Molly was grateful that Jill had the rehearsal schedule. She was able to show up at the theater the next morning before Tiffany, who, according to Cora, was keeping Magnolia’s original schedule. Tomorrow was Thursday and though Chris certainly hadn’t put a deadline on her, she felt a sense of urgency to solve the mystery before Jeffrey and Vivien left town. For all she knew, Tiffany would quickly follow once the play ran through its two-week production schedule.
The auditorium was sort of creepy without the actors in it. The lights were on, thankfully, but every step Molly took on the stage creaked. Her fingers gripped the two lattes she carried and she was grateful for their warmth. She didn’t step on the painted path that resembled the yellow brick road but she did follow alongside it to where it met the backdrop and continued on and upward, giving it a 3-D effect.
When she looked up at the house, her pulse scrambled. It hung still and quiet, like it hadn’t been sitting atop a person. On opening night, they’d drop it again and the scene she’d stumbled on with Judd and Magnolia would be reproduced in art. Molly shuddered.
The door to the auditorium opened. Molly watched Tiffany, who stared down at her phone, walk down the aisle. She started for the stairs so they could be on even ground but the creak gave her away.
Tiffany looked up. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was angry and quite loud, echoing in the space.
Molly descended the stairs and stopped in front of Tiffany in the first row of seats. Tiffany yanked off her purse and shoved her phone in it, then unzipped the hoodie she was wearing with quick, sharp movements, tossing it onto a closed seat on top of her purse.
Molly’s heart rate sped up. Perfect opportunity. She didn’t have anything actually planned other than showing up and trying to get something close to the truth, but an idea popped into her head and she knew there wouldn’t be another opportunity like this one.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Molly said, still holding the drinks.
“And Vivien. Are you trying to get me fired?”
“No. I’m just trying to figure out who really killed Magnolia.”
Tiffany crossed her arms under her breasts and jutted out one hip. There was a bland expression on her face, but Molly caught the quiver of her lips.
“You’re just a nosy reporter. Find something else to do. If you come here again before opening night or bother me or any of my cast and crew, I’ll have you banned until I leave.”
Molly stepped forward just a bit. “I don’t want that. But Vivien lied about several things. Judd didn’t kill Magnolia. I think you know that. If Vivien did—”
Tiffany threw her hands up in the air. “Oh my God. You’re a conspiracy theorist. She did not kill her mother. If you don’t back off, Molly, you’re going to regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
Tiffany closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them, they pleaded with Molly. “No. It’s a warning. Back off. Let this lie. The evidence against Judd is circumstantial. He’ll walk away unscathed. If you don’t stop pushing this, you won’t.”
Molly wasn’t sure what she expected but it was not the fear that clearly shone in Tiffany’s eyes. Those weren’t the eyes of a killer. She was petrified.
“If not you, who? Who will hurt me?” Molly came a little closer.
“I’m telling you to stop. If you stop, he won’t hurt you. Just let it go. Please.”
Molly’s heart hitched. “He? Jeffrey?”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “What about him?”
“Is he who you’re scared of? Did he hurt Magnolia?”
With a screech like groan, Tiffany reached up and locked her fingers in her hair, pushing it back from her face. “Jeffrey wouldn’t hurt something if he had a ten-step list of how to go about it. Stop, Molly. Or you’ll have no one to blame but yourself for the consequences.”
Confusion crowded her thoughts. Going with her impromptu plan, she extended her hand, offering the lukewarm coffee. “I’m sorry I upset you. Here, this is for you.”
Tiffany eyed her suspiciously and just when she reached for it, Molly let it slip from her grasp, eliciting a cry from Tiffany. Immediately, Molly crouched and began apologizing.
“I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz. Do you have a rag? Is there a janitor? I’m so sorry, Tiffany.”
The director huffed out an impatient sigh. “It’s okay. Just…just give me a minute. I’ll go see if I can find some paper towels backstage.”
Tiffany took the stairs to the right and disappeared behind the curtain. Molly set the other coffee down and wasted zero seconds moving Tiffany’s sweater and unzipping the woman’s purse.
The “he” didn’t make sense, but if Molly could prove that Tiffany had a relationship with Vivien, that they’d said something incriminating, maybe she could take that to Chris. With trembling hands, Molly dug around in the black, name-brand purse, looking for the phone she’d watched Tiffany put inside. She saw it at the bottom of the purse, but when she moved the plastic bag above it, she caught sight of what was inside.
Pulling her own phone out of her pocket, she held up the bag full of over-the-counter sedatives and snapped a picture, her heart beating so loud in her ears she couldn’t even hear her own breathing. She set the bag back inside and then pulled out the phone. It was locked. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of course it was locked. Tiffany’s footsteps sounded over the ragged thump of her heart. Molly shoved the phone back in, zipped up the purse and pulled the sweater over it just as Tiffany pushed through the curtain, paper towels in hand.
With shaky hands, Molly accepted the paper towel Tiffany offered and both of them crouched to sop up the liquid. Molly’s hand moved back and forth in jerky movements.
“Careful, or you’ll knock yours over, too,” Tiffany said, pressing the towel into the spill.
Molly’s laugh was too loud. “Ha. Yeah. Well, I think you get that one. I’ll grab one on the way home. I’m really sorry for bugging you. I just want to help Judd.”
Tiffany met her gaze and both of them stopped cleaning. “I get that. But you’re in over your head here. Let it go, Molly.”
Molly nodded, swallowing around the knot lodged in her throat.
* * * *
Molly locked the doors of her Jeep and looked around, like someone might have followed her. She texted Chris the picture of the sedatives and then dialed his number.
“Beatty,” he answered.
“It’s Molly.”
“That’s what the call display said too, so it must be true,” he replied.
She didn’t have it in her to laugh. “I texted you a picture. Did you get it?”
“Uh, no. You called and I answered. Feeling needy today?”
“Chris, what kind of sedatives were found in Magnolia’s body?”
He must have realized it wasn’t a friendly call. “What’s going on?” His voice was now full-on cop.
“Do you see the picture?”
She heard nothing for a moment and knew he was checking. She heard him swear before he came back on the line. “Where did you find those?”
“In Tiffany’s purse.”
“Where are you?”
“Are they the same pills?”
“They’re a generic over-the-counter pill, Molly. Where are you?”
“Are they the same?”
“Dammit, Molly. Where are you?”
She gripped the steering wheel. “I’m at the theater. Are they the same?”
“Yes,” Chris muttered. “I need to get a warrant. Listen to me, Molly—and I mean it, actually listen—you did good, but I want you to get away from the theater and stay away from it. Stay away from Tiffany and everyone else involved with the play. You’re done.”
He hung up before she could tell him about Tiffany’s warning.