My mother called that evening just as I’d finished cleaning up after dinner.
“Carrie dear, how are you? I hope to see you tomorrow evening when Tom and the others come to the library for their rehearsal.”
“I’ll be there, Mom.”
“I’m so glad. It feels like ages since we’ve gotten together.”
“How are things?” I asked. “How’s Tom?”
“Couldn’t be better. Dirk couldn’t stop raving about the two scenes they shot today with Tom and Marissa.” She lowered her voice. “If you ask me—I hate to speak ill of the dead—but Marissa is a much better actress than Ilana. Tom simply glows when they’re on camera together.”
A glowing Tom. He sounds radioactive. I stifled a giggle.
“This movie is turning out to be such a godsend,” my mother went on. “Tom’s agent called to let us know that two directors want him to read for parts. Not leads, but very substantial roles.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, meaning it.
“And how are you and Dylan doing?”
“We’re good,” I said. “He might be able to come to the rehearsal tomorrow.”
“I’d love to see him. We really should make a dinner date. Before you know it, they’ll be finished filming and we’ll be heading back to California.”
“When do you think that will be?” I asked.
“Dirk refuses to say, except that it’s sooner than he’d thought. After Ilana was killed, there was talk of scuttling the movie, but Charlie, Serena, and Tom were all for soldiering on. And with Marissa being such a professional, they were able to get back to work and shoot scenes more quickly than expected.”
“I’m glad, especially for you and Tom.”
My mother sighed. “Tom’s happy that people are beginning to recognize his talent. But he and all the others are upset that there hasn’t been any progress in the investigation into Ilana’s murder.”
“I can understand that,” I said.
“Carrie dear, have you heard of any new developments? Are the police interviewing any new suspects?”
Ah, so that’s why you called! “Sorry, Mom. Nothing I know of.”
“You’re good friends with Lieutenant Mathers. He didn’t happen to bring you up to date on the investigation?”
“Nope.”
“And you haven’t found out anything that points to a guilty party?”
“Sorry, Mom. I haven’t.”
Was that a tsk I heard? “I’ve told everyone in the cast and crew how you virtually solved the last few homicide cases here in Clover Ridge single-handedly. I showed them the articles I printed out of all those online stories about you!”
“Thanks, Mom. I wish you hadn’t.”
“Why? What are you ashamed of? You should be proud that you’re so clever. I’m very proud of you.”
I let out a humph of exasperation. “Did it ever occur to you that if someone in the movie crew murdered Daphne and Ilana, he’d be angry if he found out I was trying to track him down and might come after me?”
After a pause, my mother said, “I think you’re being very unreasonable, Carrie. I doubt very strongly that anyone involved in the movie is the murderer. First your police chief suspected Dirk, then he suspected Tom. He couldn’t hold either of them because they’re innocent.”
When I remained silent, my mother went on. “I’d think you’d want to find this murderer. Especially since your friend Daphne was his first victim.”
And you’re hoping I’ll tell you everything I learn so you can impress the movie people. That’s not going to happen. “I have no clues to chase down,” I said. “I’m leaving this investigation to Lieutenant Mathers.”
“Well, let me know if you happen to find out anything, okay?”
“Of course. See you tomorrow night.”
The following day, I left the library at five o’clock sharp. As soon as I got home, I fed Smoky Joe his dinner, then ate a tuna salad sandwich and made one for Dylan, which he ate on our drive back to the library for the read-through of The Cocktail Hour.
We hadn’t had a chance to talk for any length of time during the past two days, so I filled him in on my conversations with my mother and John on the way to the library.
“John’s pissed at me for not telling him we went to see Sheila.”
Dylan laughed. “Which means he’s pissed at me as well.”
I grinned. “I’m glad I have company.”
“He’ll get over it. Next topic. Why are you annoyed with your mother?”
I exhaled loudly. “Because she only called to pick my brain about the murders.”
“So? What’s unusual about that?”
I stared at him. “She’s my mother. She should be interested in me, her daughter. Not using me so she can impress the movie people.”
Dylan snorted. “This is Brianna—er, Linda—we’re talking about. Have you forgotten what she’s like?”
“No, but I was hoping that after staying with me, she had changed.”
“Uh-huh. A woman in her midfifties makes a startling behavioral change after staying with her daughter for—how many days was it? Two? Three?”
I stared at Dylan, then burst out laughing. “Okay. Point taken. She didn’t change. She won’t change. She—she’s the same as she’s always been.”
Dylan patted my hand. “Now you’re learning.”
“I hope so. For some reason, though, I keep expecting her to relate differently to me,” I grumbled.
“Carrie, your mother loves you, but her number-one concern in life is her husband, Tom.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“And once you truly understand and accept that, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.”
We drove on in silence as I thought that over. We must have traveled a few miles when Dylan said, “Of course, there’s no telling how things will shift once she becomes a grandmother.”
My mouth fell open. When I managed to speak, I said, “Now where did that come from?”
Dylan chuckled instead of answering.
The library parking lot was full, what with all the regular patrons as well as those planning to attend tonight’s rehearsal, so we parked on the street.
“It’s only six thirty,” I said. “I didn’t expect this many people to turn up for a read-through.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dylan said. “The public views actors as icons, even when they’re not big names like Brad Pitt and Nicole Kidman. I imagine the people coming here tonight want to hear what Tom and Charlie and the others say to one another when they’re not reading their lines.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
The back door was locked, which was very unusual, so we walked around to the front of the library. Inside, Sally was counting heads as people entered. “Thank God you’re here! Marion and Harvey are holding back the horde. They have instructions to let those people to whom I’ve given numbers go downstairs at a quarter to seven. There are fire laws and we have limited seating.”
She eyed Dylan. “Dylan, would you and Carrie be so kind as to go down to the meeting room and—once they’re allowed downstairs—urge the audience to take seats ASAP?”
“Glad to be of service,” he said, smiling.
I returned waves and greetings as we made our way through the crowd gathered at the top of the staircase. Marion, the children’s librarian, and Harvey, the head of our computer department, looked harried as they stood guard.
“Lucky you,” Harvey said as Dylan and I walked past him.
I looked forward to the fall when work would begin on the library expansion, which would include a stadium-seating auditorium with a capacity four times the number of seats we had now.
“Yoo-hoo, Carrie!”
As I entered the meeting room, Charlie Stanton waved to me from his seat behind the long table he was sharing with Tom, Serena, and a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair who I assumed was Marissa Varig. Tom was listening to something Marissa was saying, while Serena was deep in conversation with Hattie Fein, who stood at her side.
Always the hair and makeup artist, I thought as Hattie smoothed a strand of Serena’s hair in place. A man wearing earphones—no doubt Ralph, the sound engineer—was snaking a wire across the floor behind the table so the reading could be heard upstairs the evening of the actual performance.
My mother broke off chatting with Liane Walters and turned to Dylan and me. “I’m so glad to see you, Carrie. And Dylan, of course!” She hugged us as though she were welcoming us to the event.
Now that her marital relationship had dramatically improved, my mother had reverted to true form. My boyfriend quickly faded from the scene like the investigator par excellence he was, leaving me to deal with my mother.
“I was just suggesting to Liane the idea of inviting the local TV station here to do a feature on the reading,” she said. “It would show the library in a good light and provide great publicity for the movie.”
“Doesn’t Firestone Productions have its own publicist?” I asked.
My mother dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “They sent a reporter here when the filming began, but nothing’s been in the papers or on TV since then.”
I refrained from mentioning that Ilana’s murder had received plenty of publicity in the news.
Like Dylan, Liane had found the opportunity to escape my mother’s attentions. I was about to move on too when she grabbed my arm as though she knew what I was planning.
“Carrie dear. I’d like you to meet Marissa Varig. Such a lovely young woman.” Not like Ilana, you mean.
“Mom, I really have to—” I began, to no avail. She practically dragged me over to the table, which caught the attention of the others.
“Marissa, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Carrie. She’s responsible for every program and event the library presents. Carrie, Marissa is an up-and-coming movie star.” My mother winked. “I expect her to be nominated for an Oscar one of these days.”
Marissa held out a slim hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carrie.”
“Likewise,” I said.
Marissa tilted her head as she smiled. Every movement was fluid. Graceful. “Tom and your mother have been telling me that you’re also a detective. In fact, they said you’ve helped the police catch murderers.”
“A few.” I felt my ears grow warm with embarrassment.
Marissa scoffed. “A few murderers are more than I’ve ever caught.”
“We’re hoping Carrie will find poor Ilana’s killer,” Charlie chimed in.
“Yes, indeed,” Serena agreed. “Especially since the official investigation has come to a dead standstill. Pardon the pun.”
Marissa shivered. “I almost didn’t take this job because I’d heard of the two murders in town, but Dirk convinced me I’d be safe.”
Charlie grinned. “What he did was offer you enough greenbacks to overcome your fears.”
That earned him a roar of laughter from everyone present, including Marissa. I shot Charlie a look of admiration. He had the rare ability to say what was on everyone’s mind without rubbing people the wrong way.
“Carrie, have there been any new developments in the case?” Tom asked.
I didn’t answer. Hattie had just turned her head, and I was too busy staring at the barrette holding back her curly black hair. It appeared to be made of braided silver rope and was decorated with an array of purple, copper, and gold-colored beads.
“Carrie?” Tom prodded.
“Sorry. There’s nothing new that I’m aware of. But John Mathers is a good man. I’m sure he’s chasing down every lead and every tie-in between the two homicides.”
“I heard there also might be a connection to a murder that took place twenty years ago,” Marissa said.
“The police are looking into it,” I said, craning my neck to catch another glimpse of Hattie’s barrette. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a break in the case very soon.”
“I certainly hope so,” Hattie said with a toss of her head.
“Hattie, your barrette is absolutely gorgeous! I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hattie smiled. “Why thank you, Carrie. I’m quite fond of it myself.”
“Where did you get it?” I asked.
She cocked her head as she thought. “You know, I really can’t remember.” She waved to her friends. “And now I must bid you all adieu and let you do your thing.”
I watched her walk to the rear of the room.
“Carrie, love, what break are you referring to?” Charlie asked, his tone teasing. “Come on! Don’t hold back. Tell us what you know.”
My mother took this as her cue to chime in. “Carrie runs rings around the police when it comes to finding clues and solving murders.”
I felt a pang of guilt, remembering the times I’d gone sleuthing and didn’t let John in on what I’d learned.
“Tell us what you know, Carrie. It’s only fair,” Tom urged.
Fair or not, I thought of Patricia Harper aka Sheila Rossetti’s upcoming visit. “All I can say, is maybe something or someone will turn up soon. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Why did I refer to a person? I bit my tongue, but it was too late. At any rate, no one seemed to notice.
“Anything would be better than what’s been happening up till now,” Serena said. “If you ask me, that lieutenant doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. He’s questioned suspect after suspect and has yet to charge anyone with the crime.”
I felt myself growing angry in John’s defense. “Lieutenant Mathers is a wonderful detective. He’s working the case and is sure to find Ilana’s killer very soon!”
Serena cocked her head. “Really? And you’re privy to this? Do tell.”