Briggs stopped at the tent where both the coroner and the evidence team were finishing up. Amanda's body had already been zipped into a body bag and lifted into the coroner's van. Nate's assistants were just picking up equipment. I waited at the entrance to the tent while he was debriefed. I pulled the long end of my knitted scarf so that it covered my shoulders like a shawl, and I tugged the warm wool up over my chin, nearly covering my mouth. Standing there in the cold mist, I thought it might be a good idea for me to head home to bed. Then I saw Gordon with his clumsy, heavy footed gait walking along the path to the tent. There were a few people with him. At least two of them carried the white bags Franki handed out for leftovers. Briggs had mentioned that several of the theater group members were going to head to the diner for coffee. Even after a tragedy, it would take willpower to sit in Franki's Diner and just have coffee. Seeing Gordon reminded me of the straw and the interesting nuggets I'd discovered about the Scarecrow throughout the day.
Briggs reached me just as I finished my mental decision to stick out the night air a little longer. "I noticed you've practically cocooned yourself into that scarf. Are you sure you don't want to head home?"
"I'll stay around for one more interview, one that might just be too interesting to miss." I looked toward the tall figure lumbering toward us. "That's Gordon, the actor who plays the Scarecrow."
"Ah ha, the guy with all the straw," he said quietly. "Nate found a second piece of straw on the back of the victim's hair too. Near the nape of her neck."
"I have to speak quickly because he's getting closer, but he came into my store this morning with Constance, his girlfriend. She plays some of the minor parts. But later in the day, Elsie mentioned that the Scarecrow and Dorothy, our victim, came into the bakery. They were in full costume, probably just before dress rehearsal. Elsie was tickled by it all because she said they were flirting and then she went into this whole speech about Dorothy having a tryst with one of her three companions," I shook my head. "Not important," I said just as Gordon passed us.
"Uh, Gordon," Briggs said quickly.
Gordon stopped and nodded goodnight to the others as they continued on to the trailers. His brows bunched up. There were still smears of makeup here and there on his face. His eyebrows were still kohl black, a stark difference from his light blond hair. Even under the streaks of leftover makeup and the dim lights around the tent, his face looked drawn, like someone who had suffered a serious blow. The pained expression caused me a twinge of guilt for thinking that he might very well be the killer. I also had to remind myself that he was an actor, but was it really that simple to portray anguish?
Briggs showed him his badge. "Detective Briggs, Mr.—" he paused for Gordon to supply the name.
"Houser, Gordon Houser. Did they find out who did this?" There was a nice touch of vengeful anger in his tone. Was he acting? This case was going to be harder than usual because reactions and emotions were all going to have to be taken with a spoonful of skepticism.
"Not yet but we will," Briggs said confidently. He shot me a wink. It was a partner wink. (Not just a measly assistant wink.) Then he went right on to introduce me as his assistant.
"This is Miss Pinkerton, my assistant. I wonder if we could step into the tent where it's a little warmer? I just want to ask you a few questions."
He nodded weakly. "I suppose but I'm tired. It's been a big shock."
"I understand. We won't keep you long." Briggs pushed open the flap and the three of us stepped inside. There was more lighting inside the tent, which allowed Gordon to get a better look at the assistant.
His thickly drawn, Groucho Marx style brows looked comical when bunched. "Aren't you the florist? I bought some roses from you this morning."
"Yes, that was me. I have a part time position assisting Detective Briggs." Of course, my explanation was weird and a little hard to believe. Sometimes, I could hardly believe it.
"I see," he said in a tone that assured me he didn't. He turned to Briggs. "What did you need to ask me? Amanda was a great gal and a terrific actress. This group might not survive without her."
"Yes, that's clear. I'm sorry for you loss," Briggs said as he pulled out his notepad. Everyone reacted differently to his very unpretentious notebook. Gordon was clearly taken aback that a detective would be writing down some of his statements.
"Is this an interrogation?" Gordon asked.
"I'm just gathering as many details of today's activities as I can. It will help me sort out people, places and times which, in turn, will help me find the killer."
Gordon's face blanched under the ruddy makeup smeared on his cheeks. "So she was definitely murdered?"
"Nothing is definite until we get the coroner's report, but it looks like foul play."
Gordon scrubbed his fingers in his shaggy hair. "I don't understand who would do such a thing. What do you need from me? I want to help." His attitude had done an about face.
"When was the last time you saw Miss Seton?" Briggs asked.
He scrubbed his hair again, only this time it was a ploy to earn him some time. "Well, let me see." A long pause followed. It was long enough to feel awkward. I glanced casually around, letting him search for his answer, but Briggs stayed unflinching with his gaze straight on the man and his pen at the ready.
"I guess it was when the two of us went to town. We were dressed and ready. As main characters, we have priority in hair and makeup. We had an hour to kill." He dropped his face. "Bad choice of word." His chest spread out with a deep, steadying breath. "Amanda and I decided to get a treat at the bakery." His face turned my direction. "I'd noticed how wonderful the place smelled when I came to your flower shop in the morning, so I thought it would be a nice place to get a snack."
I nodded. "It's hard to resist Elsie's baked goods. Did Constance join you two on your trip to the bakery?"
My question pushed him into a short, red-faced stutter session. "Con-Constance uh—uh—no she was in makeup at that time," he said the latter with a relieved breath. Apparently, he was pleased with himself for coming up with a good excuse for sharing lemon tarts with someone other than his steady girlfriend. Elsie, who was a keen observer, was certain Gordon and Amanda were flirting heavily with one another. She was tickled about the prospect of Dorothy and the Scarecrow having a fling.
Gordon decided he hadn't given enough explanation. "Like I said, Amanda and I were waiting for the extras to get ready for dress rehearsal. We just decided to take a short walk through town. Susie likes us to make brief appearances in costume in the towns we're playing in. It's good advertising. It was just a trip to the bakery. Nothing else." It was a short confession that was pointed at the wrong audience. He could have saved it for Constance.
I sensed Briggs was getting tired of the interview when he got straight to the next point. "Your costume is designed to make you look as if you're made of straw, correct?"
"Yes, that's right." Gordon didn't seem to have a clue where the questioning was headed, but I knew exactly what Briggs would ask next.
"We found several pieces of straw in the victim's hair. One piece was lodged in the hair near the base of her neck. Any idea how it might have gotten there?"
Gordon's face reddened. "Should I have a lawyer here?"
His stern question tossed Briggs slightly off his game but he recovered quickly. "You're certainly entitled to have one with you. Not accusing you of anything. Just wondering how the straw got in her hair."
He fidgeted with the belt on his pants and shuffled his big feet a bit. Then his face brightened as if a teeny, tiny light bulb had just flashed on in his brain. "The sun was getting lower on our walk back from the bakery. Amanda was just wearing a thin cotton dress. She got cold, so I pulled off my costume coat and put it around her shoulders." He motioned to one of the trailers. "The coat is hanging in the costume trailer if you want to see it. Straw is glued around the collar and cuffs to make it look like my stuffing is coming out," he added with a wry smile. He was quite pleased with himself for coming up with a perfectly reasonable explanation for Amanda having straw in her hair. "You can go look at it. That stuff is a mess. There's a pile of straw right below where my costume hangs." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It makes me itch too. I'm sure some of it got stuck in Amanda's hair while she was wearing my coat."
It was an entirely plausible explanation, but he certainly wasn't willing to admit that there was more to the bakery trip than a quest for one of Elsie's tarts.
Briggs finished his notes and looked up. "What happened after the trip to the bakery?"
Gordon stopped to think a moment. "Amanda and I parted when we reached the town square. She was going to practice her lines and have some tea. I went to my trailer to rest until dress rehearsal. I didn't see her again until we were on stage rehearsing."
"And after rehearsal?" Briggs was wasting no time gathering possible alibis.
He groaned quietly. "It's been a long, trying night. I'm not sure."
"It would be helpful if you could remember," Briggs prodded.
"Fine, I went back to my trailer and had a few shots of whiskey. It helps me relax before being on stage."
"And then?" Briggs asked.
"I fell asleep. Guess it helps me relax a little too much. One of the crew came and woke me when it was close to show time. Never saw Amanda after rehearsal." His mouth turned down at the sides. "I never would have guessed that would be our last time on stage together."
The salt laden fog that had settled over the coast had started to seep beneath the tent. I shivered once, imperceptibly, I thought, but Briggs caught it. He put his notepad away.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Houser. I'll let you know if there's anything else we need. Go get some rest. I'm sure it's been an exhausting few hours."
Gordon nodded. "Just find the person fast. None of us are going to get a good night's sleep with a killer on the loose." He walked out of the tent.
We listened for his heavy footsteps to retreat, then Briggs took hold of my hand.
"You need to get home now, and I won't take no for an answer."
"You don't have to worry. I don't have any 'no' to give. Do you think you'll be here long tonight?"
"No, in fact I'll drive you home. The theater group is exhausted and still in shock. Sometimes people have better recollections after a good night of sleep."
A yawn escaped me before I could suppress it.
"Let's get you home, Miss Pinkerton."
"Sounds like a grand idea, Detective Briggs."