––––––––
“It isn’t anybody we know, is it?” Karen asked. She continued to hold Pavlov’s leash.
We pretended not to hear her question.
My head was spinning. This all felt too hideous to bear. We had been on a simple hike with the dogs! Sam had been alive and well just an hour or two ago. Maybe none of this would have transpired if I hadn’t told Karen that there were highly toxic flowers in her bouquet from an anonymous fan.
Baxter said in a half-shout, “Flint, heel.”
I stared again at the body, willing my eyes to stop seeing that this was really happening. My vision swam. “There’s something in his hand,” I said, so woozy now that I took a seat on the hard-packed dirt. I sunk my face into my knees.
“Yeah. It looks like it’s a small piece of cloth,” Baxter said.
“I’m going down there,” he said, breaking into my silent self-flagellation. “He could still be alive. You’ve got to hold onto Flint’s leash and keep him up here. Okay?”
I sat up and took the leash handle. Flint sat down beside me, panting. I tried to take deep, even breaths.
Baxter’s footfalls were noisy as he descended the hardscrabble slope. “It’s plaid,” he said. I knew at once that he was talking about the piece of cloth in Sam Geller’s hand. “A light-brown plaid.”
“Damn it,” I muttered to myself. John had been wearing a light-brown plaid shirt today.
“Are you okay?” Karen called up to me.
“Fine. Baxter’s checking to see if the man is still alive,” I answered. “We’ll come down soon. Please just keep Palov with you.”
Baxter made his way back up to Flint and me. “He’s dead. I’m going to stand guard. You and Karen need to get the police up here. Bring the dogs back to town with you.”
He helped me to my feet.
“Are you steady enough to walk?” he asked.
I avoided his gaze. I needed to just keep going. Block my feelings. Get help. “I’m fine.” I started to trudge down toward Karen.
“Allie,” Baxter said. “It’s John’s pocket. Sam’s holding John’s pocket. But he wouldn’t have done this. I don’t see any footprints near Sam, but the killer could have covered them up, after planting John’s shirt pocket. Somebody must have framed John.”
I managed a feeble nod. I led Flint to rejoin Karen and Pavlov.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Does your cell phone have any coverage?” she asked.
I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at it. “No signal bars,” I said. “We need to head toward town until we can get a signal.”
We began to walk side by side. She studied my features. “It’s someone we know, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s Sam Geller.”
She hesitated for a moment, then continued to trudge beside me. The dogs were flanking us, silent now, no longer tugging on their leashes.
“Allie...this is all just.... It’s not right. None of this is right. This theater has been producing plays every summer for more than fifty years. We’re just doing an amusing little play about a dog wanting to reunite his owners.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing.”
After a heavy silence, she asked, “Would John have killed Sam over their dispute with his play?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.” But that’s sure how it looked. “Baxter thinks the killer was trying to frame John.”
“Maybe it was an accident?” she said as if asking a hopeful question.
I gave no reply. I couldn’t envision John and Sam walking along the rim, arguing, then Sam clutching John’s pocket as he fell. If that had happened, he would have called the police, and they’d be here.
Was the bloody rock the killer’s bludgeon? Why was it so far from the rim? The ground didn’t look as if Sam’s body had been dragged to the edge of the pit—after he’d been knocked unconscious. Could he have hit his head, then staggered up the incline, and fallen into the rocky pit? After having grabbed John’s shirt pocket earlier?
“If it’s a frame-up, that’s maybe even worse news,” Karen said. “It’s got to be someone we know, who had it out for both of them.”
Karen and I trotted down the path in a dark silence. We kept checking the bars on our phones to see if we were within signal range. We had probably only gone a couple hundred yards or so before we got a strong enough signal to place a 911 call, which I made. I gave the dispatcher my name and said that Baxter McClelland had found the body of Sam Geller when we were hiking on a trail to Inspiration Point.
“No, we left the trail to Inspiration Point,” Karen corrected. “We’re in North Creede.”
“Sorry. My friend Karen says we’re in North Creede. We found Sam’s body in an open mining pit.”
“Can you tell me precisely where you found the body?”
My heart was pounding and I was starting to lose my temper. I wanted to scream at her that there couldn’t be all that many open mining pits near North Creede.
“Can you talk to the dispatcher?” I asked Karen and thrust my phone at her. “She needs you to describe Sam’s precise location.”
Karen answered questions for a minute or two, then asked, “Can you hear me?” three times, before hanging up. “We lost the signal,” Karen told me.
“Let’s go rejoin Baxter and wait for the police.”
We walked in silence and spotted Baxter standing guard at the rim. He turned to face us when Pavlov gave him a little yip in greeting.
“We got through to nine-one-one,” Karen told him. “The sheriff will be here soon.”
Pavlov whined again, and I released her from her heel and let go of her leash. She promptly went over to Baxter’s side and leaned against him. I probably should have done the same thing. Instead I stayed put, feeling miserable about myself and the horror of a human being lying dead just below my vision. I wanted to be whisked back in time to yesterday morning, so that I could decide not to come to Creede after all.
A pair of officers arrived within fifteen minutes. Sergeant Caulfield explained that they’d parked at the trailhead. A second group arrived, none of them in uniform. After we explained that we’d gone on a hike and discovered the body, the sergeant said he’d drive us into town and take our statements at the station house and would then return us to the theater. The three of us and the two dogs weren’t going to fit easily into one car. Baxter quickly said he and Pavlov could wait and ride down later, while Karen, Flint, and I went down in another vehicle.
Karen started crying in the police car. “You okay, miss?” the officer asked.
She shook her head. “I just can’t believe this is happening. Sam was just... one of those people you see every day and ignore. He’s the guy that’s always one step away from being a drunken homeless guy. All he needed was a break.” She looked at me. “We were only just now talking about him. I feel terrible.”
“Because you didn’t like him?” the officer asked.
“Because I didn’t think highly enough of him to get to know him. He wasn’t an actor, or writer, or designer. Not anybody who fit into my circle of friends. It’s like I’d already decided he wasn’t important enough to befriend.”
“Apparently somebody figured he deserved to be killed. Looks like he tore someone’s pocket off before he fell. Did either of you recognize the cloth in his grasp?” the officer asked.
Karen and I exchanged glances. “I’m pretty sure it was a pocket ripped off the shirt that John Morris was wearing,” I said, realizing even as I spoke that I was fudging. It was John’s shirt pocket.
I felt like crying myself. I was being a terrible girlfriend. Baxter was reeling at the enormity of what we’d just discovered. As bad as it was for Karen and me, it had to be twice as painful for Baxter, knowing John was so likely to be the prime suspect. Yet I’d left him to wait up there to ride down by himself. Still, at least he had Pavlov with him. She would be his loyal companion no matter what transpired.
Karen got through her individual interview much faster than Baxter or I did. She volunteered to take Flint with her to the theater, assuming there was still going to be a performance that night. I refused to let Flint leave my side, however. I was unwilling to risk John giving him yet another tranquilizer.
It was after six p.m. by the time we arrived at the theater. The lobby was empty. The ticket taker said to us, “The staff is in the auditorium. We’ve had terrible news tonight.”
I merely nodded. Baxter thanked her and opened the door for me. Flint maintained a heel position.
The first person I saw as we walked down the aisle was John. He was sitting on the edge of the stage. His eyes were huge. He looked like a frightened little boy. Sally sat beside him, rubbing his back. He was now wearing a preppy-looking black, short-sleeved golf shirt. Beside me, Flint’s tail was wagging at the sight of his owner, but he stayed put. I could see the backs of heads of the three other actors, seated in the front row. Felicity, too, was sitting beside them. Valerie was pacing in the space between the stage and the front row, speaking quietly into her cell phone. As she neared the far wall and turned to face us, she nodded at us and gave us both a sympathetic-looking smile.
Baxter and I stopped at the foot of the aisle, and both dogs sat down beside us.
John looked at me. “Is it true that Sam had the pocket he tore off my shirt in his hand?”
“How did you hear that?” I asked.
“The wife of a rescue volunteer told Valerie,” Sally answered on his behalf. She rose and hoisted herself up to sit beside him on the stage.
John sighed. He swiped at his brow. He looked as if he was having a panic attack. “Obviously it is true. I didn’t kill him. I went to apologize to him. He said he was meeting someone up in North Creede, which is as big as a nickel-and-dime store, so I drove up there. I figured it’d be best if we talked things through in private, right away, rather than let things fester. It looked like he was waiting for someone...up by the ‘Keep Off’ sign near the strip mine. He started shouting at me right away to get the hell away from him. I grabbed his shoulder just to get him to stay put and listen. He yelled, “Let go of me,” and ripped my pocket off. He threw it down and marched off. I left it there and headed back to my car. That’s the truth. The whole truth. Swear to God.”
“The investigators will be able to find evidence at the site,” Baxter said. “Footprints. DNA.”
John was staring at the floor, shaking his head the whole time Baxter was speaking. “I’m going to be arrested. I know it. I’ve hired a lawyer, and we’re going to go to the sheriff station and tell them what really happened.”
“That sounds wise,” I said, thinking that he had ample reason to worry that the police would consider him a prime suspect.
He looked at Baxter for the first time. “Bax, will you come with me? Just to be there? I could use a little support.”
Baxter looked at me without answering.
Just then, Valerie ended her phone conversation with a “Yep,” and turned it off. “Under the circumstances, John,” she said gently, “wouldn’t it be best if Allie and Baxter were both here to help out at tonight’s performance? Allie will be able to give Flint his cues as we’d already planned. Baxter can handle any interruptions.”
“Interruptions?” John repeated.
“If the sheriff needs more information during the performance from the four of you who were...in Sam’s vicinity.”
John pushed himself off the stage and stood next to Valerie. “I don’t want Flint to perform when I’m not here, Valerie. I want to use Pavlov. We’ll be better off that way.”
“How will we be better off?” I asked. “I want to complete what I came here to do, John. Flint is ready, and if you’re right that Sam was behind the problems on stage, he’ll do perfectly well tonight.”
“Yeah, but...when Flint acts perfectly, it’ll look like I’m all the more guilty,” John said. “As if I killed him for poisoning me and screwing up my dog’s performances.” He looked almost wild with fright, and he was raising his voice. “He’s my dog and I forbid him to go on tonight. I’m taking him with me to the police station.”
“That’s your prerogative,” I said, though he would be dooming the play to a subpar performance.
“Don’t be foolish, John,” Valerie stated. “Leave Flint here. Let him perform. Let your dog prove that he can perform the play perfectly as written, without distractions.”
John hesitated. He was shaking so badly you could see him tremble even at a distance. “Hell. I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve got nothing to lose. Just...take Flint. Go ahead and put him on stage. No point in taking Flint down with me.”
“John. You haven’t been accused of anything,” Baxter said. “You’ve hired a lawyer. Just do whatever he or she tells you to do. You’ll be all right.”
He snorted. “We’ll pretend I believe that.”
Sally was still sitting on the edge of the stage, her arms wrapped around herself, looking utterly miserable.
John walked up to her and patted her knee. “Break a leg tonight.”
She grimaced and nodded.
“Everyone,” John said using his theatrical voice, “I want you all to give the performance of your lives tonight. For all we know, this could be our last time. The sheriff might decide to shut down the production.” He looked at me. “Allie, I want you to go for the penultimate scene, when Flint shuts Sally out of the house, and Karen comes to Hammond’s rescue.” He forced a smile. “Thanks for all the hard work you’ve put in to date. You’ve been a dream cast and crew. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
He marched up the aisle and left. Nobody said a word. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the Tony-award speech he’d been envisioning delivering in another year or two.
Valerie trotted up the steps and strode onto the center of the stage. “Let’s live up to John’s words, here, people. Time to get into costumes and makeup. Showtime in less than ninety minutes.”
Hammond rose from his seat in the front row. “Let’s win this one for the Geller,” he said, shaking his fist. “As well as for our beleaguered director,” he added.
Sally shot daggers at him, then got to her feet and left the stage in a huff. Felicity and the other crew members, Karen, and Greg filed out of the seats. Pippa, too, had been sitting in a seat. She hopped down and started barking at Pavlov and Flint, then dutifully turned and trotted after Felicity. She must have decided the faux fur cape and were too hot for Pippa; she was now wearing what looked like a Brownie Uniform with a vest and cap.
Karen gave me a sad smile. “The show must go one,” she said.
“Must it?” I asked. “Are you all going to remember your lines, and everything?”
She nodded. “Pretending to be someone else tonight is going to be the easy part.” She went up the steps to the stage, heading to the dressing room, I assumed. She already had her water bottle, I saw.
I took a seat and started petting both of the dogs, more to steady my own nerves than anything else. Baxter took the seat beside me and gave me a hug. “We have to give John plenty of slack. Assuming he truly is innocent, which I honestly believe he is, he’s put himself in a terrifying situation.”
“Yeah. He sure has.” I looked into Baxter’s dark brown eyes. “Are you confident he didn’t just...lose his temper and act out of blind rage?”
“Not really. I’d like to think he is innocent. I mean, we used to talk for hours. Hell, he was one of the few people I talked to about you. How you were dating this other guy and I knew I should back off. He was the one who told me to go with my gut. Try to let you know that you were special to me and I was willing to move heaven and earth for you.”
“Really?”
“Really, Allie. I owe him. He was so happy when I told him you and I were together. And I was so proud to be able to show you off to him.”
“That makes me feel all the worse about the mess he’s in. But I’m glad you told me. I understand a little better now how he wound up being your friend, despite his faults.”
“Right. He gave me great advice. Even though he’s turned out to be a pretty big jerk.”
“You took the words out of my mouth,” I replied, looking down at Flint, who was lying by my feet at the end of the aisle.
A minute or two ago, John had walked right past his dog, without any acknowledgement, let alone the slightest sign of affection.