Murder Checks Out, page 9
“So she blamed Kurt, not for the murder, but for getting her dad involved with the wrong people?”
“Exactly. And to be honest, I think she did eventually wonder if Kendrick had anything to do with her dad’s murder. She was always trying to dig up dirt on him. Who knows? Maybe she did, in the end. And perhaps Kendrick decided to silence her before she shared that evidence with the cops.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “So now you’re accusing Mr. Kendrick of murdering Wendy?”
“No, no, of course not.” Tim stared up and over my head. “I’d never do such a thing. Although,” he added, lowering his gaze to look me in the eye, “I might’ve mentioned some of this to the detectives who kept pestering me with questions concerning the business and my relationship with Wendy and all that. Just to make sure all bases were covered, you understand.”
I drew myself up to my full, if still unimpressive, height. I did understand. Tim Thompson was throwing Kurt into the snake pit of suspicion for some reason. Perhaps, I thought, to deflect from his own guilt? Whatever the reason, the man standing before me had now rocketed to the top of my own personal list of suspects.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Tim,” I said, hoping my anger wasn’t too evident in my voice. “But I must get home now, and I’m sure you want to collect your dinner and be on your way too.” I marched past him without waiting for a reply and threw open my car door. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slammed the door with a little too much force.
Tim Thompson stepped away as I backed up my car. I couldn’t tell for certain, but it almost looked like he was smiling.
Chapter Ten
I left work a little early, reassured by volunteers Zelda and Denise that they could handle the rest of the day. Carrying one of the coolers up onto our front porch, I opened the door and walked in on a truly adorable sight. Richard was seated on the sofa, holding a children’s book, while Ella and Nicky snuggled up on either side of him. Not to mention Fosse was sprawled across Ella’s thighs and Loie was curled up in Nicky’s lap.
I paused for a moment, a wave of emotion flooding my chest. It was a feeling of love so overwhelming that tears welled in my eyes. In that moment, I knew I would do anything to protect my family. I’d even kill, I realized, a thought that reinforced the concept that anyone could commit murder, given the proper motivation.
“Oh, hi there,” Richard said, looking up from the book to meet my emotional gaze. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, it’s fine,” I replied, using my gloved finger to sweep away a tear. “But I could use a hand with a couple of coolers when you have a minute.”
Richard closed the book and leapt up from the sofa. “Of course. Just set that down.” He turned to look down at Ella and Nicky. “Sorry, kids, story time is over. I need to help your mom. We’ll read the rest another time, okay?”
The twins bobbed their heads in unison. “We can read some of the words, Mommy,” Ella said. “At least I can.”
“Me too!” Nicky bounced off the sofa, dislodging Loie, who meowed her disapproval and rolled over to rest against the pillow pressed against the sofa arm. Nicky turned to face us, his hands on his hips and his knobby elbows akimbo. “Ella doesn’t read any better than me.”
Richard, reaching me, quirked his dark eyebrows. “They both were picking up a lot of words,” he said. “I bet they’ll be reading by themselves in a month or two.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I lifted my face for a quick kiss. “There’s a cooler on the porch and another in the trunk.”
“Our dinner, I take it?” Richard asked as Nicky ran over, arms up, looking for a hug.
“Dinners, actually. I got enough for a couple of days.” I picked up Nicky and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready to decorate the tree?”
A lock of his dark hair fell into his eyes as he vigorously nodded his head.
“Me too!” Ella, who’d been soothing the cats’ disdain at being dumped from laps, slid off the sofa and dashed over to join us just as Richard headed outside.
I set Nicky down and picked her up for her own hug and kiss. “As soon as Daddy brings in the coolers, we’ll get started. What do you say?”
“Yes!” Ella wriggled in my arms.
Setting her down beside her brother, I pointed toward the tree, which had been set up in one corner of the living room. “Okay, let me take off my coat and stuff, and I’ll help open the ornament boxes.”
Both children turned and dashed to the tree. “I want my nutcracker to go in the very front,” Ella said, referencing the duplicate ornament she’d made when we created our contributions for the library tree.
“No, my mouse king!” Nicky faced off with his sister. Standing together, their resemblance was more striking.
Especially when both of them are giving off those familial stubborn vibes, I thought with a little smile.
“Plenty of room on the tree for both to be front and center,” Richard said, kicking open the door so he could use both hands to carry in one of the coolers.
I grabbed the edge of the front door and closed it behind him. “You guys did pick out a full tree. Lots of branches to fill.”
“You know that’s how I like things, nicely rounded but not too tall,” Richard said, giving me a wink as he walked past me.
I swung my right foot at him. He just laughed and headed for the kitchen.
Ella stared at me, her gray eyes widening. “Why’d you try to kick Daddy?”
“I didn’t—I wouldn’t. Just shaking out my foot,” I said, as heat flushed my cheeks. “Now, let’s start hanging some of the ornaments, shall we?”
* * *
Later, after the children were in bed and Richard had returned from his rehearsal, he and I settled on the sofa, enjoying a glass of wine and admiring our decorated tree. Fosse and Loie, curled up like a yin-yang symbol on the seat of an adjacent armchair, paid the tree no attention, which was a pattern I hoped would continue.
Our tree didn’t exude the elegance of Aunt Lydia’s, and some of the ornaments—like the paper cutouts heavily doused in glitter that the twins had made at kindergarten—were a little tattered, but it was still beautiful in my eyes. We’d used small multicolored LED lights that could be set to twinkle on and off. Of course, Ella and Nicky preferred that option, and even though I would’ve chosen a steady glow, I’d acquiesced to their request.
“Because Christmas, you know? It should be magical for kids,” I said as I rested my head against Richard’s shoulder.
“Only for kids?” Richard leaned over and kissed my temple. “I don’t know. I think it can be rather enchanting for adults as well.”
“Well, you would, wouldn’t you, with your magical growing tree and nutcrackers turning into princes and all that,” I said, laying my hand on the taut muscles of his upper thigh.
“Please don’t mention the tree,” Richard said, pressing his hand over mine. “We’ve been having some troubles with that. Blasted thing wants to get stuck every other time we test it.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” I leaned forward to grab my wineglass from the coffee table.
“I do have an idea. It would be a drastic change, but it might be fun, and a little more innovative too,” Richard said.
I took a long swallow of wine. “Oh, what would that be?”
“I think I’ll keep that as a surprise,” Richard said, squeezing my hand before releasing it and picking up his own wineglass. “Something you can look forward to when you see the full production for the first time.”
“All right, that sounds like fun. I’ve seen The Nutcracker more times than I can count, so something different would be nice.”
“You haven’t seen this version.” Richard sipped his wine for a moment. “I hope people will understand how we had to change things to make it work with contemporary dancers. We do have a few ballet dancers in the mix, but most of it is quite different, even though the music remains the same.”
I set down my glass and swiveled so I could look him directly in the face. “It will be brilliant, of course. With you and Karla in charge, what else could it be?”
“A disaster?” Richard drank a gulp of the wine.
“That’s just your perfectionism talking.” I gently took the glass from his hand and set it on the coffee table, then leaned in to give him a proper kiss. “Now listen, you—no doubting your genius.”
“Or what?” he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders and holding me at arm’s length. “If you mean you’ll have to kiss me into confidence, I might have to become swamped with doubt.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” I slid away and slumped back against the sofa cushions.
“Pity.” Richard slid his arm around my shoulders and hugged me to his side. “Oh, by the way, speaking of Nutcracker, you need to take the kids in for a final costume fitting either tomorrow morning or Saturday.”
“Really?” I sighed. “I guess I’ll do it tomorrow, although I do need to clean this house before your mother gets here.”
“I’ll help with that.”
“When will you have time? With the production going into tech week on Sunday, you’ll barely be around. Not that it’s your fault,” I added, snuggling closer to him. “Anyway, I’m just going to do the best I can. If Fiona isn’t happy with that, well, she can get a hotel room.”
Richard looked down at me, amusement sparkling in his gray eyes. “That would be a conversation I wouldn’t mind missing.” He brushed my hair back from my forehead with his free hand. “But seriously, you don’t have to kill yourself getting the place ready for Mom. She’ll have to take it or leave it. Anyway, she’ll mainly be focused on the kids.”
“I know.” I stared up at the ceiling fan, whose still blades cast long shadows across our white beadboard ceilings. “Speaking of killing, I had the most uncomfortable conversation with someone today, concerning Wendy Blackstone and her connection to Kurt.”
As I filled Richard in on all the details of my encounter with Tim Thompson, his expression grew increasingly troubled.
“I can’t picture Kurt pushing someone down a flight of stairs and leaving them lying there, can you?” he asked when I finished talking.
“Not really. But if what Tim Thompson says is true, Kurt did have a close relationship with Wendy’s father and she apparently blamed him for getting her dad killed, so there was a connection between them, and an antagonistic one at that.”
“If what Thompson said is true. From your impression of him, I can easily imagine that he was lying to cover his own tracks,” Richard said.
“Which means he’s someone who needs a closer look.” I slid to the edge of the sofa cushion. “I wonder if there are any reports of conflicts he might’ve had with Wendy. Sure, they were partners, but that doesn’t mean they always got along. In fact, when I spoke with Jaden Perez, who stopped by the library recently, he said they were often at odds.”
“I’m certain you’ll be digging into that possibility as soon as you can.” Richard stood, gazing down at me with concern. “Just be careful, Amy. Thompson sounds like someone who could have a shady side.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t confront him directly. Just do a little research,” I said, motioning toward the empty wineglasses as I rose to my feet. “Can you turn off the tree lights as well as the lamps? I’m going to take these glasses into the kitchen and then head upstairs. I’m ready for some sleep.”
“Okay, but …” Richard pulled me close and kissed me with a passion that told me he was thinking of something besides sleep.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Muir?” I asked when he released me.
“Definitely.” Richard flashed a brilliant smile. “Is it working?”
I looked up at him from under my lowered lashes. “Most definitely.”
Chapter Eleven
Friday morning I drove Ella and Nicky to the theater, which was located in Smithsburg, a town about a thirty-minute drive from Taylorsford. The twins were bouncing in their booster seats, excited to see the actual performance space. Since the theater had been booked for other events before the Nutcracker load-in, which wasn’t happening until later in the day, all of their rehearsals had taken place at Karla’s dance studio. Only Richard, Karla, and the other lead dancers had been working at the theater, and then only in its two basement studios.
Parking in the lot behind the Art Deco cinema that had been transformed into a community performance venue, I told the twins to settle down. “If you behave during your fittings,” I said as I took their hands to guide them into the building, “I’ll walk you out on the stage so you can see how it will feel.”
The costume shop had been set up in an former office space on an upper floor of the theater building, so we took the elevator up to that level. As soon as the doors slid open, the twins bounded forward, heading for the one open door at the end of the hall.
“Hey, I said you need to behave,” I called out, picking up my pace to catch up with them.
“It’s fine, I’ve got them corralled,” said the young woman who stood at the edge of a large table covered with bolts of fabric and rolls of trim. She had one of her arms, which was covered in tattoos, stretched out to block entrance to the area of the shop where metal racks held a festive display of costumes.
“Hi, Candy, how’s it going?” I asked as I latched on to Ella’s and Nicky’s hands.
Candace Jensen had been an MFA student in Clarion University’s theatre department when Richard and Karla had first hired her to work on one of their major productions. Now she was the head costumer for their summer institute and also designed pieces for many of Richard’s other choreographic works. Her ability to allow dancers free and unfettered movement while still providing evocative visuals was, according to both Richard and Karla, a unique skill.
Candy dropped her am. “Now let’s see,” she said, looking Ella and Nicky up and down. “I bet you’re in the party scene, is that right?”
The twins nodded, both apparently fascinated by Candy’s short-cropped strawberry-blonde hair, whose spiky tips were dyed a vivid purple. “Is your hair real?” Ella asked.
“Yep. It’s all mine.” Candy tugged on a short strand. “Just colored a little different. For fun, you know?”
Ella turned her gaze on me. “Can we color my hair, Mommy?”
Candy, squatting down so that she could look at Ella directly, pressed a finger under her own kohl-rimmed eyes. “Your hair is so pretty, I’d really hate to see you change it. And anyway, it’s a lot harder when you have very dark brown hair, like yours. Besides”—Candy straightened—“we need to keep your hair like it is for the show.”
“I’m a party guest,” Ella said. “I get to dance around with a toy. I think mine is going to be a stuffed rabbit.”
Nicky puffed out his chest. “Me too, but my toy is a sword. A fake one, though.”
“I know. I work with all the other designers, you see,” Candy said. “Maybe your dad told you how we all get together and discuss the production, so our designs will mesh together?”
The twins bobbed their heads, totally enthralled. Having been raised watching dance and theater, they were fascinated with anything to do with the stage, especially the more magical aspects of performances.
“Okay, so Deke is going to take you back to the dressing rooms,” Candy said, motioning for a slender young man standing in the corner to step forward. Looking up at me, she added, “A couple of the dance moms are in the back. They’ll help the kids get into costume.”
“I can help too, if needed,” I said.
“Nah, have a seat.” Candy patted the top of a stool pulled up to the cutting table. “I’ll have the kids come out to give you a proper fashion show.”
Deke, who I assumed was one of the Clarion MFA students Candy had hired as assistants, shepherded Ella and Nicky down a short hallway that led to a set of dressing rooms. I cast Candy a sympathetic smile. “You look a little tired, but I guess that’s to be expected. It’s a big show.”
“It is that. Just a minute.” Candy hurried down the hall and gave instructions to whoever was working in the back. Reappearing, she flashed me an apologetic smile and plopped down on a stool across the table from me. “Sorry, I wanted to make sure they’d pulled the right pieces.”
“You didn’t make everything, did you? I mean, I know you had a little help, with the assistants and some volunteers, but that seems like it would be totally overwhelming.”
“I wish. But no.” Candy rested her elbows on the table, showing off her tattoo sleeves, which were intricate and vivid depictions of flora and fauna done in the style of Celtic illustrated manuscripts. “I’d love to have the staff to design and build everything from scratch, but it just isn’t practical. You know how it is—we always have to count our pennies.”
Having observed Richard and Karla wrestling with tight budgets plenty of times, I nodded. “So you make some pieces and buy and rent the rest?”
“Pretty much. I mean, I do tend to add my own touches, even with the rental items,” Candy said with a smile. “Just to try to make things look cohesive.”
“Capture the vision,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Candy swiveled on her stool at the sound of feet pattering against the shop’s wooden plank floors. “Ah, there they are, Mom. Don’t they look splendid?”
I examined the twins, who’d been transformed into slightly abstract versions of well-to-do nineteenth-century children. I knew from conversations between Richard and Karla that they weren’t going with absolute verisimilitude in the design. Because they were reworking the Nutcracker to feature contemporary rather than ballet dancers, they’d also wanted to create a different feel for the design—less realistic, with an emphasis on evocative lighting and impressionistic sets. The costume designs appeared to be in keeping with that style. Ella’s dress, while maintaining a Victorian silhouette, was made of a diaphanous material layered over sheer lace petticoats rather than heavy velvet and starched cottons.
