“Would it help to talk about it?” I asked Sophie, who continued to try to calm herself by clutching her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth.
Lance nodded in approval and twisted his index finger to signal that I should keep her talking.
Sophie sniffled, her shoulders heaving in rhythm with her sobs. “It’s so awful. He can’t be dead. He can’t be.” She shook her head so hard it made mine hurt. “Nothing will help. Not talking about it. Not anything. The only thing that would help would be the ability to travel back in time. If I could do that, Jimmy would still be here.”
I had the sense that we were going to be there a while, so I sat down next to her. “Can you walk me through what happened last night?”
She tucked her hand into her sleeve and then used it to dab her tears. “It started right before the show. He was freaking out about issues on the stage, and Ed wouldn’t listen. Jimmy wasn’t the problem. I mean, I know, I get that he had an ego, but that’s just because of his brilliant acting. He was a genius. You must have seen that last night. The audience loved him. Without Jimmy, the play would have been flat.”
I didn’t necessarily agree. Lance’s ensemble cast deserved equal credit, but arguing that point with Sophie in the state she was in wasn’t going to get us anywhere, so I nodded at her to continue.
“Weird things have been happening in rehearsals.” She yanked a loose string from her sleeve. “Accidents, mishaps, even a prop gun misfired. There aren’t any guns in the production, so we still don’t know how it ended up on the stage.”
That matched everything Lance had relayed.
“Jimmy was convinced that someone was trying to kill him.”
“Really?” I couldn’t contain my surprise. Jimmy had suspected that someone wanted to hurt him. That could explain the accidents on set, or it could also mean he was delusional and assumed that anything or everything happening onstage was directly connected to him.
She smeared her mascara, trying to dry her tears. “Yes. All of the incidents onstage were connected to him. He told me that he was sure they weren’t accidents.” She used air quotes to emphasize “accidents.”
“Why would someone want to kill him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what we were trying to figure out. He asked me to be his eyes and ears, and honestly, I was freaked out. At first, I thought maybe he was being kind of dramatic about it. You know actors and their superstitions.”
Lance coughed and cleared his throat.
Sophie looked at him like she was realizing he was in the cellar for the first time.
“Apologies. The dust is triggering my allergies.” He fanned his face, brushing away any imaginary pollutants.
“Anyway, once I started paying more attention, I realized that Jimmy was right. Every accident on set involved him. First there was the trapdoor that didn’t latch. Jimmy fell through it during rehearsals. Fortunately the crew had already placed mats beneath it for the next scene, but if they hadn’t been ahead of schedule, Jimmy would have been seriously injured or worse.” She paused. “The rigging fell and nearly crushed him. Someone changed the sets around and made him slam into one of the dance platforms. The accidents kept escalating, but I never saw who was doing it.”
“You were helping him figure out who was trying to kill him, but you killed him?” I couldn’t contain my confusion any longer.
Sophie recoiled and threw her hands up. “No, what? I didn’t kill him.”
“But you said you were responsible and the police should arrest you.”
“For telling him to meet me here, not killing him,” she wailed. “I would never kill him. I loved him. I should have urged him to go to the police. Or I should have called the police myself. He wasn’t paranoid. He was in danger, and I could have done something about it.”
That made much more sense.
Lance caught my eye and motioned for me to keep asking her questions. He looked like he was waiting to audition for a part in his running gear.
“You told him to meet you in the cellar?” I asked Sophie.
Her breath wavered unsteadily, her inhales hitching and faltering like an old car stubbornly refusing to start. “Yeah, which is why this is all my fault. I told him that I would keep a close eye on the cast and crew during last night’s performance. He felt like things were escalating too. He was worried that whoever was trying to kill him was going to do it during the performance. Ed had me spooked. I’m sure that he moved Jimmy’s mark. I think his goal was to try and get Jimmy to fall off the stage. We just needed proof. I tried to film him when he was putting tape down, but he caught me, and I had to make up a lie on the spot about getting footage from the audience’s perspective.”
“Do you think Ed was behind the other accidents, too?” I asked.
She tilted her head up and down in a silent yes. “It had to be him. As the lead set designer, he had access to everything—the set, props, costumes, lighting, sound.”
Lance gave a slight jerk of his head, affirming Sophie’s statement.
Her tears had subsided. “Ed has been trying to kill Jimmy for weeks, and he finally succeeded last night. If only I hadn’t told Jimmy to meet me here. Ed must have gotten to him first…” She couldn’t finish.
“Do you have any sense why Ed would have wanted to kill Jimmy?” I shifted on the cold floor. It was stuffy in the small room. I was starting to feel a touch claustrophobic.
“Why wouldn’t he? Jimmy had everything Ed wanted—fame, adoration, fans, talent, that hair, and gorgeous eyes. Jimmy’s career was about to break wide open. He had an audition for a pilot in LA that was going to make him a household name.”
Lance arched his eyebrows in astonishment.
“Does Ed covet the spotlight?” I asked. Most of the crew members I had met over the years relished their roles behind the scenes, but maybe that was different for Ed. One of the things that I loved most about the theater was that there was a place for everyone, whether you wanted to be belting out tunes center stage or mending a broken skirt seam backstage with a flashlight between your teeth.
“I don’t think he wanted the spotlight; he just hated that Jimmy had the spotlight. I know that he was intentionally sabotaging Jimmy and putting him in danger. I don’t know what happened between them last night that made him finally snap, but I know that he killed Jimmy.”
“How do you think he found out that you two were meeting here after the show?”
“I wish I knew.” She massaged her temples. “He must have seen me, or maybe he overheard us. I told Jimmy that I was going to document the performance on my phone. That way we could review it afterward and see what Ed was up to. Jimmy was extra cautious with his blocking. I don’t know if you picked up on that last night, but he was careful to watch each step and stay far away from the edge of the stage. He was even worried that the lighting or rigging was going to fall on him, so he made sure to stay underneath it for as little time as possible.”
I hadn’t picked up on any of that. Jimmy’s performance had been flawless, so to consider that he had simultaneously been concerned about his well-being made it all the more impressive.
“We agreed to meet in the cellar as soon as he had done his required postshow appearance. The cast is supposed to mingle with patrons for a few minutes after closing and then we were going to meet here. He wasn’t going to bother getting out of costume or makeup, because we didn’t want to run the risk of Ed getting wind of what we were up to.”
“But he never made it back outside again, because he was killed,” I said aloud.
“I know, and by the time I came down here, the police had already arrived and were trying to revive him.” She stared at the ground like she was imagining Jimmy’s lifeless body.
For the first time since she’d revealed her theory of Ed being the killer, I questioned her story. Where had she been between the time the play ended and when I’d discovered Jimmy’s body?
As if reading my mind, she kept talking. “I got stuck outside with Bertie. If only I would have made an excuse to get away from her faster, Jimmy might still be alive.”
“When was this?”
“During the standing ovation. I was heading for the cellar when Bertie stopped me. She had extensive notes about changes she wanted to implement. I tried to get away from her as fast as possible, but she’s my boss, so I couldn’t exactly just leave. It felt like we were talking forever, but at the time, I wasn’t super worried, because I knew that Jimmy was probably going to be signing a lot of headshots and playbills. As soon as I finished documenting everything Bertie wanted changed, I came straight here, but like I said, Jimmy was already—already dead.”
I patted her arm as tears spilled down her cheeks again.
“I couldn’t have been talking to Bertie for more than ten minutes,” she said through sobs. “Ed must have used the opportunity to strike. I heard that he stabbed Jimmy with a corkscrew, that’s so brutal. It must have been a painful way to die.” Her flat gaze remained focused on the spot where I’d discovered Jimmy.
“The police assured me last night that Jimmy likely died quickly.” I wasn’t sure that information would be helpful, but it felt important to share. Sophie was obviously distraught over his death. That much I believed.
“I hope that’s true.” Her wide dark eyes met mine. “I also hope they make Ed pay for what he’s done.”
“We can’t say for sure that Ed killed Jimmy.” I tried to reason with her. “At this point, everyone is a suspect, including both of us.” I figured including myself might help her open up even more.
“But I never made it to the cellar last night. How could I have killed him?” she wailed. “Bertie will back me up. She can tell them that we were together when Jimmy was killed. I know that Ed can’t say that. He doesn’t have an alibi.”
“How do you know?” I studied the wine racks, briefly considering the possibility that Jimmy’s killer could have hidden out in the cellar lying in wait. But it was impossible. There was nowhere to hide. The shelves were only as deep as the wine bottles. No one could have squeezed behind them. The only other things in the room were the table and chairs. Maybe the killer hid underneath the table, but that didn’t make sense either. They would have been hiding in plain sight.
“Because I saw him on my way to the cellar.” Her tone shifted as she sat up straighter.
“You saw him where?”
“He was leaving the winery and headed back to the stage.” She pointed upstairs. “He must have already killed Jimmy at that point and was trying to get outside again before anyone realized what happened.”
“You saw Ed leaving the tasting room?”
She nodded. “Yes, and he was acting super shady. He was carrying big boxes. He was looking all around him, trying to make sure that no one noticed him. I don’t think anyone did, except for me. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Jimmy was already dead.”
“Do you know when this was?”
“I checked my watch when Bertie finally made it through her endless list of everything she wanted changed. It was ten forty-five when I left her by the food tables.”
“Did you tell the police this last night?”
“I can’t remember. Last night was a total blur.” She squeezed her eyes tight as if trying to block out the memory.
Again her response struck me as odd. If she really believed that Ed had killed Jimmy and she had seen him fleeing the scene of the crime, wouldn’t that be the first thing she told the police?
There was something she wasn’t telling me, but the sound of footsteps brought a halt to a conversation.
The Professor, Thomas, and Kerry appeared in the doorway. Lance moved out of the way.
“I was told that we might find you here. I’m so pleased that you’ve been in such good hands with Juliet and Lance.” The Professor removed a Moleskine notebook from his tweed jacket and stepped closer.
Thomas turned off the walkie-talkie attached to his belt, and Kerry whispered something to Lance.
I took that as my cue to let them take over. “Come by the bakeshop anytime, if you ever need to talk,” I said to Sophie, pushing myself to my feet and catching the Professor’s eye.
He gave me a subtle nod of appreciation.
Lance and I went upstairs to give them privacy. I wasn’t sure how much of Sophie’s story I believed, but one thing I knew for sure was that this wasn’t an open-and-shut case. Instead of shrinking, my suspect list was growing rapidly.