Murder, Served Simply (5 page)

S
creams filled the barn. Some of them might have been my own. The members of the audience were out of their seats as they all seemed to want a better look at the stage.

“Everyone stay where you are!” Mitchell's commanding voice broke into the sound of screams and gasps.

Without thinking, I dropped the stack of programs I had been holding onto the ground in front of the hay bale and rushed toward the fallen actress. I ran up the side aisle and stopped just short of the stage.

I prayed Eve was all right. She fell at least twenty feet to the hard stage floor, but there was a chance she could be fine. Through the crowd, I couldn't see if she was moving.

My Frenchie bolted from backstage and ran straight to me. He catapulted his black-and-white body into my arms. I caught him with an “Oof!”

“It's okay, Ollie,” I murmured to the little dog and rested my cheek on top of his solid head. I tucked Oliver
under my left arm and approached the side of the stage where Eve lay. My steps were tentative. A part of me didn't want to confirm whether she was okay, because I felt like I already knew the answer from the murmurs and whimpers coming from the audience. But I had to see for myself. I propelled myself forward.

Deputy Anderson, Mitchell's young, gawky officer, stood over Eve. I gripped the edge of the stage with my free hand and watched as the sheriff knelt beside the motionless body in Amish dress.

I looked down at Eve, and then up at the sheriff. Mitchell's gaze met mine, and he shook his head ever so slightly just once. There was no doubt about it. This rising star, this former Amish girl, was dead. I sucked in air as my body began to shake. I had just spoken to her at the dinner an hour ago. How could a bright, vibrant light be so quickly extinguished?

The sheriff waved over another deputy I hadn't even known was there. The two men spoke into their radios in hushed voices, which were impossible to hear over the noise from the crowd.

The actors and stagehands poured onto the stage. The heavy stage makeup on the actors' faces amplified their horror. The British man, who played the male lead and had been onstage when Eve fell, clenched his fists. “The structure wasn't reliable. How dare you let us perform under these conditions? Poor Eve.” He choked on her name and bit his fist.

Something about his reaction seemed off. The fist biting was a little much, as if he were still playing a part.

Director Wade Brooklyn ran onto the stage. He
dropped to his knees next to the lifeless girl. “My star! My star!”

Mitchell grabbed Wade's hand before he could touch Eve. “Sir, do not touch her.”

“She was so talented, so beautiful. She was destined for a long career on the stage. She could have made it on Broadway, in Hollywood, anywhere. She just had that
it
factor. I will never again work with such raw talent.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the stage at the director's comments. A second girl, whom I recognized as the one in English dress during the progressive dinner, was now dressed as an Amish girl. She twisted her onstage prayer cap in her hands. A tear slid down her cheek. “That could have been me.”

The British actor galloped across the stage and put his arm around the girl.

I frowned. “That could have been me” seemed like an odd statement to make on seeing a fellow actress die onstage. Yes, there were tears streaming down her face, but were those tears for Eve or for this girl's supposed close call? Had I even heard her correctly? It was difficult to hear anything over the shouts and cries of the audience. I spun around and searched the crowd for my parents. They stood in the middle of their row. Ryan appeared stricken, and my mother had her face buried in my father's broad shoulder. The same combination of disbelief and horror was registered on the faces of everyone sitting and standing around them.

Deputy Anderson stepped onto the stage and peered at the swing Eve fell from. He picked up the heavy rope
that had been used to raise and lower the swing. “Sheriff, look.”

Mitchell slapped his forehead. “Anderson, drop that right now.”

As if he had been shot, Deputy Anderson dropped the piece of rope onto the stage. It landed with a thud. The severed end pointed at me. It had a clean cut halfway through it. The remainder was torn.

“The rope was cut,” Willow said loudly in a rare moment of silence, so that her voice projected across the barn.

I turned. I hadn't even realized that she'd been standing there next to me.

“Close the curtain!” Mitchell ordered.

No one moved.

He pointed at Anderson. “Close the curtain.”

The deputy sprinted to the ropes. Slowly the curtain came together, and with one final pull, Anderson, the actors, Mitchell, and Eve's body disappeared behind a blue velvet sheet.

Pandemonium erupted as the playgoers pushed out of their rows in their haste to escape the barn. There was a mad rush for the one exit through the front of the barn. Someone was going to get trampled. Again, I looked for my parents and Ryan. They were seated. Ryan was talking to Mom and Dad, probably telling them in his logical-lawyer way that it was safer and smarter to remain where they were until the barn emptied. I had never been so grateful for Ryan as I was in that moment.

“The ropes have been cut,” Willow whispered, bringing my attention back to her.

“This can only mean one thing,” I whispered.

Willow gripped my arm. “What? What does it mean?”

“Murder,” I murmured, so that only Willow and Oliver could hear me.

Willow's hand went to her crystal.

Mitchell appeared through the curtain and put two fingers in his mouth. He let out a whistle that would have made a shrill harpy fall from the sky.

Everyone in the room froze.

In the silence, the sheriff spoke. “Please, of those of you who are still here, I will have to ask everyone to remain in your seats for the time being. We will dismiss you from the barn after we ask a few questions about what you saw. More deputies and police officers assisting from Millersburg PD are on the way. We will do everything that we can to make this process go as quickly as possible.”

More people moved toward the door.

“If you leave, we will be calling or knocking on your door to interview you.”

A few reconsidered and took their seats; others kept heading to the exit. I couldn't blame them. The sheriff didn't chase them.

Mitchell held up a hand. “Please, please, I know this is very upsetting, but a young woman is dead. You may have seen something that can give us a clue as to what happened. I'm asking you for your patience. It won't be long—”

The wail of a siren approaching the barn interrupted his speech.

“For pity's sake,” Willow whispered. “I can't believe
we're dealing with another murder.” She smoothed her gauzy sleeve. She sniffed. Her black eye makeup streaked across her cheeks. “And Eve Shetler of all people. It's a terrible, terrible shame.”

I touched my own cheeks. They were dry. I was too shocked to cry. I knew the tears would come later. “I sat next to her at dinner. She was so . . .” I searched for the right word. “Alive.”

“Eve had an infectious quality about her. That's why everyone thought she was going to be a big star. And now—” Willow covered her mouth.

I didn't want to think about it. “Who was that actor on the stage with the British accent?”

“Ruben Hurst. He's English—I mean
real
English, not just what the Amish call us. Isn't his accent swoony?” she asked, but the usual twinkle was missing from her eyes.

My brow wrinkled. “What's he doing in a production in the middle of Ohio?” I knew a better person would not ask such inane questions at such a time, but my curiosity kept my mind off the image of Eve's body and that was top priority at the moment.

She shrugged and removed crumpled tissue from her pants pocket. “Times are tough. Maybe this is the only place he could find a part.”

I frowned. I supposed that she was right, but it was so far off the normal beaten path for an actor, let alone one from England, that it was hard to believe.

“Who's that actress with Ruben?” I whispered to Willow.

She wiped at the mascara on her cheek with the
tissue. All this accomplished was pushing the makeup into a set of wrinkles I had never noticed before. “Lena. She plays Eve's sister in the play, but she is also Eve's understudy for the lead.” She twisted her crystal in her hand. “I guess that part is all hers now if the play is to continue.”

It seemed I had suspect number one, who also had seemed to be concerned more with herself than over the loss of Eve. “Did she and Eve get along?”

Willow twisted the crystal hanging from her neck. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” I said, hoping Willow would buy it.

Willow dropped her crystal. “I don't believe you. You want to find out what happened.”

The main door into the barn opened and in stormed a half dozen officers, some from the Millersburg police department and some from the Holmes County Sheriff's Department. Mitchell and Anderson went over to meet them. As the audience waited to be interviewed, conversation resumed, and it was becoming more and more difficult to overhear what the police were saying to one another—not that I was trying or anything.

“I didn't know Eve long,” I said. “I hardly knew her at all, but I liked her.”

Willow forced a smile. “Well, I wouldn't let your sheriff know what you are thinking.”

“First, he's not
my
sheriff, and second, I'm not thinking anything that he wouldn't expect from me.”

“The last part of that statement I believe.”

Mitchell completed his powwow with the other officers, and the men and women in uniform fanned out
across the audience. While they began their interviews, the main entrance opened again, and three EMTs and the county coroner entered the barn. Mitchell waved them to the small opening in the curtain.

Willow shook her head. “I hate to even ask this under the circumstances, but do you think the play will go on? We have another progressive dinner and performance the day after Christmas. The hotel can't refund all those tickets. We would lose all that money to build the new playground for the kids. What will the children do if we don't get a new slide and swing set? The one out there is twenty years old. It's a wonder a child hasn't killed him- or herself on it yet.” She grimaced. “Poor choice of words. Sorry.”

I grimaced too. “That's up to the sheriff as well as the play director. Maybe they won't want to go on without their star.”

Willow snorted. “I don't think the play people are going to be the ones stopping the performance.”

I was just about to ask Willow what she meant by that when she said, “Maybe you can talk to the sheriff and convince him not to close down the play and the progressive dinner.”

“I don't know why he would close the progressive dinner. Most of that took place away from the hotel. I don't know what I can possibly say to convince him to do anything.”

“Sweet-talk him.”

I gave her a look. “Sweet-talk?”

Oliver cocked his head too. At least he agreed with me that the senior trustee was nuts.

Willow gripped my free hand. “Angie, you have to. Do you know how bad it would look for the hotel and the township if the play was canceled? Rolling Brook is gaining a reputation for this sort of thing. It could hurt tourism. It could hurt business, your business.”

“Let's move away from the stage if you really want to discuss this.” I led Willow to the side aisle and leaned against the wall. Audience members were being interviewed. Once an interview was completed, the individual was dismissed. The police had broken the crowd up into a grid system, and it was surprisingly organized. It was going more quickly than I expected, but then again, more than half the audience had left before reinforcements arrived. “How many people are in the acting troupe?” I shifted Oliver into my other arm. He didn't seem to mind as long as I didn't put him down. My little Frenchie was still shaken; we both were.

“I don't know right offhand, but I can get you a list.” She smiled at me knowingly. “You will talk to Mitchell?”

“I didn't say that. I think it's good to know all the cast and crew names just in case.”

“In case of what?”

I ignored her question. “I'm not asking because I am afraid for the township or for my business. I'm asking because a young girl I had just met and liked very much is dead. Let's pray it was a terrible accident.”

She dropped her head. “I'm sorry. You're right.” She twirled her crystal again. “The police will want to talk to us too, especially you, Angie. You sat next to Eve at dinner. Did you notice anything strange?”

I shook my head, but then I remembered the odd
encounter between Eve and the Amish girl who dropped the tray. The pair knew each other, of that I was certain. How well did they know each other?

Actors, including Ruben and Lena, and the stagehands appeared from the other side of the curtain. A deputy was with them and instructed them to sit in the first two rows of the audience. They would be interviewed too. I noticed Wade, the director, wasn't among them.

I stared at the blue velvet curtain. I had to get back there.

Willow held out her arms. “Here, give me Oliver and go back,” she said as if she read my mind.

I handed her my Frenchie and hurried up the three steps to the far side of the stage. Before I disappeared behind the curtain, my eyes fell on my parents' row. They each were being interviewed. However, Ryan was not. He had his attention firmly fixed on me before I slipped behind the curtain.

I stood at the end of the stage in the shadows. A spotlight pointed down from the rafters onto Eve's body, making the stillness of her body more apparent. Overhead, flashes of light went off. I glanced up at two police officers I didn't know. One from the Millersburg police department and one from the sheriff's office were inspecting the rigging. The sheriff's deputy took countless photographs of every inch of it.