As Denton walked away, I thought maybe someone had gotten to him, someone like Felix or Andy, and convinced him to stop his research. Tanner’s death alone was enough of a deterrent. If pressured or threatened, he might have been persuaded to withdraw from the controversy. He had a lot at stake, including a medical degree, and as he said, he was a scientist, not a literary scholar. I couldn’t blame him for not continuing. Still, I was disappointed. The sleuth in me wanted to know if Shakespeare was really Shakespeare. His results might not have answered the question definitively, but they would have brought the world closer to knowing the truth.
Jacob was standing next to Mia and her friends, and Lenny and I took a step in that direction. Dressed in black and wearing a dour expression, Jacob reminded me of a storm cloud. Actually, he reminded me of Tanner. He had the same brooding personality. He was less able to keep a lid on his emotions, though. Tanner was a natural. Jacob had to work at it. Judging by the way he clenched his fists at his sides, whatever Alice was saying irritated him.
“Congratulations, Mia,” I said as Lenny and I approached the group. “It’s a lovely gown. I’m so glad we got an opportunity to see it.”
“It’s cool,” said Lenny. “Good job.”
“Thank you,” said Mia. “And thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” I said. “I promised another student I’d drop by.”
“You get your car working?” Jacob asked Lenny.
“I did,” said Lenny. “Thanks.”
The question threw me. Luckily, it hadn’t thrown Lenny.
“Was it antifreeze?” said Jacob.
The word entered the conversation like a dart. I flinched.
“I added a little water to the radiator,” Lenny said. “It’s fine—for now, anyway. I need to get it into the shop.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I was relieved for the break in the conversation. I checked the caller ID. It was Owen Parrish. I excused myself from the group before answering.
“You didn’t like this cover either.”
These were the first words out of Owen’s mouth. Not hi, hello, or how are you. I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Hi, Owen. The cover is concerning, yes.”
“There are fewer flowers,” said Owen.
“That’s true, but there is also a Victorian lady sprawled out on a bench. I don’t see how she relates.”
“She’s reading,” he said. “We want people to read your book.”
“People looking for a historical romance?” I shook my head. “I don’t think so. They would surely be disappointed. I know. I read a lot of historical romances.”
“I’m not sure what you want from me,” said Owen.
How about a normal conversation, for starters. “I would like to see a nonfiction book cover that matches the theme of the book.”
“I will see what else we can come up with that would satisfy you.”
Owen released a stream of air right into the mouthpiece. I held the phone back from my ear. “That would be nice, thank you.”
Owen didn’t respond.
I looked at my phone screen. The jerk had hung up.
Mia and her friends had dispersed, but Lenny was waiting for me, chewing the last of his cookies. His face was a combination of a smirk and a smile. I swear I could put him in the middle of a maelstrom, and he’d find a way to paddle happily ashore. I’d probably drown looking for a compass.
“Owen hung up on me,” I said.
“I figured,” he said. “I saw you glaring at your phone.”
“What am I going to do?” I said.
He dusted off his hands. “Exactly what you’re doing. He’ll change it. Just be patient.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Your name isn’t on a book with cleavage.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’d mind that so much.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Very funny.”
He put his arm around me. “I couldn’t resist. I love it when your lips do that little thing they’re doing. Do you know it was one of the first things I loved about you?”
There was that word again. Love. Every time he dropped it, I felt like I might swoon. It was ridiculous. “No … I … uh, didn’t know that.”
“The second was the way the curls at your temples escape no matter what contraption you tie them into.” He touched a curl behind my ear. “These.”
I swallowed. “I see.”
“And the third was the way you eat candy with wild abandonment. The moment I saw you tear into a king-sized Snickers at a faculty meeting, I said, here’s a girl after my own heart.”
Now I laughed. “They’re very satisfying.”
“It’s been a wonderful ride, hasn’t it Em?”
“It has,” I said. “I’m glad it’s led us here.”
“Who knows where else it will lead?” His navy eyes searched mine. “Some journeys take a lifetime.”
“Or longer.”
He smiled. “Or longer.”
My response had answered a question in his mind. What the question was, I wasn’t sure. We’d both played the field and lost when it came to love. Relationships had been disappointing at best, soul-killing at worst. Maybe he was asking if I still believed in the journey, in finding the one person who completed me. I did, and though maybe it was my vast experience with romance novels talking, I believed he did, too.
The theater director breezed through the door, and I refocused on Tanner and his unsolved murder. I wanted to ask Alexander about the skull in Hamlet and who would have had access to it. I called his name, and he turned and strode in our direction, his barrel of a belly leading the way.
“You spend a lot of time in the theater,” said Alexander. “I’m starting to think you might need a job.”
“Heck, no,” I said. “You will never get me up on that stage.”
“There are other things you can do,” he said.
“That’s what I want to ask you about,” I said. “Well, not that exactly but something related. I have a question about the prop department.”
“If this is an excuse to try on the Marie Antoinette wig—” began Alexander.
“It’s not.” I cut him off before he could tell Lenny about catching me in the wig before one of our meetings. I had a bigger head than I thought, and it didn’t come off easily.
“Someone put the skull from Hamlet in the downstairs women’s bathroom, under Em’s stall,” said Lenny. “She was the only one in there. We’re still wondering who did it.”
“Friday night,” said Alexander. “I remember. Someone ran it down to the theater. A volunteer. I was livid to see it gone.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Lenny had a volunteer return it.”
“Who had access to the props that night?” asked Lenny.
“Anyone in the play, of course, and anyone backstage. We have tables near the tabs, where props are easily accessible. Nobody else is allowed back there during a performance.”
“Tabs?” said Lenny.
“The side curtains,” Alexander clarified. “In Hamlet, the skull comes in during Act V.”
“This happened during intermission, before Act V,” I said.
“That’s brazen,” said Alexander. “The skull was on the opposite side of the theater from the restroom. Whoever took it would have to be familiar with the tunnel that runs under the stage. We use it to cross without being seen.”
“So it’s someone who knows the theater, not just enjoys it,” I said.
“Precisely.” Alexander waved at a colleague who called out to him. “Let me know if you catch the punk. I’d like to have a word with him. He might have ruined my entire performance. Excuse me.”
I was glad to hear my safety was his chief concern.
“Well, that narrows it down,” said Lenny after Alexander was gone.
I grabbed Lenny’s arm. “It does. Think about it. Felix or Andy don’t know our theater. They’ve never been here. If Alexander is correct, it means they couldn’t have murdered Tanner.”
“You’re right. It has to be someone else.” Lenny gazed around the room. My eyes followed his from one clump of people to the next. Nibbling cookies, drinking lemonade, exchanging back-pats—they all appeared harmless. His eyes stopped on Mia, who was smugly admiring her creation for Twelfth Night. Alice was admiring it, too. Mackenzie and Hailey were engaged in a side conversation. Jacob looked bored, and Denton watched from the sidelines. Dressed in a plaid button-down and jeans, he was as distinct in his plainness as they were in their flamboyancy. He wasn’t directly involved with the theater, nor was Alice. But any of them was familiar enough with the campus to pull off the trick.