Текст книги "Death in a Summer Colony"

Автор книги: Aaron Stander

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Jill rose, she appeared to Ray to be a bit unsteady. “Ms. Markley will escort you out, Sheriff. I will be in contact with you relative to the interviews in the morning.”

Once outside, Ray walked across the drive and then turned back toward the structure. He wanted to get a sense of the building, and he needed a few moments alone to reflect on what had just happened.

“She has a heart of ice, doesn’t she?” said Grubbs as Ray slid onto the seat of the golf cart.

“Who is that?”

“Jill, the family attorney. No emotion with that woman, ever. She’s totally cognitive. I hope she doesn’t get in your way too much. She’s probably more into protecting the family than finding out who killed her employer, father-in-law, whatever.”

12

Ray was leaning against his car stretching his back when Sue’s Jeep came creeping up the narrow road. She parked next to him.

“Short night,” he said, lifting his vacuum coffee mug.

“Too short, way too short.” She took a long moment to stretch, leaning against her Jeep and rotating from side to side, extending her back. Then reached back into her vehicle and retrieved a tall cardboard coffee container.

“What did you learn from Dr. Dyskin?”

“Not much more than Hanna told me. The victim died from the wound near the base of his skull. Dyskin said that it appeared to have been made by an extremely sharp instrument. The skin was cut rather than torn. He also said that a lot of force would be needed to drive the weapon through the spine. And he went on to say that in his long tenure in Wayne County looking at hundreds and hundreds of murder victims, he’d never seen anyone killed in quite this way.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, you know Dr. Dyskin is usually so dour. He almost seemed jolly last night. He was intrigued by the other wounds, the rubber and greasepaint ones. He made some comment about never seeing a murder victim with fatal fake wounds before.”

“You seem to be tolerating Dr. Dyskin much better these days.”

“I’m getting used to him. And now that he doesn’t reek of cigar smoke anymore….”

“He didn’t get any more specific about the murder weapon?” pursued Ray.

“He said the forensic pathologist should be able to give us a description of the cutting part of the weapon, that it almost looked like a chisel or push dagger. He also went through a whole array of other kinds of weapons with sharp edges, said he’d seen them all in Detroit and Wayne County.”

“You’re done photographing the scene?”

“Yes,” said Sue. “I need to go through the pictures again, and perhaps I’ll shoot more today. But nothing jumped out at me.”

“And the weapon?”

“You would’ve known last night,” said Sue, taking a yogic lunge pose and holding it for a number of seconds before continuing. “I did look around the stage area and the offstage wings. I need to do that again today. We’ve got to get some light in there. The place is just filled with dark corners and nooks and crannies where you can get rid of something.” She paused and looked at Ray. “What’s the plan?”

“Tell me what you think about this. You start with the stage area, then move on to the dressing rooms, greenroom, costume loft, carpentry shop…everything backstage. Then do the front of the Assembly Hall and the outside grounds. We’ll get the whole place taped off. I’ve got Ben Reilly, Brett Carty, and our summer intern Barbara Sinclair scheduled to come in and help you today and tomorrow. We will add days as necessary.”

“And what did you learn last night?” asked Sue.

“I talked to the whole group. They were all in shock, or at least appeared to be. No one had seen anything unusual, and no one remembers seeing anyone in the theater who shouldn’t have been. The crew and cast members were mostly in the green room before the beginning of the second scene.”

“Why the long scene break?” asked Sue. “They were really taking their time. It was like the end of an act.”

“My question also. As Grubbs explained that, people had been eating and drinking for quite some time, and then went off to the performance. And that most of the audience is of an age where….”

“You don’t have to explain, Ray.”

“But there’s more. The restrooms are in two buildings adjacent to the Assembly Hall, women’s on one side and the men’s on the other. It takes some time to negotiate back and forth.”

“But it was pouring rain. That would make people go faster.”

“Yes,” said Ray, “but the weather wasn’t a factor in the original thinking. The director said the opening scene was overly long and did what the first act usually does, so he decided to treat it like an act and put a break there.”

“Okay, so while I’m finishing up the scene and searching for the weapon, you’ll start the interview process?”

“Yes,” said Ray. “And as soon as you’re done I need major help. Richard Grubbs has given us the use of the colony library.” Ray pointed off at a building nestled in the woods about 50 yards south of the Assembly Hall.

“This is going to take a lot of time. There are 12 cast members and 10 or more members of the crew. And then there are the young women who worked as ushers, a custodian, and several maintenance men. And that’s probably only part of the iceberg. We’ve never had anything like this before.”

“So give me the rest of the iceberg.”

“Based on what Grubbs said in a previous conversation, a lot of people in the colony hated Wudbine.”

“What was the basis for their enmity?”

“He didn’t go into the specifics. There’s a long history here that we are going to have to probe. And in addition to the colony people, Wudbine has a personal staff and assorted family members living with him in his compound and in several cottages in the colony. We have to find out about those people, too.”

“So where do you start?”

“Cast and crew. I scheduled them last night, and I’ll start talking to people one at a time. I’m starting with Grubbs at ten o’clock, there are things I need to go over again, background info. Then it’s every half hour. Will you help me set up the audio equipment right now? It’s in the trunk.”

“Sure. Let’s get it done. I’m eager to get started in there,” Sue pointed toward the Assembly Hall.

13

Ray pushed the oak table against the timeworn umber wainscoting that covered the lower half of the wall in the colony library building. He placed a recorder near the paneling, turning it on, repeating, “testing,” several times, and then playing his voice back. His distrust of recording equipment went back to an incident early in his career, and the new digital devices—without any overt sign that anything is going on within, no turning of the cassette reels, just the bouncing of small bars on a miniscule screen and one small glowing red diode—did little to reassure him.

He looked up from his seat facing the door as Richard Grubbs entered and collapsed in the chair across from him. He studied Grubbs’ face. The margins of his pale blues eyes were bloodshot. The gray-black stubble of a day-old beard covered his face. Ray noted how much older this Richard Grubbs looked from the gregarious, energetic man he had met a few months earlier.

“I will be recording our interview,” he said, hitting the red button and reading a boilerplate intro as he turned his head toward the machine.

“How are you today?”

“Stunned, still stunned. Nothing really bad has ever happened here before. Well, that’s not quite true. That incident in May, that was almost beyond the realm of possibility.” He pulled himself up in his chair, leaned back and inhaled deeply. “Unbelievable…that kind of savagery…here. It’s a violation of this sacred land. I never even imagined the possibility….”

“Didn’t you tell me that you had several cases of suspected arson?”

“Well, yes, but that was years ago and doesn’t compare. I mean, they were old cottages, unoccupied, probably just bad wiring. This…murder…right here. And on our stage. Why not…if they wanted Malcolm dead…kill him up in that big house of his. Sabotage his helicopter. Put a bomb in his car. But not here, not where we worship. Why do this to the colony? Why make us victims, too? I mean, there were children out there, teenagers, too.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Very little. Everyone wanted to talk to me. Or maybe, more correctly, people wanted to talk, needed to talk. People of my generation and near generations, we have so much history, so many years here. We’re struggling with the shock and horror of this event, and yet I feel there is kind of a shared shame and guilt.”

“How so?”

“I need to think about that a bit. A big part of it is that we didn’t like Malcolm, none of us. We tolerated him. He was sort of a boogeyman. It was safe to make jokes about him because everyone felt the same way. Even this play was sort of a joke. Colonel Protheroe, the most disliked man in the village gets murdered.”

“I’ve been wondering about that,” said Ray. “I can’t imagine that Malcolm Wudbine wouldn’t have noticed the nature of the character he was playing.”

“Yes, I’m sure he noticed. I kind of think he would relish that. Colonel Protheroe gets murdered during the course of play, but Malcolm gets to go to the cast party. And even though lots of people won’t be too sad to see his passing, no one would have wanted it to happen this way.”

“Well, Mr. Grubbs, someone obviously did. Do you have any idea who might have been angry enough to kill him?”

“That question kept running through my head when I was trying to sleep. First I thought about the people who had the longest history with him, especially his first wife. You’ve met Verity. You’ve talked with her on two occasions. Can you imagine her as a murderer?”

“No. But I know nothing of her relationship with her ex-husband. She was in the building at the time of the murder….”

“Yes, but you’d be wasting your time on her.”

“Let’s leave Verity for the moment. At the end of the first scene, you got up and left us and exited through the west entrance almost before anyone else was out of their seats. I can’t remember exactly what you said at that moment. I need to know where you went and what you saw. And where were you when the lights went off? Please, step by step, from the time you left us until you were beckoning me to follow you backstage. Take your time.”

“There is some history here. I sort of freak out during thunderstorms. We did have someone killed by lightning here when I was eight or ten. The victim was a teenager, not that much older than me. Like I said, lightening unhinges me a little bit. And I was concerned about the electrical system in the building, especially with all the stage lights on. I needed to make sure that everything was okay, that’s what I do around here. So I went out through that nearest exit and then back into the building through the nearest stage door. As soon as I got into the hallway there was that huge crash, the flash of lightening followed instantly by the thunder. The building shook. The lights flickered and went out. I stood and waited for a few moments, you know how the power goes out and then comes back on. When it didn’t, I used my phone to light the way. I popped into the green room and people were using their phones.

“Everyone in the green room seemed to be chatting away, not bothered by the dark. They were joking and laughing. I, of course, was worried about what would happen if the power was not quickly restored. How long should we wait for clearing the auditorium? When would we reschedule to play? Would some of the actors be leaving at the end of the weekend for work or other commitments? That’s what was running through my head.

“Sterling was in the green room near the door. By the light of our phones we discussed our options if this turned out to be a long-term blackout. When the lights went back on David Johnson, he’s our lighting guy, comes in from outside by the east stage door soaking wet. He’s looking very upset. I ask him if everything’s okay. He says we need to talk after the show. He heads off toward his lighting loft. Sterling and I follow him through the east door into the backstage area. We’re discussing if the break should be extended a few more minutes. The stage manager, Tony Grattan, was right behind us, intending to check the set. I don’t know quite who noticed Malcolm first. His head was down on the desk, not moving, just like he was supposed to be at the opening of the second scene. I went over to him and said something, but he didn’t move. I put my hand on his shoulder to shake him. Then I saw the blood. For a few seconds I dismissed it as makeup. Then it struck me. This guy is dead. I told Tony and David to keep everyone away. That’s when I ran to get you.”

Ray looked down at the notes he’d been making on a legal pad. Finishing a sentence, he looked back up at Grubbs. “So once you went backstage, you only encountered three people. First you saw Sterling Shevlin.”

“That’s right.”

“Where was he?”

“Like I said, he was in the green room. He was standing just inside the door that opens to the main hall.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“Absolutely.”

“And then the lights came back on. You started down the hallway going to the stage area. At that point you were with the director, Sterling Shevlin, and the stage manager, Tony Grattan.”

“Correct.”

“And that’s when you encountered…?”

“David Johnson.”

“And he was coming from…?”

“The outside, the east stage door. ”

“And he said he had to talk to you after the performance.”

“Something to that effect.”

“What was that about? Have you had a chance to talk to him?”

“No, not yet. But I assume he wanted to talk about electrical problems and what needs to be done. We have this conversation every year. Things are not up to modern standards. And when the stage lights are on, we’re just about at capacity. We’ve blown the main fuses even without an electrical storm.” Grubbs paused briefly, then he explained, “The fuse boxes, breaker panels, and shut offs are on the exterior of the building. They’re in a protected enclosure. I assume that he’d gone out there to see what had happened.”

“Besides Malcolm, who else would have been onstage during the break?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe some crew members.”

“I notice that the emergency egress lights didn’t come on when the power failed,” said Ray.

Richard Grubbs squirmed in his chair. “Yes, that’s a problem. One of the units was shorting out and had to be disconnected. I thought I could buy one unit, but the owner of the fire safety company we contract with counseled against that, saying that given the age of the system all the units should be replaced. I gave him the go ahead. They will be installed early this week.”

Ray looked at Grubbs for a long moment.

“Yes, I know, Sheriff. I’m sure I broke the law or violated some building code. The units had been in place thirty or forty years. I can’t remember a single instance when they were ever needed. It never occurred to me…well in the end they weren’t needed…and…”

“Did anyone else know about this problem?”

“No…well…maybe…yes. I told the girls, the ushers, that there was a problem. I gave them each a new flashlight just in case.”

“When did you do that?”

“Friday. I found out about the problem on Thursday. Friday morning I went down to the hardware for the flashlights.”

“How secure is the Assembly Hall when it’s not in use?”

“During the summer it’s unlocked. That’s the way it has always been, and that’s true of most of the colony buildings. People come and go. At the end of the season we get everything secured to guard against possible vandalism during the winter.”

“So if someone wanted to come in and tamper with something…?”

“The building is open 24-7 in June, July, and August. There are constantly things going on. We have our nondenominational worship services, our summer chorus, children’s theater, band concerts, chamber music, rehearsals of all kinds, and the summer play. There are always people around.”

“How about 3:00 A.M.?”

“Well, not then, but….”

“And you have no security personnel, no one walking or driving around?”

“There’s never been a need.” Grubbs sagged in his chair. “What’s going to happen now?”

Ray looked across the table. “We will be figuring that out as we go along. The first step is to completely process the crime scene.”

“When can we get in there? The Assembly Hall is the center of much of what happens here.”

“I don’t know how to answer your question. It will take us a while to finish up. We are still looking for the murder weapon. I think you can probably have the building on Wednesday or Thursday, perhaps a day or two later.”

“And when will you be done and out of here?” Grubbs pressed. “When can we start rebuilding our summer, what’s left of it?”

“We will try to finish up our interviews in the next few days. The investigation will continue until we find the killer.”

14

Ray walked Richard Grubbs to the door and then returned to his notes, scanning the contents and making a few additions. While Grubbs’ story was completely plausible, he had the knowledge and easy access to commit the murder. If Grubbs was the perpetrator, Ray wondered where he would have stashed the weapon.

Ray’s consideration of Grubbs as a suspect was interrupted by a gentle rapping at the door. He stood and greeted David Johnson, the lighting technician. Once Johnson was seated across from him, Ray studied his face. He guessed Johnson to be about Grubbs’ age, late 60s or early 70s. He turned on the recorder and read Johnson the boilerplate.

“Have you been a colony resident long?” Ray asked.

“There are pictures of me in diapers here. Born in January, I would have been six months old that first summer.”

“And you’ve been a summer resident ever since?”

“More or less. During college I had jobs downstate, and the summer I graduated I did the grand tour of Europe. Pretty common back then. And then during medical school and my residency, I didn’t make it here for more than a weekend or two most years. But after I was in practice and married, we bought a cottage near my parents and started spending much of the summer here. After the kids arrived, my wife would be here for the whole summer, and I’d come up most weekends and spend the month of August. Since I’ve retired, we’re here for the season.”

“Medicine. What was your specialty?”

“I was a general surgeon.”

“How long have you been involved with the summer play?”

“I started acting here as a kid. I was fascinated by this magical world of grease paint, costumes, lights…everything about it. I had a part in the children’s play every summer growing up. And I also liked the technical aspects, especially the lighting. And in the winter, downstate, I was involved with the community theatre and school plays. I really thought that’s what I’d do with my life.”

“Tell me about last night. Take your time. Give me a chronology of what happened,” coached Ray.

Johnson rubbed his stubble-covered chin, then looked at Ray. “Give me a moment, I need to collect my thoughts.” He peered over Ray’s shoulder—his head cocked to the right—toward the back of the building. Then he straightened and looked directly at Ray. “I was at the party at Verity’s and saw you there. I had no idea who you were, but outsiders are rare at these events. After the wife and I got through the buffet, I sort of wolfed my food and got over to the Assembly Hall. This is old equipment. I always want to check things before anyone else is around. That gives me the time to bring out a ladder and replace a bulb or do any other wiring change without having to hurry or have people in my way. So that’s what I did. Then I went into the green room and chatted with people until about ten minutes before the performance when I climbed back up to the light box. Not much to do up there in this play. After the first scene ends, I have to adjust the lighting on the exterior of the set. The first scene takes place at mid-day. The second scene takes place the next day in the early evening. I was in the process of making the changes when we had that incredible lightning and thunder. Everything went black. I held tight for a bit, then I climbed down and headed out to the electrical services out back.”

“Let me stop you for a bit. From your position in the…?”

“Light box.”

“What can you see? Was there anyone onstage when the lights went out?”

“With this set, I can pretty much see everything onstage. I can also see what’s happening on the off-stage wing on my side. The other side is hidden by the set. So I have to separate what I know about who needed to be there with what I can remember. The properties person would have come through to make sure everything was in place, and I think I saw her. And then there was Malcolm coming through, being attended to by Florence Carlotta, our makeup person. Malcolm had a ghastly wound on his forehead. It was huge, like something you’d see at a Halloween party. I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.”

“I’m not following,” said Ray.

“In this scene, Malcolm plays—not really plays, he’s just a prop—a body. We could have stuffed a suit and it would have worked as well. The character just fills a chair. I couldn’t figure out why he had that elaborate makeup on.”

“Then what?”

“They went over to the table where Protheroe’s body is found sprawled across the Vicar’s desk at the beginning of the scene. Malcolm sat down and Florence helped position him. It seemed to me that they were going to a lot of trouble for nothing. When she left, he just stayed in that position, like he was taking a nap.”

“And no one else was onstage or in the wings on your side when the lights when out?”

“Correct, that’s my memory.”

“Okay, the lights go out, then what do you do?”

“Like I was saying before, I waited for a little bit to see if the power was going to come back on, then I killed the power to the dimmers, climbed down the ladder, and headed outside to the electrical panels.”

“What were you using for light?”

“I’ve got one of those headlamps with the six or eight little bulbs. I keep it there just for this kind of emergency. This is not the first time we’ve been in darkness, the problem is more common than it should be. We’ve been overloading the system for years.”

“Did you see anyone on your way out, and what door did you use?”

“Strange, I didn’t see a soul. Guess they were all in the green room. I went out the east stage door. The electrical panels are in a utility cabinet on the back wall of that side of the building. When I got there the cabinet doors were open. They should have been closed. And then I noticed some of the lights downstream from the Assembly Hall were coming back on, but we were still in darkness. So I started looking around and saw that someone had turned off the main disconnect for the building. I pushed it on and went back inside. I wanted to get up to the booth and get the lights on so we could start the next scene.”

“Did you see anyone on your way?”

“I saw Grubby. He was heading toward the stage area.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Let me think. At that moment I was fairly agitated. It looked like a stupid act of vandalism had created a potentially dangerous situation. I may have said something. Obviously, that was not the time to discuss the matter. I climbed up to the booth and did a quick check of the lights and then noticed what was happening down on stage. I watched for a minute or so, and then started down. You arrived about that time.”

“What happened next?”

“I was herded into the green room and sat there and waited until you came to talk to us.”

“Tell me about the green room. What was happening there?”

“People were sitting in groups talking. When I walked in everyone was still in the dark,” he stopped briefly, “well, you know what I mean, in the dark as to what had happened. But I think they could tell something was very wrong. And then you came in and told us that Wudbine was dead. And when someone asked you if it was a stroke or heart attack, you didn’t equivocate. You said he was murdered.”

“And what happened when I left?”

“First there was stunned silence. Then I think people started thinking about what they should do, who would need support. Verity went to her daughter-in-law’s side, some other people as well. Then people seemed to cluster in small groups. There was some sobbing. Lots of hushed conversations. I think we were all bowled over by your announcement.”

“Did you see anyone out of place, anyone backstage or in the green room who shouldn’t have been there?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“What was your relationship with Malcolm Wudbine?”

Johnson looked off to some point beyond Ray, then back. “He was a real pain in the ass. Obnoxious and controlling. I learned years ago whenever possible to stay away from difficult people. This is a big area and our cottage is in a remote corner of the property, very private. The only time I saw Malcolm most summers was connected with the play, and I didn’t have any face-to-face dealings with the man. So while he was enormously vexatious to some people here, Malcolm was never more than a faint blip on my radar. And I worked to keep it that way.”

“You talked about electrical problems?”

“Yes, like I was telling you. All the equipment is old and should have been replaced decades ago. But it has been hard to make a case for stage lighting against the other needs of the colony. The whole infrastructure of Mission Point is crumbling. Everyone is sentimental about this place, but few are ready to put up some real cash. In fact, every time there’s been a major crisis—like our treatment plant dying and pouring raw sewage into the lake—Malcolm and his millions have come to the rescue. I think we all started to believe that we didn’t have to attend to these problems because at the end of the day Malcolm would come in and take care of them.”

“Motives for murder, do you know anyone who wanted Malcolm dead?”

“No. He was enormously unpleasant. But murder, that’s a whole different story.”

“And you’ve never had any personal or financial dealings with Wudbine?”

“Like I suggested, my motto is to avoid skunks. I always tried to stay upwind of Malcolm.”