Chapter 38
The theater was packed and the show had already started. Cora and Jane were placed behind a table, each having a cash box filled with change.
“Everything is a dollar. The water, sodas, and snacks,” Lucy said. “You shouldn’t have to deal with change at all, but you’ll be prepared just in case.” She flitted around them like a tightly wound windup toy.
“Okay,” Jane said. “Anything else?”
“I hope we have enough. We even have folks on the balcony tonight. If we run out of food, we run out,” she said, shrugging, with her bracelets jangling as she did so. “Also, I probably don’t have to tell you this, but please don’t talk with the press. They’ve been skulking around here.” Lucy had a gift for drama. Cora was certain there were no real press around the theater.
“Whatever for?” Jane said. “A man was killed. End of story. What could they possibly hope to dig up?”
“I don’t know,” she said with sudden seriousness. “You know, Stanley was not an easy man to get along with. I’ll never get over the way he pushed some of these kids and how he treated their parents.” She clicked her tongue on the back of her teeth. “But we wouldn’t have a theater without him.”
“What do you mean?” Cora said as she arranged candy.
“His fund-raising built this place. He also gave a good bit of his own money,” she said. She drew in a breath and let it out as she spoke. “Well, it looks like you are all organized.”
“Yes, I think we are,” Jane said.
“There’s plenty of time until intermission. You should try to catch a few scenes.”
“It might be fun to see our sets in action,” Jane said. “Okay.”
“If I were you, I’d go to the balcony. There’s room to stand up there where you won’t be in anybody’s way.”
After Lucy left, Cora and Jane trudged up the stairs to the balcony and slowly opened the door to be as quiet as possible.
Stepping from a well-lit hall to almost complete darkness was jarring for Cora. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. A stream of light traveled from the light booth to the stage, where the performance was in full force.
The lead held the audience enthralled as he sang “If I Were a Rich Man,” in front of the house Jane and Cora had painted. Cora liked watching the audience’s reaction as much as she liked listening to him sing. As she gazed out over the audience a woman caught her eye. She squinted in the light and shadows. Was that Jo? Made up with lipstick and eye shadow? What was she doing here? But Cora turned her head to point out the woman to Jane and when she looked back, she was gone. Disappeared.
“Jo is here,” Cora whispered, and pointed.
“Jo is not here,” Jane whispered. “Must be someone who looked like her.”
Maybe. That could be it. Why would she be here when she missed her children so much that she left the retreat early to get home?
As the song finished and the audience roared, Jane and Cora took their cue to leave the balcony.
“You’re a bit jumpy,” Jane said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing really except that I thought I saw Jo.”
“Must be a million women who kind of look like her, especially in the dark,” Jane said as she started down the stairs. “But hey, how about that set?” She poked Cora playfully on the shoulder.
“We rock!” Cora said.
As they came down the flight of stairs, they saw Maisy, one of the helpers and a stage mom, and Lucy across the lounge. Lucy’s face was red-hot as she pointed in Maisy’s face. “Honestly, the man is dead! Just let it be!”
“What’s going on here?” Cora said as she approached them.
“N-nothing, Cora,” Lucy said, and scampered off to the ladies’ room.
Maisy, however, stood and glowered after her. “Some people don’t know their place.”
Cora didn’t like the sound of that. The hair on the back of her neck pricked her. “I’m sorry. What’s the problem?”
Jane slid behind the concession stand and took her seat.
“Never mind,” Maisy said. “You’re not theater people. You wouldn’t understand.”
Jane’s mouth dropped. Cora crossed her arms, eyeballing Maisy. Who did she think she was? This was Indigo Gap, not Broadway.
Maisy huffed off in the opposite direction of the bathroom Lucy had gone to.
“What a b—” Jane said.
“Now, Jane,” Cora said. “We don’t know exactly what’s going on here. We happened into something we don’t know anything about.”
“Poor Lucy,” Jane said after a minute. “I really think that Maisy was picking on her.”
“Yes, I do, too. What’s more, it definitely had something to do with Stan.” Cora found her place behind the table and readied herself for the eventual onslaught of hungry and thirsty theatergoers. But her mind was racing. What were they talking about? Lucy was sticking up for Stan, so much so that she was red and yelling at Maisy, who stood there as cool as if nothing fazed her. Cora shuddered. She’d seen sociopaths with the same lack of compassion.
Maisy. What did she know about her? Had Detective Brodsky spoken with either one of them? If they hadn’t had a confession, Cora would add Maisy to the list of suspects. She was lost in her thoughts and had no idea of how much time passed.
“Are you okay? You’re zoning out,” Jane said. “I know how sensitive you are.”
“I’m fine,” Cora said. “Just wondering about Maisy.”
“She’s one of the worst,” Jane said. “Don’t let her get to you.”
“Get to me?” Cora said, shaking her head. “Nah.”
The two of them sat in silence, fiddling with the money box and snacks.
“I’ve been thinking about Maisy and—” Cora said.
The doors opened and a crowd headed their way.
“Hold that thought,” Jane said.
As if Cora had a choice.