Christmas Caramel Murder (3 page)

“Just what we need!” Hannah muttered under her breath, but she managed to maintain her pleasant expression as she turned to her mother. “Do you know how much candy the Lake Eden Players sold at their performance last year?”

“I don't have a dollar amount, but I do know that all our local charities were extremely grateful for their donations.”

“Could you get us a copy of last year's order from the candy company?” Lisa asked, clearly realizing why Hannah wanted that information. “We need to know the quantities to be certain that we make enough.”

“Of course you need to know the quantity. I should have thought of that. I'll run over to Tory Bascomb's temporary office and ask her.” Delores paused to take a bite of her cookie. “And by the way, dears . . . these cookies are fantastic. I love the fact that they have chocolate chips inside.”

“I'll tell Andrea you said so,” Hannah promised. “More coffee, Mother?”

“No, dear. I really must go.” Delores got up from her stool. “I have a million things to do today. Have fun baking, dears. And be sure to save samples of any new cookies you try. I love to test new cookies for you.”

Hannah waited until the back kitchen door had closed behind her mother, and then she turned to Lisa. “Okay, Lisa . . . give!”

“Give what?”

“There's more to this Herb and Phyllis thing than you're telling me.”

“You're imagining things,” Lisa said, but she looked down at the worktable, not meeting Hannah's eyes.

“I don't think so. And it'll probably help to talk about it. Tell me what's wrong, Lisa.”

Lisa sat there in silence for a moment, and then she gave a deep sigh. “Herb's been working late every single night this month. I know he loves me and I know that I should trust him, but it's
every
night.”

“When did this start?”

“A couple days after Mayor Bascomb transferred Phyllis to Herb's office.”

It was Hannah's turn to sigh. “Did you drive past Herb's office to see if he was there?”

“Yes, after it happened five nights in a row. And Hannah. . . Herb wasn't there!”

“Maybe he was out on patrol?”

“No. His cruiser was in the lot, right where he always parks it. But his personal car was gone!”

That didn't sound good, and Hannah reached out to pat Lisa's shoulder. “Did you try to find him?”

“Yes. I drove past Dad's house because I thought he might have gone over there to help his mother with something. He wasn't there, and I didn't go in to ask if they'd seen him. I was too embarrassed. I didn't want them to think I was tracking him down!”

“Of course not. Did you try anywhere else?”

“Yes.” Lisa gave a little nod. “I drove past every place I could think of, anywhere I thought he might go.”

Hannah hated to ask the logical question, but there was no way she could leave that particular stone unturned. “Did you drive past Phyllis Bates's apartment?”

“Yes,” Lisa admitted and she looked shamefaced. “I know that a wife should trust her husband, but when I couldn't find Herb anywhere else, I drove out to The Oaks. I didn't want to, but I just had to know!”

“Of course you did,” Hannah reassured her partner, remembering the night she'd driven past the back of the Magnolia Blossom Bakery and spotted Mike's car there. “Was Herb there?”

“No. At least I don't
think
he was there. I didn't spot his car in the visitor parking section.”

“How about Phyllis's car?”

“It was in her parking spot. I tried to convince myself that if Phyllis was home and Herb's car wasn't there, he couldn't be with Phyllis. But then I noticed that there were no lights on in her apartment.”

“What time was that?”

“A quarter to ten.”

“Maybe she was tired and she went to bed early,” Hannah suggested, even though she doubted that Lisa would accept that explanation.

“On the
weekend
?” Lisa asked, sounding incredulous. “Phyllis is a party girl. Herb told me that, even back in high school, she'd stay up late and barely make it to school on time the next morning. Their first class was history, and Phyllis slept through it almost every day. Herb had to give her his notes or she would have flunked.”

“Herb's right,” Hannah conceded. “I sat right across from her and she fell asleep almost every morning. As a matter of fact, she asked me to poke her if she dropped her pen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Lisa gave a little shrug. “I can't help but wonder if Herb picked Phyllis up at her place and they went somewhere together. I shouldn't be thinking like that, but maybe Mayor Bascomb isn't the only married man Phyllis has set out to seduce.”

L
isa wore a slight frown as she got out of Hannah's truck at Jordan High. It was clear that she didn't like what she felt compelled to do. “I feel like I'm spying on Herb by coming here,” she confessed as their boots crunched through the freshly fallen snow as they walked toward the entrance of the school auditorium.

“Do you want to forget about it and go home?” Hannah asked her.

“No. I'd just sit there worrying about where Herb was and what he was doing. And thanks to your mother, we do have a perfect excuse for dropping in uninvited.”

“That's right.” Hannah pulled the heavy door open, and they stepped into the lobby of the auditorium. “We have to pick up the Christmas gift bags from Tory Bascomb. She told Mother she'd leave them on the table in the back of the theater.”

Lisa still looked concerned. “Do you think Herb will think it's strange if we sit down in the back and watch the ending of the play?”

“Absolutely not. He'd be hurt if you told him you were here and you didn't stay to watch his Santa Claus appearance.”

“Right,” Lisa said, but she didn't sound convinced as she followed Hannah through the inner doors to the auditorium.

The Jordan High auditorium served dual purposes. It was a gymnasium for physical education classes and a basketball court during basketball season. When a theater setting was required, it was a simple matter to pull the velvet curtains partially closed and lower the wall-like curtains that were stored near the ceiling to form a stage at the front center of the court. The unused area at the sides and back served as a large backstage area where the actors could wait for their cues before they appeared onstage. The footlights were cleverly concealed below the floor at the very front, and the stagehands simply released the fasteners that held that section of flooring in place and engaged a lever so the lights swiveled up above the surface of the floor.

Since a rehearsal of the Christmas play was in progress, the basketball court that had been in use the previous night had been turned into a stage setting. The audience area was illuminated only by the lights from the stage, and Lisa and Hannah were quiet as they took seats in the back row to watch the end of the rehearsal.

On the brightly illuminated stage, the Cratchit family was seated around the table for their Christmas feast, and the actor playing Scrooge was with them. Now that Hannah's eyes had adjusted to the lighting, she glanced around the darkened audience area. Counting Lisa and Hannah, there were only six people watching the rehearsal. The director, Tory Bascomb, was seated in the exact center of the audience section, flanked by two nonperforming members of the Lake Eden Players, Irma York and Bonnie Surma, who were acting as her assistants. Immediately in front of Tory was the costume designer, Trudi Schumann. Tory was making notes on a lighted clipboard, and Hannah assumed that she would go over her comments with the cast after rehearsal had concluded.

Bob Cratchit's wife entered, carrying a platter with what was supposed to be a roasted goose, but looked much more like a turkey to Hannah. Mrs. Cratchit set the platter down in the center of the table to a volley of cheers and applause from the diners. Hannah was so busy wondering where the Lake Eden Players' prop master had found a fake turkey that she almost missed the final line of the play. She returned her attention to the stage just in time to hear the boy Tory Bascomb had cast as Tiny Tim, the real son of the actor playing Bob Cratchit, deliver his famous, often-quoted line.

“God bless us, every one,” the childish voice rang out loud and clear. There were several long moments of silence onstage while everyone smiled at Tiny Tim, and then Tory Bascomb rose to her feet.

“Curtain!” she yelled. “It's not a tableau, for heaven's sake! Are you back there, Freddy? Or did you decide to take a coffee break?”

“I don't drink coffee, Miss Bascomb!” a male voice, somewhat muffled by the heavy curtains, responded. “Doc says it's not good for me because it makes me too nervous.”

“All right then. Listen carefully, Freddy. I've told you this at least a dozen times and I'll skin you alive if you don't get it right on opening night! The instant Tiny Tim delivers his final line, I want you to count to five, and then ring down the curtain.”

“I can't, Miss Bascomb.”

“Why?”

“Because this curtain doesn't ring. Only bells ring. And this curtain doesn't go down, either. It only goes sideways.”

The actor playing Bob Cratchit slapped his hand over his mouth and turned away from the audience. Hannah saw his shoulders shake, and she knew he was laughing. Freddy Sawyer had been born developmentally challenged, but he was a talented handyman and he was willing to work hard. And actually, Freddy did have a point. Tory Bascomb had told him to “ring down” the curtain, and she hadn't explained what that meant.

“Ring down the curtain is a theater phrase, Freddy.” Tory did her best to modulate her voice, but she still sounded angry. “All it means is to close the curtains so the audience can't see the actors.”

“And the actresses?”

“Yes, and the actresses, too.”

“Oh. Okay. I can do that,” Freddy said, sounding eager to please the famous actor-director. “I'm sorry I got it wrong, Miss Bascomb.”

Irma York, who was acting as one of Tory's assistants, leaned over to whisper something in Tory's ear. Tory nodded, and cleared her throat.

“It's okay, Freddy. Irma's going to come backstage right before the play ends, and she'll tell you when to ring down . . . er . . . never mind. Bonnie will tell you when to close the curtains.”

“Gee thanks, Miss Bascomb!” Freddy said, sounding greatly relieved. “I like Irma. She's a friend.”

“All right. One more time, people. Let's take it from Mrs. Cratchit's entrance.”

Irma climbed the four steps at the side of the auditorium that led up to the stage level and ducked behind the velvet curtains. The actors maintained the places, and the final moments of the play were repeated. Tiny Tim spoke his line, five seconds passed, and then the curtains closed.

“Perfect!” Tory called out. “Good job, Freddy! I'm going to let Irma stay back there and cue you for our Santa and Mrs. Claus appearance. Irma? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Miss Bascomb.”

“We'll open the curtains right after the actors clear and the stagehands dress the set for Santa. Cue Freddy when it's time, will you?”

“Yes, Miss Bascomb,” Irma answered, sounding every bit as muffled as Freddy had earlier.

“Sound? Listen up. We'll need the sleigh bells. Make them soft at first and then gradually louder until they reach a peak.”

“Got it, Miss Bascomb,” someone said from backstage.

“Stagehands?” Tory raised her voice so that the crew could hear her backstage. “I'll need you to move the table to the back of the set just as soon as the actors clear. Then bring in the tree and light it. Set Santa's rocking chair next to the tree.”

“Yes, Miss Bascomb,” another male voice answered.

“Irma? Just as soon as the stagehands are clear, cue Herb and Phyllis to take their positions in the wings. Then cue Freddy to open the curtains to the dressed, but empty, set.”

“Empty, Miss Bascomb?” Irma asked.

“Yes. And the moment the curtains are open fully, the sleigh bells will begin to ring to announce the arrival of Santa and Mrs. Claus. Does everyone have that progression?”

There were murmured assents from behind the curtains, and Tory continued her instructions. “When the sleigh bells reach a peak, Santa and Mrs. Claus will enter stage right. Santa will give us one
‘Ho! Ho! Ho!'
and then go directly to his rocker. Once seated, Mrs. Claus will hand him his lap robe and retire to the table, where the Christmas gift bags will be arranged. Is everyone clear on that, so far?”

Again, there were assenting murmurs. Tory waited for a moment and then she called out, “Action!”

Once the curtains opened, Hannah turned to watch Lisa's face in the reflected light from the stage. She looked extremely nervous, and her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white.

“Relax. It'll be fine,” Hannah whispered, even though she had no valid reason to think that it would be so. Then the sleigh bells began to ring, growing louder and louder, until Santa and Mrs. Claus walked out on the stage.

Hannah heard Lisa's sharp exhalation of breath, and she realized that she had also given a gasp of shock. When she turned to look, Lisa was staring at the stage with an expression of disbelief. Hannah couldn't blame her one bit. Phyllis was wearing a Mrs. Claus costume that was unlike anything Hannah had ever seen before in her life.

The red velvet bodice was so tight, Hannah wondered why she couldn't see the bulge of the fasteners on Phyllis's brassiere. Then she realized that perhaps Phyllis wasn't wearing a brassiere, and she was even more shocked than she'd been before. The red velvet skirt of the costume was short. Very short. And with the display of unadorned skin with no protection from the winter elements, Mrs. Claus would have been flash frozen like a Popsicle in no time flat.

Santa Claus was wearing heavy winter boots. The height came just under his knees, and the boots matched the ones that had been depicted on countless Christmas cards. Mrs. Claus, on the other hand, was wearing fire-engine-red patent-leather, knee-high boots that perfectly matched the color of her red velvet costume. The heels on the boots were pencil thin, and Phyllis looked erotically alluring. She was a modern, very sexy Mrs. Claus, and no one would ever mistake her for the overweight, jolly, grey-haired Mrs. Claus that smiled continually and baked cookies for Santa's elfin toy-makers.

Hannah turned to look at Lisa, who appeared every bit as scandalized as Hannah was. Phyllis Bates wasn't playing Mrs. Claus. She was playing a
Playboy
bunny dressed up as a sexy, over-the-top Mrs. Claus.

Lisa gave an audible gasp as Mrs. Claus bent over to tuck in the lap robe around Santa's knees. Hannah felt like groaning, too. It wasn't her place to do it, but someone had better tell Phyllis never to bend over!

Trudi Schumann turned around to say something to Tory Bascomb. Tory nodded and rose to her feet.

“Mrs. Claus!” Tory called out.

Phyllis stopped arranging the lap robe and turned to face their director. “Yes?”

“Where did you get your costume? And don't try to tell me it was from our costume department, because I know we don't have anything like
that
!”

Phyllis tossed her head, which would normally cause her blond hair to swing in a graceful arc. Now, however, the effect was lost due to the short, curly Mrs. Santa wig she was wearing. “The Mrs. Claus costume you have didn't fit me. I had to go to Minneapolis to get this one.”

“Which doesn't fit you, either. It's much too short, much too brief, and much too tight.”

“No, this one fits perfectly!” Phyllis argued.

Hannah held her breath. Tory Bascomb had a legendary temper, and Hannah expected it to manifest itself at any moment.

“You're right, Miss Bates. It certainly does fit. It's the perfect costume for a Christmas show in a strip club. But . . . my dear girl . . .
this
is not a strip club. This is general entertainment for men, women, and children of all ages. And there is no way that I will allow you on my stage in a lap dancer's costume!”

Tory turned to Trudi. “Is there any way you can alter our Mrs. Claus costume to fit Miss Bates so that she can return her lamentable and unfortunate choice?”

“Of course, Miss Bascomb. All I need are her measurements and I can have it ready by tomorrow.” Even in the darkened theater, Hannah saw that Trudi's lips were twitching with laughter. “I can do it, no problem.”

“Then get right on it after tonight's rehearsal. And thank you, Trudi. You've saved us from total disaster.” Tory turned to face the stage again. “Now let us put this unfortunate incident behind us and rehearse the rest of the Santa appearance. Miss Bates?”

“Yes?”

Hannah's eyes widened. It was clear that Phyllis was not cowed by the famous director's tone.

“Please go to the table, pick up an imaginary Christmas gift bag, and carry it to Santa.”

Hannah and Lisa watched as Phyllis walked to the table, pretended to pick up something from the surface, and returned to hand the nonexistent object to Herb.

“Very good. We'll have a silver tray for the bags the night of the performance. Our prop department tray will hold a dozen bags. All you'll have to do is pick up the tray, stand next to Santa, and hand the bags to him, one by one, after a child is seated on his lap.” Tory stopped speaking to smile at Herb. “This year, Trudi has fashioned a new lap robe. Not only is it washable, she has wisely inserted a rubber sheet inside the lining. As our Santa knows quite well, some of the younger children in the audience become a bit too excited when they sit on Santa's lap. This new, improved lap robe should generate a goodly savings for the Lake Eden Players in dry-cleaning costs during the holiday season.”

There was a burst of general laughter from backstage, and Hannah glanced at Lisa. Lisa was smiling, and she leaned over to whisper in Hannah's ear.

“They had to dry-clean Herb's costume three times last year. The rubber sheet was my idea.”

Tory cleared her throat. “Are you ready, Miss Bates?”

“Ready for what?”

The question from Phyllis was casual, and Hannah realized that Phyllis was not at all intimidated, even after being dressed down in public by their famous director. Hannah glanced at Lisa, who was frowning slightly, and then she turned back to the stage just in time to watch Tory Bascomb give her next instruction for Herb and Phyllis.