Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

of the reason we took in the play.  We were hoping to go backstage on a fact finding mission.  Given the circumstances, that didn’t happen.  So we’re on to plan ‘b’ but that’s none of your concern.  The reason I’m calling is to see if we can get together with you and Roger before we leave town.”

“Nothing I’d like better, Susan, however, a get together is impossible for the immediate future.  Roger and I are in middle of an investigation, and we’ll be lucky if we find time to eat.  When it wraps, I’ll give you a call and maybe we can meet in Truro at the little Italian bistro you and Alexis are so fond of.  Or is it the owner’s son you both so fond of? I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“Good save, Kate”, Roger said. “As much as I love those two, we don’t need a repeat performance of the last time they interfered in a case.  Let’s go, briefing starts in five minutes.”

***

An hour later, in the police canteen, Roger bit into his jelly doughnut, red ooze dripping on his chin.  Kate made a face between spoons of yogurt.

“So, did Gordon’s wrap up homily, go troops, do me and the precinct proud, work the info and put the killer behind bars, inspire you”, Kate asked.

“As much as black and white TV does.  Sorry, forgot, you’re a big fan of the thing.”

“Of black and white classic films, there’s a huge difference, Roger.”

“Okay, sure.”

“So, what was your take”, Kate asked.

“You go first.”

“We know the victim was a boy genius, a womanizer, made his mark in NYC, returned to his roots, was doing fine up until two weeks ago when he suddenly started having tantrums.”

“Seems to be the consensus of the cast and crew.”

“And the eerie laugh coming from off-stage that James Thompson heard at the time of the toast.  Killer gloating behind the scenes, maybe?”

“I don’t think so”, Roger said.  I think this killer was on stage, front and centre.  Wouldn’t want to miss the death scene.”

“Withers gets the prize for the biggest surprise.  According to him, Camira Paul, aka Maggie the Cat, is hiding something.  He thinks she’s running scared.  And according to June Grayson, my hairdresser by the way, Camira was ambivalent about the Director.  She raved about his talent and ranted about his sex life.  I think we should bring her in, apply a little pressure.”

“Right, I’ll arrange it tomorrow, no time today.”

“Keep me out of it, Camira’s cousin is a good friend of mine.”

“Okay, I’ll ask Shirley to sit in.”

Kate looked down the list of names.

“This Brenda Parsons, what did you think of what she had to say to Withers?”

“Stone’s protégé?  Didn’t really say a lot, loyal to Stone, and no doubt worried about her future.  Not that she needs the money.  According to Shirley’s background check, she’s married to a Jim Parsons, an Engineer employed by none another than Eleanor Foster-Sutton’s ex, Donald Sutton.  Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not that small.  I wonder if there’s a social connection between the six of them.  Maybe we could ask Shirley to check it out.”

“Yup, the woman doesn’t have enough to do.  About the poison, it’s going to be damn near impossible to determine who put it in the bottle.  On the night of the murder, it was full house, virtually everyone associated with the theatre had access to it. Victim’s fingerprints only on the bottle, naturally.

“Maybe the bottle wasn’t put there on the evening of the play”, Kate said.  “What about the night before?  There would be less chance of being seen.”

“You’ve got a point.  According to the interviews, after the play closed, Ed was on stage getting the set read for the final night’s performance.  He says no one came on stage and he was the last one to leave the building.”

“The killer must have come in after that.”

“Could have been anyone, Kate.  According to what Ed said practically everyone in the company had their own key to the back entrance.”

“Every case needs a challenge.  So, if we start with the premise that the poison was placed in the bottle sometime after midnight and before 10:00am the next morning, we need to get onto the taxi drivers, the buses don’t run after midnight.  Maybe one of the cabbies picked up a late night passenger near the theatre.”

“I’ll ask one of the Incident Room team members to get on it.”

“Once the lab report and autopsy results are in, we’ll have more to go on.  Let’s hope we get them quickly.”

“Come on Kate, you know we’ll have the reports whenever George is good and ready and not before.  Our esteemed pathologist has only been married for three months so I’m guessing he’s more interested in working on live bodies.”

“Funny.  I’m off to interview Catherine.  Good luck with Henry Ward.”

The two partners checked into the precinct car pool together then went their separate ways.

Chapter 3

Kate’s friend, the Reverend Hanya George, Anglican Priest and part-time University lecturer, leaned back in her chair, propped her legs on the desk, and scowled at the picture of the 2008 Class of Theological students hanging on the wall. Darn trouble with office sharing, you can’t pick and choose the decor, she thought.    

Her scowl turned to a deep frown as her thoughts moved on to her meeting with Chris, her supervisor.  She rehearsed varied conversations to use in her pitch for support for her student’s proposed outing.

Easing her numb legs down from the desk, she stood, stretched and walked to the window, hoisted it high and breathed in the fall air.  The crimson and orange colours of the oak leaves were breathtaking.  Nothing but show offs, shamelessly flaunting their colours at the lone pine.

The cool air began to turn her less than warm office colder so she closed the window and put on the kettle.  Ten minutes later, she was seated again in the chair, sipping her tea, legs under the desk.  Tea always helped