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dragged my tired body to a standing position, grabbed the forms and my bag, and walked into the theater.
    Walter and Lola had their heads close together. Lola was really an assistant artistic director without the title. She’d been anointed its reigning diva whenever a play called for a statuesque blonde, which was usually every one. She sat on a rotating board of directors, which at the present time also included the mayor, the proprietress of Coffee Heaven, Walter, and JC from JC’s Hardware. She even sewed a costume or two. Without Lola, the ELT might have to close up its proscenium and go home. It was Lola who had greased the wheels that made the dinner-then-theater happen. She had a way of making events materialize where the ELT was concerned.
    I handed the forms to Walter.
    â€œOh, Dodie, thanks for coming tonight. We needed you, didn’t we, Walter?” Lola gently poked him and he looked up from his script.
    â€œHuh? Yes, right. Thanks.”
    Walter would never receive a prize for courtesy and gratitude.
    â€œHappy to help.” I hesitated. “I’m great with numbers, just in case you’d like someone to help out with the books, too.”
    Walter studied me carefully. “I’m perfectly capable of managing the finances of this company. Thank you very much.”
    I wondered about that. I felt sorry for Jerome, and it didn’t seem as though he would have the chutzpah to confront Walter himself.
    â€œJust a thought. I know you and Jerome have your hands full.”
    â€œI’ll take it under advisement.” He put a somewhat possessive hand on Lola’s arm.

Chapter 4
    I slept fitfully, waking every hour until I finally passed out around 2 AM . Then I awoke with a start. My landline was ringing and the digital alarm read seven o’clock. I closed my eyes and pulled the pillow over my head, hoping the caller would go away, and waited for the voice mail to kick in.
    â€œDodie? It’s Lola.” Her voice cracked as if she’d been crying.
    I was wide awake now. My hand searched for the receiver and I lifted it off the base. “Lola? Are you okay?” I said, an octave lower than I would speak in an hour.
    â€œI’m sorry to call this early. There’s been some . . . trouble at the theater.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œThe police are here.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œOh, Dodie, I don’t know how to tell you. . . .”
    â€œJust say it quickly.”
    â€œJerome is dead.”
    â€œOh my God. How? Where?”
    She started to cry. “I went home at midnight, but Walter stayed to finish casting the play, you know. . . .”
    â€œAnd so?” I desperately wanted to believe that her story was a nightmare that I would awaken from.
    â€œHe said he left at one.”
    â€œWhen did they . . . ?”
    â€œIt was horrible. The garbage men came to empty the Dumpster on the loading dock this morning . . . and found him.”
    I could hear her breathing deeply and I felt my eyes tear up. Jerome was only a Windjammer acquaintance, but I felt like I’d gotten to know him. Besides, he was such a nice guy.
    â€œWhat was Jerome doing on the loading dock? Was it a heart attack or something?”
    â€œDodie, Jerome was murdered.”
    * * *
    I elicited a bit more information from Lola before she broke down completely. According to Walter, who had gotten it from the garbage guys, Jerome had been lying face down on the cement. They’d thought he had fallen asleep out there at first, but when they’d seen a patch of dried blood on the left side of his torso, they’d called the police, who had notified Walter, who had called Lola for moral support.
    I pulled on a pair of jeans and my Irish knit sweater, grabbed a hoodie and car keys, and sped out the door. A glimmer of sunlight peeked tentatively from a layer of clouds, as if asking permission to shine. I drove to the theater and