I decided that I was going to stay up Saturday evening until Richard got home, so I could share my conversation with Conner.
Which is how he found me asleep on the sofa with one cat tucked behind the crook of my bent knees and the other plastered up against my back.
“Should’ve taken a picture,” he said as I struggled to sit up. “You three were just too cute, snuggled up like that.”
I swished some saliva around inside my mouth, realizing that I hadn’t brushed my teeth after my dinner. I could still taste the two slices of leftover margherita pizza. “Oof,” I said, running my fingers through my tousled hair. “I’m sure I look a lot more rumpled than the cats. They stay nice and sleek despite rolling around on the sofa, while I go all frumpy and frowzy.”
Richard grinned and bent down to kiss me on the forehead. Before he could go in for a kiss on the mouth, I pressed my hand over my lips. “You don’t want to do that. I have garbage breath right now. Let me go brush my teeth and throw on my pajamas while you put your dance bag and other stuff away.”
Richard stepped back as I stood up. “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said while Loie and Fosse, who’d leapt off the sofa the minute I’d moved, weaved around his ankles, meowing pitifully. “What’s this? Didn’t your mother feed you?”
“Of course I did. But now that you’ve come home, they expect a treat.” I grabbed the shoes I’d kicked off before I’d fallen asleep on the sofa, balancing them on the book I’d left on the coffee table. “See you in a minute.”
I hurried upstairs, setting the book on my bedroom nightstand and tossing the shoes into our walk-in closet. Changing into my shorts and a cami, I ran into the bathroom and brushed and flossed before heading back downstairs.
“Better now?” Richard asked, meeting me at the foot of the steps. Before I could answer, he pulled me in for a kiss. “Yes, that’s quite nice,” he said when he released me.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Meanwhile, I can tell you’ve been drinking coffee.”
Richard shrugged. “Late night, semi-long drive. I didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.”
“Good thinking,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist as we strolled toward the living room area. “Did you give the beasts their treats?”
“Do you see them pestering us?” Richard led me back to the sofa. “You didn’t need to stay up and wait for me. I know you were working at the library all day.”
“But something else happened. While I was eating lunch outside, behind the library, Conner Vogler showed up, and we had an interesting chat. I wanted to tell you about it.” I rubbed my bare arms. “But first, I need some sort of wrap. Maybe it’s from just waking up, but I feel kind of chilled.”
“Sure thing,” Richard said as he took a seat on the sofa. “I believe your cotton sweater’s still hanging on the coat tree, if that will work.”
“Good idea.” I trotted over to front door, where a tall wooden rack held a variety of light jackets, hoodies, and other outerwear. Grabbing the cotton sweater I’d carried into the theater the day Meredith was killed, I strolled back to the sofa. “Fortunately, it isn’t stained with any blood splatter. I guess I should’ve checked that sooner, but I honestly forgot all about it after we got home that day.”
“Not surprising,” Richard said as I slipped on the sweater and plopped down next to him. “So, what did Conner tell you? Anything that you think might help his case?”
“Maybe. I already shared some of the info with Brad, and he’s going to look into it.” Snuggling up against Richard, I laid my head against his chest before detailing the story Conner had told me.
“So there were other people in the area,” Richard said thoughtfully. “That means Conner could’ve actually seen the killer.”
“But not clearly, unfortunately. He said it was someone in dark clothes, but since a lot of dancers wear black rehearsal togs, that doesn’t narrow things down too much.”
“What about Nate Broyhill? What was he wearing when you saw him outside?”
“A charcoal-gray shirt and black pants,” I said, sitting up. “If he’d simply thrown on a black sweatshirt and cap, he could’ve been the person Conner spied leaving the lobby.”
“But would he have known about the emergency exits?” Richard leaned back into the sofa cushions, staring up at the beadboard ceiling. “Conner and all the other dancers and their parents were given a safety tour and talk by Karla, but Nate wouldn’t have been privy to that information.”
“Unless he studied the floorplans ahead of time,” I said. “They were available on the theater website as part of the fundraising campaign for the renovation.”
“True.” Richard stretched out his legs, pushing back the coffee table. “Sorry, cramping tendons.”
“You need to take a long hot shower or an Epsom salt bath,” I said, patting his muscular thigh. “All that standing around on hard wooden floors, as well as the dancing, is bound to take a toll.”
“On an old man, you mean?” Richard met my raised eyebrow look with a grin. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I know I’m not getting any younger, and I’m afraid a dancer’s life doesn’t get easier as you age.”
“I think you’ve still got a few good years left,” I said mildly as Loie sauntered in from the hall. “Had your snack, did you? Where’s your brother?”
As if in response to my question, Fosse barreled down the hallway, leaping over Loie, who hissed her disapproval. The orange tabby paid no attention to this, instead jumping up onto the coffee table to survey Richard and me with his wide golden eyes.
“Watch out, he’s going to make the leap sooner or later,” Richard said.
“But Loie’s going to beat him to the punch.” I motioned toward the tortoiseshell, who’d slinked under the coffee table and now sat on her haunches at the edge of the sofa. She sprang up in a graceful arc, landing on the cushion on the other side of Richard.
“A sneak attack,” Richard said, petting her head. “Very clever, girl. I guess age and guile sometimes wins out over youth and impetuousness.”
I giggled as Fosse, looking hurt, turned his back on us. “And now we’ll be spurned, having made fun of his highness,” I said, absently thrusting my hand into one of the sweater pockets.
My fingers encountered a hard lump of paper. Sliding it out, I realized it was the crumpled notecard I’d stuffed into the sweater pocket on the day Meredith died.
“For goodness sake, I’d forgotten all about this,” I told Richard as I smoothed the card flat. “It was tossed in the corner of one of the rehearsal studios at the theater. I found it when I was checking the rooms downstairs, right before I discovered Meredith’s body. I grabbed it, thinking I would reunite it with its recipient. But then it completely slipped my mind.”
“Not surprising, considering what came next.” Richard leaned in closer. “What is it?”
“Some sort of note. Looks like it was deliberately crumpled.” Having flattened the notecard back to something close to its original square shape, I opened it up. “Let’s see what it says.”
With Richard’s head close to mine, we read the short note together.
M.—You’ve manipulated and used me for the last time. Back off or prepare to pay the price.
The note was printed in block letters that looked like someone had tried to disguise their handwriting. There was no signature.
“Wow,” I said. Richard let slip a swear word that made Loie lift her head and stare balefully at us. “M has to mean Meredith, right?”
“It could be.” Richard spoke slowly, as if he was still processing the implications of the note. “Although that’s not something we can be absolutely sure about.”
“But I found the note tossed in the corner of a rehearsal studio that Meredith had used, giving a warning to someone with an M initial.” I picked up the note, holding it by one corner. “There’s probably no DNA left on it, is there?”
“You mean other than yours? Who knows? I suggest bagging it and handing it over to Brad. See what he can make of it.” Richard jumped up, striding toward the hall. “I’ll grab a plastic bag from the kitchen.”
I stared at the note. The way it was worded made me reconsider Riley Irwin as a more viable suspect. He had been dressed in black on the day of the murder, and a spurned lover could easily have written that text. Or an ex-husband, I thought, considering Nate Broyhill’s dark clothing along with Conner’s description of the individual he’d seen in the lobby. He thought the person could’ve been a dancer, and Nate would definitely move in that manner.
Nate was outside, with his vehicle, earlier. But after you went inside, you watched the rehearsal from backstage for a while. Probably long enough for him to head into the theater, kill Meredith, and flee in his SUV. He could’ve known where the emergency exits were if he’d studied the floorplans ahead of time. Now, whether he somehow got into the theater earlier to stash that knife or simply found it, who knows?
Richard returned with the plastic bag, holding it open while I dropped the note inside. He sealed the bag and carried it over to an end table with a drawer. “I’m putting this in here until you can take it to Brad, or have him pick it up,” he said. “One of the few places the cats can’t get to.”
I nodded, before expounding on my Nate theory while Richard sat down beside me. “He told the authorities that he stopped up the street, a few blocks away, to talk to Tamara. But what if he actually fled in the SUV and then met Tamara along the way and stopped so she could give him an alibi?”
“Because you think they’re having a romantic relationship?” Doubt clouded Richard’s gray eyes. “I don’t know. I’d have thought Tamara was too smart to get involved with Broyhill. She has to have heard all the stories. It’s not like he has a sterling reputation in dance circles.”
“Maybe it isn’t a romance,” I said, my mind racing with other possibilities. “He did try to create a dance company once before. Perhaps he’s thinking of trying again and is recruiting principal dancers ahead of time.”
“I suppose it’s possible. Let me ask around and see if there’s any chatter about that.”
I looked up into Richard’s handsome face. “Good idea. By the way, I met a voice teacher at Clarion who said you don’t listen to gossip much, so you definitely may have missed any rumors about such a thing.
“Oh? Who was that? I didn’t realize many people at the university were even aware of my existence.”
I pressed my fingers over the hand he laid on his thigh. “A Ms. Holt. And I bet you’re talked about throughout all the various departments at Clarion—at least all the artsy ones. An attractive and talented and famous dancer in their midst? Pfft—you’re probably a common topic of conversation.”
“Not that famous,” Richard said, turning his hand so he could clasp my fingers.
I flashed him a smile. “I bet it was even worse when you were single.”
“But I wasn’t really ever single when I was working at Clarion, now was I?” Richard lifted our clasped hands and kissed my knuckles. “Since I met you when I first moved to Taylorsford, before I even started my teaching job there.”
“We weren’t married, or even engaged, for a year or so,” I said. “You were fair game then.”
“Maybe in their minds. Not in mine,” Richard said firmly. He released my hand and slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Now, getting back to our discussion about the cryptic note—who could’ve sent it if it wasn’t Nate? Any ideas?”
“Riley Irwin, perhaps?’ I snuggled up closer to Richard, blinking to keep my eyes open. I was tired. Exhausted, actually. Which was silly. I’d worked plenty of Saturdays without becoming so drained. “I told you what Emily Moore said about him having a relationship with Meredith.”
“One that didn’t end well,” Richard said thoughtfully. “I suppose that could fit with the ‘manipulated and used’ line.”
“Exactly. Maybe he didn’t actually head to that café when he left Tamara and Davonte in the parking lot. He could’ve circled around to the front of the theater and reentered through the lobby, or something. He knows the building, so he’d be able to get away and reappear outside later without much trouble.”
A piercing meow drew my attention to the foot of stairs, where Loie and Fosse had gathered. “Not so patiently waiting, are you, guys?” Richard gave my shoulder a squeeze before pulling back his arm. “I think they want us to go to bed. Which seems like a great idea. I’m worn out, and you look like you’re still half asleep. What do you say we head upstairs and talk about this again after you share the note with Brad?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, yawning.
Richard helped me to my feet, keeping a hold on my hand as we crossed the room. He also followed behind me as I climbed the stairs, claiming he didn’t want me to tumble backward.
“I’m not that out of it,” I said, although I was grateful for his concern.
“All the same, I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Richard said as we reached the hallway at the top of the steps.
Instead of walking into our bedroom, I stopped and turned around as a new thought hit me. “Come to think of it, that note could’ve also been written by Davonte or Tamara. We don’t know about all of their interactions in the past. Maybe Meredith did manipulate and use them. In terms of career-related stuff, I mean. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Richard placed his hands on my shoulders and spun me around before giving me a little push forward. “Bed. Now.”
“All right, all right,” I mumbled. I crossed the room, shedding the sweater and tossing it over a chair along the way. Fosse and Loie were already waiting, curled up on the coverlet I’d pulled back to the foot of the bed. “But you know I’m going to be puzzling over this half the night.”
“Then I’d better find a way to distract you,” Richard called out as he headed into the bathroom.