Текст книги "Foul Play"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

 

FOUR

I was on costume duty the next night.

The day had flown by in a flurry of guitar lessons and a trip to the library and a documentary on the Serengeti and an hour of bottle rocket building. Just another typical day of homeschooling. I loved how we did things, cobbling activities and events and lessons together to create our own version of “school,” but it also meant that my days were busy and fragmented. Most of the time, I’d glance at the clock and see it was approaching evening, and I would never be quite sure how we’d gotten there so quickly.

When I saw six o’clock flash on the clock on the stove, I panicked. I threw pasta in a pot, made Will watch over the sauce (he was restricted from all computer activities for a week as punishment for hacking his sister’s accounts), and then hustled the younger girls into the shower. With wet heads, they slurped down a quick plate of spaghetti and we headed out the door just as Jake was pulling into the driveway.

Because – yay, me – I was on costume duty.

Grace and Sophie had both been cast as dwarfs. Grace was Dopey and Sophie was Sneezy, and neither of them were terribly happy with their roles. Not because they didn’t like little people, but because neither part involved a lot of lines. Jake and I had reminded them that they needed to earn their way up the ladder, and that this was their first time with this theater company. And that it could have been way worse.

They could’ve been cast as, like, trees.

But we were getting closer to the performance nights and it was time to pick up the costumes, a process slightly more complicated than entering nuclear codes in the underground bunker near the Badlands. After I dropped the girls off, I ran to the grocery store to grab the nine things I’d forgotten to get the day before and then headed back to rehearsal to begin the checkout process for the costumes. There were multiple forms to fill out, required signatures, identification checks, and blood sample collection. Okay, so I didn’t really have to give blood, but by the time I’d filled out the mountain of necessary forms to take home the dwarf costumes for the following week, I felt like I’d left blood on the papers.

Nancy, one of the theater moms, handed me two tags. “Take this down the one hallway, the main one. That’ll take you to the main room, the one we use as a dressing room. There’s a smaller room in the back of the main room. That’s where the costumes are.”

I tried to create a mental picture of her directions. And failed. “Lots of ‘mains’,” I said, smiling.

She frowned at me. “Be sure you match the number on the costume to the number on your tag. You’ll be held responsible if you take the wrong one.”

By her tone, I wondered if I would meet a firing squad if I somehow ended up with Grumpy’s costume instead of Sneezy’s. Didn’t all the dwarfs dress the same? I was tempted to ask her, but the sour look on her face kept me from engaging in any further conversation.

“Okay, thanks,” I said instead. “I’m sure I’ll find them.”

Her lips pressed together. She clearly didn’t have the same confidence in me that I did.

After ten minutes of wandering the labyrinth of hallways, a helpful teen took pity on me and pointed to a door at the far end of a hallway. I stepped inside an empty classroom that had been turned into a makeshift dressing room. A few backpacks and book bags littered the floor, along with a scattering of trash and hangers, which made me think it was a big locker room of sorts, too. I made my way toward the back of the room. I pushed open the door and was greeted with a pile of costumes on the floor that looked more like a collection of cast-offs ready to be given to Goodwill. I sighed, set my purse down and got down on the floor to start sorting through the wreckage in order to find the girls’ costumes. I didn’t want to experience the wrath of Nancy if I accidentally took the wrong ones.

I’d just located Dopey’s hat when I heard the door to the main room open. I assumed it was another late-arriving parent there to join me in the search for costumes.

But I was wrong.

“I can’t believe we have to pick all this crap up.” It was the voice of a girl and, judging by the sound, probably someone close to Emily’s age. “We didn’t make this mess. I swear, my mom is so lame.”

“Couldn’t she have had the little kids do it?” Another teen girl. “I mean, she is the director.”

My mom. The director.

Which meant the first girl was Madison Bandersand, Eleanor Bandersand’s super-entitled, spoiled, pain in the rear end daughter.

I didn’t use those descriptions lightly, especially to describe a kid. I barely knew Madison. But I knew enough. In the short amount of time I’d spent around her at the rehearsals, she’d fit all three of those descriptions to a tee. And other parents who knew her far better than I did described her in even worse terms. This was apparently the first time she hadn’t gotten the lead role in one of her mother’s plays and it hadn’t set well with her. She was sullen, mouthy and generally rude, sneering at any of the younger kids who dared to ask her a question, and openly mocking any adult who offered her direction of any kind. Sophie had accidentally stepped on her foot during a dance number during the first week of rehearsals and Madison had come unglued, yelling at her until she was on the verge of tears. Grace, not caring for how her sister was getting yelled at, ‘accidentally’ stepped on Madison’s other foot. Hard. Jake had refrained from cheering from his position in the back of the theater and we’d both encouraged them to keep their distance ever since. The girls had been more than happy to oblige.

“Who knows?” Madison was saying. “All I know is this play is going to be about a hundred times better now that I’m going to be Snow White.”

“For sure,” the other girl said. “But you aren’t Snow White yet.”

I crawled closer to the door so I could hear better.

“Whatevs,” Madison said. I couldn’t see the eye roll but I knew it was there. “I’m gonna be Snow White. There’s no one else in this stupid play that can handle the role. I mean, I should’ve been Snow White in the first place.”

“I don’t know.” The other girl’s voice was a little hesitant. “Amanda was pretty good...”

“Amanda was lame,” Madison spat. “She just sucked up to my mom.”

“Well, she does sort of have Snow White’s hair and—”

“Oh my God, whatever. I’m, like, ten times the actress she is, alright? This should teach my mom to never try to put me in a small role.” She cackled. Really, truly cackled. “It’s like payback or something.”

I was pleased to learn that I had in no way misjudged Madison.

“Plus, I’m the only one in this cast that’s going to college for drama, okay?” Madison continued. “I mean, I’m going to drama school at the U.”

“You got in?” I could hear the other girl was impressed at this news. “I didn’t realize you’d heard yet.”

There was a pause and I heard the rustling as papers were wadded up and the clink of metal hangars being collected.

“Of course I got in,” Madison said smugly. “I’m just trying not to rub it anyone’s face, you know? Because I’m classy like that.”

I held back the vomit.

“Sure,” her friend said. “Well, cool. I’m glad you got in. And I guess it’s sorta good that Amanda disappeared. For you, I mean.”

“Like I said,” Madison said. “Amanda was a lame Snow White.”

I pushed myself off the floor and gathered the dwarf costumes for Grace and Sophie. If I had to sit back there and listen any longer, the remaining costumes were going to be covered in my own barf. I picked up my purse, then cleared my throat. Loudly. I then cleared it again, giving them a few seconds to make sure they knew someone was back there before stepping out into the main room.

They were both staring at me.

“Oh, hello, girls,” I said, smiling at them. “I was just picking up costumes.”

“We didn’t know you were back there,” Madison said, her porcelain skin turning pink.

“No?” I asked innocently. “The door was open, wasn’t it?”

She looked at her friend, who I recognized as a girl named Holly. If I remembered correctly, she was playing the part of a deer in the forest.

“So you’re going to be Snow White?” I asked Madison, still smiling. “Did they already hold the auditions for Amanda’s replacement?” I paused, then gestured at the door to the back room. “The door was open. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Her pink cheeks turned a startling red. “Well, I, um...you know, it’s kind of rude to eavesdrop on people, alright?”

“Technically, it’s not eavesdropping if I’m in the room next door and the door is open,” I pointed out sweetly.

She tugged at her long, perfect blond braid and blinked her large brown eyes. “Eavesdropping is when you listen to other people’s conversations, which is what you just did.” She looked down her nose at me. “And eavesdropping is rude.”

“It’s also a little rude to argue with people you don’t know.” I adjusted the costumes in my arms. “But back to Snow White. Your mother already held auditions? I didn’t realize that—”

Madison cut me off and turned to look at her friend. “We should get back, Holly.”

Holly surveyed the still messy floor. She chewed on her bottom lip. “But your mom said she wanted this room cleaned up—”

“I don’t care!” Madison said. She shot a quick glance at me and then turned back to her friend. “We need to go!”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, not bothering to hide my pleasure at seeing her so flustered.

“I don’t have to,” Madison said, glaring at me. “You should just mind your own business.”

“I probably should,” I admitted. “But I think I’d rather let the other moms here know that we have a new Snow White. Just as soon as I leave this room.”

Madison froze, still glaring at me. I could tell she wasn’t sure what to do. And I also could tell that she wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions – which wasn’t a great thing for someone who professed to be an actress. Maybe she would’ve been better off playing a deer. Or a tree.

“Seriously,” she finally said. “You should just mind your own business, lady. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

I glanced at Holly, who looked as if she would’ve paid a million dollars to be anywhere but in the middle of this conversation.

“Maybe I misheard you, then?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Maybe you aren’t going to be Snow White? Maybe you’re just hoping?”

Madison Bandersand’s nostrils flared and her mouth flattened into an angry, tight line and she suddenly looked like a much younger version of her mother. She grabbed Holly by the arm and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

FIVE

“Can you believe that?” I said to Jake as I grabbed the container of coffee from the kitchen cupboard. “The nerve of that snotty kid.”

Jake leaned against the counter and shrugged. “Doesn’t really sound out of character. And from what you said, she hasn’t officially been named Snow White yet.”

I’d waited in the hallway after my confrontation with Madison and then returned home with the girls, the costumes and the groceries. Jake had done the dishes and put the leftovers away, and I was getting the coffeemaker set for the morning.

“But still,” I said, glancing out into the living room to make sure there were no little ears attempting to listen in. “To go around telling everyone you’re getting the part? And to act like you don’t even care about the girl that no one can seem to find?”

He picked up a can of peanuts off the counter and pulled off the lid. “Uh, have you paid attention to her mother? She seems like exactly the kind of kid that lady would raise.”

I moved to the sink and filled the coffee carafe with water. “But you don’t just go around telling everyone you’re going to be the star unless you know it’s going to happen.”

“I thought it was just her and another girl in the room...”

“You know what I mean.” I turned the tap off. “ If she told one person, don’t you think she’s told more? I mean, it didn’t sound like she and Holly were great friends or anything.”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on identifying the depths of friendship.” I glared at him and he winked. “Have you considered that perhaps her mother did, in fact, tell her that she would be Snow White?”

“Without another audition? Without giving anyone else a shot at it?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, reaching for another handful of peanuts. “That sounds exactly like what that insane woman would do. I mean, isn’t this the first show that her kid hasn’t been the star of? She normally casts her kid in the biggest role, right? So why would it be any different now that she has an opening?”

We’d heard the rumors when we’d signed on for the play. Friends of friends who’d breathed a sigh of relief that it was just the younger girls auditioning. When we asked why, the answer was universal: because Madison Bandersand always got the lead role. I’d done a little digging, pulling up information on their web site and the rumors appeared to be true. Not only did they mostly perform plays with female leads, but Madison was always cast, or double-cast, as the lead. Jake and I had actually been pleasantly surprised when we’d found out that she wasn’t playing Snow White in the production; in fact, she had a relatively minor role on stage and was helping with choreography instead.

“I don’t know,” I said, irritated. “It just doesn’t seem fair. And no one seems to care about this Amanda. The girl that’s missing. Is anyone wondering where she is?”

He chuckled. “Apparently you are.”

I poured the water into the coffeemaker and reached for the can of hazelnut coffee. “Aren’t you?”

“Sure, but I don’t know the girl and I don’t know anything about her,” he said. “She might be at home with the flu. Or with her family in Europe. It’s hard for me to get riled up over something I don’t know much about.”

Which was exactly like him. He rarely jumped to conclusions and often playfully mocked me for doing so. He waited until he could see evidence and then he’d think about making a judgment. It was annoying, mainly because, more often than not, he was able to mock me again for having turned nothing into something – when it had always been nothing.

Except for when it had been dead bodies and stolen computers. I smiled to myself. He wasn’t always right.

“The way that Madison was talking, it was almost like she was glad Amanda was missing,” I said, scooping out grounds. “Like maybe she knew something about it.”

“It?” Jake polished off another handful of peanuts and put the lid back on.

“Her disappearance.”

There was a pause. And then, firmly, he said, “No.”

“No what?”

“No.”

I frowned at him. “No what?”

He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I told you. No more of this private detective stuff unless you’re actually going to be a private detective.”

“I’m not being a private detective,” I said.

He pointed a finger at me. “That’s exactly what you’re being. You think some teenager is responsible for the disappearance of another teenager so she could star in a play? I can see your wheels turning.”

I turned away from him, intending to put the coffee back. Except he was standing in front of the cupboard. He was right, of course. The wheels were definitely turning. I’d been thinking about it ever since Madison had slammed the door on me. What if she’d done something to Amanda so she couldn’t play Snow White? Who else had more to gain than Madison if Amanda wasn’t available? I couldn’t help it. It was where my mind went. And, unfortunately, I couldn’t hide it from my husband.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” he said. “If you’re going to do this, at least get paid for it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I said, making a face at him. “You’re the one who’s jumping to conclusions.”

He rolled his eyes, much the same way Emily did, and walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head.

Will passed him as he walked out. “What’s wrong with Jake?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Or maybe a lot of things. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Okay.” He eyed me hopefully. “Hey, can you make cookies?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

I sighed and shoved the coffee back in the cupboard. “I’m really tired.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Do you have chocolate chips?”

“I meant I was tired and don’t want to make cookies.”

“Mom, come on,” he said. “You haven’t baked anything in like a week.”

“It hasn’t been a week. And I’ve been busy.”

“And we’ve been hungry.”

“Who exactly is 'we'?”

He waved a hand out toward the living room. “Your family, that’s who. We’ve been deprived of your delicious baked goods for over a week now, and we’re all going into withdrawal.”

I stared at him. “Maybe that’s part of your punishment. You know, for hacking into your sister’s accounts.”

His expression was innocent. “I told you why I did that. I thought you’d thank me!”

“For spying on your sister?”

“Look, she had her password set as her birthday! Anyone could have gotten into her stuff. If anything, she should be thanking me for pointing out the security flaws and… and motivating her to make a stronger password.” His eyes opened wide. “I was just trying to help.”

“Baloney.” I tried to keep my voice stern but I had to fight to keep from smiling. Will was good with computers – we all knew that – but his true talent had always been debate. I had no doubt he could have a great career in technology but his personality was better suited to being a lawyer.

“If you don’t wanna make cookies for me, that’s fine.” His voice grew soft. “But you should make them for the girls. They’ve worked hard on the play this week, and Em has a test tomorrow that she’s freaking out over.”

“You’re totally trying to butter me up.”

He grinned. “Is it working?”

I sighed but this time I couldn’t hide my smile. “Unfortunately, yes. Fine. I will make something real quick.”

He raised his arms in victory and marched out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Mom,” he called. “You’re the best.”

I chuckled. Will knew how to push buttons – all the buttons.

I grabbed eggs and butter and sugar and started mixing everything in a big ceramic bowl. I’d make bars instead of cookies – just as good but much less time-consuming.

“Here,” Jake said behind me.

“Here what?” I turned off the beaters and scraped down the edges with my fingers.

“Look.”

I spun around, cookie dough caked to my fingers. He was holding up a stack of papers.

He laid them down on top of the microwave. “When you’re done with the cookies, you can take a look.”

“Bars,” I corrected him. “ And what is it?”

He smiled at me. “What you need to do get your investigator’s license in the state of Minnesota.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know, right?” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’re welcome.”

I frowned. “That isn’t what I meant. I don’t need those. I’m not becoming an investigator.”

“So you’re telling me that since I walked out of the kitchen you haven’t thought for a second about Amanda and Madison and the case of the missing Snow White?”

I stood there, my sticky hands in the air. I didn’t say anything.

He pointed at me again, a victorious grin on his face. “I knew it.” Then he pointed at the papers. “So when you’re done, take a look.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He smiled. “I know you will. It’s killing you not to look right now.” He waved at me and walked out of the kitchen. “I know you will, Daisy.”

I loved my husband. He was a wonderful man. He’d made my life infinitely better in so many ways that I’d lost count.

But, right then, watching him stride out of the kitchen with that smug look on his face, I really wanted to punch him in the stomach.

SIX

“Emily, I don’t want you on your phone all night,” I said, glancing in the rear view mirror.

All six of us were loaded into the minivan the next night, heading to our friends, the Witts. Jake and I were going out for our monthly double date with Brenda and Johnny, while the kids all hung out at their house. They were our best friends and fortunately, our four kids got along well with their five. It made things easier when we all needed to get out and escape the kids for a couple of hours.

“Emily? Did you hear me?” I asked.

She didn’t look up. “What?”

“Did you hear me?” I repeated, a little louder this time. She was in the back row of the minivan and the radio was blasting a Taylor Swift song; maybe she really hadn’t heard me.

“Sure.”

“What did I say then?”

She finally looked up. Her blue eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner and mascara. She looked like she was going on a date instead of heading over to the home of a family friend. “What?”

Jake chuckled and shook his head behind the steering wheel.

I sighed. “I said I don’t want you on your phone all night.”

“I won’t be.”

“Yeah, right,” Will said. He was in the seat next to her, his own phone in his lap.

“Shut up.”

“Guarantee she won’t put it down all night,” he said.

“Maybe I should just take it now, then,” I said.

Her eyes opened wide in horror. “No. I’ll put it away. I promise.” She clicked the off button and shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie.

“What if Andy texts you?” Will asked, grinning.

She reached over and punched him in the chest. He tried to scoot closer to the window, out of her reach.

“Who’s Andy?” Sophie asked.

“Some boy at her school,” Grace said, twisting around to look at her oldest sister. “Emily likes him.”

“Shut up, Grace,” Emily snarled. “I do not.”

“Oh, yes you do,” Will said, laughing.

“I swear, I’m changing every single password of mine,” she snapped at him. “And I’ll have my friends block you from their accounts, too.”

“As if that could stop me,” Will countered.

“All phones go away as soon as we leave,” Jake said, eyeing them all in the mirror. “They only come out for emergencies. Everyone got it?”

“Sure,” Grace said agreeably, because she was the only one who didn’t have a phone.

Sophie nodded her assent. Will looked hesitant

“Will?” I asked. “You hear that?”

“Yeah, but sometimes we play games on them,” he said. “So how about if we just pull them out for games and emergencies?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Well, what if the other kids have their phones out?”

“I’ll talk to Brenda,” I said. “Pretty sure she’ll be happy to thrown down a no-phone moratorium for the evening.”

Will frowned, then glanced at Emily. “Okay, fine, but if she pulls her phone out, I’m calling you because as far as I’m concerned, that’s an emergency.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “You hear that, Em?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Sure?”

“Emily?”

She looked up from her phone, annoyed. “What?”

I sighed, wondering what the punishment was for tossing a teenager out of a moving car. I took a deep breath. “No phones after we leave.”

“But—”

“And if you take it out, Will has permission to call us,” I said, cutting her off. “End of story.”

She looked like I’d just shot her puppy.

“Andy will still be there in the morning,” I said, smiling at her in the mirror.

Her face flushed red and the rest of the kids howled.

Which actually felt better than tossing her out of the car.