Baxter and I didn’t return to the theater until late the next afternoon. We were both in a bad mood. As it turned out, he’d taken a lot of heat from the sheriff last night over my scheme to set up the poisoner to believe another dose had to be slipped into Karen’s water bottle. Even though I’d considered the conversation finished, as we neared the theater, Baxter said, “We’re going to need to have Karen’s back when it comes to monitoring her water bottle. The sheriff said he was going to come to tonight’s performance. But he read me the riot act.”
“So you said. And you also said he’s still going to give any evidence we can collect to the D.A.”
“When and if we manage to video someone tampering with the water bottle, he said he’d likely view that as a strong indication that they’d arrested the wrong guy. But he pointed out that the camera will likely only record someone removing Karen’s water bottle and then sticking it back in the fridge. If we’re lucky. Nobody is going to unscrew the cap and pour poison in it, all the while standing right in front of the refrigerator door.”
“Someone might,” I grumbled.
He gave no reply. Baxter was bringing his laptop today so that, once the play began and everyone was involved in that, he could view the camera recordings so far. We headed straight to the greenroom to our hidden camera. I noted that the camera was still in place and took a seat. Baxter opened the refrigerator. Sally’s water bottle was precisely where she’d left it last night.
Before Baxter could sit down, John entered the room with Flint. He stood near the door and gaped at us. “What are you doing, Allida?” he asked.
“I’m just...sitting here. You’re going to be cuing Flint. I thought I might as well relax for a bit.”
“When you said you’d be here tonight, I assumed you meant to help out. Both of you. With the dog.”
I rose. “What do you need me to do?”
He snorted. “Look at Flint.” He gestured at him. Flint was sitting beside him, his ears perked up. I saw nothing wrong with his demeanor. “He’s got no spark. I need him to give the performance of his life tonight. My entire career depends on it. And you’ve obviously overworked him! You never should have forced him to perform last night!”
“Dude, take a chill pill,” Baxter said.
“You’re still on the clock, Allie,” John said. “I guess I just didn’t realize that you were going to throw in the towel. Hang out in the break room, while an off-Broadway director is coming here to watch my play!”
“That’s great news, John,” I said. “Congratulations. And Flint looks just as energetic as ever to me.”
“Well, he doesn’t to me! And I’m the one who knows him best!”
I was familiar with John’s plight. He was anxious and freaking out. He had plenty riding on tonight’s show. “Flint is fine,” I said calmly. “I’ll run him through some commands right now.”
“Never mind. You’ve clearly turned on me. You’ve decided I’m guilty. Just like everyone else.” He flung his hands into the air as if in defeat. “You can go on back to Boulder now. You’ll get your check in the mail.”
“John. Seriously,” Baxter snapped, “Get a grip.”
“You’re the one who’s lost his grip,” John growled. “Just go. Both of you. You’re fired.”
Baxter balled his fists. “We’ll leave on Sunday morning, just as we’ve planned. We don’t work for you. We work for Valerie. If she wants to fire us, she can.”
“You’re such an asshole,” John said. “I’m sorry I tried to help your girlfriend boost her career. I should have known better than to think you'd appreciate it.”
He stormed out of the room.
Baxter cursed. He was breathing hard, his fists and jaw clenched tight, staring after John as if it was taking all of his self-control not to chase him down. I had never seen him this angry, and I didn’t know what to do or say.
“I want to punch that guy’s lights out,” Baxter said.
“Me, too. But we have to see this thing through. For Karen’s sake, if nothing else. And we still need to be able to come in tomorrow and retrieve the camera.”
“No. Tell Karen to drink the bottled water tonight. I need to stay the hell away from John. I’m going to go back to the hotel. Spend the evening with our big girl.”
“Okay. I understand.”
He furrowed his brow. “You need to come with me. Play it safe. There’s nothing you can do tonight, during the performance anyway.”
I shook my head, still alarmed at Baxter’s demeanor. “We haven’t had the chance to check the recording. I can’t leave yet. Not while I know Karen’s a target.”
“Or a great actress, who set this all up.”
“I trust my gut, Baxter. Karen and I are friends now.”
He sighed in obvious annoyance. “I’ll stay here, then, too.”
“I’ll be fine. Frankly, I don’t think you’ll be good company until you cool off.”
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll zip back here during the first act, grab the camera, and check its memory at the hotel. If anybody has touched the bottle, I’ll alert Sheriff Caulfield by the second act. When I ‘cool down,’ as you put it, I’ll see if you’re willing to be in my presence.” He headed toward the door.
“Baxter....”
He turned back, glaring at me. “What?”
I didn’t know what to say. We stared at each other in silence.
He sighed. “There’s safety in numbers,” he said, his voice much less hostile, at least. “You can’t let yourself be alone with anybody.”
“We’ll talk during the second act,” I said. My heart was pounding once again. Maybe Baxter had anger-control problems. Or maybe I was being too quick to sympathize with John’s anxious behavior instead of Baxter’s reaction.
Baxter stood still for a few seconds, then left. I booted up his computer and logged in with his password. But within a few seconds, I started cursing myself. I had never used his doggie-cam software. I didn’t know how to examine the camera’s records. For all I knew, we had caught the killer red-handed already, but I wouldn’t be able to find out until Baxter had examined them.
***
The curtain opened at 7:30. I had managed to follow Baxter’s advice, spending much of my time with Sally and Karen in the dressing room. I’d passed Valerie only once, who’d thanked and complimented me on Flint’s performance last night, spoken briefly to Hammond and Greg, but hadn’t seen Felicity—or Pippa—once. I remembered she’d said Pippa would be wearing her formalwear tonight and was curious, although she might have been joking.
I deliberately watched from the wing opposite John’s. Otherwise I’d be listening to his every word and would fly off the handle if he gave Flint a bad command. Halfway through the first act, everyone on stage seemed to be at the top of their game. All I could think about now was Baxter and the camera recordings.
I quietly left my post and went to the greenroom, hoping to spot him and tell him how much I loved him. I toyed with telling him we could leave now, but being honest with myself, I wanted him to agree to stay as planned and maybe have one last conversation with Sheriff Caulfield. If nothing else, I needed to know Karen was safe. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if I returned home, then learned she’d been poisoned.
The greenroom was empty. The camera was gone. So was Karen’s water bottle.
For a moment I felt almost faint. I had told Karen to stick with bottled water. Had she ignored me?
Baxter must have taken it, along with the camera.
I called his cell and held my breath.
“Hey, hon,” he answered.
“Do you have Karen’s bottle?”
“Yeah. I figured either it’s already been poisoned or not, but either way, Sheriff Caulfied’s going to lower the boom on our sting operation tonight no matter what. I just left a minute ago. Still on my way back. I love you forever.”
“Me, too. See you soon.”
“Lucky me,” he replied with a smile in his voice.
I felt an enormous weight being lifted off my shoulders. Baxter and I were fine. Karen would be fine. We’d put this investigation in the hands of the sheriff, where it belonged.
I lingered in the women’s room, trying to level out my rollercoaster emotions. I all but literally bumped into John.
“You’re still here, I see,” he said. “I suppose I should apologize for flying off the handle. I’m really just trying to get through the day. Getting arrested for murder does weird stuff to your head.”
“I can imagine.”
“The real reason I blew up at you is because I found out you’ve been asking around about me...trying to take my dog away from me.”
“Well, John, what can I say? I’ve been concerned about your treatment of Flint because of the tranquilizers. Even though I can sort of see why you felt the need to be extra cautious when the lights fell, you gave Flint a tranquilizer between acts during the final dress rehearsal. According to the sheriff.”
“I already explained myself. I didn’t know what else to do. Felicity had reported to Valerie during the intermission that Flint bit her.”
“You never told me that!”
“That’s what she claimed happened. I’d been talking to the actors between the first and second acts, trying to make sure they were able to keep straight their adlibbing. She showed me the injury on her forearm. Two puncture wounds on her arm where she said he drew blood.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about that right away?” I asked.
“Because by the next day, I realized it was likely that Pippa was the one who actually bit her. I think she lied about Flint because she didn’t want her dog to get in trouble, but felt it would be the justice I deserved if my dog got the boot.”
“Did you tell Valerie that, or confront Felicity with your suspicions?”
“Yeah, and Felicity held strong, so Valerie said we’d let it go this one time. She said she couldn’t be certain either way.”
“But the bite marks of a Pug versus a Border Collie should have been easy to tell apart.”
“Maybe if we’d checked immediately after the bite. It sure wasn’t obvious at a glance to me, almost twenty-four hours later. Meanwhile, she told me I was going to get sued if he bit anyone a second time.” He stamped his foot. “Allie. I’m just trying to get through the performance. There really is a Broadway producer in the audience tonight. Don’t wreck everything for me!”
I turned on a heel and walked away. He could have been telling me the whole truth, or he could have lying through his teeth. I couldn’t tell. Maybe it didn’t matter. He didn’t really seem like a terrible dog owner, just not a very good one.
The second act began, but I couldn’t focus and decided I’d just go ahead and text Baxter.
Anything? I typed.
Moments later came the reply:
Nobody even opened the fridge.
Seconds later he added:
Sorry, darling. You’re the love of my life.
I smiled at the screen and sent back some heart emoticons. At least now I could concentrate on the performance. I had read the script so many times that I’d memorized the lines. Even so, Sally and Hammie’s repartee was so engaging, I found myself laughing along with the audience.
Flint was now crossing to his third target, where Greg was going to trip over him, causing him to accidentally dump his drink on Karen.
Suddenly, I felt a distinct chill. On the stage, Flint froze instead of hitting his target and barked twice. It was his fearful bark.
“Whoa,” Greg adlibbed, pretending to be so startled by the bark that he jerked his martini glass and dumped it on Karen.
“There goes John’s flawless performance,” I said under my breath. I glanced at John. He was hanging his head. I knew it was silly, but I whispered, “Annabelle, if that’s really you, please stay away from the stage. You’re scaring the dog.”
Maybe it was just a simple draft inside a leaky old theater. In any case, I realized now that I wasn’t helping Flint or John or anyone else by watching the play. I might as well investigate the source of the draft.
The backstage door was propped open by an electric fan, which was running full blast. The actors probably appreciated the cool breeze. I chuckled at my leaping to the conclusion that it was a ghost.
I stepped over the fan and strode down the steps. The breeze over the river was every bit as chilly as Annabelle Dancer’s ghost, I mused to myself. Realizing how very little I wanted to listen to John bemoaning Flint’s minor miscue, I grabbed my cellphone and texted to Baxter:
I want to say goodbye to Karen at intermission. See you at hotel in a few.
As I turned, I saw a shadow passing the upstairs window. That had to be Felicity. I should probably ask her about the dog bite. It would ease my mind to know that John was telling the truth about why he’d given Flint a tranquilizer.
As I started to climb the stairway to the second floor, I had yet another chill, this one so strong it felt as if I was in a freezer. Two steps later, I was nearly gasping at the heat. This time I knew for certain it wasn’t a draft. Either there really was some sort of ghost that haunted the premises, or there were inexplicable atmospheric conditions in this building that could affect the temperature of small pockets of air.
I entered the sewing room. To my surprise, it was Valerie, not Felicity. She didn’t look happy to see me. Apparently, I’d surprised her, and she had come here to cry in private. She swiped at her cheeks and said, “Yes?”
“Hi, Valerie. I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were here. I saw you in the window and thought you were Felicity.”
“Felicity started sneezing her head off...allergies...and went home. I’ve been sitting here for the last half hour. I was never near the window. ”
“Must have been Annabelle,” I said.
“She’s at it again?” Valerie snorted. “She’s probably looking forward to my company.”
I didn’t know how to take her last statement. “I’ll talk to Felicity tomorrow.” I stayed still, weighing whether I should pretend I hadn’t noticed her tears or if it would be best to show some basic compassion. This was clearly not a good time to discuss my decision to leave a day early. “Are you okay?”
“No, I am not at all okay.” She glared at me. “Love problems, if you must know.”
Apparently I should have opted for silence. “Sorry, Valerie. I didn’t mean to butt into your personal business.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Her voice was a shade below hostile.
“I hope your day improves, Valerie.” I gestured at the stairs. “I’ll—”
“Nobody realizes how hard my life is. No matter what I do, it’s like I’m always barefoot on the sharp edge of a knife. I thought I could make this play work. Keep everybody happy. You make one stupid mistake when you’re young and in love, and that’s it. You’re just trapped into one awful thing after another.”
I cursed to myself. The words were too reminiscent of what Karen had said about wanting to forgive Greg for what he’d done to his first girlfriend well over a decade ago. Valerie had known that information firsthand. Maybe she had been somehow been complicit in Greg’s committing vehicular homicide. “I’ll let you go,” I muttered. I turned toward the stairs, hoping to make a quick exit.
“Stop, right there,” she said. “Turn around.”
I turned. She was aiming a gun at me and coming toward me.
“What are you doing, Valerie?” My voice was surprisingly calm; I’d somehow half expected her to be holding a gun.
“I’m going to make you pay for ruining my life. Thanks to you, I can’t make any of it go away. Everything is backfiring on me.”
“Look, Valerie. I don’t know what you’re talking about. But whatever it is, it isn’t worth taking a life and going to jail.”
She cackled. “I already took a life, you idiot. I had to, because of John. He dug into my past with Greg. He uncovered my secret, and promised me he wouldn’t share it with Greg...just as long as I helped him turn his damned play into a hit. I found his dirty secret—how he cheated Sam Geller in order to get Flint.”
“I had nothing to do with any of—”
“I was going to get Flint back to Sam, and Sam was going to help bring Greg back to me. But Sam turned on me, thanks to you. You made him think he could earn good money training canine herders. He figured out I was trying to frame him for Sam’s murder. Told me he’d tell Greg my secret!”
“I don’t know your secret, Valerie, and I don’t want to know. I never did anything to hurt you. I was only trying to help Flint.”
She half laughed half cried. “If that’s true, it’s too bad for you. You wound up in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I came up here to shoot myself. All those years ago, I caused Greg to think his girlfriend was cheating on her. I got him drunk, to drown his sorrows. I told him she was waiting for her new lover on the corner. They were just friends. And I’d told her we were going to pick them up there. But Greg wouldn’t give me his keys. Or let me get into the car with him. He spent ten years in jail, because of me. He killed a girl. Because of me. And now I killed a man. So I could stop him from making Greg hate me. Stop having my guilt shoved in my face. All just so that I could have the chance to make it up to Greg. For us to be together.”
“You don’t have to kill yourself or me. You need help, Valerie. This is too much for anyone to handle. Let me—”
“No. I’m done. But, I’m going to kill you first.”
In a last-ditch effort, I gasped, pretending something behind her had arrived to save me. “Pavlov, sic her!” I cried, pointing at Valerie.
She turned to look back, and I lunged at her with all of my force, tackling her in her midsection.
We fell to the floor. I knew by the “Oof” sound she’d muttered that I’d knocked out her breath. I grabbed her arm that held the gun. Using all of my weight, I pinned her forearm to the floor. She grabbed a fistful of my hair with her free hand and yanked my head back.
She was larger and stronger than I was. I was overmatched. She was strong enough to bludgeon a man; strong enough to crush me.
Despite the excruciating pain in my scalp, I continued to squeeze her arm and force it away from me.
I felt more than heard a swift-approaching canine race up the stairs toward me. Then there was a growl and a blur of motion as Pavlov leapt over our sprawled legs.
Valerie screamed in pain. She released her grip on my hair, as well as the gun. I lurched forward and grabbed the gun, then swung around onto my knees, aiming at her.
Pavlov had chomped onto her arm. Valerie was making guttural noises of pain. She was struggling to get up while Pavlov tried to pull her away from me.
“Pavlov, release!” I yelled, aiming the gun at Valerie’s head.
She continued to growl and ignored me.
“Leave it, Pavlov! Now!”
She obeyed me and backed away.
On her knees, Valerie cradled her arm, gripping it below the injury.
“Allie?” I heard Baxter cry from downstairs.
“Up here,” I yelled. “Call nine-one-one. Now!”
Baxter pounded up the stairs and was momentarily by my side. “Oh, my God. Allie! Are you okay?”
I kept my eyes riveted on Valerie. I could see hear him drop his cellphone and scramble to pick it up. “You removed the bolts from the light fixture. Why? Just to freak out John?”
She was sneering at me, her face hideously distorted. “I thought you’d see what a bad dog owner John was. But you were clueless. You did nothing about the chocolate in the kibble. And you were the goddamned genius who realized Sally’s bouquet could be poisonous, and saved that monster’s life by telling everyone. The poison was injected straight into his blood stream. John would have died! Which is what he deserved! Sam would have gone to jail for his murder. Karen would be out of the picture. And Greg would still be in love with me.”
“This is Baxter McClelland,” Baxter said into his phone. “Sheriff Caulfield is here in the audience. He needs to come to the second floor of the Creede Playhouse. Valerie Devereux has confessed to killing Sam Geller. She tried to shoot Allie Babcock. Allie got the gun away from her. We need her to be arrested immediately.” He paused. “Yes. Baxter McClelland. Hurry. I have to tie her up.”
I wondered if the dispatcher would believe Baxter. It all sounded so bizarre.
“She poisoned John,” I told Baxter. “She would have killed Karen, too, if she hadn’t tasted the poison despite the lemon juice.”
“Karen stole Greg from me! I’ve waited and plotted for years and years to get Greg back into my life! Greg gave her flowers!”
She glared at Baxter while rocking herself in pain. “All of you miserable, stupid people with your miserable stupid dogs!” Her words were coming out in shrieks. “It’s all you think about. You and your vicious pets! You can all go to hell!”
I felt numb. Valerie’s mind was so twisted, I could only feel sorry for her. Yet she’d destroyed Greg’s life, killed Sam, and, yes, had done one awful thing after another. It was overwhelming just to know that there was this much misery in the world.
Baxter grabbed a shirt off a hanger. He sat her down in chair and bound her waist to the chair. She was still gripping her wounded arm.
“People like you don’t deserve pets, Valerie,” Baxter said.