Untimely Death (4 page)

A light, steady rain dripping from the black branches of bare trees made a soft, mournful sound as Ray and Charlotte trudged along the path that led from the back door of the hotel. Ray paused to listen to raised voices coming from Brian Prentice’s bungalow. The lights were on, but the curtains were drawn.

“Who’s in there?” he asked.

“Brian Prentice and his wife. He’s this year’s special guest star, and yes, he’s from the U.K.”

“Do you think he could have given her that ring?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Charlotte replied. “Giving a girl he barely knows a ring like that is just the sort of over-the-top thing he would do. So pathetic.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They haven’t known each other very long, so if he did give her that ring, he must be desperate.”

They walked on in silence, and then, just as they reached Charlotte’s bungalow, she reached out and touched Ray on the arm. “I’ve just had a thought. What if Brian didn’t give that ring to her? What if she stole it from his wife, Lady Deborah? Deborah’s the daughter of an earl, and the family owns some pretty stunning jewelry, or so I’ve read, although whether she’d have any of it here with her, I wouldn’t know. Well, she wouldn’t have all of it; she’d have left at least some of it at home, in the bank. That’s where most women keep their tiaras and such like.” She laughed. “Not that I do myself, of course.”

“There is another possibility,” said Ray as they took off their boots and damp coats.

“What’s that?” asked Charlotte as she poured water into the coffee maker.

“It’s possible,” said Ray, “that someone put the ring there. Her door was unlocked, so anyone could have come in and planted it or just hidden it.” He walked over to the couch and sat down, taking the box out of his pocket and setting it on the coffee table. “Although I can’t think of a reason anyone would want to do that.” After a moment, he asked, “Does the hotel owner live on the premises?”

“He does,” Charlotte said. “Harvey and his wife have a rather nice apartment in the main building. Their nephew, Aaron, my new assistant, is staying with them. Why?”

“I’d like you to call him, tell him we’ve been in Lauren’s room to collect a few things for her, and ask him to lock the room. But don’t mention the ring.”

“I’ll call him now. Either he’ll do it himself or send someone to do it.”

“Is there a caretaker?”

“There’s a couple who live in Walkers Ridge who work here. She does the housekeeping, helps out in the kitchen when needed, and he does the odd jobs and repairs around the place. There’s always something that needs doing. In the old days, there would have been ten men doing his work—gardening, painting, cleaning out the gutters, unplugging sinks . . . all the never-ending jobs that you’ve got to stay on top of.”

She called the Jacobs’ apartment, exchanged a quick greeting with Aaron, and then asked to speak to his uncle. She repeated what Ray had asked her to tell him and then said good-night and hung up.

“I just remembered something,” she said. “I didn’t pursue it at the time, but now it’s got me wondering.”

Ray raised a rather handsome eyebrow.

“Aaron said something to the effect that he was surprised his uncle would give Lauren a job. So he must have known her from somewhere before and didn’t think too much of her.”

“Why don’t I leave that with you?” Ray said. “Ask Aaron what he can tell you about her.” He stifled a yawn. “That coffee’s just what I needed,” he said. “I hope the caffeine kicks in soon.”

When they’d finished their drinks, Ray sighed and checked his watch.

“I’m going to have to go back to the hospital tonight and ask someone to check Lauren’s locker to see if her purse is there. I’ll leave that bag of personal things for her so she’ll have them in the morning. By then, I hope she’ll be well enough to talk to us.”

Charlotte showed him to the door. He held her, kissed her, and then let her go. “Be sure to lock the door behind me,” he said.

“Why? Do you think there’s danger lurking?”

“There’s always danger lurking. And anyway, I’m a policeman. Telling people to lock their doors is part of what I do, and my job would be a whole lot easier sometimes if everybody just did as I asked.”

He gave her a cheery wave, and with a light smile, she locked the door behind him. An hour later, after Rupert was settled in for the night and just as she was starting to think about getting ready for bed, her phone rang. It was Ray.

“Her purse isn’t at the hospital. Will you please keep an eye out for it tomorrow?”

“And what about the ring?” Charlotte asked.

“I’ll lock it in our safe until we can return it to its owner.”

Whoever the rightful owner might be
, thought Charlotte.

The overnight rain had washed away almost all the remaining snow, leaving only dirty patches at the bases of the trees that lined the pathway to the main building and on the grounds where the bungalows were located. Spring had officially arrived, and this morning a light, refreshing breeze was blowing along the river, bringing with it a sweet hint of warmer days to come. Even this early in the day, the sun had an intensity that hadn’t been there just a couple of weeks earlier.

Charlotte let herself into the hotel through the staff entrance and walked along the corridor that led to the backstage area. Beyond that, down another short passageway, were her workroom and the wardrobe storage area. As she passed the black curtains that made up the theater wings, a man’s voice caught her attention. She stopped to listen.

“Look, Brian, what you get up to in your own time is your business, but when it starts affecting your ability to remember your lines, be on time for rehearsals, or work with the rest of the cast, then as the director, it becomes my problem. You’ve got to lay off the booze. It’s destroying your career. Or what’s left of it.”

Feeling uncomfortable at overhearing Brian get a dressing down, Charlotte was about to move on. But she decided she wanted to hear what Brian Prentice had to say in response, so she ducked out of the corridor and stood between the curtains where she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who might come down the hallway. It was still a few minutes before nine, and she guessed that the rest of the cast on call for this rehearsal would start to arrive in a few minutes.

“Well, I’m not late this morning, am I?” Brian said, finally.

“No, but I can smell the booze on you from last night. It’s not pleasant, and you don’t look too clever,” said Simon Dyer.

“Going through a bad patch right now, you see,” Brian said. “Deborah’s about to leave me, I know she is. I don’t even know why she agreed to come here with me. The only reason I can think of is that she liked the idea of being so close to New York City. And then I did a really stupid thing that probably means I pressed the self-destruct button. When Deborah finds out, I’ll be for
the high jump. She’ll have my guts for garters this time, for sure.”

“What have you done?” Simon asked. “Do you want to tell me? Is it something I can help with?”

“Nah.”

“The thing is, Brian, this is a funny old place. For some of us—you and me, for example—it’s our last chance to make something of ourselves so our careers don’t end in the gutter. For others, it’s a starting point. For them, the only way from here is up. The ones just out of theater school are paying their dues here, and it’s up to us to show them the ropes.” He waited, and when there was no response, he continued. “Think about it this way, Brian. These young actors will take what happens here this summer with them for the rest of their careers. Do you really want your legacy to be ‘the old drunk British geezer I worked with that summer in the Catskills’? Because if you don’t clean up your act, that’s exactly where you’re headed.”

The only reply was a deep, violent coughing fit that sounded as if a pair of lungs were about to be turned inside out.

“And Brian, you might want to do something about the smoking. It’s destroying that beautiful voice of yours. Look, I’m sorry if all this sounds harsh,” Simon continued, “but someone needs to talk to you like a Dutch uncle, and I guess that someone had to be me. Okay. Speech over. Let’s get ready for the rehearsal. I need and
expect full participation from you this morning. You’re the company’s lead actor, and I’m looking to you to lead the company.”

“What about Lauren?”

“What about her?”

“Well, will somebody be standing in for her?”

“Of course.”

“Have you, er, heard how she’s doing?”

“I had a message from Harvey this morning. I’m planning to update the cast in a few minutes.”

Just as they finished speaking, footsteps behind Charlotte signaled approaching cast members, so she slipped out from behind the curtain and, at a quick pace, hoping to give the impression she’d just arrived, bustled toward Simon. She was relieved that Brian had moved away and was standing alone in the middle of the stage, looking out at the empty seats. A young actor approached him, and the two were soon in animated conversation. Brian raised his arm in a sweeping gesture, pretending to take off his hat and then bow. His movements were fluid and expressive. If they seemed exaggerated on stage, they would read beautifully from the audience. A moment later, the younger man took a step back, repositioned his feet slightly wider apart, and lifted his arm. Brian grasped it and lifted it higher. The actor then bent his knees and mimicked Brian’s bow. Brian gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and the young man smiled at him and then joined the other cast members.

Simon and Charlotte turned to each other.

“Morning, Simon.”

“Hello, there.” He tipped his head in Brian’s direction. “That was interesting.”

“Brian always was generous with other actors. Makes sure they have their moment and never tries to upstage. He’s also really good with the stagecraft. Makes it look so easy.”

“You know him, do you?”

“Yes, we worked together at the RSC a long time ago.”

“I wondered if your paths might have crossed.”

“Well,” said Charlotte, “I just wanted to remind you that we’re going to need all the cast members in for measurements and then fittings. I’d like Aaron to work with me on this, so we can get the costumes sorted in half the time. We can work around your rehearsal schedule.”

Simon nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks for the reminder. We’ll start booking them in at the end of the week.”

“Fortunately, we took Lauren’s measurements yesterday and started on her dresses, so as soon as she returns . . .”

“If she returns,” Simon said.

“Oh, gosh, is it that bad? I thought she was on the mend, and just assumed . . .”

“Look, I’m just about to brief the cast. Why don’t you stay for that?”

“I’d like that very much. I’d also like to say a few words to them, if you don’t mind,” said Charlotte.

“No problem.”

In the center of the stage, a young actor was arranging chairs in a semicircle. Once the rest of the cast had arrived, one or two with hair still damp from the shower and several clutching coffee cups, Simon clapped his hands to get their attention.

“All right, everybody. Take your seats, please. I want to give you an update on how Lauren’s doing, and then I want to introduce you to our costume designer.”

They shuffled to the chairs and settled quickly amidst an air of expectation. Usually the conversational hubbub would die down slowly, but this morning, they immediately gave their director their full attention.

“Harvey Jacobs called me this morning. He’s been in touch with the hospital, and they’re keeping him informed about Lauren’s condition. The good news is that she’s out of danger, but the bad news is that she’s experiencing some medical issues. They’re still not sure what happened, but it seems likely she took an overdose of something.”

One or two cast members gasped, raising their hands to cover their mouths. A few exchanged quick glances of surprise.

“So if any of you have any information or know anything at all about what might have happened to her, come and see me.”

“Is she coming back?” one of the older actresses asked.

“That’s a good question. It’s a little too early to say,” Simon responded carefully. “We hope so. If she can
recover in time, she will be back. If not, unfortunately, she’ll have to be replaced. In the meantime, we go ahead with rehearsals, with someone standing in for her.”

He waited for a moment to give the cast time to digest what they had just been told. “Does anyone have any questions?” His eyes scanned the group. “No? Well if there’s nothing else, let me introduce you to our wardrobe mistress Charlotte Fairfax. Charlotte has a lot of experience, including the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-upon-Avon, so you’re in very good hands.” He gestured in her direction, and Charlotte stood up.

“Good morning, everyone.” She glanced at their faces, but deliberately avoided making eye contact with Brian, although she could feel his eyes on her. “I haven’t met all of you yet, but I will as soon as we begin costume fittings at the end of the week and, er, I’m looking forward to that.” She could feel her composure evaporating under Brian’s gaze but plowed on.

“I’ve been asked to tell you that Lauren’s handbag—that is, her purse—seems to be missing. Please keep your eyes open for it. I don’t know what it looks like, but if you find a woman’s bag, it’ll probably be hers. If you do find a woman’s bag, please don’t open it or disturb the contents—just bring it to me in the wardrobe department.” She started to sit down and then quickly straightened up. “We’re located just down the hall, on the other side of the back entrance.”

The door to the wardrobe department was wide open, and Aaron was waiting for her when she arrived at her office a few minutes later.

“Morning, Charlotte. I made you a tea.”

“Thanks, Aaron. I could murder a cup.” Charlotte picked up the mug and surveyed her workroom as she took her first sip. “I’m pretty sure I locked up last night. How did you get in this morning?”

“After my uncle spoke to you last night, he sent me down to lock up Lauren’s room, then told me to hang on to the keys. Said I should have access to the rooms and backstage areas. So I just let myself in this morning. Hope that was all right.”

“Oh, I see. No, that’s fine. Just wanted to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Or that someone else hadn’t been in here trying to steal our fabrics. Right, well, the cast will be coming in later this week to start
fittings, so we need to get ready for them. What about that spreadsheet you suggested for keeping track of their roles and plays? Could you work on that today?”

Aaron nodded and took out his laptop. “I’ll do it on here.” He pointed at Charlotte’s elderly, enormous desktop computer. “If I were you, I’d take everything off that you want to keep. If you can. There might not even be a port for a USB drive. I’m surprised that dinosaur still works. Do you ever use it?”

“Not very often,” Charlotte admitted. “It takes all morning just to warm up, and when it’s finally up and running, it can’t do very much. You’re right. There may be old inventory information stored on it, so why don’t you check it out, copy anything you think might be useful, and then we might as well scrap it. It’s just taking up space.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “You might just be the breath of fresh air we so desperately need around here.”

She pointed at the dressing screen. “Juliet’s act-one dress. We won’t make any alterations until we know if Lauren’s going to rejoin the cast, so you can put it back in wardrobe storage for now.” Aaron stood up, taking his coffee with him.

“No, no!” she cried. “All food and drinks must stay well away from the costumes, fabrics, worktables. I wasn’t at all happy when Lauren left that open can of energy drink on the worktable, but I didn’t want to say anything
to her about it, although I should have. A spilled drink can ruin a garment. We can’t risk it. I thought they would have taught you that at your fancy design school.”

He set the coffee down with a sheepish, apologetic grin. “They probably did and I forgot. It makes sense.”

“Did they also mention hand washing? Did you know the embroiderers who worked on the royal wedding dress washed their hands every thirty minutes and changed their needles every three hours to keep everything pristine?”

“I did not know that,” said Aaron.

“And be careful when you lift the dress off the screen.
Lift
being the operative word. Use both hands. Don’t drag it. If you do, you risk snagging it. And for some reason, it’s easier to retrieve it off the same side of the screen as it was placed, so go round the back.”

He disappeared behind the screen, and a moment later, the dress was gone. He reappeared with it draped over his right arm and carrying a black purse in his left hand.

“Look what I found,” he said, holding the bag up and away from his body. Charlotte groaned and gave her forehead a little smack.

“Of course! I should have thought. It’ll be Lauren’s. Here, give it to me. The police are looking for that bag.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up and he frowned. “They are? Why?”

“Simon told the cast this morning that she’d had an overdose of something, but they’re not sure yet what it was, or how or why.” She shrugged. “They don’t know much yet. I’d have thought your uncle would have told you all this. He called the hospital last night and they told him.”

She took the bag from him.

“Are you going to open it?” he asked.

“Just to check and make sure it’s hers.”

The bag was an ordinary Michael Kors tote bag. Not wildly expensive, but with its gold fob and tassel, it was nice enough. Charlotte unzipped it, peered inside, and retrieved a small wallet. She opened it and examined a New York State driver’s license. She pursed her lips, made a little noise, and then read out the name on the license: “Leah Patricia Kaplan.”

“That’s her,” said Aaron. “Lauren Richmond’s just her stage name.”

“Tell me about her,” Charlotte said. “You mentioned yesterday that you didn’t understand how your uncle could have hired her. What did you mean by that? How do you know her?”

“We knew her in high school,” Aaron replied. “She was in the same class as my cousin. She, Leah that is, was the leader of the mean girls. Picked on other girls they didn’t like. Girls who were better looking or younger and smarter than they were. They singled out my cousin and they made her life a living hell. They bullied her to
death, really. She stopped going to school, kept herself in her room, but still they kept on at her. In the end, she killed herself.”

“Oh, Aaron, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear this. I don’t know what to say, but it must have been awful for your family. So she was your cousin, but she wasn’t Harvey’s daughter, so how . . .”

“There are two sisters and a brother. Uncle Harvey, my mother, and my Aunt Esther. My cousin was Aunt Esther’s daughter. Her only child, in fact.”

“And how long ago did this happen?”

“Nine years ago. She was only fourteen.”

“I see. And Harvey, did he know that about this Lauren? Sorry, I think of her as that. Leah.”

“No. He didn’t make the connection, but there’s no reason, really, why he should have. My uncle doesn’t hire the actors. He leaves casting decisions and things like that to the director. I doubt if he could even tell you any of the actors’ names. I tried talking to him about her last night, but I didn’t pick the right time. I could try talking to him again.

“But the worst thing is that Leah was never punished for what she did. She just got on with her life. She gets to have a career and probably doesn’t even know what happened to my cousin, and if she did, she wouldn’t care.”

Neither said anything for a moment, and then Aaron resumed speaking.

“I hate her. I hate everything about her. I’ll try to be professional around her, of course, but I wanted to ask if you would look after her fittings. I don’t want to touch her.” He looked with distaste at the dress she had tried on. “It’s hard enough just touching something she’s worn. You talk about hand washing. Makes me want to do just that.”

“Does she know who you are, Aaron? Your family, I mean?”

“I doubt it. My aunt has a married name. My cousin’s last name wasn’t Jacobs.”

“Oh, that’s such a sad story. I’m so sorry about your cousin,” said Charlotte. “I understand how you feel about the dress, so just leave it there and I’ll deal with it. And I’ll look after her, too, if she comes back. But I’d better let the police know her bag’s been found.”

She slipped the wallet back in the handbag and phoned Ray while Aaron opened the box that contained the costume details. He pulled out a card and studied it as Charlotte told Ray she’d checked the wallet and discovered Lauren’s real name. Keeping her tone neutral, she shifted slightly in her chair as she felt Aaron’s eyes upon her. As she listened to Ray, she met Aaron’s intense gaze full on. He had stopped the pretense of looking at a card and was looking at her with an odd look on his face that she read as a mixture of fear and embarrassment.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Charlotte said, still looking at Aaron. “Right. I’ll let them know. See you later.”

She ended the call and then turned to Aaron. “It seems Lauren is attracting a bit of media attention. Someone called the local newspaper to tell them she’s in hospital. So you’d better find Simon and let him know and also tell your uncle. If the papers pick up the story, they’ll probably want to interview one or both of them, so they should start thinking about what they want to say if a reporter calls.”

Well, well
, thought Charlotte, after Aaron had left on his mission. Who could have alerted the media? Lauren’s agent, if she’d had one? Lauren was ambitious, and it made sense that she would seek publicity, and the more the better, to fulfill her ambition and advance her career. Could Lauren have taken an overdose of something just to attract media attention?

Or perhaps Harvey Jacobs had told the press. The hotel could benefit nicely from the publicity and the increased bookings it would likely generate.

Who else? Brian Prentice? She wouldn’t put anything past him. His sagging career might get a temporary boost from being a bottom-line mention in a newspaper story, but it seemed his career was long past its “best before” date. Unless he quit drinking, she didn’t see a second-act rebound in his future.

And what if the attention on Lauren brought their affair to light? That could really backfire on him with Lady Deborah. If Brian was the one who’d notified the paper, had he thought through the potential ramifications?
Unless, of course, he was aiming at the British tabloids, which would make a proper meal of this scandal: “Once-Famous Actor Husband of British Aristocrat Caught in Affair With American Actress Less Than Half His Age” would make a terrific headline.

And what about Aaron? Young sir had looked decidedly uncomfortable while she was talking to Ray. She couldn’t see how he would benefit from any publicity, and she doubted he had informed the media, but he certainly had a good reason to dislike Lauren and had admitted he hated her. Could he have been involved in some way in what happened to Lauren?

She shook off that thought and took a sip of her now tepid tea while she tried to knit together these tangled strands of speculation. But what if publicity was the second step in someone’s plan? And to get things to that point, what if the first step had been to make Lauren very ill?