21

Murder Came Knocking opened on a Friday. The morning dawned bright, clear, and cool.

November had finally arrived. One of Florida’s perfect months, November generally brought cooler temperatures, light breezes, and clear skies. Rachel could have spent the entire day lounging in a patch of sunlight with a book. Instead, she struggled through her morning classes in a haze, stopping often to scribble herself worried little notes about the play.

During car line, Sharon told Rachel flat-out that she didn’t look so good.

“I don’t feel so good,” Rachel admitted, unabashedly throwing grammar to the wind.

“I can’t wait to see the play, though,” Sharon said, as if this were a comfort. “It sounds really good.”

“You’re coming?” Sharon had been known to attend secondary school performances in the past, but Rachel had assumed that Lee’s presence at such events had something to do with it. Now that he was gone, what was the point?

Sharon fluttered her pale eyelashes. “Of course I’m coming. Everyone’s been talking about the play for weeks. It sounds really funny. And I heard there’s going to be some sort of stunt that I won’t want to miss. It’s too bad, though.” Sharon trailed off, frowning.

“What is?”

“I got Lee a ticket and everything, but he says he can’t come.”

Rachel’s heart flat lined. “Do you know if he got his car back?”

Sharon blinked hard, clearly confused. “What?”

“Never mind.” Rachel checked the time on her phone. “If you’re OK here, I’m going to take off a few minutes early.”

“No problem!” Sharon chirped. “See you tonight!”

Rachel buzzed home to shower, change into an all-black outfit, inhale an unsatisfying microwaved dinner, and rush back to the school to open the auditorium before the cast started arriving. She propped open the emergency-access door on the side—the one the cast typically used—before dipping back to her classroom to lock her purse in her bottom desk drawer.

Savoring the quiet of the empty building, she took a moment to twirl slowly in her swivel chair, enjoying the last few moments of calm.

So. Lee wasn’t coming.

Rachel swiveled the opposite way.

Apparently Sharon knew nothing of the missing-car incident. Which meant either Lee had his car back, or that Sharon hadn’t seen him yet this week.

Rachel changed directions.

She couldn’t believe Lee wasn’t coming to opening night—after they’d made up and everything. Sure, Lynn and Ann never came to performances, yet somehow this didn’t wound her. Then again, Lynn and Ann didn’t know any of the students personally. They only knew what Rachel told them. Not only had Lee helped design the set, but he also knew the students. It could be argued that he had a personal stake in the performance. He should be here.

But still. He wasn’t coming.

Rachel swiveled the other way.

Sharon had bought him a ticket, though.

She reversed directions.

Sharon, with whom he apparently didn’t share everything in his life yet. Sharon, who didn’t even know about the car.

Rachel stopped twirling and glanced at the clock, her vision swimming. When she realized that it was only two minutes until the cast’s call time, she bolted upright, took two erratic steps toward the door, stubbed her damaged toe, and nearly face-planted into the wall. She reeled backward, stumbled into the rolling chair—still adrift from her frantic leap—and nearly went down. She held still and closed her eyes. Took several deep breaths. Reached for her cane.

Not tonight, she told herself. Tonight she wouldn’t fall.

Tonight, nobody would fall.

~*~

Rachel opened the door to the green room and found pure chaos. Cast members in various stages of costuming pin-balled around the room, made slightly crazy by high spirits.

Candice, obviously tripping the line between excitement and hysteria, dashed up with a clipboard.

“All present and accounted for?” Rachel asked.

“Yes.” Candice chewed a thumb nail. “But Chris was late.”

“Well, he’s here now,” Rachel soothed. “I’m sure he had a good reason.”

“If by ‘good reason,’ you mean spraying on a pint of cologne.” Candice wrinkled her nose. “I think he took a bath in it.”

Rachel patted her stage manager on the shoulder and made her way through the melee, greeting the students, tucking in shirttails, and helping Todd Perkins untangle a pair of suspenders.

“OK!” She clapped her hands. “I’d like to run a few transitions and take some pictures before the audience starts showing up. Take ten minutes to finish getting ready, and then meet me onstage.”

Candice held up a white maid’s cap. “This is part of Jessica’s wardrobe. Has anybody seen her?”

Nobody answered.

“Has anybody seen Potts?” Candice bellowed. Pink splotches stood out on her neck, and a vein in her temple pulsed purple. Yikes.

“I think she said something about going out to do some warmups,” Todd Perkins offered, squinching his nose to push up his glasses.

It sounded like something Jessica Potts would do. Trying not to roll her eyes, Rachel snatched the cap from Candice. “I’ll take it to her. I wanted to have a chat with her anyway. Start sending everyone else out when they’re ready.” Hopefully they would have enough time to run a few scenes and save themselves from a cold start.

As Rachel limped through the backstage labyrinth, she felt grateful for this chance to catch Jessica alone. Perhaps she could say something to test Detective Smith’s main theory. She had no idea what she would say, but she hoped an idea would present itself in the moment.

Rachel’s cane tapped against the floor as she stepped onstage. “Jessica?” she called. “Are you out here?”

No answer.

Rachel scanned the set and put up a hand to shade her eyes, peering out into the darkness beyond the floodlights. “Jessica?”

Later, she’d never be able to identify exactly what she’d sensed, but she felt her heart drop before she even turned to look up. In that moment she realized why she hadn’t spotted Jessica.

She’d been looking way too low.

Dressed in her prim maid’s uniform, crouched at the top of the tall staircase, one hand braced against the ceiling, sensible shoes resting on top of the hand railing, crouched Jessica Potts. She wore the harness for Agatha’s dramatic fall in Act IV, but she hadn’t put it on properly. Instead of belting it around her waist, she’d knotted it around her neck.