Just in Time. Suzanne Trauth
of the theater, before the start of Act Two. I peered into the front seat of Ruby’s car. Her bag was open, some of its contents strewn around the seat and the floor: her wallet, empty cigarette packages, a comb, vitamin bottles, Kleenex, assorted pens, a small notepad, antacid tablets, a Styrofoam take-out container with the remains of a hamburger and French fries, etc. The rest of the car was empty.
“Where’s her flask?”
“What?” Bill glanced up from a pad where he’d been making notes.
“The silver flask?”
“Was she known to…?”
“Yeah. She was never without that little guy.”
Bill poked carefully around Ruby’s purse. “No flask. No apparent signs of trauma. Locked doors, windows shut tight, ignition on—like the engine ran out of gas. She might have had a heart attack or a stroke. Or maybe she was too intoxicated to drive so she pulled over and fell asleep.”
“What she was doing out here, anyway,” I mumbled. My good mood evaporated as the EMTs covered her body. The medical examiner arrived.
“Who knows? We’ll have to wait for the ME to determine cause of death. And don’t go getting any wild ideas,” he cautioned me, running a hand through his blond hair, which was glinting in the summer sun. “I’ll take that coffee now.”
I handed him the paper cup. My investigative instincts often had been on target in helping to solve recent murders in Etonville, but this was a tragic accident and I did not intend to investigate Ruby’s death. My imagination was on hiatus. “I have more than enough to keep me busy these days,” I said pointedly.
Bill gazed at me over the rim of his coffee container. “Dodie, I’m on duty,” he whispered.
“Yes, sir, chief.” I saluted. “See you tonight?”
“If I get all of the paperwork done on this.”
It was difficult to banter back and forth when Ruby lay dead on a gurney, twenty feet away from us.
Ralph marched over from his cruiser. “Chief, Timothy’s tow truck’ll be here in a minute. Where do you want it to go?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Ruby’s car.
“Timothy’s for now,” Bill said patiently.
“Copy that.”
“Guess I’ll head out. Got a date with Snippets,” I said.
Bill arched an eyebrow. “Can’t envision what the gossip crowd will make of Ruby’s death.”
I could.
* * * *
The hair salon was buzzing with activity by the time I walked in the door. Imogen was shampooing the two Banger sisters at the back sinks, and assistant manager Rita snipped and styled Mildred’s shoulder-length locks. Two customers sat in the waiting area. Meanwhile, Carol juggled the appointment calendar and the phone. Snippets was the beating heart of Etonville.
“Things are hopping in here,” I said.
“It’s always like this near an ELT opening. Everyone insists on getting their hair done, even when they’re wearing wigs in the show,” Carol said sotto voce.
“Thanks for squeezing me in.” I followed her to a cutting station and she flapped a cape around my neck.
“Why don’t you get Bill to take you away for your birthday weekend?” Carol asked as she waggled a pair of scissors and studied my wavy mane. “Maybe an inch off. The ends are splitting.”
“Fine,” I said. Carol went to work.
“Dodie, it’s your birthday?” The Banger sisters had settled themselves into chairs on my left.
“In a couple of weeks—”
“You’re a Gemini?” Mildred said from my right.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “That’s me. The twins.”
“My first boyfriend was a Gemini. Very moody, unreliable, and dishonest,” she said.
“Really?” I asked. “I was under the impression that Geminis are open-minded, fun-loving, and great multi-taskers with good instincts.” I scanned the group. Both the Bangers and Mildred eyed me skeptically.
Imogen waltzed over to join the conversation, newspaper in hand. “Have you read your horoscope for today?”
“Not yet,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Says here you’re ‘going to meet the love of your life—a quiet, intellectual, book worm.’”
They stared at me expectantly. That certainly didn’t describe Bill.
“And ‘that if you come upon a puzzle today, don’t be afraid to solve it,’” Imogen added.
“Not sure what that means,” I said, aiming for light and noncommittal.
“Good thing nobody has died this morning,” one of the Banger sisters said solemnly.
Uh-oh. Wait until the news about Ruby arrived.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Edna rushed in. “Have you heard?” she screeched and flapped her arms frenetically.
All eyes swiveled to face her. “What?” Mildred asked.
“It’s Ruby. She’s gone!” Edna exclaimed, strands of gray-brown hair popping willy-nilly out of the bun on the top of her head.
“Gone? Where?” asked Carol. “I hope she’s back in time for the tech rehearsal tonight. I know she can be difficult but she’s a whiz on the piano and nobody knows the score as well as—”
“The chief was called out for an 11-24—and maybe an 11-54—on the highway, but when he got there it was an 11-41 and…” She gulped. “And then an 11-44. Of course, we all know Ruby liked to take a sip now and then…” She mimed a bottle to her lips and her audience nodded in unison. “So it might be a 23152.”
Drunk driving?
Edna wrung her hands. “What are we going to do?”
“Edna! For Pete’s sake, stop!” Mildred put up a hand like a traffic cop. “What do all of those numbers mean?”
I tiptoed into the discussion. “There was an incident this morning. Ruby—”
“She’s dead!” Edna hollered.
Stunned silence. We were off to the races…
* * * *
By the time I reached the Windjammer, word must have ricocheted around Etonville like a billiard ball off the rail of a pool table. I had barely entered the restaurant when Lola texted: Have you heard? I texted back with words of support, and suggested she stop by so that we could talk. Though Ruby’s loss of life was of utmost importance, I hoped that her death didn’t delay the opening and Henry’s creation of the contest winning recipes.
“Some news about that piano player.” Benny cleaned the soda taps and prepped the bar. “They’re saying she was probably drunk…”
Possibly.
“…and that the chief had to smash her window to get in.”
“He didn’t actually smash the window—”
“And that a witness saw a man running away from the scene.”
What? “Who said that?” I asked.
Benny gestured. “You know Etonville.”
I certainly did, and it took very little to trigger the rumor mill grinding. Ruby would be this week’s grist. “Walter will need to replace her if Bye, Bye, Birdie is going to open on time.”
“Henry’s already working himself into a lather