Carlos and I spent most of the night talking through replacement options for Steph and Sterling and tweaking the job descriptions I had put together. We both had extensive contacts in the culinary world after years of working in professional kitchens. We decided, before listing the openings, that we would reach out to friends and former colleagues to see if they might have any recommendations. It was always nice to have a referral come from within the industry. Hopefully, the right person would stroll into Torte, and we would have a seamless transition.
I could dream, right?
The next day the reality of that transition hit hard. My upbeat perspective on losing Steph and Sterling shifted. I put on a brave face for them and the rest of the team, but I found myself fighting back tears anytime I passed either of them in the kitchen. Twice I snuck into the bathroom to sob silently with the door locked. I had a feeling my staff were curious about my puffy red eyes and the wadded-up tissues in my apron pocket.
“Jules, is everything all right?” Marty asked, brushing melted butter on loaves of focaccia waiting to go in the oven.
“It’s Jimmy’s murder. I think it’s finally catching up with me,” I lied.
“Understandable,” Marty replied with a solemn nod. “Maybe you should take the afternoon off.”
“Actually, I am going to take a break.” I untied my apron. “I should be back in an hour or two.”
“Take your time,” Marty said. “The bread will be here when you get back.”
I appreciated his concern. The truth was that my “break” involved a short walk to the hospital. My doctor’s office was located across the street from the Ashland Community Hospital. It had been a while since I’d had a checkup, but the last few days had prompted me to follow Mom and Carlos’s advice and book an appointment.
With a name like Juliet, I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, but this storm of emotions felt different. I wasn’t typically prone to weepy spells, but the tears wouldn’t stop as I strolled along Main Street past a row of Victorian B and Bs. A mama deer ushered two baby fawns under the protective covering of a clumping of manzanita trees. Watching her nestle her young made me think about Sterling and Steph. They had grown up at Torte, and now they were getting ready to strike out on their own. I knew it was the right choice for both of them. I knew that they needed to challenge themselves and make their own mistakes, just like I had, but letting them go wasn’t going to be easy.
At the doctor’s office, I checked in for my appointment and leafed through a travel magazine in the lobby while I waited. The first page I turned to was a glossy feature about the Rogue Valley’s wine culture. I wondered what Tom would say about the travel writer’s perspective that Ashland should be every wine lover’s first stop and a region not to be missed.
When it was my turn to meet with the doctor, I told her everything that had been going on in recent weeks, including Jimmy’s murder and staffing changes at Torte.
“Have you been feeling depressed, anxious, or stressed?” the doctor asked, reviewing my chart notes.
“Yeah, I think all three, which isn’t normal for me.”
“Juliet, it sounds like you’re overworked and stressed. Discovering a murder is a traumatic experience, which could certainly cause the dizziness, but I want to run bloodwork and make sure there’s not anything else going on,” she said, closing the chart notes on her computer. “We’ll give you a call with the results of your labs, but I suspect that you’ve been running on fumes for a while, and it’s finally catching up with you. I recommend taking some time off if you can. Try deep breathing, meditation, a twenty-minute afternoon nap, and cutting down on caffeine. If things don’t improve, it might be a good idea to speak with a therapist. I see this often in my practice. You’re not alone. Consider this your body’s early warning system.”
“Okay.” I took her concern seriously.
“As I said, let’s wait and see if anything comes back in your lab work, but otherwise, you’re healthy and young. I think this staffing change at your bakeshop is a good opportunity for a reset for you.”
I left her office feeling worse. Not that I didn’t agree with her assessment, but I was frustrated that it had taken dizzy spells and feeling out of it to make me realize I wasn’t setting a good example for my young staff. The doctor was right. It was time for some self-reflection and restructuring.
More tears spilled on my walk back to Torte, but I did feel lighter knowing that I was addressing my issues and taking steps to change my behavior. The universe might have been forcing my hand with Steph and Sterling’s departure, and maybe that was ultimately a good thing.
As I passed the costume shop on my walk from the doctor’s office, I noticed Sophie inside. Pastel ribbons and large hoops hung in the front windows, along with sequined bodysuits and ballet slippers. A poster announcing upcoming performances of Ashland’s annual aerial circus was taped to the door. The costume shop was buzzing with tourists trying on styled wigs, Elizabethan dresses and pantaloons, and intricate masks. I didn’t want to pass up a chance to speak with Sophie, so brushed away my tears, rolled my shoulders back, and stepped inside.
“Are you attending the aerial circus?” I asked Sophie, approaching the cash register.
“Huh?” She handed the cashier her credit card and spun around to face me. “Oh, Jules, hey. No, I’m not going to the circus, just picking up a few things for the show. What about you? Are you getting a costume for the circus?”
“Actually, I saw you and wondered if you had a minute to take a walk through the park.”
“Uh, sure.” She glanced at her smartwatch and took her bag from the cashier. “I’m not due at my next meeting for about an hour.”
“Great.”
I waited for her to gather her items.
“Do you know anything more from the police?” she asked as we left the store and turned onto the Calle Guanajuato, a cobblestone pathway that paralleled Ashland Creek and led to Lithia Park. Bright yellow and red umbrellas dotted the walkway where diners could eat amid the sound of the gurgling creek and birds chattering in the leafy oak trees.
“Not much. It sounds like they’re still in the middle of the investigation. That’s why I wanted to talk, though. You knew Jimmy well and hung out with him a lot. Do you think that there’s any chance he could have been running an underground business?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard a couple of things about how maybe he was doing deals on the side.” We walked past the back side of Puck’s Pub. The enclosed deck was already packed with an early lunch crowd. I could smell the shepherd’s pie and grilled sausages.
“Deals?” Sophie stopped in midstride and gaped at me. “You mean like drugs? Are you saying that the police think he was a dealer?”
“No. Honestly, I don’t know what.” I waved to the Puck’s bartender delivering drinks to tables outside. “I’ve just heard that he might have been involved in other activities aside from acting.”
Sophie’s eyes were huge. “Not Jimmy. No way. Never. He was fully invested in the production. That and getting his big break in Hollywood. He didn’t have time for anything else. He was constantly running lines, watching YouTube videos, anything to improve his craft.”
“Did you see him with Tom Rudolph much?” I asked, continuing to walk. If I stood near Puck’s much longer, I wasn’t sure I could resist stopping in for a quick bite.
“Tom was always around set.” Sophie tucked the bag from the costume shop under her arm and followed me. “It’s kind of weird, because most investors aren’t showing up for rehearsals, but, hey, it’s his money. If he wants to spend an afternoon watching thirty walk-throughs of the same scene, that’s his prerogative.”
“He was there that often?” A colorful mural depicting Ashland’s sister city in Mexico, which had been hand-painted by an artist from Guanajuato with the assistance of art students from SOU, served as a cheerful welcome to the outdoor parklet.
“Yeah, every day from the start of table reads.”
I knew enough about professional theater companies to know that wasn’t the norm.
“What about Olive and Bertie?” We made it to the park entrance. Deep maroon Japanese maples bloomed along the perimeter. The expansive grassy area looked like it had been painted green. The colors were so intense it almost didn’t seem real. We took the path toward the lower duck pond bursting with vibrant pink rhododendrons.
“Who knows about those two? They could be working together. I know Olive is up to nothing good, and Bertie tries to pretend like she’s professional, but she’s a complete disaster. I don’t trust her at all.”
“Why?” It felt like I had received the same answer from nearly every member of the Fair Verona Players. Did none of them trust each other?
We found an empty bench and sat down. Sunlight filtered through the Japanese maples and danced off the top of the water. Ducks glided along the pristine surface like they were floating on air. Signs warning not to feed the wildlife were posted around the pond, but they rarely deterred tourists, who would toss bread and crackers to the birds at will, ignoring requests to keep our natural spaces wild. It was a serious problem. We shared the Siskiyou Mountains with brown bears, cougars, deer, and dozens of native species. Even a simple act of offering a hunk of stale bread to ducks threw off the ecosystem.
“She lied about where she was when Jimmy was killed,” Sophie said, clutching her bag to her chest like a security blanket. “I caught her lying.”
My curiosity was piqued. This could be the break Lance and I had been hoping for.
“I overheard her conversation with the police yesterday,” Sophie continued. “They came by to ask some additional questions, and I heard her tell them that she was at the wine table the entire night. She claimed to be chatting with guests right after the show, but that was a lie.” Sophie set the bag on the bench next to her and rubbed her fingers together, encouraging the ducks to come closer.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw her.”
“Where? When?” My knee bounced with anticipation.
“Leaving Jimmy’s dressing room.” Sophie reached down like she was going to pet one of the ducks, which sent them flapping to the other side of the pond. “You know how I told you that Jimmy and I were supposed to meet in the cellar after the show?”
I nodded. I noticed a tourist on the far side of the pond trying to pet a duck. I wanted to warn them that it wasn’t a smart idea. Birds carried a variety of diseases that were harmful to humans.
“Well, I saw Bertie sneaking out of his dressing room before I went downstairs to meet him.”
“You did?” Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? And how did that line up with her timeline on the night of the murder? She claimed that she never made it to the cellar. What was she doing upstairs?
“I didn’t think too much of it at the time. As the assistant director, Bertie is always leaving actors notes on their performance. I figured she probably had feedback for him on opening. It’s usually stuff like quick thoughts on where to punch up a line or pull more inward, that kind of thing.”
“Right.”
“I didn’t even consider it, not after his murder or anything,” Sophie continued. “That is, until she lied to the police yesterday. She told them she never went inside after the show. She claimed that she was at the wine table chatting with guests and the actors, and then she left from there. But I saw her leaving Jimmy’s dressing room after the show.”
That explained part of why she hadn’t shared this earlier, but not all of it. “Why were you in Jimmy’s dressing room? You didn’t mention that.”
Her cheeks flamed a deep shade of red, a telltale sign of her discomfort. She fidgeted, twisting her fingers together like the ivy snaking up the side of the Elizabethan theater on the other side of the pond. “I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing.”
“But it might be important to solving Jimmy’s murder.”
“True.” Her gaze fixated on a towering redwood tree in the distance. “It’s silly. I wanted to do something special for him for opening. It’s a big deal. The first show. It can set the tone for the entire run.”
I nodded again, not wanting to interrupt her.
“I wrote him a sonnet.” She tried to laugh off her embarrassment. “It’s dumb.”
“No, I think that’s sweet. Who wouldn’t want a love note?”
She tugged her eyes away from the tree. “You’re being kind. If you saw the note, you might say otherwise.”
“Why?”
“Um, it’s just so, so—” She ran her tongue over her lips and sucked in her cheeks. “Let’s just say it was a little over the top.”
“How?”
“I left lipstick marks on the envelope and sprayed it with my perfume.” She blew out a breath and dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’m not a lovesick teenager—at least I didn’t think I was—but Jimmy cast a spell over me. I made him a playlist and heart-shaped chocolate brownies, too. It’s so stupid. Like that was suddenly going to be the thing that would make him fall for me.”
“Listen, my name is Juliet Montague Capshaw, so you don’t need to explain anything about star-crossed love to me.”
This made Sophie laugh for real. “That’s a lot of pressure in a name.”
“Trust me, that’s why I go by Jules.”
She smiled.
“And I will add that in my business, chocolate and love are a perfect pairing, so baking him brownies seems like it was worth a shot.”
“I wish he would have had a chance to eat them.” She hung her head. “My plan was to slip into his dressing room and leave them for him and then go meet him in the cellar.”
“That’s when you saw Bertie. Was this before or after you left the note and treats?”
“Before. I came upstairs just as she was closing his dressing room door.”
“Didn’t she see you?” That didn’t add up, and I needed to remind myself to stay neutral. Sophie could be lying.
“No, I ducked into another room and waited for her to leave. I didn’t want her to see me with a love note and a box of brownies. That would have been mortifying. She already hated that I liked Jimmy. She kept warning me about him and told me I should steer clear of him at all costs.”
“Did you see anything else?”
“Like what?” She scrunched her nose, as if not understanding my question.
“Notes for other actors, perhaps? You mentioned that’s part of her role. Maybe she had a legitimate reason for being upstairs if she was leaving feedback for each of the cast members.”
“She wasn’t.” Sophie shook her adamantly. “That’s why I’m kicking myself for brushing over such an important detail. She was sneaking out of his dressing room, that much I’m sure of. She backed out of the door and stared down the hallway. I’m convinced that she didn’t want to be seen.”
“I wonder what she was doing up there,” I thought out loud.
“Me too. Do you think she could have killed Jimmy? It makes sense, doesn’t it? What other possible reason could she have had for sneaking around like that?”
“Maybe, although it didn’t happen in his dressing room,” I said, not wanting to jump to conclusions. “I found him in the cellar. There’s no way that she could have dragged the body down two flights of stairs without being seen and leaving a trail of blood.”
Sophie wasn’t going to let it go. “What if she drugged him first? She could have drugged him in his dressing room.”
“Did you go into his dressing room after you saw her?”
“Yeah. I waited for a couple of minutes and then went in and left the stuff for him.”
“How could she have drugged him if he wasn’t there?”
“Good point.” She softly pounded a fist on the bench, like she was trying to work out a theory internally. “What if she killed him in the cellar first and then ran upstairs to get something out of his room? Maybe he had dirt on her or evidence that she needed.”
That theory had a lot more potential in my mind. “Did you share this with the police?”
“Yes, after I overheard Bertie being interviewed by the police, I went straight to them. I couldn’t believe Bertie was so blatant in her lies. I told the woman detective all of this.”
“Good. That’s really good.” I figured she was referring to Detective Kerry. I was confident that Kerry would follow up on the new lead. Maybe we were finally on the right track.