The Marsh Madness

Oh, Mick. How could you let yourself be so deluded? I shook my head.

Behind her other customers browsed around the shop. Most were regulars and waved cheerfully to Mick as they left. One man seemed to be killing time. He shrugged to indicate he was also in no hurry. Mick didn’t pay much attention.

The camera was not so foolish.

He was tall, with a square, well-shaped head hidden by a baseball cap. He kept his face turned away from the security cameras on each wall. Of course, those cameras weren’t hooked up to anything, so that was a waste of time. The camera in the cuckoo clock and the one in the shabby teddy bear were a different story. They even captured his hands, large and covered with black leather gloves. I was surprised Uncle Mick didn’t notice him, but he had other things on his mind. I’d seen that ball cap and those gloves recently in the Lexus SUV that scooped up Shelby the night she was killed.

The girl who was busy wrapping Uncle Mick around her little finger wasn’t Shelby. But she did answer one of my big questions. Miranda, the pretty, young receptionist from the Country Club and Spa, could have been a pro at the distraction game. Uncle Mick was otherwise engaged when the man in the ball cap had planted a few selected items from Summerlea here and there in the dustier regions of the shop. When Uncle Mick left the shop to get some extra stock from the mysterious regions of the rooms behind it, the camera caught the visitor running his hand down Miranda’s back, a sensuous, intimate gesture.

I knew who he was.

I recognized that gesture.

At last, I was starting to understand what had happened and why.


*

LOOK TO THE theater, Alleyn had said in my dream. That was what I needed to do. And I had an idea how to. I borrowed Cherie’s nondescript car and dressed down in a dark hoodie I found in her hall closet. No sparkles, so she had no problem.

Larraine Gorman seemed genuinely pleased to see me when I showed up at her house while she was in the final phases of packing. I was glad to find her still there, and even happier that I’d never given her my name. I wasn’t too worried that she would realize I was either a suspect or a kidnapping victim. The Gormans were focused on their moving madness, and Doug had already taken the radios and TVs to their new condo on my last visit. Anyway, as I couldn’t get to Lance, she was likely to be a good source of information.

“Sorry to disturb you when you’re right in the middle of all this.”

“Bad timing,” Doug hollered from some unseen corner.

“I enjoyed your company and talking about the books the other day. I don’t have your new address and I wanted to stay in touch.” I added for the unseen Doug, “I won’t stay long.”

I heard a grunt of approval.

“I’m so glad to see you again. I forgot to ask your name and phone number in the confusion the other day,” she said, pointing a finger in what I assumed was the direction of Doug. “We don’t have that many friends in this area, and it’s been a tough week.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, with a weak grin.

She blinked when I told her about Shelby Church, a young actress found dead this week.

She pushed back her auburn hair. “That’s so sad. Was she a close friend?”

“More of an acquaintance, but I need to try to find some of her colleagues to let them know about a memorial we’re planning.”

She shook her head, puzzled. “I’m not sure what I can do.”

“If I remember correctly, you go to a lot of live theater and you keep your playbills. Or did they get thrown out the other day?”

“They did not!”

“If I could go through them, I’m sure I could find the names of some people she’d acted with and track them down. That would help a lot.” I felt bad not telling Larraine the whole truth, but I couldn’t risk complicating things any more. There’d be time later if we got out of this in one piece.