“Someone hired you to play Aunt Cornelia here in Burning Cove?” Sam asked.
“The plan was to promote the opening of the Guilfoyle Institute,” Phyllis said quickly.
“What were you supposed to do if the real Aunt Cornelia showed up and objected?” Sam asked.
“I was told she would never know because she was traveling in the South Pacific. Look, I realize it all sounds a little shady, but—”
“A little shady?” Maggie said.
Phyllis took a step back. “I really needed the work, and there didn’t seem to be any harm in it.”
“You’re telling us that whoever hired you knew the real Aunt Cornelia was out of the country?”
“I was assured she would never find out,” Phyllis said. “All I had to do was play the role for a few days at the conference and then disappear.”
“Who hired you to impersonate Aunt Cornelia?” Sam asked.
Phyllis frowned. “Someone from the Institute. Why?”
“I need a name,” Sam said. “Guilfoyle? His wife?”
Phyllis shook her head. “No, it was a woman in the marketing department. Miss Finley. I never met her in person. The arrangements were all done on the phone. There was an envelope full of cash waiting for me when I checked into the cottage. I was supposed to get the second half of the money when I finished the job. But I got a message telling me to meet someone in that theater tonight. I was afraid I was going to be fired. When I saw the body, I panicked. If the cops decide it’s murder, I’m going to be at the top of the suspect list.”
“You may be right,” Sam said. “But you’ve got a couple of eyewitnesses who can testify that you weren’t inside the theater long enough to murder Miss Nevins.”
“You two?” Phyllis grimaced. “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t like my odds. I’m going to disappear until this mess blows over.”
“You said you got a message telling you to meet someone in the theater this evening?” Maggie asked.
“Someone slipped it to me when I went to the ladies’ room. It was shoved under the stall door. All I saw were a pair of evening sandals and a hand. The note said: Meet me in the theater. Tell no one. The floor plan of the Institute had been torn out of a brochure. The location of the theater was marked.”
“Was the note signed?” Sam asked.
“Just an initial,” Phyllis said. “It looked like the letter T, not F for Finley, but I figured maybe it was poor handwriting.”
“On the basis of that you went to meet a stranger?” Sam asked.
Phyllis grimaced. “I told you, I thought the note was from the woman who hired me to play the part of Aunt Cornelia.”
“What happened when you opened the door of the theater?” Sam asked.
“It took me a moment to see anything because of all those horrible flashing lights. They made me nervous. I was going to leave but I finally noticed the woman at the end of the last row. I assumed it was Miss Finley. I started toward her. When I got close I spoke to her. She didn’t respond. I had a feeling something was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do.”
“Go on,” Sam said.
“I thought maybe she was asleep or had fainted, so I tried to shake her awake,” Phyllis continued. “That’s when I realized she was dead or unconscious. I screamed. I thought I heard someone on the stage or in the wings.”
“Did you see anyone?” Sam asked.
“No. I turned around but I couldn’t see anything because I was looking straight at the flickering lights. I was terrified. All I could think about was getting out of there. I had to feel my way using the backs of the seats in the last row.”
“When you saw me in the hall you thought I had something to do with the death of the woman you discovered in the theater,” Sam said.
“I didn’t know what to think. I was terrified.”
“Tell me about the person you heard on the stage,” Sam said.
Phyllis made a face. “I heard footsteps in the wings. That’s all I know. Oh, and a door closed somewhere backstage.”
“Man or woman?” Sam asked.
“I have no idea. I was not paying close attention. All I cared about was getting out of that horrible place. Do you think the police will want to talk to me?”
“Detective Brandon said he planned to get a statement from you in the morning,” Maggie said.
“I knew it,” Phyllis said. She went back to the front step and hoisted a suitcase. “I’ve got to get out of town tonight.”
“I’m sure the woman in marketing who hired you over the phone, Miss Finley, will explain everything to the police,” Maggie said.
“I doubt it.” Phyllis tossed the suitcase into the trunk and went back to the front steps for the last grip. “It’s starting to look like a setup. Someone murdered that woman in the theater and figured they could make me take the fall.”
“It’s a possibility,” Sam said.
Phyllis slammed the trunk shut. “I should have turned down the job, but the money was too good to pass up, not to mention all the nice clothes.”
“A setup for what, exactly?” Maggie asked.
“Who knows?” Phyllis said. “But there’s obviously a lot of money involved in that Institute. Just look at the place. It must have cost a fortune. Wherever there’s that much cash, there’s always someone who will do whatever it takes to get it.”
“Good point,” Sam said. “Where are you going?”
“As far away from Burning Cove as I can get.” Phyllis opened the driver’s side door of the Ford. “Unless you point a gun at me, I’m leaving right now. If you don’t move that nice Packard, it’s going to sustain some major damage when I pull out of here.”
“I’ll move the car,” Sam said. He opened the driver’s side door. “If you think of anything else that would be helpful, you can leave a message at the Sea Dream Hotel. No need to tell the operator why you’re calling. Just say you’re a friend from out of town and would like to get together for a drink. Leave a number. We can meet you anywhere, anytime, and we’ll pay you for your trouble.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll be in touch.”
Phyllis climbed into the front seat of the Ford and slammed the door. The engine rumbled.
“I won’t hold my breath,” Sam said.
He got into the Packard and backed it out of the way. Phyllis stomped on the gas. The Ford roared out of the drive, heading for Cliff Road. Maggie watched the headlights vanish around a curve.
Sam eased the Packard back into the driveway, turned off the ignition, and got out. He contemplated the open door of the cottage.
“What are you thinking?” Maggie asked.
“That Phyllis Gaines is probably exactly who she claims to be,” Sam said. “An out-of-work actress who took a short-term job playing Aunt Cornelia for a few days, found herself caught up in something very dangerous, and wisely decided to disappear.”
“I agree. What do we do now?”
“I’m going to take a quick look around the cottage. People in a hurry often leave something behind.”
He went to the front steps and disappeared through the open door. Maggie rushed after him and arrived on the threshold just as he was retrieving a crumpled slip of paper from the wastebasket under the small console in the hall. She watched him unfold it.
“Is that the note that Phyllis Gaines got tonight?” she asked.
“Yes. I think it’s safe to say it was sent by the blackmailer. The initial is definitely a T, not an F.”
“The Traveler.” Maggie shuddered. “That settles it. The extortionist doesn’t know the identity of the real Aunt Cornelia and doesn’t know what she looks like. What now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,” Sam said. “I would also like to eat dinner. Let’s go back to the hotel. I saw a sign that said there would be piano music in the lounge. No need to waste this evening jacket.”
She watched him turn off the lights and close the door of the cottage. He did not speak as they walked back to the car. Her intuition stirred.
“You’ve got a plan, don’t you?” she said.
“I’m working on it.”
“Is it illegal?”
“Let’s just say I won’t be phoning Detective Brandon to ask his permission.”