Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (10 page)

Chapter 13

Saturday (lunch)

M
ike and I met Stephen Showalter at the Twisted Root Burger Company near the Southern Methodist University campus after the lunch rush was over. Showalter was dressed in a gray T-shirt, blue jeans, high top sneakers, and was wearing a blue ball cap backwards. When I saw him from across the room last night, I thought he was in his late forties, but up close, he looked much younger.

He noticed that I was staring at him and smiled. “I’m twenty-eight,” he said, answering my unspoken question.

I blushed, a bit embarrassed. “You looked so much older last night.”

“Not a lot of people believe that someone my age can be as successful as I’ve been, especially as a director. It helps to appear older to impress those with influence. A little white on the temples, add a few wrinkles, and the right clothes…viola! The magic of makeup.”

“I got the impression from Rachel Newton that she was expecting to see your father last night.”

“He was supposed to be there, but there was an emergency involving the play he’s currently directing, so he had to fly back to New York. Since I’m a director, too, he asked me to fill in for him. We figured no one would care since there would still be a Showalter at the show.”

“I have to tell you, my agent was thrilled when you contacted him,” I told him. “He wanted to come with me, but I talked him out of it.”

Now it was Showalter who blushed. “I have to be honest, that was a bit of a ruse on my part.”

“Oh?” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Not that your book isn’t great; it is. I enjoyed it very much. But I wanted to talk to Chief Penhall without the media making it a big deal. ‘Director questioned in mysterious Texas death’ is not the kind of publicity I need. And when Joe told me you were bringing a cop with you to our meeting, I figured this was my chance.”

“What if I hadn’t brought him with me?”

“Then I probably would have asked you to call him and have him meet us here.”

“Joe will be very disappointed about this. I’m sure he’s already picking out his next sports car.”

Stephen laughed. “I’ll call him in a couple of weeks and let him down gently.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Showalter?” Mike asked him.

“Orson Welles,” someone called out.

“That’s us,” I told Mike.

He and Showalter got our food and brought it back to the table. We ate in silence for a few minutes before Mike again asked why the director had wanted to meet with us.

Showalter wiped his hands on a nap, took a sip of his drink, and cleared his throat. “It’s about Susan Ingram.”

“I noticed I didn’t have a witness statement from you,” Mike said. “How did you manage to get past my officers last night?”

“I slipped out the back door when no one was looking.”

“That must have been before you put someone back there,” I told Mike.

“Probably,” he nodded in agreement. “How do you know Mrs. Ingram?”

Showalter took off his hat, scratched his head, and put it back on. “Here’s where it gets a bit complicated. Please understand, this is not common knowledge, and I would prefer it remain between us.”

“The only thing I can promise you is that I won’t say anything about what you tell me unless it directly implicates you in her death. If it turns out to be irrelevant, it will not go in my official report. That’s the best I can do.”

“Fair enough,” Showalter said.

“Were you having an affair with Susan?” I asked him bluntly.

“Cam!” Mike said.

“What? Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing. I just beat you to the punch.”

We both looked at Showalter.

“No, I was not having an affair with her. That would be like…wrong on so many levels.”

“Don’t have a thing for cougars?” I laughed.

“I’ve dated one or two before, strictly because of business, of course. But Susan wasn’t one of them.”

“Then how did you know her?”

“She was my mother.”

Well, shut my mouth and call me a kumquat. I didn’t see that one coming.

“You’re an Ingram?” Mike said.

“Not exactly. Joseph Ingram isn’t my father.”

“You mean Susan Ingram had an affair?”

“The Ingrams have been married for twenty-six years. I was born before they got married.”

“She gave you up for adoption?” I asked.

He nodded. “To a wonderful family. My parents were both actors, so I guess you could say I grew up in a theatre. Susan was an actress, too, when she was younger.”

“In New York?” Mike said

“Yes. She did have an affair with a director. It went on for two years. When he found out she was pregnant, he dropped her like a hot potato. My parents took her in, and adopted me as soon as I was born.”

“Susan didn’t want to raise you herself?”

“A child at that time wasn’t part of her grand scheme,” he told me. “She figured that once I was born, and she got back into shape, she would be able to find another acting job. Unfortunately for her, a year away from the stage can kill the career of a young actress sometimes. It didn’t help that everyone knew about her affair and the pregnancy. Someone put the word out that if they did hire her, they would have a hard time getting backing for their shows. Money is everything. No money, no show, and no one was about to risk that.”

“So she was basically blackballed,” Mike said.

Showalter nodded. “Pretty much. She went to Hollywood after that, but all she could get was bit parts. From what my parents told me, she met Joey Ingram out there, and the rest is history.”

“If you can’t earn money as an actress, marry it,” I said. “Have you seen Susan at all since she gave you up?”

“No, not once. She didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“But she knew your name, right?”

“She knew my last name. I don’t know if she ever knew my first name.”

“What is your father’s name?”

“Same as mine.”

“She must have thought he was the one who was coming,” I told Mike.

“Must have thought who was coming?” Showalter said, confused.

“Susan tried to hijack the dinner from my mother,” I explained. “She said a big Broadway director deserved a better meal than brisket.”

“Actually, I thought it was fantastic,” he replied. “I’ve heard about Texas BBQ, but last night was the first time I had ever eaten it. I wish we could get something like this back in New York.”

“If she thought your father was coming,” Mike said, “do you think she thought that maybe this would be her chance to get back to New York?”

“It’s possible. Character actors can have a good, long career on stage and in the movies.”

“It would explain why she was so insistent that she be on the guest list,” I said. “Unless she wanted to ask him about you.”

“Why would she do that after all this time?” Showalter asked. “She hasn’t bothered before now. No, this must have been about getting back on the stage.”

“What were you talking to Joey Ingram about last night?” I said. “He seemed to be trying to convince you of something awfully hard last night.”

“He wanted me to produce a show here in Dallas. He didn’t want Susan to go to New York.”

“Did he say why?”

He shrugged. “Maybe he was afraid she wouldn’t come back.”

“When the first act ended, did you leave your table?” Mike asked him.

“Yes, I went to the restroom, talked to a couple of people, then sat down a few minutes before the house lights were dimmed.”

“Where was Joey?”

“We both went outside, and someone stopped him to ask a question. When I came back from the restroom, he was gone. He never came back to the table.”

“What did you do after Mike and I talked to the audience?”

“I left.”

“When you went out between acts, did you see Susan lurking around anywhere?” Mike said.

“No.”

“How do you feel about Susan giving you up for adoption instead of raising you herself?”

“I had a great childhood. No regrets. When I turned 18, my parents told me about Susan. I’ll admit I was mad at first, but over time, I realized that she did what was best for both of us at the time.”

“Did Susan call your hotel before last night?” I said.

“She did leave a couple of messages,” Showalter admitted. “But I didn’t call her back.”

“Why not?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the baby you gave up twenty-eight years ago’? I don’t think that would have gone over well, do you?”

“Does your dad do any directing?”

He shook his head. “He tried once, and that was it. He was hooked after that. Gave up acting on the spot.”

“Then our theory that she thought it was your father coming here just went out the window, didn’t it?” I pointed out. “She knew it was you that was going to be here.”

“If that’s true,” Mike said, “then what did she want?”

“Maybe she wanted to get to know her son,” I replied.

Chapter 14

“W
hat do you think of his story?” I asked Mike as we drove back to Waxahachie.

“Well, if it’s true, it doesn’t give him much of a motive to kill her. But I think I’ll do a background check on him and his adoptive parents.”

“It does seem to give Joey a good motive, though,” I replied.

“How do you figure?”

“We both know that Joey can be a bit of a control freak at times. If he was afraid that Susan was going to leave him, what would he do to make her stay?”

“We don’t know that she was going to leave him for sure.”

“What if she did want to revive her career? Reconnecting with the son she gave up for adoption would be one way to do it.”

“We don’t have any definitive proof she wanted to go to New York,” Mike replied. “We only have Stephen’s side of the conversation with Joey. We need to hear the other side.”

“But we don’t know where to find Joey,” I pointed out.

“My people are working on it,” he assured me. “What are you going to tell your agent?”

“That we plan to meet again to talk about our vision for the play, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“Don’t forget blah, blah, blah.”

“Very funny.”

My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my bag. “Hello, Mother. How are you?”

“Do you know why the police want to talk to me again?” she asked, her voice strained.

I glanced at Mike. “No, I have no idea. What makes you think they want to talk to you again?”

“Could you call Mike and ask him? I’m sure he can straighten this out.”

I really didn’t want to take advantage of our relationship by asking him something like that. “Mother, maybe they just want to talk to you since you organized the whole event.”

“I still want you to call Mike.”

Sighing, I said, “Hold on a minute, Mother.” I put the phone on speaker. “Ask him yourself; he’s sitting next to me.”

“Mike, why in the world is one of your officers dragging me back down to the police station?” she said.

“As Cam said, Mrs. Shaw, you organized this event. You may be able to provide more details, which will be useful to us as far as eliminating suspects. That will help us focus our time and energy on pursuing the killer.”

“What is it that you need? Anything in particular?”

“Well, who was sitting at what table would be a good place to start. Those closest to the stage wouldn’t have been able to go near the stage without being seen, while those further back could slip out and no one would notice. We also can  eliminate older people, like my grandfather and your mother, who wouldn’t have been able to climb the stairs, nor would they have the strength to hurt anyone.”

“That’s true.”

“Also, you can provide information about the actors, crew, director, caterer, and any other staff that you employed for the weekend. Things like that will be extremely helpful to our investigation.”

“I had nothing to do with the actors or the crew; you need to talk to Richard about that. But I can help with the other people that you mentioned.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“However, you were overheard having a rather heated argument with the victim on two separate occasions, which means you are a possible suspect in her murder.”

Mother and I gasped at the same time.

“Michael Allan Penhall, wait until your grandfather hears about this!” she said angrily.

“He would probably agree with me, Mrs. Shaw,” Mike calmly said. “I honestly don’t believe you did it. You’re more of a peacemaker than a neck breaker. But I have to be thorough and follow the law. I can’t show favoritism just because I’m dating your daughter.”

Silence.

“Mother, are you there?”

“Chief Penhall, please contact me and let me know when you want me to come down for this interview. Reverend Shaw and I will make ourselves available to you,” Mother said.

“I only need to talk to you, Mrs. Shaw, not your husband.”

“We have been married for forty years, and in that time, we’ve only been apart from each other one day. He either comes with me, or I don’t come at all.”

“Then I will have to come down to the coffeehouse, escort you to my patrol car, stick you in the back seat in front of everyone, and haul you down to the police station like a common criminal.”

“Mike!” I said, surprised by the harsh words. “Hold on a minute, Mother,” I said, muting the call. “Is this a formal interview? What would it hurt if he’s with her? She’ll cooperate more if you let him come. He’s her rock. No matter how strong she sounds, I guarantee you she’s terrified at the thought of being a murder suspect.”

Mike sighed. “Unmute it.”

I hit the button. “Mother, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Shaw, you may bring Reverend Shaw with you.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she said, but I could tell she was still upset.

“See, Mother? Everything will be fine. I’ll see you later. Love you!”

“I love you, too. The jury is still out on that boyfriend of yours.”

“Bye, Mrs. Shaw,” Mike said, but Mother had already hung up.

I sat back in the seat. “You wouldn’t seriously haul my mother in, would you?”

“No, of course not. She got defensive, and it was a knee jerk reaction. That’s my normal ‘I mean business’ response to people who don’t want to cooperate.”

“She’s not refusing to cooperate. She just wants Dad to come with her for moral support.”

“Maybe I can interview her at the coffeehouse. That should put her at ease, right?”

“Probably.”

“Let me see what my schedule is like when we get back. Maybe I can come by tomorrow after the morning rush.”

I put my hand on top of his. “You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”

Mike groaned. “Don’t let it get around. It will ruin my reputation, and the guys at the station will never let me hear the end of it.”

***

After I picked up my car from the police station, I drove by the theatre. Yellow crime scene tape hung limply around the building. I wondered if we were going to be able to hold tonight’s performance. My guess would be no.

I parked near the back door, which went directly into the kitchen. Whoever killed Susan Ingram would have had an escape route already planned out, right? I got out and walked toward the door. There’s no way the killer would have gone this way; there were people in and out of there all evening. Unless they dressed like a waiter, then they would have been able to blend in with everyone else, and then slipped out the back door into the night.

I kept walking, and saw another door near the end of the building. There was yellow tape here as well, in the form of a big giant ‘X’. Was this the door that led to the backstage area? I looked around. The theatre was located in the park behind the old hospital, which was just one block from a main road that went straight to I-35E.

Did Susan plan on crashing the event by making a big entrance? I could picture her slipping in through the back door, her red heels sounding like small rumbles of thunder on the wood floor of the stage. The curtain comes down for the end of the first act, the actors head for the dressing rooms while the crew sets the stage for the next act. She’s hiding behind one of the sets, waiting for the crew to finish. They leave, and she steps out, and heads for the big gold curtain. But a noise stops her. Before she can turn around, a pair of hands grab her pearls, pulling them tight around her neck, holding on until she is no longer breathing. The killer lays her on the floor behind the couch and slips out the back door without being seen by the cast or crew. They would walk up this little hill, get into a car they have stashed by the hospital, and be gone before Susan’s body was found.

I looked around for footprints. The only problem with that was there were too many. I mentally slapped my forehead. The actors and crew would have come back here for a breath of fresh air, when they had a break. I started walking toward the little hill, and found two sets of prints: one small, one large. It still didn’t prove that they came from anyone leaving the theatre. I glanced up, and noticed something white hanging out of a trashcan. I was glad I was wearing my sneakers this morning, and not a good pair of loafers. I made my way up to the trashcan, where a white dress shirt had been thrown inside. A closer look revealed a pair of black pants and a tie. This is what the waiters and waitresses had been wearing last night.

I made my way back to the car, dug my phone out of my bag, and called Mike. “Do you know if your officers searched behind the theatre last night?” I asked him when he answered the phone.

“Just the immediate area, where the caterer had her van parked. Why?”

“Because I just found a waiter’s outfit in a trashcan between the theatre and the hospital.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

I won’t repeat what he said, but I sure as heck didn’t want to be any of his officers when he got a hold of them. “All right, Officer Reagan will be out there in about ten minutes. Stay by your car, and don’t go near the evidence.”

“I doubt very seriously someone is going to come back and get them, Mike. Not after they discarded them as they were getting away last night.”

“You’re probably right, but let’s just play it safe, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Geez, what a worrywart.

But instead of staying by my car, I went back up the hill, past the clothes, and up to the narrow street that ran behind the hospital. The best way to get away would have been to go past the park entrance to a side street, which led directly to a stop light.

I heard a noise behind me, but before I could turn around, something came crashing down on the back of my head, and I fell to the ground face first. Just before I passed out, I saw a black and white pair of shoes.

***

Across town, Mike was on the phone. “What do you mean you can’t find it, Larry?”

“About thirty years ago, there was a fire at the old police station. Tons of evidence boxes were destroyed.”

“Then why do I have the cold case file?”

“Because they were kept in a separate location.”

Suddenly, a pen that was next to Mike’s arm floated in the air, and a piece of paper slid across his desk.

“All right, Larry, I appreciate you looking for it. I gotta go.” Mike hung up as the pen started to fly across the paper.

“Cam in trouble. Theatre.”

Mike just sat there and stared at the words. “Mac?”

“It’s not Little Mary Sunshine. Get off your butt and go!”

Mike grabbed his phone and keys, and ran out the door.