“I see you’re wearing the pendant.”
“I love it.” Seeing an opening, she added, “I don’t suppose you have another. I’d love to have a garnet…or even an amethyst. Of course, I’d expect—demand—to pay for it this time.” Then Angie realized that might not have been the best thing to say. She didn’t think Cilla was in this for the money. The shop was a way to cover her disease.
Cilla sipped from her cup then set it down in the saucer. “I might have one.”
Angie feigned great interest; she set down her cup and widened her eyes. “Can I see it?”
Cilla’s surprise caused her to nearly tip over her cup. “I-I… What if we do it in the morning? That way the show will be out from under you, and you can take time to look around. I saw you admiring those paintings. He’s a local artist.”
Angie fingered the sapphire. “I really love this stone. I hope you have a similar setting. Where did you get this one?”
“Er, ah, I can’t really remember.” Cilla picked up the cup, then set it down. “Yes, now that I think about it, I do recall. A neighbor died. Her family brought most all her things to me.”
The waitress brought Angie’s soup. As she deposited the bowl on the table Angie didn’t miss Cilla’s slight nod at something over Angie’s shoulder. At the same time, she slid across the vinyl upholstery as though making room for someone to sit. Angie glanced up to see that Josh had arrived. As he eased in beside her, Cilla threw Angie an
I’m sorry
glance that didn’t fool her for a second.
“Good afternoon, Angie,” Josh said.
His voice sounded friendly but his eyes told her danger loomed. Thankfully Jarvis and company were near. Unfortunately, they couldn’t see Josh’s face, or hear his words.
“Nice to see you, Josh.”
“Sorry to intrude on your girl party. I was passing and thought I’d come say hello to my wife.”
“You’re welcome to join us.”
Josh waved off the waitress. Once she was out of hearing range, he said, “It’s no use making small talk. I know you’re on to Cilla.”
What could she say?
“We want to make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“To buy your silence.” Josh raked a hand through his hair. Then he grasped Cilla’s hand, lying on the table beside her cup. “You realize she’s got a disease, don’t you?”
“There are treatments.”
“She’s been through all that. Psychiatrists…digging into her head, into our private lives. We’ve been trying, on our own, to lick this thing.”
“What sort of deal would you offer?”
Again, his fingers pushed through his hair. “We own a cottage—in the Berkshires. It’s yours. Or money. We don’t have a lot but I could scrounge some.”
Angie pretended to consider the offer. “What if you bring me a couple more of these?”
“No!” came Josh’s sharp reply. “We’re trying to
keep
her from any more…of that.”
Angie understood the kind of love that formed Josh’s emotions. And his offer. Total and complete desperation to keep his wife out of jail. It would also cause the personality changes that had Cilla so upset. Upset enough to think he might be cheating.
“Where is the cottage exactly?”
“In the mountains. It’s small and secluded. No neighbors. Fireplace, with all the bells and whistles.”
Angie again thought as she finished the rest of the now-cold coffee. “I am truly sorry for your troubles. I know how these things can get out of hand. I really think you should seek out professional assistance. Yes, it’s intrusive but it’s a method that works. Trust me.” When neither Philmore reacted to her statement, she said, “All right, Mr. Philmore. I’ll take your deal. Do you want me to sign something, to swear not to open my mouth?”
“That won’t be necessary. You have an honest face. I can just sign over the deed to you.”
Angie unzipped her handbag. Josh’s hand shot out to stop her. “The meal’s on us.” As she stood up, so did Josh. He took hold of her hand. His was very cold and sent shivers up her arm. “We appreciate this, really.”
As Angie left, she passed José on his way into the restaurant. She pretended not to know him.
FORTY-ONE
After leaving the wire off at the police station, Jarvis took Angelina back to the hotel to change clothes and pick up some pain meds. He would’ve liked to stay a bit longer in the great penthouse suite and explore new horizons, but they were short on time so he didn’t bring up the subject. Plenty of time for that starting tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, he would do what he could to bring their relationship to the “next level,” though he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. Perhaps new scenery. No, no, he’d tried
that
plan last month and it nearly got them both killed.
No, what they needed was a new outlook. A plan for the relationship itself. Angelina thrived on order and symmetry; she would be up for a discussion on this topic. Yes, a hike up Mount Major. There was a perfect spot near the crest. He’d bring her favorite lunch—veggie wraps with herb dressing. And he
wouldn’t
mention marriage. All he would talk about was their overall relationship, that it was good but what could they do to make it better, closer, more simpatico, between them?
Angelina came out of the bathroom wearing the new dress she’d gotten at Cilla’s shop. It was—well, there were no words to describe how she looked. With her hair twisted up on her head, it left her shoulders bare and begging to be touched. Still he didn’t make a move. Did she look disappointed?
He grinned inside. Yes, let her stew a little.
They stopped for dinner at a small, quiet restaurant where, several times, she accused him of “being in outer space.” He’d smiled knowingly and kept eating as tomorrow’s plans churned and grew in his mind.
With bellies full of pasta, they headed to the school for the final show. He had to admit, she’d done a great job. The relationship Angelina had developed with the kids came as a complete surprise to him. And possibly to her also. Many times over the year and half he’d known her, she’d said how she and kids didn’t get along. That lack of rapport was the real reason she never wanted children. But time and again, over the last week, he’d seen how she handled problems, settled disputes, organized situations. And bonded with the kids—particularly with Kiana Smith. It was amazing.
Suddenly Jose’s words boomed into Jarvis’s head. “Right now, I’m zoned in on Kiana Smith as the killer.” Jarvis himself couldn’t see it, but…what if it turned out to be true? That would blow Angelina all to hell.
A few cars were in the lot. He recognized many of them as belonging to the kids.
Inside the dressing room—that still smelled like a locker room, and would smell like a locker room even if a million air fresheners hung from the ceiling—people bustled back and forth in normal pre-show excitement. The excitement was like a physical thing. It was almost as though he could see it. He could tell Angelina felt it too. Of course she would. She straightened up and dove into the crowd.
Evan stopped to say hello. He had on the costume for his first scene—black jeans and a leather jacket that reminded Jarvis of his one-time appearance on stage. The boy looked calm and well rested.
“How’s it going?” Jarvis asked.
Evan read the correct meaning into his words. “I’m coming to terms with things. Kee is helping.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I know there’s no future for us.”
“Not sure what you mean.”
He threw up his hands. “Look at her! She’s got it all, looks, intelligence. And she’s focused—determined. What would she see in somebody like me?”
“Want to know what I think?”
“Sure.” His eyes said he wasn’t just being polite; he really did want to know, so Jarvis said, “She cares for you more than she wants to show.”
He didn’t ask how Jarvis knew. He didn’t ask why she wouldn’t show it. He
did
ask, “How do I get through to her?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Whatever it is.” Angelina’s voice sent tingles up his arms as she stepped up beside them, “he’s right. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Did you hear what we said?” Evan asked.
“No. But if it comes from Jarvis, it’s good advice. By the way, I’m sure you know Kiana’s starting work at Prince and Pauper on Monday.”
Evan nodded. “That’ll really help toward her scholarship.”
“My partner and I are in the midst of a new production. We’re having a terrible time with the musical score. We wondered if you might agree to come help us with it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We’ll understand.”
“No! I want to. I just—why would you—oh, never mind. I’ll be there after school.”
“We’ll have to work something out because of the distance you have to travel. It wouldn’t make sense to drive every day. Probably what we’ll do, if it’s okay with all your parents, is have you come and stay for the weekends.”
This announcement had Jarvis’s head swinging around so fast he almost hurt himself. Had she just offered to bring two strangers—teens nonetheless—into her anally neat home? He must’ve misheard.
When she added, “My partner has generously offered to let you stay with him,” Jarvis relaxed. His senses hadn’t gone totally off-kilter.
One of the stagehands ran up to them. “Does anybody know where the box of jewelry is?”
“It was on the table over there.” Evan pointed across the room.
“It’s not there.”
Angelina gestured to a line of wooden benches between the rows of lockers. “It was over there last night.”
“Thanks.” They all turned and watched the boy hurry there and bend, back to them, and begin tearing through the mile-high stash of stuff.
Angelina’s, “Oh. My. God,” got Jarvis and Evan’s instant attention.
Jarvis couldn’t stop the wide grin that broke onto his face. Which made Evan frown. In most people’s worlds, those words would bring worry or all-encompassing fear.
“What’s so funny?” Evan asked.
“Not funny. This is great! It means she’s figured things out. Put the puzzle pieces together.”
“She knows who murdered Gwen?”
Evan’s words captured the attention of several people. Word spread like an atomic explosion. Soon the entire cast and crew had gathered around them, crammed in a long oval shape between the rows of lockers.
A concerned Kiana elbowed between two boys and came to stand beside Angelina.
“Okay,” Jarvis said, “spill it.”
But his woman was in another place. Pacing in a wide circle, between Jarvis, Evan and Kiana and the stagehands. Jarvis gestured for them to back up and make room.
Angelina was muttering. He could only pick up a few words now and then as she passed. “Birth certificate…” A headshake. “Marriage license…photos.” Another head shake. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. Not the cops.” She slapped a palm on one temple. “Stupid.” Another slap. “Think. Think.”
Suddenly she stopped pacing and shook herself back to the present. She noticed everyone gawking at her and gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry guys. False alarm. I thought I had it.”
Many disappointed faces showed around the group. But Jarvis remained undaunted. It meant she was working on things. It meant a solution would be forthcoming. Soon.
A check of the clock said they needed to be moving outdoors. Cast members gathered what they needed and together they all filed outside.
“Oh wait,” Angelina said. “I have to use the ladies room.”
“Go ahead,” Jarvis told the kids. “I’ll wait for her. We’ll be right out.” He let the door swing shut and stood near the bench while Angelina disappeared into the toilet area.
To pass the time, he wandered around the locker room looking for the missing box of jewelry, and didn’t find it. He checked his watch. She’d been in there almost ten minutes. Unusual for her to be gone so long. Probably she’d zoned into that other world and was working out murder clues. He knocked on the door. The sound echoed off the cement block walls.
No answer. He knocked again and called her name.
Still nothing.
* * * *
Angie wanted to shout for Jarvis to run for help. But she knew him. Knew he’d come storming in. And get himself hurt. But the gun to her temple prevented her from shouting a warning.
As expected, the door burst open. Jarvis erupted into the room, gun drawn. Her captor spun around, an elbow caught her on the side of the head. An explosion of pain toppled her sideways. She knocked her head on the wall. Everything went black. As she sagged to the floor, a gun went off.
FORTY-TWO
Angie came to with somebody kneeling beside her. Fingers came away from her throat—somebody checking her pulse? Or sizing her for a garrote? As her vision cleared, she could see the original situation hadn’t improved. She’d been in the cubicle when Jarvis entered. Now she was lying on the floor in front of the row of sinks. To the left were the showers. Slightly behind were the toilet stalls, where one of the toilets whooshed water from a faulty valve. She’d been checking it when the attacker struck her.
Rays from a streetlight streamed through the half-dozen rectangular windows near the ceiling, and illuminated her most recent predicament. From outside, the muffled voices of gathering spectators almost overshadowed the sound of the water.
She raised a hand to brush hair from her face and came away with something sticky. There was no mistaking the blood on her hand.
“Good, you’re awake. I wouldn’t want you dying yet.”
Tears prevented her seeing behind the gun waving in her face, but the voice was chillingly familiar. And not completely unexpected.
“Why are you doing this?” Stupid question. The reason was clear as mountain spring water.
“Sit up.” Pushing back the pain vaulting around in her head, Angie struggled to a sitting position by bracing her hands on either side of her. One hand touched wetness. She didn’t have to be a detective to know it too was blood.
The gruesome situation took a turn for the worse seeing Jarvis sprawled beside her. In the pool of blood. He lay in a semi-fetal position facing away from her. Blood encircled his torso. She reached out to touch him, to seek a pulse, to do something, but the gun menaced closer and she jerked her hand back.