Act V, page 18
For the last two weeks, he and everybody else in school had suffered through state testing; hours and hours of bubbling in and writing. He was ready for a break. Yes, today was Monday, and he was supposed to be in school, but it was the last week. Who cared anyway? Everybody knew that the teachers had already put preliminary grades into the computers and were only waiting for final exams to finish up. He wasn’t even sure they counted those final exams because the teachers had to have final grades in so fast after the exams, he didn’t know how they could get them graded fast enough.
He had decided yesterday after church that he was going to the lake today. Screw school. He was taking a day for himself. He could fish, swim, lay on the bank and sleep. He’d worry about excuses later. This was his day. He’d slipped away from the bus stop early this morning and made his way to the lake. Colton had a bucket of crickets and his fishing pole. He lazily wandered out to the banks of what everybody around here called Stone Lake. It was really a duck pond, only about fifteen feet deep at the middle. You could see all the shores from any given point, so it wasn’t like the lakes he’d been to near Clemson, where the water went on forever, but it would do.
He reached into the bucket and pulled out a squirming cricket, getting ready to impale the hard cuff on its back with the hook, when he saw something gleaming in the water. He dropped the cricket back into the bucket and waded in. When the water was almost at his neck, he stopped. Ten feet away, a car sat at the bottom of Stone Lake. It was some kind of feminine-looking sports car thing that only a woman would drive. He couldn’t tell for sure about the color, blue or black maybe. He could see one thing for sure. There was somebody inside, and they’d been there for a while too. “Holy crap!” he exclaimed and ran for the shore to get his cell phone. He had to call the cops, skipping school or not, this was important. He couldn’t wait for school tomorrow. Everybody would want to hear his story, even Ashley and Bennet Trebble.
*****
He was waiting, waiting for the right opportunity, waiting for them to find her body, waiting until after opening night. Timing was everything and the public had to be led like silly sheep to the wrong conclusions. He knew who, where and how. The only thing left was the when, and that was coming soon.
Of course, there was still Glynnis to deal with. Should he get rid of her before or after his big night? If he waited until after, she might pose a problem, alert police, but she hadn’t been able to help them yet, had she? If he waited, he might be able to use her, and he could make her the finale. He could do her too if he was careful not to leave evidence. He could take his time and enjoy it. Maybe she’d enjoy it too. She was sleeping with a cop. How good could he be? He hadn’t taken his darling Juliet/Gabrielle, or the lovely, Sandra Fitchwell, even though he had wanted to more than anything. The timing was wrong. He couldn’t afford to abandon the plan even for immense pleasure, until his main objective was taken care of. He was a man of discipline. Pleasure could wait a little longer. It wouldn’t do to reveal himself now when the plan was almost complete.
His phone rang. “I’m on the way. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
*****
“Okay guys, this is the first dress rehearsal.” Glynnis had the whole cast and crew sitting on stage. Some were kneeling, others on the false parapet. All were listening intently. They were professionals, every one. “We have one more tomorrow, and then we open on Wednesday. You are without a doubt the best cast and crew in the state but we’re only as good as our worst performance. That’s the one everyone will remember. Give me your best today so that we can work out any kinks by Wednesday. Don’t forget to stay for notes when we’re done.” They started to take their places. “Oh, one more, no, two more things. Don’t forget that tomorrow’s rehearsal will be in real time, so plan to sleep late and get here by 5p.m., in costume and places by six. The other thing is, I’m a little drowsy from that huge lunch I just finished. Don’t put me to sleep.” They all groaned and took their places.
Act One began and Glynnis walked from place to place listening for dead spots and watching to make sure the players were playing to the entire audience and not just front and center. She then wandered back to where Aaron stood. He’d been checking every aspect of the tech work, sets, lights, sound. He looked like he’d been through it, and in truth, he had.
“You okay?” she asked him.
“Sure, you?”
“I’m fine, but I’m worried about you. Did you sleep over the weekend?”
“Some. Don’t worry about me, sweet thing.”
“Can’t help it Aaron. How’s your family? Are they holding up okay?”
“They’re fine. It’s just tough on Mama especially. But we have to get on with our lives. Kenny wouldn’t have wanted us sitting around moping. Well, maybe he would have,” Aaron’s mouth lifted on one side, “but not for long.”
“I know you said everything went okay with the police, but if you just want to talk, let me know.”
He put on his most lecherous leer, “Do you offer any other kinds of therapy, sweet thing?”
*****
Brice and Addison trudged along the bank of Stone Lake. Life in Clearview was getting more interesting by the minute. There was a group of looky-loos standing by the bank smoking and waiting for the car to come all the way to the shore. Wherever there were car accidents there would be vicarious thrill-seekers, people who did nothing to help but frequently got in the way of the police and rescue teams.
One middle-aged woman kept walking to the police tape and peering over to where the crew was pulling up the car saying, “Oh dear, I hope it’s not somebody we know. It almost seemed to Brice that what she really hoped was to see somebody she knew pulled out of the car so that she’d have something to talk about.
Brice looked around for the usual press. They were gathered close to the tape on the side of the shore where the car was coming up. Brice looked for the normally aggressive Sandra Fitchwell but didn’t see her. “Notice somebody missing?” he asked Addy.
“Yeah, you think she took a few days off because of the Bard thing?”
“I would have.”
Calls came from the media crowd.
“Do you know who’s in the car yet?”
“Do you suspect foul play?”
“Is there any connection to the Bard murders?”
Brice pushed through with Addison behind him. “We don’t know anything yet guys. We’ll pass along what we can, when we can.”
They moved closer to the shore as the wench pulled the car inland. The crowd drew as close to the tape as possible without spilling over. Water flooded out of the blue Mazda hundreds of gallons at a time, revealing the bloated body inside. Even with the decomposition brought on by time underwater, Brice thought he recognized the blonde, Barbie Doll head that emerged. Apparently, so did the crowd which began to vibrate, some with outrage, others with excitement. Addison grabbed his arm. “Blast it all,” he breathed the words so that only Brice could hear, “what’s that crazy bastard gone and done now?”
Chapter 22
Brice hit Glynnis’ number on his speed dial. It went directly to voice mail. She had her phone off. “Addy, will you wrap up here? I’ve got to get to Glynnis. She’s not answering.” There was no need to explain to Addy why. He and Brice knew that the autopsy would show this to be an accident but with the killer’s implied threat on tape, they knew better. Sandra Fitchwell had not driven into Stone Lake by accident. She had been driven there by a sociopath who probably now knew Glynnis as the psychic Fitchwell had twice made reference to on the news.
He used the blue lights and made it to the park in half the normal time. Rehearsal was just finishing up. He felt his muscles relax when he spotted Glynnis, seated in a lawn chair near the back of the audience area, holding a pencil, clipboard and legal pad. He sat down on the ground beside her and waited for the last act to end. She cut her eyes toward him with more than a little suspicion, but said nothing. Brice patted her leg so that she wouldn’t worry.
When the last lines were spoken and the cast did their curtain call, she applauded loudly and told them to be back in five minutes for notes, then turned to Brice as cast members went in search of smoke breaks and bathrooms. “Okay, why are you here in the middle of the afternoon?”
Brice tried to soften it by joking. “I just had to get my Shakespeare fix. I was suffering from withdrawal.”
She flattened her mouth and glowered, waiting.
“Okay, so much for trying to lighten the mood.” He held her right hand in his. “Glynnis, they found Sandra Fitchwell’s car in a pond today, not far from her home. She was in it.”
“Oh, Brice!”
“Yeah.”
“Brice, does this mean he knows who I am?”
“Probably. We won’t know for sure until we catch him.”
“Or until he kills me.” Glynnis felt as if the heat of the day had just accumulated on her body, pressing it downward, crushing her into the ground.
“Don’t talk like that. Glynnis, is there somebody here you can trust?”
She looked at him, knowing he’d appreciate the irony in her answer. “Yeah, Aaron.”
Brice grimaced. “Besides him.”
“I suppose. What do you think I should do?”
“I have to go back and process this whole thing and I might not get out until eight or nine. Can you have somebody follow you home and make sure you get locked inside before they leave?”
“Brice, I have to walk Carl and I can’t go around hiding all the time.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just walk Carl in the yard and go back inside. Lock the doors.”
She sighed. “Fine. Come over when you get done. I’ll order in pizza or something.”
“I’ll just bring food.” He couldn’t stomach the thought of pizza under the circumstances. “In the meantime, I’ll have a cruiser pass by your place just to check things out, okay?”
He kissed her goodbye and left, passing the tech crew returning from their break on his way to the car. He acknowledged Aaron Shultz with a nod of the head but Shultz only glared at him. Brice knew he was wondering what the detective on his brother’s case was doing with his director. Let him find out on his own.
*****
“The medical examiner is calling it an accident,” Addison said when Brice walked into the station. “Her blood alcohol was point one two. She could have swerved to miss a deer or something and driven into the lake.”
“She could have.” Brice added. “But she didn’t. You know why she died.”
“Oh yeah, our guy was definitely out to get her. I’ll have them keep checking the car for hair, prints, etc. That reminds me. While you were gone, another report came in from police services on the Danning and Shultz crime scenes. They’ve matched hair from both crime scenes. Looks like we have a definite connection now, besides the letter that is.”
“I’m guessing they checked for known sources and didn’t get a match on the hair.” Brice noted.
“You wouldn’t want it to be that easy would you? At least we’ve got something solid to convict with when we get him.”
Brice arranged for a car to cruise Glynnis’ neighborhood and got down to the business of police work.
Addison looked up from the list of people he needed to interview. “Wonder why he didn’t make this one look like a Shakespearean tragedy.”
Brice thought about it. “He was angry? In a hurry? Wanted it to look like an accident?”
Addison continued the brainstorming. “Maybe he didn’t want this one associated with his work of art, so to speak. Maybe he just went for the information and then killed her and used the most convenient accident he could come up with.”
“If you think about it,” Brice added. “It takes a lot of planning to stage the Shakespeare deaths and so far the victims have had some kind of background that matches the characters from Shakespeare. Fitchwell didn’t. She just had to die because he wanted something she had…Glynnis’ name.”
*****
After Celeste followed her home, Glynnis walked Carl and then locked the door as promised. She had three messages on her machine when she got back inside. One was from her mother and she made a mental note to call her back soon. One was from Dorsey, checking to see if she was okay. It seems he was worried that his kiss had shaken her up. Glynnis laughed at that but with very little humor. If he had only known what had really upset her so badly.
The third was from a muffled voice she didn’t know. This one caused her to slam her finger into the off button as if the sound might invite infectious organisms into the room. Without even listening to the whole thing, she knew who it was. She braced herself and pressed the play button again. “Glynnis, sweet Glynnis. It’s me, the man of your dreams.” Here he gave a low, terrifying laugh at his own pun. “I hear you’re a fan of my work, as I am of yours. You have been an inspiration. I feel I should caution you however, dear. If you must dream about me, then please keep it to yourself. It would break my heart to have to put an end to such a promising career in theatre. Sweet soul, take heed.”
Glynnis checked the caller ID. It showed only “private number”. She wanted to go wash her hands. She wanted to scrub every part of her until this evil sensation fell away. She breathed deeply until she could get a hold on her panic. She couldn’t let this maniac rule her life. She would call Brice. No, Brice was working and had promised to come over later. If she could stand it, she’d wait. She had to listen to it again. It was the last thing she wanted to do. It made her stomach curdle to think of it but she had to see if she could recognize the voice or pick up a clue to who this was. She hit the play button again, advancing the digital recording to the last message and made herself listen carefully to every word.
*****
He smiled thinking of how terrified she would be when she heard it. She would recoil from the machine, her lovely face would flush. Perhaps she would break into tears. Glynnis Nuckolls, the high and mighty director, brought down to a shivering mass of nerves. He wondered how many people knew about her special talent. He had known her for years, had spent hours at a time with her and had never realized that she had such a very freakish side to her. Could she identify him? He doubted it. But he would take no chances.
*****
“Brice, I just don’t know.” Glynnis was sitting at her kitchen table, having run out of answers, she felt like the proverbial camel and Brice was piling on the last straw. “His voice was muffled, maybe even altered somehow. I think I should recognize it but I don’t! So stop asking me!”
“I’m sorry, Glynn.” Brice made circular motions on her back with his hand, trying to soothe her. “I just can’t let this monster get to you so I’ve got to find a way to stop him. Could it have been Timmons or Shultz?”
“I told you, it could have been anybody. It wasn’t a normal voice. It sounded like maybe it had been altered electronically.” Snuffles had begun to work their way into her voice and she felt tears that she’d managed to hold back so far, slide down her face. She swiped them away, hating that he would see her cry again.
“What about the last thing he said, about taking heed. It sounded like a quote.”
“I’m not sure. It’s a line from Shakespeare, I think. I can’t remember which play. I’ll look it up tomorrow.”
“I wonder if he intentionally called while you were away. Maybe he wanted to make sure you had a recording, so he could what…be immortalized somehow? What do you think he meant by saying he’s a fan of yours? Is this somebody you know, besides Timmons and Shultz, I mean?”
“BRICE!” She couldn’t stand anymore. She stamped out of the room and into the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her. She could hear Carl scratching on the other side of the door so she let him in and locked it again. She walked around the perimeter of the room three times before she finally threw herself down and let the tears fly.
*****
Brice never could handle a crying woman. He would much rather have her angry and throwing things. That, he could deal with. But the tears…He decided to try something a little different. He walked outside and found one of the red geraniums she had growing in a pot on the front porch. He snapped off a blossom and floated it in a glass bowl. Then he poured her a tall glass of ice water, went to the bedroom door and knocked. “Glynn?” No answer. “Glynn? You there? Are you awake?”
Glynnis heard him but she didn’t want to answer. She was still angry, still nursing a really strong grudge. It almost felt good. At least it was better than feeling afraid. Then she heard a different noise. It sounded like scratching at the door, like Carl’s scratching, but Carl was inside with her. What the heck? She unlocked the door to find Brice holding a flower in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. “I thought I heard…scratching.”
He shrugged. “It worked for Carl.” Then he handed her the flower and pulled her with him to sit down on the bed and cry out the rest of her tears.
*****
Brice insisted she stay at his place for the next few nights. “I’d feel better if you were at my house. That way he can’t find you as easily anyway.”
“What about Carl?”
“Bring him. He can talk to my gold fish.”
“You have a gold fish?”
“I’ll buy one. Pack a bag.”
