Just in Time. Suzanne Trauth
up his forehead and ran a hand over his grizzled beard. “Hey there, Dodie.”
Bill followed suit. “What are you doing here?”
Was that a suspicious glimmer in his laser baby blues? “You forgot this.” I held out the envelope.
“I did?” Bill asked sheepishly. “Guess I was distracted this morning.”
Timothy considered the exchange between Bill and me, stifling a chuckle.
“You could have delivered it to the department,” Bill said. “No need to track me down. But thanks.”
“I wasn’t sure how important the papers were.” Bill was right; I could have stopped by the municipal building on my way to Lola’s. Then I realized what was bothering me. The light in Ruby’s car last night was an itch that required scratching. “Have you found anything? About Ruby’s car?” When Bill and I had officially “gotten together” back in March, I had assured him that I would stay out of future investigations—at least in public. It would be easier on both of us—but I had my little hairs to keep track of, and right now they were giving me a hard time.
Before Bill could stop him, Timothy said, “Well, you know, carbon monoxide is deadly stuff.”
“Even outside a garage?”
“Dodie…” Bill gave me a warning glance.
Timothy was oblivious. “Uh-huh. CO2 can get into the engine compartment and then the body of the car. A cracked exhaust manifold. A leak between the manifold and the heat shroud. The tail pipe not securely connected to the—”
“Can you take a closer look at the engine and exhaust system and let me know if you find anything?” Bill asked.
“Uh-huh.” Timothy removed his cap. “Course she was due for an inspection. Maybe they woulda’ caught something with the exhaust system.” He pointed to the state decal on the front windshield. Ruby’s car was overdue for its date with the Department of Motor Vehicles.
New Jersey was a stickler when it came to car inspections. The DMV didn’t mess around. I should know. I’d missed the inspection deadline by two days years ago and had to pay a fat fine for my mistake. “What a shame. If she’d had the inspection, she might be alive?” I asked. I had always found the state inspection to be relatively inconsequential. Until now.
Timothy shrugged. Bill was silent. Was now the time to mention the light?
“Give me a call later?” Bill said, tipping his hat at Timothy, and leading me by the elbow back to my Metro. “Dodie, we had an agreement.”
“We do. But this isn’t a murder and I thought I saw something last night.”
“What?”
“On my way home, I was driving past Timothy’s and—”
“This place isn’t on your way home from the Windjammer,” Bill said.
“Not exactly, but I like to drive around Etonville late at night when the streets are empty and everything is quiet, so I came down to this end and—”
“Dodie!”
“Right. I was cruising past and when I looked up into my rearview mirror…” What did I really see? “A light went on in Ruby’s car.”
“A light? Like the dome light?”
“Not that bright. Maybe a flashlight? Could have been a cell phone flashlight,” I added.
“So you stopped and investigated?” he asked.
“Me? No! I drove on. When I looked up again, the light was gone.”
Bill exhaled slowly. “So you can’t confirm that what you really saw was a light. You only think you might have seen a light?”
“I guess so.” My cell pinged. “Lola. I should go.” I backed away.
“Stay out of trouble,” Bill called out.
* * * *
“You gals all set?” Jocelyn asked as she rang up our coffees to go.
Lola took a sip of hers and snapped the lid on the container. “Thanks, Jocelyn.”
“By the way…” Jocelyn tugged on the front of her uniform and leaned over the counter. “If you see Walter, tell him I said ‘Hey.’”
Lola gazed at me. “Oh. Sure.”
I held it together until we were safely in Lola’s Lexus—a cleaner, more comfortable ride than my Metro—which I parked in front of the Windjammer. “Guess who has the hots for your director?” I hooted.
“Jocelyn?”
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes! And she’s serious about it.”
“Does Walter know?” Lola asked.
“I doubt it. You know how oblivious he can be. Besides, he still has eyes for you.” I sipped my caramel macchiato.
Lola steered the Lexus out of town and onto the highway. “You’d never know it from last night’s rehearsal.”
“Bad time?”
“After we suffered through one of Walter’s warm-ups—we had to be trees in the Etonville Park…you know, swaying, falling, branches bending in the wind—he gave notes for an hour. They included an especially detailed critique of Dale and me. Everything we did was wrong. The timing on the choreography was off, the blocking was incorrect. He gave me line readings. Me!” Lola concentrated on the road. “I tried to be calm and supportive of Walter, but Dale was so fed up he nearly burst a blood vessel.”
I’d seen Dale explode a couple of times at rehearsal over blocking notes. “Guess he doesn’t like to be corrected?”
“I could have throttled Walter. Penny was getting frustrated too.”
“And that takes some doing.” Penny was protective of Walter. “How did Alex handle the accompaniment?” I asked.
“Fine. There were missed cues but by opening night he’ll be good to go.”
“At least he knows the show.”
“True. Even Walter had to compliment him on taking on the extra load.”
“Maybe if Walter knew about Jocelyn, it would improve his mood?” I suggested.
Lola cut her eyes in my direction. “Can you picture the two of them?” She approached the Creston turnoff and switched on her GPS. “I don’t really know what part of town we’re going to.”
“You never did explain why we had to go to Ruby’s apartment,” I said.
The GPS directed us to continue down the main drag for a mile and a half, and then turn right on Barrow Street.
“I didn’t want to go alone. Thought it might be creepy. But both Walter and JC said Ruby had taken notes and created music cue sheets from the rehearsal in the park Monday night.”
The night before Ruby died. “Wouldn’t Penny have that?” Penny carried her prompt script and clipboard around as if they were the Holy Grail.
“You’d think so, but Walter said Penny was busy doing I-don’t-know-what while he and JC and Ruby were timing music to light cues. Ruby insisted on keeping her own record of the cues, and said she was taking the sheets to work on them. Since we didn’t need them until we moved to the park for the technical rehearsal, I thought Ruby might have left them home. They weren’t with her score. Of course she barely looked at the score.”
“I suppose you could create another set of cues?” I asked.
“We might have to, but finding the cue sheets will save us a ton of time rewriting all of Ruby’s notes.”