Cait hesitated as she passed the gift shop. If it isn’t opened soon, people are going to wonder why. Marcus posted signs saying the shop was being remodeled, but obviously it wasn’t. She hadn’t seen any news trucks converging on the festival since the tea in April. She seldom watched television, and the only paper she read was the local Independent, so she hadn’t seen anything about Chip Fallon’s murder. She continued to the kitchen and was about to refill her coffee when she heard a light knocking on the back door.
“Got it,” Marcus said.
When he opened the door, the Harts and Ray walked in. “Look who we found wandering around like a lost puppy,” June said.
“For crying out loud,” Ray said, “I was walking the perimeter of the Blackfriars theater. Did you forget about Macbeth on Saturday?”
“Of course not, you big lug. Find any criminals? I hope you’ve got your gun, because you just might need it.”
Cait watched their bantering with amusement.
Ray turned on Cait. “What’s she’s talking about?”
“Would you like coffee, Ray, while I tell you?” Cait asked.
“Got a full thermos of coffee. Just tell me and don’t spare the details.”
“Fumié was abducted yesterday.” When he didn’t react, she continued. “The good news is she’s back and she’s okay. The bad news is, Wally’s still out there.”
Ray pulled his gun and checked the chamber. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to use this.” He tucked it back under his shirt.
“There’s also been another murder.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Christ almighty. Soon you’ll have enough bodies to start your own damn mortuary.”
June stared at Cait. “The police found a body?” She glanced around the kitchen as if to count heads.
“Detective Rook called,” Cait said. “John LeBow was found last night where Fumié said she heard a gunshot.”
“She’ll make a darn good park ranger,” June said. “So that means one bad guy down and one to go—Wally.”
“Wally must be desperate,” Jim said. “All the more reason to be cautious.”
“Talk to the actors, Ray, as soon as they’re here,” Cait said. “Manning was here a little while ago. Officers Perough and Vanicheque gave him twenty-four hours to bring Wally in or they would find and arrest both of them.”
Ray ran his hand over his scruffy chin. “Lord help us all if Actors’ Equity decides to stop by. They can do that, you know, just show up with no warning. They negotiate our salaries and our working conditions.”
Cait cringed at the thought of AE showing up at her door. “I promised Sam Cruz the actors would be safe, the police would be here, and to stop worrying.”
“Yeah, but that was before Fumié’s abduction and LeBow’s murder,” Ray said.
“Dammit, Ray! What do you expect me to do?” Cait snapped. “Find Wally and kill him myself? Believe me, I’d like nothing better.”
Ray reached out and drew her close in a smothering bear hug. “Come here, kid. I’m sorry. It’s just my way of blowing off steam. I know none of this is your fault that some scumbag’s got a bomb up his ass. You’re doing everything anyone could ask. If Tasha were here, she’d be blaming herself for getting you into this mess.”
“You’re sweet,” Cait mumbled into his scratchy work shirt and then pulled away. “If she’s looking down on us, she’s wondering how her Shakespeare festival can survive under my supervision.”
“Not so,” Marcus said. “She’d smile and say, ‘Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear.’ ”
Cait smiled, pleased to hear Marcus quote Shakespeare.
“Well said, Marcus,” June said. “It’s nice Shakespeare’s made an impression on you.”
Red crept up Marcus’s neck.
Cait leaned against the counter. “I can’t believe how well the festival is going in spite of murder and constant chaos.” She saw a familiar face in the door window. When she opened the door, Betsy Ryder, aka Lady Macbeth, Vanicheque and Perough walked in.
“Betsy, if you’re looking for Ray, he’s here.”
Blond wisps of hair fell in waves around Betsy’s face. “These officers flashed their shields when I arrived, so I assumed something bad happened. But you all look fine.” She smiled. “Ray, we’re waiting to get in the theater.”
Ray grunted, “I’m coming.”
“I’ll go,” Marcus said, drawing his modem from his pocket.
“Don’t forget about the wigs, Ray,” Cait said.
“Something wrong with the wigs?” Betsy asked.
“Someone got into the trunk of wigs at the Elizabethan theater,” Vanicheque said. “Don’t know if one was stolen, but just make sure you recognize everyone in costume. Give Cait a call or tell an officer if you suspect someone. You might want to have another look at Wally’s mug shot.”
“Good grief,” Betsy laughed. “He wouldn’t be difficult to recognize. We don’t have a black actor in our play.”
“Wally’s shown how creative he can be,” June said. “So don’t hesitate to scream.”
“I won’t, and it’ll be in my loudest stage voice,” Betsy said.
“And Betsy,” Cait added, “if anyone asks about there being so much security, just tell them it’s standard operating procedure. I don’t want to frighten them.”
“No, of course not,” Betsy said.
“Let’s go,” Ray said, “before the troops break down the door.”
“The gift shop is still closed. All the guests need to know is it’s being remodeled. Signs have been posted.”
Betsy left with Ray, the officers, and Marcus.
June sighed. “Now what?”
Cait shrugged. “We wait.”
“Have you talked with Fumié?”
Cait shook her head. “I don’t expect to see her today.”
“Any word from RT?”
“No.” Cait tried not to think about him, but as soon as she laid her head down at night, she always had visions of him.
“At least you know he’ll be back. His vehicles are in the parking lot.”
A loud bang, sputtering, and the squeal of brakes in the driveway penetrated the house.
They ran to the front and looked out the window.
“Oh, it’s Fumié!” June said.
Ilia opened the passenger door of his VW and helped Fumié out. It amazed Cait how Fumié could return so soon after her frightening experience and still be able to laugh.
“Hi,” Fumié said when Cait and June stepped out onto the porch.
Cait hurried down the stairs. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home resting?”
“I couldn’t stay away. Marcus and I want to finalize plans for the gift shop. He thinks he can have it built in a month.”
“Her parents invited me for breakfast,” Ilia said. “She insisted on coming here.”
Cait laughed. “Marcus will be happy to see you. He’s worried about you.”
“Be right back,” Ilia said. He ran to his car and returned with his new digital Nikon. “I’m going to take her picture with Marcus. For my book,” he explained.
June pointed to the yellow bug. “Are you sure that thing is drivable?”
Ilia grinned. “Hey, it’s my pride and joy. Could use a bit of a tuneup though.”
Cait’s cell rang. She recognized Rook’s number. “Is it good news?” She frowned. “How could that happen? What about Manning?” She paced the porch as she listened. “Well, damn.” She dropped her phone in her pocket.
“Detective Rook?” June asked.
Cait nodded, her gaze sweeping the vineyard. “Wally’s gone. Pagan Alley’s been cleared out. Rook said to expect a couple more officers. He thinks Wally will come here.”
“And Manning?” June asked.
“Don’t know.”