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Gloria had said, “I will end you” to Treasure just before she died. Sandra had thought she meant that she’d end her career. But had she meant something else? Something more sinister? Surely she hadn’t meant that she would literally end Treasure for good? Sandra sneaked a peek at the theater mom who had an arm around each of her children. Tears streamed down her face. Surely a person that sad hadn’t murdered someone? Or maybe those were tears of guilt.
Gloria caught Sandra staring at her, and before Sandra could yank her gaze away, Gloria offered her a wan smile. Sandra tried to return the smile, but she feared it looked more like a grimace. As she turned her face front, she caught sight of Bob standing in the corner of the room, near the top of the stairs. Her spirit leapt at the sight of him. Thank the heavens, he was here. She didn’t even know why she was so comforted by his presence, but she was. Maybe that’s just what happened to people when angels appeared.
He motioned her over. She started to stand up, but then froze. They’d told her to stay here, right? So she wasn’t allowed to move? Bob looked confused. She shook her head slightly, unsure how to wordlessly communicate her indecision. But then she decided that she didn’t care what they’d told her. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Peter, and then she stood up, trying to look bold and confident.
No one said anything until she took a step toward Bob. Then Jan came to life. “Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was a thousand fingernails on a thousand chalkboards.
Sandra turned her head without turning her body away from her destination. “I’m going to go see if I can figure out what happened.”
“No, you’re not!” Jan stood up and squared her shoulders. She was ready for a fight. Was this woman going to wrestle her back into her chair?
Sandra almost giggled at the thought. “Yes, I am.” She used her even, toneless voice, the same one she used on overly emotional soccer coaches. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bob smile.
“We agreed to all stay here and wait for the police!” Jan sounded desperate.
“I didn’t agree to anything.” She headed for the stairs again.
“It’s not safe!” Jan’s voice had turned into a roar.
Trying to remain calm, cool, and collected, Sandra turned toward her. “I’ll be fine. I’m the only one leaving the room. I’ll only be in danger if one of you follows me.”
Apparently, that left them all speechless, because no one else said a word. She walked past Bob without acknowledging her invisible friend, and then he followed her through the doorway and onto the landing of the stairs. He gasped when he saw Treasure. “Oh, wow.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Where was the theater angel?” She was kidding, playing off the fact that Bob was the local middle school sports angel, so shouldn’t there be a community theater angel? But the look on Bob’s face suggested that her quip was closer to truth than she realized. “What? Is there really a theater angel?”
Bob looked around, as if he expected to see another of his kind lurking about quietly. “Sort of. There’s an arts angel. I think this would fall under his purview, but I’m not sure.” He looked down at Treasure and shook his head.
“Can you help?” Sandra was sure that he could. She didn’t even know why she’d asked.
At first he didn’t answer, and she got a little worried he was going to ditch her. “I can try.” He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll try.”
“Thank you.”
“So, what do you know so far?”
“Not much. Treasure had no qualms about having enemies. Just tonight she had an argument with Otis, was horribly mean to Matthew, though he probably deserved it, and was a total bully to Corina. I know Corina didn’t throw her down the stairs, because she was upstairs when Treasure fell.” Right? Wasn’t she? Just when had Treasure fallen? “I think. Anyway, and Corina’s mum witnessed the bullying and was justifiably enraged.”
“How enraged?”
“She was pretty mad. She threatened her—”
Peter appeared in the doorway. “Mom?” His face was pale as a sheet. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one!” she snapped. “Go back to your seat!” She sounded far harsher than she’d wanted to, but she really didn’t want her son to think she was talking to herself. Looking injured, he turned and trudged away from her. She would have to apologize mightily for that one. She returned her attention to the angel.
“You haven’t told him about me?”
She shook her head. “I thought you didn’t want me to!”
“I didn’t, but I still figured you told your family.”
Should she tell him now that she’d told her husband? Nah, not necessary, especially since he hadn’t even considered believing her. “Well, you shouldn’t make assumptions.”
Seeming pleased with her silence, Bob looked down at Treasure. “So, how do we know she didn’t just fall?”
“Because ...” She pointed to the empty spot on the ledge. “Before she fell, there was a hammer lying right there.” Then she pointed to the ancient register along the wall by Treasure’s outstretched arm. “And now the hammer is down there.”
“So you think someone hit her with a hammer?” Bob sounded overly alarmed. “Has anyone called the police?”
“Yes, Billy called them ...” As she spoke the words, she wondered if they were true. How did she know he’d called them? Just because she liked him didn’t mean he wasn’t a murderer. Maybe he had only pretended to call the police and now he was going to pick them off one by one. A shiver passed down her spine as she shook her head. “I think they’ve been called, maybe we should double check that, and no, I don’t think anyone hit her with a hammer.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t see any hammer imprints on her”—she knew such a mark could easily be on the back of her head, but she didn’t vocalize that—“and because I think she was using the hammer to defend herself.”
Bob looked confused. “That didn’t go well.”
“No. But look.” She pointed toward the shiny red smear on the wall. “I think this came from her fingernail. I think she was trying to grab for the banister, to stop herself from falling, but there’s no way her finger could have gotten in there to leave that smudge if she were holding a hammer.”
Bob still looked confused. Maybe he wasn’t going to be much help after all.
She took a deep breath and pretended she was explaining something to her seven-year-old. “So she must have picked up the hammer afterward. I think she almost fell once, grabbed the handrail to stop herself, broke her nail, and then grabbed the hammer to defend herself, and then fell for real.” Suddenly, she was overcome with doubt. Who was she to be so confident in throwing out theories like that? “I think. Maybe.”
Bob either didn’t notice her wave of doubt or ignored it. He was staring at the register. “Is there anything on the hammer?”
“Uh ... I didn’t check. I thought it best not to touch anything.”
Bob vanished from his spot. If she’d gotten used to this trick back in September, she had forgotten. It startled her now and left her feeling uneasy. He reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. “I don’t see anything on the hammer.”
Sandra was surprised that he could see something that was tucked up against a wall under a register. She was not surprised that there was nothing on the hammer.
Bob glanced down at Treasure. “She doesn’t have anything in her pockets either.”
“I didn’t realize you had X-ray vision.”
“I don’t always. It’s hard to explain.”
Sandra felt she was missing something. But what? She crept down the stairs, trying to be hyperaware of her surroundings, trying to see everything with fresh eyes. There was something else—she just knew it. She stepped over poor Treasure’s leg and then knelt beside her left hand, the one that hadn’t held the hammer. But hadn’t she seen her holding something in that hand? Something shiny—
“Her phone!” Sandra cried, too loudly, popping up like a fully cranked jack-in-the-box. She looked at Bob. “Where’s her phone?”
Bob didn’t answer.
“Are you sure her pockets are empty?”
He nodded.
“Then her phone is missing. I’ve never seen her without it, even though we have no signal here. She carries it around with her like it’s attached to her skin. She even has it on stage. Drives the director nuts—
“Mom?” The timid voice came from the top of the stairs.
Sandra looked up.
“You’re scaring me.”