Tricia put yellow marigolds in her play, too, I mean.”

Jessie nodded her head slowly. “I think it’s a lot more than just a coincidence.”

“Back up a minute, Jessie,” Henry put in. “Are you saying Alice noticed a mistake—in her own play?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jessie told him. “It’s possible she wanted to make the change before Tricia typed up the last act.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “You really think Alice Duncan wrote
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle?
”

“If she did … that means—” began Benny.

Henry cut in. “It means Tricia put her name on Alice’s play.”

“Oh!” Violet put her hand over her mouth. “You don’t really think Tricia would do something so terrible, do you?”

“I don’t want to believe it, Violet,” said Jessie. “But it’s a pretty strong case against Tricia.”

Henry agreed. “It would explain why Tricia lied about knowing Alice.”

“And she could easily have put her name on Lady Chadwick’s Riddle after Alice died,” Jessie pointed out.

“But why would Tricia do something like that?” Violet wondered.

Henry shrugged. “Maybe she saw the contest as a way to make some quick cash.”

Benny was thinking. “I bet Tricia stole Alice’s tapes, too.”

“You might be on to something, Benny,” Henry had to admit. “Chances are, she wanted to make sure there wasn’t another copy of Alice’s play.”

“Still,” said Violet, “I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions.”

Henry nodded. “You’re right, Violet. It’s one thing to suspect someone. It’s another thing to have proof.”

“But we can’t just do nothing,” Benny insisted. “Can we?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions,” Henry said after a moment’s thought. “Aunt Jane has some errands to run in town. Maybe we could get a ride with her to the theater.”

The Aldens weren’t sure what they were going to do. They only knew they had to do something.

As they pulled up in front of the Trap-Door Theater, Aunt Jane glanced at her watch. “I’ll get my errands done, then meet you back here,”

“Perfect!” said Henry as they climbed out of the car.

Aunt Jane gave them a little wave, then drove away.

Violet slowed her step. “What if we’re wrong?” She was having second thoughts about their suspicions.

“Grandfather says we’re seldom wrong when it comes to hunches,” Benny reminded her.

“And if we’re right,” added Jessie, “we can’t let Tricia get away with stealing Alice’s play, can we?”

Henry held the theater door open. “Don’t worry, Violet,” he said. “We’ll just ask a few questions and see how Tricia reacts.”

“That sounds fair,” agreed Violet.

Inside the theater, the Aldens hurried backstage where preparations for opening night were in full swing. Stagehands were rushing about, testing the lights and setting up props. As the children passed an opened door, a familiar voice called out to them.

“The Aldens!”

Ray, who was sitting at his desk, motioned for them to come in. Across from him, Tricia Jenkins and Fern Robson had their heads bent over their scripts.

“Did you forget we’re out of posters?” Ray asked, smiling as the children stepped into his office.

“No, we didn’t forget,” Henry told him. “We were hoping you might have time to talk. It’s about Alice Duncan.”

Tricia suddenly glanced up from her script. A look of shock crossed her face, but only for a moment. She quickly pulled herself together. “We’re in the middle of a script meeting,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “The play opens tomorrow night. We don’t have time to chat.”

“Speak for yourself.” Fern frowned over at Tricia. “I could use a break.”

“Let’s take five,” Ray suggested. He put his feet up on his desk and leaned back with his hands behind his head. “What’s up, kids?”

The Aldens looked at one other. They weren’t really sure how to begin. Finally, Violet spoke up.

“The thing is,” she said in a quiet voice, “we noticed a mistake in the play.”

Jessie nodded. “We thought we should mention it.”

Tricia looked amused. “Well, aren’t we lucky we have the Aldens around to give us a few pointers,” she said, though it was clear from her voice that she didn’t think they were lucky at all.

Henry squared his shoulders. “It’s true,” he insisted. “There’s a mistake in the last act.” He reminded Ray of what he’d told them—that a footprint shrinks after the sun dries up the mud. Henry finished by saying, “If Lady Chadwick made the mold when the mud was dry, the butler’s shoe would never fit exactly.”

“Of course!” said Ray. “How could I miss that?” He shook his head. “Looks like we’ll be making a change to the script.”

Tricia stiffened. “No one pays attention to that stuff. Do you honestly think anyone will notice?”

“The Aldens did,” Ray reminded her.

“And so did Alice Duncan!” Benny blurted out.

Henry and Jessie exchanged glances. There was no going back now. They could only hope they were on the right track.

“Alice Duncan noticed?” Fern’s mouth dropped open. “That’s strange.”

“Not as strange as you might think,” Jessie told her. “You see, Alice made one last entry in her appointment book before she died.”

“Yes, I remember seeing it.” Ray nodded his head slowly. “Something about returning a pair of shoes, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what we thought, too,” said Henry. “At first.”

“And now?”

“Now we think Alice realized there was a mistake in the last act of Lady Chadwick’s Riddle,” said Violet. “That’s why she wrote, ‘Shoe won’t fit. Tell P.J. to make change.’ ”

“P.J.?” Fern looked over at Tricia suspiciously. “Patricia Jenkins?”

“Hang on a minute!” Ray put up a hand. “How would
Alice
know anything about a mistake in
your
play, Tricia?”

Tricia swallowed hard. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “Alice Duncan was giving me advice on my play. What’s wrong with that?”

“Why would Alice give advice to someone she didn’t know?” demanded Henry.

It was a good question. Tricia said she’d never met Alice. Everyone waited expectantly for an answer.

“I never actually met Alice,” said Tricia. “But I did send my play to her in the mail.”

The children looked at each another. Tricia seemed to have an answer for everything. But Henry wasn’t giving up so easily.

“Are you sure there wasn’t more to it than that?” he asked, giving Tricia a meaningful look.

“What are you saying?” Tricia snapped. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything dishonest.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at Tricia. But he didn’t say anything.

“I bet a tape of Alice’s play would prove it,” Benny said, his hands on his hips.

“What?” Tricia shifted nervously. “But … I … I checked every one of those tapes and—” She stopped abruptly as if realizing she’d said too much.

Henry and Jessie looked at each other in surprise. Benny’s remark had only been wishful thinking. Had Tricia misunderstood? Did she think they actually had Alice’s voice on tape—recording
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle?

Benny looked Tricia straight in the eye. “You stole the box of tapes from Aunt Jane’s shed, didn’t you?”

“That’s ridiculous!” Tricia forced a tense laugh. “Why would I do something like that?”

Henry spoke up. “You wanted to make sure there wasn’t another copy of
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle.
”

“What’s this all about, kids?” asked Ray, who was pacing around the room. “Surely you’re not suggesting Tricia stole Alice Duncan’s play?”

When she heard this, Fern’s jaw dropped. She was too shocked to speak.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Tricia?” Ray asked.

Tricia opened her mouth several times as if about to speak, then closed it again. Finally, she sank back in her chair, looking defeated. “It’s true,” she confessed, burying her head in her hands. “I signed my name to Alice Duncan’s play.”

“What?” Ray stopped pacing. “How could you do such a thing?”

“I knew it was wrong,” Tricia admitted, “but when I heard about the contest, I decided to enter Alice’s play.” She lifted her head. “The funny thing is, I really didn’t believe
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle
would win.”

Jessie guessed what was coming next. “When it did, you decided to keep the cash.”

Tricia didn’t deny it. “I’ve always had to work so hard to put myself through school.”

Ray looked at her, stunned. “That doesn’t make it okay to steal.”

“How did you get hold of Alice’s play in the first place?” Fern wanted to know.

Violet turned to Tricia. “Alice hired you to type her plays, didn’t she?”

Tricia nodded. “I was finishing up the last act of
Lady Chadwick’s Riddle
when Alice died. I figured if I put my name on the play, nobody would ever catch on. I really couldn’t see the harm,” she added, trying to make light of it. “After all, Alice would finally have a play performed in public.”

“And you could take the credit for it,” finished Fern.

“And the cash,” added Jessie.

“There was only one problem,” said Ray. “You hadn’t counted on the Aldens coming along and figuring everything out.”

Tricia had to admit this was true. “I thought it was a foolproof plan, Ray. At least, until I overheard you talking about Alice’s tape recorder. You said it was in the box with her tapes. That’s when it suddenly hit me that Alice might have made an extra copy of her play.”

“So you went out to Aunt Jane’s on that rainy night,” Benny said. “And you took the tapes from the shed. I saw you.”

“Yes, I did,” Tricia confessed. “I checked every one of those tapes, but I couldn’t find another copy
of Lady Chadwick’s Riddle.
”

“That’s because there isn’t another copy,” Jessie informed her.

“You … you don’t really have Alice’s voice on tape?” Tricia’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t believe I fell for your bluff.”

“You almost got away with it, Tricia,” Ray realized. Then he added, “You left the box of tapes under a seat in the first row, didn’t you?”

Tricia nodded. “I figured everyone would think it was just another prank.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Fern, her eyes flashing. “You’re the one who staged all those ghostly pranks?”

“No!” Tricia cried. “I took Alice’s tapes, but that’s all. I had nothing to do with anything else.”

The Aldens exchanged looks. Was Tricia telling the truth?

“I can’t believe you took credit for someone else’s work,” said Ray. “How could you tell such a lie?” He sounded more disappointed than angry.

Tricia looked at the floor. “I wish I could go back and undo what I’ve done,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Ray told her, his face grim. “You’ll have to return the prize money, Tricia. And it’ll be a long time before anyone will trust you again.”

With that, Tricia walked slowly from the room, looking truly regretful.

“I just can’t believe it,” Ray told Aunt Jane and the Aldens on opening night. They were gathered in Fern’s dressing room during intermission. “Tickets have been selling like hotcakes!”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” said Fern, who was sitting at her dressing table. “The play’s sold out right through the summer!” She pulled out a tissue and blotted her lipstick.