Paula K. Perrin - Small Town Deadly Read Online Free PDF Page A

anyone angry?”
    I hesitated.
    “What?”
    “It was nothing.”
    “Let me judge that,
okay?”
    “I met Alisz here an hour
early so we could go over the set and practice.  Kirk came to set up chairs. 
Victor got here a little before seven—Alisz was irritated because he’d been
supposed to get here earlier to help.  Fran arrived next, changed in the
restroom, and when Alisz saw her in costume, she hit the roof.”
    “Why was that?”
    As if he hadn’t noticed. 
“The blouse.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched. 
“Did they argue?”
    “I don’t think they would
have, but Victor ratcheted it up by complaining Fran’s jacket covered all the
good parts.  Alisz started screaming about the play being a community event and
Fran’s lack of moral fiber.  I haven’t seen her like that since we were
kids.”
    “What did Fran do?”
    “She said this was theater,
after all.  Finally Kirk suggested Fran wear a teddy under the blouse for the
performances.”
    “Was Fran okay with
that?”
    “She wasn’t happy, but she
let it go.  And Alisz agreed.  But I don’t see what that has to do with Andre,
he wasn’t even here yet.”
    “What time did he get
here?”
    “I don’t know.  I was working
with Victor on the blocking.  It seemed like one minute there were just a few
of us, and the next everyone was here—”  The words hung in the air.  Both
Meg and Jared, and for that matter, Gene himself, had been late and rehearsal
delayed, though Meg had been the latest.
    Gene ignored my hesitation and
asked, “When was the last time you saw Andre alive?”
    I thought.  “At the end of
the second scene Kirk and Jared and Andre were standing together.  I think
that’s the last time—”  Tears stung my eyes.
    “Take it easy.”  He ran
his hands through his hair.  “What was your relationship to the deceased?”
    “He was an
acquaintance.”
    Gene’s eyes met mine.  “I
heard you were dating him.”
    I rubbed at my bracelet. 
“Yes, for awhile.”
    His gaze sharpened.  “Any
strong feelings left over?”
    I stood up.  “Gene Cudworthy,
you can’t think I did it!”
    “I can’t rule it out without
some facts, and if you’re going to cover up for your pal Fran, I’ve got to
think there’s something going on.”  He stood.
    I wished I had Fran’s height.  I
was looking up almost twelve inches.  I said, “How dare you accuse me of
lying!”
    “The manure fell off my shoes
a long time ago.”
    “How charming.”
    “You’ve always been an awful
snob, Liz.”
    I glared at him.
    He ran his fingers through his
hair again.  “My temper got me after all.”  He sighed.  “Look, I
need to know if you had a motive to kill Andre.”
    I took a deep breath.  “I
was—unhappy for a while after we stopped dating, but who could hold a grudge
against Andre?  I haven’t talked with him since Barry’s funeral.”
    Gene sighed.  “Okay.” 
He looked down at the paper he’d been writing on.  He walked over to the table
heaped with clothes, rummaged around, and pulled my tooled leather purse out. 
“All right to look inside?” he asked.
    I nodded, grateful I hadn’t hidden
the lipstick there after all.
    His search over, he opened the
door for me.  “You’ll need to come into the station tomorrow morning to be
fingerprinted.”
    I passed him without a word.  I
approached Lofty.  “Has Meg gone home?”
    His shoulder hunched and he
glanced at Gene.  “She’s gone, Ms. Macrae.”
    “Thanks.”
    I looked down at the empty rows of
chairs.  I walked outside, my footsteps loud in the covered walkway.  I took a
deep, trembling breath of the fresh, cool air.  A light spring rain drifted
down, just enough to mist windshields and make the pavement glisten in the glare
of the parking lot lights.
    The police cars were still
helter-skelter in the south parking lot.
    As I passed between my red station
wagon and the car next to it, a movement inside the other car startled me.