A Lovely Kind of Murder, page 6
Maybe I had been wrong to give up ballet classes. Had I stuck with them, could that have been me, flying around the floor and commanding everyone’s attention?
The music ended and the dancers let go of each other. Nina’s fingers trailed her partner’s, lingering for a moment on his wrist, and the two exchanged a flirty smile. With one last glance at the boy, Nina walked toward the corner for some post-rehearsal stretching.
I followed her and introduced myself as the reporter from Dance A-Z. “I’ll be honest, I came here to interview Grace Martin for an article, but I was just told what happened.” I shook my head, faking shocked disbelief for the third time in one hour. “Since you’re taking over Grace’s role in the production, would you be so kind as to answer a few of my questions?”
Nina looked surprised but pleased as she agreed.
I sat cross-legged on the floor next to her and got a pen and a notepad from my bag. They were a writer’s staple, two items that could always be found on me in case an idea hit me while I was away from my laptop.
To make her feel at ease, I started by asking Nina some standard questions about her training and what she did to relax when she wasn’t dancing.
She told me she took her first ballet class at the age of five and trained at the School of American ballet, that in her free time she liked sunbathing on her rooftop or curling up on the couch with a good book. The thing she loved most about being a dancer was the emotion.
“I forget about real life and become someone else,” she said, grinning as she checked her hair in the mirror. “It’s just the most incredible feeling in the world.”
She seemed to feel comfortable talking to me. It was time to dive into the juicier stuff.
“I understand you’re taking over this role as the former understudy to Grace Martin,” I said.
Her smile faded as she nodded and her eyes suddenly looked guarded.
“Yes. It’s very tragic what happened to Gracie. I’m still devastated by it.”
“I can imagine it was quite a shock. But after watching you dance just now, I have to say I’m amazed. I’m not a ballet expert but I thought your performance was flawless.”
The girl lit up again. “Thank you! I’ve been practicing just as hard as Gracie this whole time. I believe in always being prepared, you know?”
“That’s a great philosophy,” I agreed. “I can see you have a bright future with the company. The choreographer speaks highly of you, and your partners seem supportive of you taking over for Grace.” Smiling confidentially, I added, “Especially that young man you were dancing with. He seems very nice.”
“He is.” She gave me a coy smile from under her thick eyelashes. “We have great dancing chemistry.”
“What about Grace? Did she get along with the other dancers?”
Nina paused, hesitating. “I mean, everybody liked Grace. She just wasn’t easy to get to know, she was kind of secretive.”
“You think she kept secrets?” I asked, hoping I was doing a good job looking the part of an inquisitive reporter. “Could it be those secrets had something to do with what happened to her?”
“I don’t know.” She hugged her knees, looking worried. “Are you going to write about Grace’s death?”
“The magazine asked me to write about the dance company and your upcoming tour, and that’s what I’ll be doing. Sorry if talking about Grace is uncomfortable. As a reporter I can’t help asking questions but we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay.” She straightened her legs in front of her and folded her torso down so that her nose was pressed up against her knees, then sat up cross-legged again and began to stretch her arms. “Actually, now that you said that thing about secrets, I think maybe you’re right. The day she was killed she was pretty upset about something. She even left rehearsals early, and she’d never done that before. I mean, her grandma could’ve been dying, and she’d still come to practice.”
“That kinda makes her sound callous,” I observed.
“That’s not what I meant.” Nina shook her head vigorously and stared at the floor. “She was just very dedicated.”
I cocked my head to the side and looked thoughtful. I hoped.
“You say she wasn’t easy to get to know but you still noticed she was upset that day. Did she say something to you?”
“No. It was pretty obvious,” she said. “Her eyes were red like she’d been crying and she kept making mistakes during practice. Like, silly mistakes a dancer with her experience just doesn’t make. Like she suddenly forgot how to dance.”
“Do you have any idea what it might’ve been about?” I asked.
“Grace didn’t exactly confide in me,” she said with a tiny smile while doing a perfect split. “You know?”
I thanked Nina and left her to carry on with her stretches just as her “supportive partner” came over to sit next to her. At the door, I paused to look back at them. They sat leaning close together and Nina was whispering something in the boy’s ear. As our eyes met, she gave me another one of her little smiles. It left me with a strange feeling, like a quick movement you catch from the corner of your eye, only to turn and see nothing there.
Passing the dancers’ locker room on the way to the front desk, I stopped and took a peek inside. No one was in there. A glance down the hallway assured me nobody was coming this way either. I went in.
All the lockers were painted the same shade of blue, but Grace’s was easy to spot: the only one decorated with flowers and postcards of the we miss you and rest in peace variety. I walked over and opened it.
In a neat pile on the bottom lay a folded white leotard, a pair of point shoes, a plastic comb and some hair accessories. A pink teddy bear sat tucked away in the corner. Its furry chest displayed a red heart pierced with a golden arrow. Not a single photo or other type of memento decorated the inside the locker. No Post-Its with note to self.
I picked up the teddy bear and traced the golden arrow with my finger. Tyrone had given a similar toy to Felisha for Valentine’s Day, though his teddy bear’s heart simply said I love you. An arrow through the heart—ouch! That had to hurt. I patted the poor guy’s head and turned the bear over to read the label on its bottom.
Toy-Organics.
Will had said there were many teddy bears in Grace’s apartment. Perhaps they were a clue after all, gifted by a boyfriend or a secret admirer.
“She volunteered at their toy drive.”
I spun around to face a dark-eyed girl standing behind me. How long had she been there and why hadn’t I heard her approach?
“Uh... hi.” I swallowed, my heart trying to jump out of my chest. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I’m Ling.”
She gave me a tentative smile. She was petite and looked friendly enough, now that my fight or flight response had calmed down a bit. Her dark eyes looked at me with open frankness. But they were red-rimmed, betraying a sadness I hadn’t detected in the choreographer or Grace’s understudy.
“Was Grace Martin your friend?” I asked.
“Sort of.” She reached for the teddy bear, her gesture as timid as her smile, and I relinquished the toy without a word. She hugged it to her, resting her chin on the plushy, round head.
“Grace didn’t let anyone at work get close,” she said, “but we used to rehearse together a lot. I’ve only been here about a year and everyone still treats me like a newbie. Grace was nice to me, though. She gave me lots of pointers about my performance.”
“That was sweet.”
She nodded and her lower lip trembled. “There can be a lot of competition around here, but she kind of took me under her wing.”
“You must miss her then.”
“I still can’t believe it.” She sniffed and took out a tissue from her pocket. “She was a good person. She didn’t deserve this.”
“Grace’s understudy seems to think Grace was keeping secrets,” I said. “Seeing that teddy bear makes me wonder if she had a secret boyfriend, someone she felt the need to hide from everyone. Do you know if that’s true?”
Ling nodded. “I think she did. Like, I was always trying to be better friends with her so one time I told her about this guy I had a crush on. I thought talking about boys could be a bonding thing for us. I told her he finally asked me out and that I was really excited about it and instead of being happy for me she looked worried. She said I needed to be careful and make sure he was a good guy and that most guys will just break your heart.”
“Do you think she was unhappy with her boyfriend?”
“Maybe. When I asked her why she said that thing about guys, she wouldn’t say. And she didn’t want to talk to me about that stuff again. Mostly, we talked about dance.”
“And you never saw this mystery guy of hers?”
She shook her head. For a moment, we both stared at the teddy bear in her hands.
“You said something about a toy drive?” I said, remembering. “Why would a ballet dancer be so interested in toys or was that a secret too?”
“No, she talked about it. Her brother died when he was a baby from exposure to chemicals in his toys, and Grace was a big supporter of making toys safe for children. She was trying to spread awareness about this—on social media and blogs and stuff. That’s how she found out about Toy-Organics, I think. She got involved with helping them run a toy drive at Christmas.”
So Grace was an advocate for safe toys. It was personal to her, and for an entirely different reason than I had assumed. Still...
“If the teddy bear wasn’t a gift from a secret boyfriend,” I said, “why keep it in her locker?”
Ling shrugged. “I think she met someone at that toy drive. About two weeks before she died I came in here and Grace was at her locker. She took the bear and flung it across the room. Then she started crying.”
“Did she tell you what was wrong?”
“No, I left before she saw me there,” she said. “I was afraid she’d get mad or think I was spying on her.”
Maybe the teddy bear had something to do with a boyfriend after all. Or maybe Grace’s tears were unrelated to boy trouble, and she was just taking her frustration out on the toy. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
I sighed, wishing I had more facts than guesses and gave Ling a warm smile. “Thanks for talking to me. I’ll be looking out for your name in future programs.”
“It’ll be a while.” She hugged the bear a little closer to her.
“Or maybe not. Grace took notice of you, right? It must’ve been because she saw your potential. Think about that when you practice and I’m sure it won’t take as long as you think.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” Her smile was cheerful rather than tentative this time.
We left the locker room and Ling went back to her practice. I walked down the hallway, the music of the rehearsal following in my wake.
I wasn’t getting anywhere on the secret boyfriend front, perhaps I needed to change direction and consider other possibilities. Especially since one among them definitely stood out. As the door of the Brownstone Ballet building swung shut behind me, the noise of the street assailed my senses. Marlowe stuck his head through the crack in the window of the car across the street and barked in show of joy at my reappearance.
Chapter 8
I walked across the street to the car. The pawn shop in front of which I had parked was open and a middle-aged guy leaned in the doorway smoking a cigarette. He looked me over from head to toe as I passed him and his gaze lingered on my behind. He gave me an appreciative nod which I pretended not to notice. Sometimes it was the easiest way to deal with unwanted attention.
Marlowe sat gnawing on an empty Pringles box and scattering pieces of cardboard all over the backseat. He whined as I snatched the box away from him.
“Please tell me you didn’t eat any chips!” I checked his muzzle for crumbs but it looked clean. The box must’ve been empty. I gathered as many chewed up cardboard bits as I could, which unfortunately involved bending and exposing my behind to even more scrutiny from the pawn shop guy. Then I threw them and the box—what was left of it—in the trashcan under the streetlight.
The guy in the doorway grinned at me. “Dogs, huh? Can’t live with them, period.”
Did he expect me to agree with that? I gave him a side glance as I walked back to the car. Rule number one of talking to dog owners: if you want them to like you, don’t badmouth their pets.
I glanced at the remaining mess in the backseat. Pointless to waste time on it. Will would just have to vacuum out the rest.
“Serves him right for leaving this stuff in the car,” I said. “Right, Marlowe?”
He cocked his head at me and wagged his tail, completely unapologetic of the mess he’d made.
I got behind the wheel and took out my phone. Will answered on the first ring. “Where are you?” He sounded impatient.
“Just left Brownstone Ballet.”
“Were you able to talk to anyone there? What did you find out?”
I told him what I’d learned from Grace’s co-workers.
Will listened in silence and without interrupting me. The traffic noise in the background told me he was in the kitchen, the only room where the windows faced the street. I wondered if he’d moved at all since I left him two hours ago.
“Sounds like Grace’s co-workers weren’t too upset about her death,” he said when I finished.
“Except for Ling,” I reminded him. “She looked pretty shaken.”
“Yeah. But that Nina girl, she profited big time by all this.”
“I know. But she didn’t strike me as a killer, Will.”
I stared out the window at the cars driving by, going over the conversations again in my head. They may not have told me who the killer was but...
“At least we have a much better idea of who Grace was,” I said. “We know some definite facts about her now. She was dedicated to her work but kept her private life private.”
“Though it sounds like she was a nice person,” Will said. “Mentoring that Ling girl, she didn’t have to do that.”
“True. Also, her brother’s early death caused her to get involved in spreading awareness about chemicals in toys.”
I wondered if Will would find this last bit of information as interesting as I did.
He made a sound in his throat to acknowledge he’d heard me but his mind was clearly on other things. “So I guess you’ll be going to Melody’s workplace next?” he asked.
I reached into the backseat to give Marlowe a head rub for showing so much patience at being stuck in the car. He, of course, immediately slobbered all over my hand.
“Melody’s workplace is on the agenda,” I said. “Before I go there, I think I should pay a visit to Toy-Organics.”
There was a short pause and I could almost feel him frowning at his phone.
“We need to gather information about the victims,” he said finally, “not interrogate every place of business they ever visited.”
I took my hand back, now covered with Marlowe’s slobber, and reached for a tissue in the glove compartment. “It’s just a hunch, Will. I really think I should stop by there.”
He sighed. “Alright. It’s not like I have much of a say in this anyway. You’re at the wheel here, literally.”
Poor guy. He had to be going crazy, forced to leave it to others to investigate the case that got him suspended and placed his future into so much uncertainty.
“You do have a say,” I assured him. “Why do you think I’m on the phone with you right now?”
“Thanks.” I thought he might’ve rolled his eyes but when he spoke again his voice had softened. “I know you’ve got good instincts, Sis. If you really think you should check out this toy company, do that. Just keep me posted. Agreed?”
“Absolutely. I’ll text you when I’m there.”
After we hung up, I did a Google search on my phone for Toy-Organics. The company’s CEO was a woman named Edith Stein, and their headquarters was a twenty-minute drive from Brownstone Ballet, if traffic wasn’t too bad. I looked over at the pawn shop—the owner had gone inside but through the front window I could see him talking on the phone behind the counter. His head turned in my direction for a moment, as if sensing my gaze, and his upper lip curled slightly.
I averted my eyes and drove to Toy-Organics.
EDITH STEIN SAT BEHIND a slick, cream colored desk in the kind of executive office that seemed to be at the zenith of corporate chic. From the elegant chandelier centering the room, to the built-in shelves with soft indirect lighting adding warmth to the tones of the interior, every detail and piece of furniture had obviously been carefully selected with style and comfort in mind. The sprawling view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk completed the impression of affluence and luxury. All in all, the office of the CEO looked exactly the opposite of what I had imagined I’d find at an organic toy company. Then again, how much did I really know about CEOs of organic toy companies? Maybe this décor was standard for the industry.
I supposed I was lucky she had agreed to grant me a five-minute meeting on such a short notice. The secretary I’d spoken to on my way over attempted to tell me Edith couldn’t see me, but once I mentioned the interview was about the murder of one of their former volunteers, she reluctantly scheduled me in.
As I walked across the large office, Edith rose from behind her desk and extended her hand to me with an economical smile. She was tall and blond, with a perfectly styled bob and flawless make-up I couldn’t achieve even if I tried. The blue of her wide set eyes was so pale that it appeared almost silver. According to the information I’d gleaned from the internet, she was forty-two.
