Charlotte yawned, saved her place with a bookmark, and set the novel on the bedside table. She switched off her reading light and lay in the calm darkness, mulling over the events of the day, including a conversation with Paula Van Dusen about the upcoming dinner party.
The whole Much Ado production had got off to what Paula Van Dusen described as “such an unfortunate start” that both she and Charlotte had high hopes that meeting socially would settle everyone; help them see one another’s points of view through fresh, sympathetic eyes; and restore a civilized calm to the situation. And then Paula had mentioned that the board had discussed Edmund’s proposed Civil War theme and that she would share their thoughts at dinner. Despite Charlotte’s pleas, Paula had refused to tell her what approach the board had decided to take. “I promised the board members that we’d let everyone know at the same time,” she said. “That’s the only fair way to do this. It would be inappropriate for you to know before other people, like the director and lead actress, who are just as involved as you are. As much as I’d like to tell you—and in light of our friendship, you know I wish I could—I can’t, and I’m afraid you’re just going to have to be patient.”
“No more of my gin and tonic for you, then,” Charlotte had replied easily, smoothing over the awkwardness of the moment and the disappointment she felt.
“And you’ll have to wait to hear until after the starter,” Paula had added. “One never discusses business until after the soup or salad. My father-in-law taught me that years ago, and it’s a rule I always follow at my dinner parties. Social niceties first, then business.”
As Ray lay sleeping beside her, Charlotte contemplated various dinner party scenarios and what might happen. Finally she, too, closed her eyes and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
In what seemed like just a few minutes but was actually a couple of hours, the ringing of Ray’s cell phone awakened her. She felt his body position shift as he reached for it, then heard him speaking softly as he got out of bed. “Oh, no,” said Charlotte. “What is it?”
“Report of a prowler at Audrey’s.”
He straightened up, lifted Rupert onto the bed, and grinned as Charlotte put her arm around him and they settled in for a cuddle. Ray could think of somebody who loved late-night callouts enormously, and he reckoned that if Rupert had a phone of his own, he’d make the calls himself just to get Ray out of the way so he could have Charlotte all to himself.
Ray let himself out of the house, locked the door behind him, switched on his flashlight, and—holding the light in his left hand, his right hand on the gun on his hip—headed down the path to Audrey’s bungalow. A light was on in the director’s bungalow, but it was switched off as he passed. Making a mental note to ask Edmund Albright if he’d heard or seen anything suspicious, he continued on to Audrey’s. After performing a careful check around the house, he knocked on Audrey’s door. “Police,” he called out. The door was opened by a short woman with attractive gray hair worn in a soft pageboy style. “Oh,” said Ray, “I was expecting to see Audrey. You must be . . .”
“I’m her sister,” said the woman. “Maxine Kaminski. You’d better come in.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on here?” Ray asked as she led him into the sitting room. “And where’s your sister? Is she all right?”
“I think so. She’s in her room. She felt poorly and went to lie down. She said you could go in and talk to her if you needed to.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Ray asked. “What did you hear? Did you see anything?”
“Nothing. I was asleep. Dead to the world, I was, and the next thing I know, Audrey’s shaking me awake and telling me there’s someone outside. I didn’t hear anything, but she was obviously upset, so I got up, and she phoned the police, and then she felt a bit wobbly so she went to lie down, and you arrived.”
“Maxine?” came a faint voice from the next room. “Who are you talking to? Is the police officer here?” Maxine excused herself and walked to the doorway of the bedroom. “Yes, he’s just asking a few questions.” Audrey said something Ray didn’t quite catch. Maxine retraced the few steps back to the sitting room and sat down.
“She wants to know if there’s anything you want to ask her,” she said.
Ray stood up. “No. I’ll let her get some rest now. I’ve had a look around outside, and there doesn’t seem to be a sign of anybody, but it’s hard to tell in the darkness. I’ll send someone around in the morning to take another look.”
*
Charlotte was swirling something around in a pot when Ray arrived home. “Cooking? At his hour?” he asked.
“You know I have trouble sleeping when you’re out on a night call, so I’m making a cup of cocoa. It’s what we Brits do when we can’t sleep. Want one?”
“Love one.”
Charlotte opened the fridge door, took out the milk carton, and added more milk to the pot. She handed the container to Ray to put away and continued gently moving the pot over the heat. “Well?” she asked, not looking at him.
“I didn’t see Audrey. Her sister answered the door. The sister’d been asleep and didn’t hear or see anything. Audrey called the police and then went to bed.”
“Do you think someone was hanging around the place?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t see anything to indicate there is.” Ray unfastened his police duty belt and set it on a chair. “I’ll remind Harvey to get the bushes around the bungalows cut back so it won’t be as easy for someone to hide in them.” Charlotte made a paste of cocoa, sugar, and milk in two cups; poured the hot milk into each; gave them a noisy stir; and handed a cup to Ray. They sat at the kitchen table, Charlotte in her dressing gown and Ray in his uniform, their hands cupped around their mugs of comforting cocoa.
“Should I take Rupert out?” Ray asked when they were finished. Rupert looked up at him and waggled his bottom, so Ray opened the door, and the two disappeared into the night. They returned a few minutes later, and Ray locked the door, turned off the light, and joined Charlotte in bed.
They held each other in the darkness, and as their breathing quieted and slowed, Charlotte’s sleepy voice broke through the stillness. “Ray?”
“Mhmm.”
“Did you check to make sure the stove was turned off?”