“GIVE ME A SECOND. I’ll find it.” Isobel leaned across the desk in Felicity’s office, where the bustle was laid out before Detective Dillon and Sergeant Pemberthy. The policewoman’s strong arm pulled her back.
“We’ll examine it,” Dillon said curtly. “I don’t want you accidentally nicking yourself.”
Pemberthy released her grip on Isobel. “If you’re right, your friend was very lucky.”
Isobel watched while Dillon, wearing rubber gloves, carefully turned over every inch of the contraption.
“No sharp edges that I can see,” he said.
“Look again. There have to be.”
Dillon waved his hand over the bustle. “There’s nothing sticking out.”
“There is. I’m sure of it. You have to look”—she turned her head sideways and tried to envision where it would have hit the back of Arden’s thigh—“in this area here.”
Dillon straightened and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Then the person bent it back in place,” Isobel said.
“When would anyone have had time to do that? Surely somebody would have noticed a person fussing under Arden’s skirt in the moments after she collapsed.”
“Tonight, when you returned her costume. The bustle was handled by multiple people.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Heather and Thomas for sure, also probably Kelly, maybe even Felicity. Any of them could have seized the opportunity when nobody was looking. If you knew exactly where the wire was, it wouldn’t take more than a few seconds to bend it back into place.”
“It’s pretty far-fetched,” Pemberthy said.
Isobel gestured emphatically. “You can’t figure out how the nicotine got into Arden’s system, and I’m telling you: everybody saw her sit on an exposed wire during tech, and she collapsed onstage in the same spot opening night.”
Dillon held Isobel’s gaze for a moment, then gestured to Pemberthy. “Get this thing tested for traces of nicotine. Tell them to take apart all the wires and run every inch of it.”
As the policewoman carefully bundled the bustle into an evidence bag, there was a frantic knock on the door, and Kelly burst in.
“There you are,” Kelly panted. “It’s places, and you’re not changed.”
“I know. I’m sorry—this was important. I’m coming now.”
The bustle caught Kelly’s eye, and Isobel saw her brows knit in confusion, but the exigency of the second-act curtain took precedence. Isobel let Kelly hurry her down the hall.
“You’ll have to wear that for the opening of act two,” Kelly said. “Thomas is already having a fit over Delphi’s skirt in the finale. It’s not his night, is it?”
They reached the stage door, and Kelly left to go up to the booth, where she called the show. Isobel took her place onstage in the gazebo next to Chris.
“Where were you?” he asked.
“The cops wanted to see me again,” she said.
“In the middle of the show?”
“Their priorities are different from ours.”
After the opening scene, Isobel changed into her emerald gown and returned to the wings to watch the seaside concert scene. While Talia sang her Traviata aria, Isobel caught sight of Delphi, whose skirt was once again draped awkwardly over the fake bustle roll. She was dying to know what Thomas had said when he couldn’t find the bustle, but she knew she wouldn’t have a chance to chat with Delphi until after the show. She did, however, find herself face-to-face with Sunil in the wings before her last entrance.
“What did Thomas say when he came back?” she whispered, first making sure nobody could hear them.
“He didn’t.”
“He didn’t say anything?”
“No, he didn’t come back. I thought that was weird.”
“You know what else is weird?”
“What?”
“Kelly came to get me and saw the cops bagging the bustle, but she didn’t ask Dillon why.”
“Not everyone’s as nosy as you,” Sunil said.
“She didn’t ask me, either, when we were alone.”
“Maybe she thought you’d been caught red-handed?”
Isobel grabbed Sunil’s arm. “I think either Kelly put the nicotine on the wire or she knows who did. And get this—the wire was bent back in place. So whoever did it got their hands on it tonight and tried to cover their tracks.”
“Or you’re totally wrong and the wire is in place because nobody ever undid it again after Thomas fixed it.”
“Wait, if Thomas didn’t come back, who arranged Delphi’s bustle roll?”
“I did,” Sunil said proudly.
“You finally got up her skirt? Score! Ooh—gotta go.”
Isobel made her entrance for the finale, and finally the show was over. After taking a moment to accept compliments from two of the chorus women, she raced back to her dressing room. She paused in the doorway, trying to figure out what was different. Delphi came up behind her and pushed past her into the room.
“We’re switching,” Delphi said.
“What?”
“Talia and I are switching dressing rooms. We started moving stuff during your long scene with Chris in act two. It was her idea. She said she could tell I was going to be in here all the time, and this would make things easier.”
Isobel unbuttoned her bodice. “Did you check with stage management?”
“I asked Heather during intermission and she okayed it. I couldn’t find Kelly.”
“She was with me.” Isobel filled Delphi in on what happened with the bustle. “Sunil said Thomas never came back?”
“Nope.” Delphi braced herself against the dressing table and gestured with a makeup-removal wipe. “Do you think he figured out that we figured it out and made a run for it?”
“I don’t know.” Isobel looked down at her own bustle hanging around her waist. “Help me get out of this thing. It terrifies me.”
Delphi untied it. “He’s the costume designer. Nobody has better access than he does. And he must have flipped when he saw I took it off. I don’t think he bought my story. Do you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
There was a knock on the door. “Are you decent?” Sunil called.
“One sec,” Isobel responded. They hastily finished undressing and threw on their street clothes. “Okay, come in.”
He came in, closed the door, and leaned against it. “I have to tell you guys something.”
“About Thomas?” Isobel asked.
“No, Chris.”
“Chris?”
Sunil nodded. “Opening night before the show, I went outside to the alley in back of the theater to take a moment for myself. It’s something I always do. Say a little prayer. We all have our rituals, right?”
“I take off my school ring, kiss it, turn it over three time in my palm, and then safety pin it to my underwear. Which is always purple,” Isobel added.
“Um, that may have been TMI,” Delphi said.
“Anyway,” Sunil continued, “Chris was out there, too. I didn’t see him at first because he was standing behind the dumpster. But then I saw a tiny flame, and I thought something was on fire. Chris claimed he’d been saying the rosary and was using a lighter to see. But there was enough low light that he could have seen well enough without it.”
“Not to mention the difficulty of juggling a lighter and a rosary. Plus he has an iPhone with a flashlight,” Isobel pointed out. “But go on.”
“When Chris suggested we go back inside, I said I needed another moment. He looked like he didn’t want me out there by myself poking around, but I didn’t leave him much choice. And of course, that’s what I did, the second I was alone.”
“Did you find anything?”
“A charred photo of Arden.”
Delphi gasped.
“You’re only telling us now?” Isobel cried.
“I didn’t want your imagination running amok now that you’re playing opposite him, but between the note going missing and now this bustle thing, I think we need to tell someone.”
“What did you do with the photo?” Isobel asked.
“I left it on the ground. If Chris went back and it was gone, he’d know I took it, and I didn’t want to tip my hand. And besides, this was all before Arden was killed.”
“We have to tell Dillon,” Isobel said. “But first we should make sure the photo is still there.”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Delphi said. “I mean, if you were Chris, wouldn’t you go back to retrieve it after the girl in the photo dropped dead on your watch and you were afraid someone saw you burning it?”
“You’re probably right, but I think we should look.”
They filed out of the dressing room and down the stairs to the wings. The light was switched off at Heather’s desk. The cast had dispersed, and only a few crew members lingered backstage. Sunil pushed open the door that led to the alley and the loading dock.
“It was right on the ground behind the dump—” His hands shot out to either side, barring the way. “Holy fuck.”
“What?” Isobel asked, her heart skipping a beat.
“Get Dillon. Kelly. Anyone.” Sunil’s voice was harsh and crackling.
“Is it the photo?” Delphi asked.
Sunil looked at them over his shoulder, his face slack.
“It’s Thomas.”