Murder Takes A Bow - A Betty Crawford Mystery (The Betty Crawford Mysteries) (11 page)

Oh no. No. they were not coming in. She scrambled back and slammed the door shut, clicking home the deadbolt. She fished her keys out of her pocket and locked the regular lock, just for safety. The door rattled.

She turned to face the silent, assembled crowd of actors and stage crew.

"Well," she said. "That was interesting." And if he really did do it, maybe they’ll let Clarise go. Though, his performance had seemed a bit… rehearsed. And horribly over the top. "Everyone leave by the back door tonight after we finish up. Try and avoid the press if at all possible. Back to work! I’ll read for Walter’s part until we find a new understudy. Rehearsal starts in five."

Betty watched everyone file in to the auditorium before she called out to the reporters, "You might as well go home! We have a show to put on, and none of us can hear you from the stage."

She heard some grumbling, and the door rattled one more time before falling silent.

Betty turned to go to rehearsal, and had to stop herself from jumping. Melody Biels stood in front of her. The actress pressed her hands together, flexing her fingers hard. Her posture was ramrod straight. She stared off to one side, not meeting her eyes

"I don’t think Walter did it," she said in hushed tones. "I think… well, I heard… I don’t think it was Walter."

She rushed into the auditorium without another word.

Betty stared after her.

CHAPTER 16

Betty was a self employed college graduate in her mid twenties, and the thought of coaching a group of middle school girls was making her nauseas with dread. Was that just a touch pathetic? On the way to practice, Betty went through a mental checklist. Water—check. First Aid Kit—check. Clipboard, pen, and paper—check. Copy of Basketball for Dummies skimmed and stashed in the back seat where hopefully no one would ever find it—check. Sometimes it really did pay off that she had no shame in the bookstore. She may have owned more than her fair share of "Dummies" books, but at least she had a few ideas for practice drills now.

She arrived at the gym half an hour early, and was pleased to note that she was the first one there. The gym was one of those small community center gyms that doubled as an auditorium, with a stage at one end and carts of chairs in the back. Bleachers lined one side. Betty chose a spot on the first row of bleachers, and sat back to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Twenty minutes until practice, and not one early arrival. That couldn’t be good. There were usually at least one or two players that arrived early, wasn’t there? Betty drummed the fingers of one hand on the wooden seat beside her, the noise echoing in the gym.

When the door creaked open at a few minutes before the hour and a woman with a group of children entered, Betty leapt up.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, purposefully going a bit overboard on the cheeriness. Are you here for practice?"

The girls stopped chatting and glared at her. "What are you doing here?" one of the girls asked her. Betty recognized her as one of the point guards.

"I’m coaching today," Betty said, refusing to let go of her optimism. "Are you all ready to play? We’ll start once some more girls get here."

The woman who had entered with the girls shook her head. "I don’t think anyone else will be coming." She shook Betty’s hand. "I’m Gina, Krissie’s Mom. I usually stay to watch the practice. Is that okay?"

"Go right ahead," Betty said. "I don’t mind."

There were five girls. Five. Betty counted twice to make sure she had the number right. That wasn’t enough for a full scrimmage. It was barely enough for a good drill. Still, Betty would work with what she had. They could run some shooting drills and practice plays.

"That’s too bad," she said. "The other girls will miss out. Okay," she said, gesturing for the girls to come closer. "I know we didn’t get off to the best start the other day…"

The girls looked at her incredulously. One of them rolled her eyes. Betty dropped the peppy attitude. The kids clearly weren’t responding to it well. She tried a serious expression instead. "Okay, maybe it was a terrible start. But today will be better, right?

She waited for them to respond." Right?" When their expressions continued to be blank, she plowed ahead. She wasn’t going to give up that easily. "Well, I have a few questions before we start. Can someone tell me what sort of drills Clarise has you doing?"

Once she got them talking, it only took a few minutes for the girls to start losing their acidic edge. They loved being able to pick and choose which drills they practiced, and less players meant that they could all get more turns per drill. Betty helped them learn how to square up to the basket, with their shoulders straight and their feet both pointed towards the hoop. She could see the improvements in their shooting immediately, and felt pride for them bubble up.

Halfway through practice, Betty called a break. The girls came over to her expectantly, and Betty handed out the bottles of water she’d brought. The girls looked at them in confusion. Gina called out, "I brought orange slices if anyone wants them."

Betty groaned. Right. Snacks. That’s what she hadn’t remembered.

"Thank you," she mouthed over the girls’ heads.

"No problem," Gina mouthed back. She flashed Betty a thumbs up. "You’re doing great."

Brrrrrring. Brrrrrring. Betty’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Caller ID said Lofton Police Department

"Can you watch them for a minute?" she asked the mother. "I have to take this."

"No problem."

Betty left the gym, standing just outside the door. "Hello?"

"Betty? This is Sergeant Wes calling. Do you have a moment?"

"Not really, I’m in the middle of coaching a practice."

"Well, you’ll want to come down here as soon as you can. It’s Clarise."

CHAPTER 17

"I’ll be right there."

Betty yanked open the door, not noticing as it bounced off the hinges from her haste. "Sorry everyone. The rest of practice is canceled. I’ll see you all tomorrow."

The team looked at her in confusion.

"But, we haven’t scrimmaged yet. Coach Clarise always has us scrimmage."

"
Yes, well, I’m afraid we won’t get to today."

"Is everything okay?" Gina asked in concern. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

Betty picked up her bags. "No, but thanks." She didn’t want to explain that something was wrong with Clarise in from of the girls. It was bad enough their coach was in jail without them worrying she might be hurt. "Have a good day girls! Great job today."

And with that, she was off and running. She fumbled her keys into the ignition. Her hands were shaking.

Woah. Deep breath Betty. You don’t want to get into an accident on the way there. She placed her forehead on the steering wheel, forcing her heartbeat to slow and her hands to stop trembling. It took much longer than she had patience for.

Clarise needed to see her. What was wrong? Was she okay? Did Walter do something to her? Did she get hurt? The litany of maybes and possible injuries (choking, head trauma, mental breakdown) ran non stop through her head. She pushed all the thoughts to the back of her mind. She could either call the station and waste time to find out exactly what was going on, or she could just drive on over and find out first hand. And she needed to relax. If it was life threatening, they wouldn’t waste time calling her, they’d be getting an ambulance.

In her rear view mirror, Betty saw the team getting into a mini van. They kept casting curious looks at her as Gina ushered them along.

When Betty reached the police station, she had to park a block away and wade her way through the reporters and news vans that had clustered around the entrance. When they refused to give way, she tapped the nearest reporter on the shoulder.

"Do any of you have any idea what's going on?" Betty asked.

The reporter swung towards her, eyes widening as he recognized her from the theater. He grabbed his cameraman. "Film this," he ordered. The camera man hefted the camera into a more sturdy position on his shoulder and pointed it Betty’s way.

"Miss Crawford, Walter Payone said he swung the pipe and hit Jarvis over the head. Do you have any comment?"

Betty glared at the reporter. Like she gave a rat’s ass about Walter right now!

"Walter injured his arm years ago and can barely lift a donut to his mouth. He can't swing a ping pong paddle, let alone a lead pipe." Her temper started to boil over. "Now I have a question for you. Do you research any of the stories you're allegedly covering? Now let me through!" The cameraman lowered his video camera as Betty stormed between him and the stunned reporter without waiting for an answer. When she reached the front doors, Sergeant Wes opened the door for Betty.

"Betty! Where have you been? Clarise is this way." He ushered her towards the same waiting room the two had met in before. Through the window, Betty could see Clarise sitting at the table, her face pressed into her arms. Her shoulders shook. When they entered the room, Betty went straight to the seat next to her and pulled her into a hug.

Clarise broke into noisy sobs, clutching at Betty’s shoulders.

"Shhhh," Betty said, stroking her hair. "Shhh. What happened? What happened Clare? Shh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be just fine. You go ahead and cry. Shhhh."

When Clarise pulled back, Sergeant Wes was right there, handing her a tissue. She blew her nose.

"What happened?" Betty asked again, rubbing Clarise’s shoulder blades.

"Walter. He    he said he saw the whole thing." Tears starting leaking down her cheeks again. "He said he saw me kill Jarvis. Oh Betty, why would he say something like that? It’s not true. It’s not true!"

She started to cry again. Sergeant Wes looked at Betty helplessly. "I don’t know how she heard," he said.

Betty stared at him in disbelief. "You don’t know how she heard? She’s in a prison cell you idiot! One of your officers must have told her!"

"Don’t yell at him," Clarise said quietly. "Wes has been so wonderful." She laughed hollowly. "He even brought me coffee this morning, and he’s spent hours just keeping me company."

Sergeant Wes turned red. "Well…" he coughed, "I know you couldn’t have done something like this. They’ll release you soon, I’m sure of it."

The volume of the press outside picked up a notch. Sergeant Wes grimaced. "That’ll be Walter. They’re releasing him into protective custody."

"Oh really?" Betty asked. They were releasing Walter, but not Clarise? "I’ll be back."

"Betty," Clarise said, "Now, don’t do anything foolish."

Betty looked at her innocently. "Foolish? Never." She smiled at Sergeant Wes. "You keep her company now, will you?" Anger was a comforting fizz under her skin. So Walter wanted to frame Clarise, did he? Well, he’d get his time in the spotlight all right. And he wouldn’t like it. Not one bit.

When she opened the door of the station, Betty saw that Walter was standing on top of a small rock wall, facing the press while he made his statement.

"I confessed to the murder to protect my director. The theater needs her! And as you know I'll do anything, for a show."

"What really happened?" One reporter, a lean and hungry looking girl barely out of her teens, shouted out. Walter bowed in her direction.

"Clarise was coming out of the auditorium when I heard a noise. I looked across the lobby, and there, in Clarise’s office, was Jarvis. I saw Clarise take the lead pipe and  "