Theater Nights Are Murder Read online

  MURDER AT THE THEATER

  Mrs. Dodson motioned for us to come closer to her. “Listen. I’ve been thinking about some of the strange doings in the theater. I’m starting a task force.”

  “You’re starting what?” I asked, but I knew the answer would just keep me awake at night.

  She tapped her cane. “You heard me. This confirms Duke was not a suicide. I think someone is trying to kill Royce and make it look like an accident. There is a murderer amongst us and Duke might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s up to us to bring the ruffian to justice.”

  “Ladies, we need to take these suspicions to the police.”

  “Police? Pshh.” Aunt Ginny put her hand in the middle. “I’m in.”

  “No, no, you can’t be in. We just got you out of trouble a few months ago.”

  Mother Gibson put her hand on top of Aunt Ginny’s. “I’m in too.”

  I felt hysteria growing inside me. “Ladies, I really don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  The other two joined their hands to the pile and four sharp sets of eyes turned my way. “Are you in?”

  It wasn’t my proudest moment, being shaken down by four old ladies.

  I caved.

  Books by Libby Klein

  CLASS REUNIONS ARE MURDER

  MIDNIGHT SNACKS ARE MURDER

  RESTAURANT WEEKS ARE MURDER

  THEATER NIGHTS ARE MURDER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Theater Nights Are MURDER

  LIBBY KLEIN

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  MURDER AT THE THEATER

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Recipes

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Libby Schwartz

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-2337-6

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2338-3 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-2338-4 (ebook)

  Dedicated to Itty Bitty Smitty

  You are dearly loved and missed

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the Queen Victoria Bed and Breakfast for letting me reference their lovely home in my story. You truly are one of the most beautiful Victorian bed-and-breakfasts in Cape May.

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe you pulled the fire alarm.” I was standing outside L’Ecole des Chefs, the community college culinary wing where I’d spent a traumatic week and a half in South Jersey’s first annual, and my last forever, Restaurant Week competition. I was a little stunned when Tim declared that he’d always loved me and asked me to “give it a go” with him. I was a little stunned, the way Miss Piggy was a little self-involved. Snow flurries danced and played on the air and the temperatures were dipping with the setting sun, causing me to shiver. Or maybe that was just my nerves. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was freezing my butt off in the crowded parking lot while sirens were ringing out all around me.

  Aunt Ginny wrapped her fur coat tight around her pink leather hot pants and white go-go boots. “I had to do something to get you out of there. Tim looked like he was about to get down on one knee and there was panic in your eyes. I was afraid you were going to flee.”

  Is that still an option? I scanned the chefs for Tim while considering life in the rejection protection program. If that didn’t exist, it should. “I considered it. My life hasn’t turned out the way I expected.”

  Aunt Ginny watched the crowd filing out of the college and put a papery hand on my arm. “Nobody’s does, honey. Nobody’s does.”

  Two fire trucks screamed into the parking lot, followed by an ambulance. I took a deep breath and let it out slow, watching the white fog leave my mouth and swirl out in front of me like puffs from a sleeping dragon. I had seen the hope in Tim’s eyes, his heart on his sleeve. I had dreamed of this moment for twenty-five years and now that it was here, I felt like I was signing a waiver for plastic surgery. What if something goes horribly wrong? What if I wake up and my belly button is missing? Maybe chunky will come back into fashion right after I have all my fat sucked out and I’ll have missed my chance to be beautiful. I think I’m willing to take that chance. Wait? What was I thinking about?

  A police car thundered into the parking lot and Aunt Ginny tightened her grip on her fur coat. “Uh-oh.”

  Uh-oh was right. We’d seen the police more often than the mailman in the four short months I’d been home. Aunt Ginny was somewhere in her eighties, but somehow the feisty redhead got into more trouble than a five-year-old after a sugar binge. I considered our recent luck with law enforcement. “Maybe we should go. I can come back later to get my things.”

  “Come on. I know a back way out of here.” Aunt Ginny backed away from the flashing lights and pivoted toward the parked cars. “What are you going to say to Tim when he comes looking for an answer?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t put him off for long.”

  “You don’t need to rush it either. You’ll know when you know. Time is the greatest revealer of men’s hearts.”

>   I sighed. “I hope so, Aunt Ginny. I really hope so. Nobody likes a love triangle.”

  Chapter Two

  I woke up the next morning a bundle of nerves with a mouthful of fur. “Figaro, get off of my head.” I slid the purring ball of fluff to the side, where orange slits creaked open to glare at me for disturbing his royal beauty rest. Sir Figaro Newton was definitely beautiful, so the sleeping eighteen hours a day was really paying off. If only there was a good behavior nap for the black smoke Persian, we’d be in business.

  “I feel like we’ve fallen down the rabbit hole since coming here, Fig. Do you miss our home in Virginia?”

  Figaro yawned and lifted a back leg to clean his undercarriage.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I stretched and twisted to the side. “No matter where we are, everything eventually goes sideways. Why do you think that is?”

  Figaro was judging me under his raised leg with a look that said, Oh, I’m pretty sure I know where the problem is.

  “Poppy!” Aunt Ginny hammered on the bedroom door before throwing it open. “Why are you still in bed?!”

  “Uh, because it’s six in the morning.”

  “Isn’t Tim coming over to talk about your feelings?”

  “In four hours.”

  “Wash and cream your face and find something that isn’t wrinkled to put on. And wrap your hair up in some hot rollers.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Come on, girl, work faster. No matter what you tell him, you want to look your best!”

  “You’re still in your housecoat!”

  “My first boyfriend didn’t just declare his love to me after a lifetime apart. Hop to!”

  What happened to you don’t need to rush it?

  Aunt Ginny trotted down the stairs, followed by Figaro, who saw this as an opening to fill his belly with some gourmet fish goo.

  “Really, Fig. You’re just going to leave me here?” I flipped the covers off while muttering to myself. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. I was the one who stayed up with you all night when you ate that suspicious bug. As soon as we moved in with Aunt Ginny, you switched sides. Traitor.”

  I picked up the silver picture frame that sat on the nightstand by my bed. It was a photo of me and my late husband taken at some formal society event my mother-in-law, Georgina, had no doubt pressured us into attending. John was wearing a tuxedo and my silver heels were dangling from his fingers. I was wearing an emerald-green, floor-length gown and walking barefoot. I had to use both hands to hold the skirt up so it didn’t drag on the ground. We were looking at each other and laughing because he had just made some joke I couldn’t remember anymore. We were so happy. I put the frame back in its position. I would give anything to remember what he’d said to make me laugh like that.

  My heart was split into three pieces, each belonging to someone else. My late husband’s smiling face was etched on a big chunk, watching me. John was encouraging me to live life and be happy even though he was gone. How can I ever be happy without you? There was a piece that had always been Tim’s since we met in high school thirty years ago. First love was hard to extinguish no matter how much I’d screwed it up. I had buried it in the corner and refused to look at it. Then there was Gia. Where had that come from? My feelings for the sexy Italian barista were unexpected. His kindness and friendship had made my first few months back in South Jersey tolerable. Maybe even happy. I wasn’t sure why he was drawn to a plus-size, middle-aged gal like me when he could have his pick from the parade of short skirts and cleavage I’d seen throw themselves at him every day, but somehow, he seemed to really like me. I would rather die than hurt either of them.

  I got in the shower and let the hot water melt my anxiety and calm my mind. What was I going to say to Tim? The problem wasn’t love. I’d always loved him. The problem was every time I saw myself saying yes to Tim, Gia popped into my head and my heart broke. But when I saw myself with Gia, I relived the day I told Tim I’d cheated, and he dropped me faster than Oprah lost her first hundred pounds.

  I didn’t want to decide anything right now. Truth be told, I kind of liked things the way they were. I never dreamed anyone would be interested in me for the rest of my life. Part of me was worried it was a hoax. Like that time Greg Eisler asked me to the school dance in the sixth grade, then laughed in my face when I said yes. The little weasel had feathered hair and thought he was David Cassidy. The joke was on him when he stopped growing at twelve. Not such a hotshot now at five foot two, are you, Greg?

  I blow-dried my hair, checking the auburn for traces of silver. So far, so good. I applied some makeup, then dressed in teal leggings and a long black tunic. My skinny jeans were way too tight after my brief stint as pastry chef for Tim’s restaurant, Maxine’s. Who knew a little gluten and dairy would inflate me like a hot-air balloon? So now I’m back to my Paleo sentence and only eating what comes out of the dirt. Festive.

  Thoughts of Tim brought the heaviness back. He was the first man I ever fell in love with. I almost married him. Being exclusive seemed like an obvious choice, but I needed more time. John hadn’t even been gone a year. I had just started my life over. I’d only stayed in Cape May to take care of Aunt Ginny and keep her out of the assisted living facility she called Old Lady Lockdown because of her . . . let’s just say peculiarities. We really needed the Butterfly Wings Bed and Breakfast to take flight if we were going to pay for luxuries like water and electricity. This Grand Victorian had been in our family for almost a hundred and fifty years, and the taxes on it were nearly equal to a pop diva’s touring glitter budget. Our only options were to sell it or strike it rich on Survivor. Since there was no amount of money that would get me to eat a spider, it looked like me and Aunt Ginny were going to be serving waffles to tourists for the foreseeable future.

  The grande dame of the McAllister clan was in the kitchen wearing a fuchsia track suit with the word HOTTIE bedazzled on the back and eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch that she thought I wouldn’t notice. You underestimate me, madam! I had every sugar cereal memorized and ranked by color, shape, and texture. I knew my stuff and crunch berries were at the top of my list.

  “It’s about time you rolled out of bed.”

  “The sun is still yawning.”

  “Do you want some coffee to settle your nerves?”

  “No. I think I’m going to head over to La Dolce Vita to make a couple of batches of muffins for Gia to sell to his weekend crowd. I’ll get coffee there.”

  Aunt Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You think time around a sexy Italian will help you decide if you’re ready to commit to Tim?”

  “I think if anyone is able to make me forget about Tim, it’s Gia. And that in itself is a red flag.”

  Aunt Ginny drummed her fingers on the table. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you decide. I just don’t want you to make yourself crazy over a man.”

  “Duly noted.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the front door. Figaro sat on the narrow table in the hall where we had a dish of hard candy, a bowl for keys, and a plant that he liked to knock over when he didn’t think he was getting enough attention. He gave me a meow as I grabbed my coat off the rack. I rubbed his ears and he pushed against my hand. “You are the only man I need in my life, Fig, but you wouldn’t mind if we add someone else to the mix, would you?”

  Figaro sat up tall and batted a butterscotch out of the candy dish. It landed at my feet with a thud. It seemed everyone had a definite opinion about my love life except me.

  I decided to walk the two and a half blocks to the Washington Street Mall. You don’t get much more off in the off season than January in Cape May. The streets were dark and misty, and many of the bed-and-breakfasts were closed for the month so the owners could have their own vacations before the new season began. The few stores that opened had reduced hours, some only open on weekends. Gia opened the coffee shop at eight to accommodate early morning churchgoers on their way to Mass at Our Lady Star of the Sea at the end of the
Mall. We’d been pretty busy filling special orders since I’d been making allergy-friendly baked goods to expand clientele. It seemed all the kids born in the last ten years were allergic to something.

  I used my key to let myself in the back to the kitchen. Gia was sitting in his little office staring at the blank screen of his laptop, drinking a cappuccino. He looked up when he heard the door close and his eyebrows shot up to his wavy dark hair. He didn’t speak at first, his eyes searching mine. We were frozen, letting the silence hang between us.

  “I came to make some muffins.”

  Gia nodded.

  “I thought I would do Paleo Mexican Chocolate and Apple Pie Crumble.”

  After a moment of silence, he stood up. “Do you want a latte?”

  “Yes.”

  He headed to the espresso bar in the front room but paused in front of me. He pulled me into a hug and held on like it was the last time we would see each other. He broke away and left the room without a word.

  I set out ingredients for the baking I wanted to try and willed my heart to slow down. Maybe this was a bad idea. There was a reckless part of me that would take off with Gia and never look back. All he had to do was say the word. I measured and mixed batter with shaky hands and a heavy heart until he brought me a coconut almond milk latte that he had created just for me.

  “So.” He leaned against the counter.

  “So.” I took a sip of my coffee.

  “Are you exclusive with Tim now?”

  “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

  Gia lifted a hand and tucked a shock of my hair that had come loose from my ponytail behind my ear. “So, it’s not too late.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”