Sedona Law 4 by Dave Daren (ready to read books TXT) 📕

goddess, a creature from a different world. I didn’t blame them.

The band transitioned into a slow melodic piece with non-English lyrics. But, Olivia perfectly interpreted it with mesmerizing full body thrusts and hypnotic moves. Landon and I looked at each other, and he seemed just as captivated, so we edged in closer to watch. A handful of cell phone videos were already going, so he switched on his camcorder.

Her movements were deep, pained, and sudden, all portraying the darkness within her. A reverent mood fell over the crowd, and I even caught a few sniffles as people wiped away tears. Her work with Ghoti was at best trite and even gimmicky. But this was something real, coming from her soul. Even I could see that, as cynical and jaded as I might be.

She danced for about ten minutes, and then the band took a break. The crowd gave her resounding applause, and she smiled politely, but her expression was clearly upset. She hastily picked through the crowd and back up the stairs to the main floor. Landon and I tried to catch her, but the crowd was too thick.

“Hey, man,” some guy in Rastafarian dreads and a knit poncho waved a joint in my face, “You look like you could use some of this.”

“No thanks,” I said, as I tried to keep Olivia in my sights. She was rapidly on her way up the stairs now.

“Are you sure, man?” he asked. “You look like you need to loosen up.”

“Nah, I blazed on the way over here,” I replied as I finally managed to step around him.

“Right on!” He cheered as I walked by him.

The band started back up, which made it even more difficult to get through the crowd. Landon and I finally made up to the first floor, and we found Olivia sitting in a stuffed chair in the living room, staring off into space.

“Olivia?” I asked.

She turned and gave a tiny smile. Her eyes were large and blue, and she seemed unsure.

“Hello,” she said shyly.

“I’m Henry Irving,” I said.

“Oh, the lawyer,” she shifted uncomfortably.

I sat on the edge of a couch. “We talked on the phone... is this a good time?”

She smiled slightly again. “Yes, yes, of course.”

“Is there somewhere we could talk?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. She was soft spoken, and she seemed shy. “The others are downstairs, would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Uh, sure,” I said.

The odd European gesture somehow fit in with her demure disposition. She took us into an empty dining area with a long heavy oak table that had seen more than a bit of use. She was quiet and somber, and Landon and I took our cues from her and remained so ourselves. We sat politely, and she busied herself about the small kitchen, and I noticed her thin pale hands shake.

Finally, she sat down at the table and poured the three of us drinks. She sighed long and deep.

“Is it alright if I film?” Landon asked.

She smiled. “Sure.”

“What we want,” I said while Landon turned on the camera, “is to know what happened the night of the incident. As you know, Julianna has been accused of the murder, and we don’t believe she did it. So, we want to find out everything that you can remember about that night that could give us a clue as to what really happened.”

“Okay,” she smiled, gripped her teacup, and sighed as she gathered words. Then she let out a short whimper and gripped her stomach as if she would be nauseated. “This is difficult to talk about. I didn’t realize how hard it would be.”

“I understand,” I said. “We spoke with Chloe earlier, and it was difficult for her, too. But, the more we know, the closer we can get to the real killer and justice for Beyo.”

I had a hard time spitting out his nickname, but I did it to put her at ease.

“Right,” she nearly whispered, and I wondered how much audio Landon could pick up.

“So what can you tell us?” I asked again.

She primly crossed her legs and looked into her teacup and then up at me again.

“The night of--” she stopped as if looking for a way to refer to what was clearly a traumatic experience.

“The incident?” I supplied her with a euphemism.

“The incident, yes,” she said, “that night was very hectic. We were running late, and I twisted my ankle during rehearsals, and I had to put it on ice while the others did run-throughs without me. This was difficult to do, and everyone was tense, and the practice was sloppy. Ugh. There is nothing Beyo hates more than sloppy rehearsals.”

She took a sip of her tea, and I listened quietly. This part was largely irrelevant, but getting a good feel for what had happened earlier in the day would give us an understanding of the timeline of the murder.

“On top of my ankle problem,” she continued, “the stage was wider than we were used to, so it threw all of the blocking off, so we had to rework a lot of sections. I sat on the side of the stage with an ice pack and tried to memorize the new positions. This all made Beyo uptight, and he was snapping at everyone. Also, we knew that Beyo and Julianna had had words.”

“Do you know what about?” I asked.

I had the information from Julianna as to why there was tension between the two of them, but I wanted to know if Olivia was aware.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Julianna and Beyo clashed frequently. Beyo is... or was... a strong man, and he didn’t like to be crossed or challenged. Julianna’s strength threatened him, I think. So, they would get into heated arguments about mundane things like schedules or specific stage