“Congratulations, Desmond.” Dave joined us. “Great job. You pulled it off.” He carried a glass of beer.

  “Thanks. Dave French, meet Frank Kendale.”

  They shook hands. “You’ve got a powerful voice, Dave,” Frank said. “I enjoyed Marley’s solo.”

  “Thanks.” Dave peeked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “I had some coaching from Aline Steiner herself.”

  “She brought the house down with that number, all right.”

  “Did your parents not come tonight, Dave?” Jackie asked. “You couldn’t keep my mom away.” She smiled at Frank. “That’s her over there, trying to get close to Aline. She’s so excited at being a stage mother.”

  Dave’s face tightened ever so slightly. “My mom wanted to come but … my dad doesn’t believe in spending money on what he calls frivolities.” He gave us all a forced smile.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Frank said. “Obviously it’s my line of work, but I firmly believe the arts are vitally important to the health of society in general.”

  “So true,” Jackie gushed. A waiter presented a tray of canapes. Nice spicy little pastry things. We helped ourselves and he moved on to the next group.

  Only Dave didn’t take one. He shifted his feet. “Don’t know if you had a chance to read your program yet, Frank, but my bio points out that I have Broadway and Hollywood experience. I was on the way up, things looking good, but I wanted to take some time off to help my folks when my dad took sick. I’m intending to get back at it soon and pick my career up where I left off.”

  “Good luck with it,” Frank said. “Des, I haven’t met Aline Steiner yet. Why don’t you introduce me? Who’s that guy she’s with? The one who looks like Santa Claus enjoying a rare night away from the North Pole.”

  I laughed. “That’s my dad.”

  He looked genuinely embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize.”

  “Don’t apologize. My dad is Rudolph’s Santa Claus. If you’re staying in town for a few days, you can see him in full gear and action Sunday afternoon at the town’s children’s party.”

  Dave interrupted, not interested in Santa Claus or a children’s party and not ready to let Frank go yet. “I heard you’ve produced some Broadway shows, Frank.”

  “A few.”

  “More than a few,” Desmond said. “Frank’s a big player behind the scenes.”

  “Maybe you could give me a few tips. How to break back in, I mean.” Dave’s laugh came out more like a strangled cry. “I knew when I took time off it’d be hard to go back. Things move on, right? A couple of introductions here and there would help.” He gave Frank a weak smile.

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “It’s a tough business, all right. I’m not working tonight. Call my office sometime.” He started to turn away. Notably he did not offer Dave his card or give the actor his personal number.

  “Congratulations, Dave!” Randy Baumgartner was next to join our little group.

  “Thanks,” Dave said. “I couldn’t have done it without this guy.” He indicated Desmond. “And Aline of course.”

  “What’d they have –? Oh, I get it. Yeah, your bit was okay, although your part was small. I kept expecting you to come back. Small but important, right? No, I mean congratulations on the deal.”

  Dave flushed with embarrassment.

  “Deal?” Desmond asked politely.

  “The motel deal. Dave here pulled off a deal to buy an old motel in Muddle Harbor.” Randy pulled business cards out of his suit pocket and shoved them at Desmond and Frank. “Randy Baumgartner, mayor of the aforementioned town. If you’re ever thinking of putting on another play, we can find you the space in Muddle Harbor. Particularly now the motel’s going to be renovated and spruced up. That’s your plan, right Dave? He drove a hard bargain, let me tell you. I never figured Ted would go that low, but good old Dave here managed.”

  “We all have our talents,” Frank said.

  Dave’s expression was one of pure fury. “I told you, Randy. I was acting for my father. He’ll be back on his feet any day soon and then I’ll be leaving town and picking up my acting career.”

  Randy’s face crinkled in confusion. “You did? I don’t remember that. You assured me you’re in it for the long haul. Interested in building a few more budget motels if that new highway comes closer to town.” He lowered his voice and gave Dave a broad wink. “I had a quick chat with the senator earlier. He’ll see what he can do.”

  “Des,” Frank said. “You were going to introduce me to Aline Steiner. I can’t take the chance on her leaving early.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “My mom never leaves a party early.” Not a party at which she’s the center of attention.

  “Why don’t I do that?” Jackie leapt into the conversation. “Aline gave me special individual instruction and plenty of tips on how to look the best on stage. I’m the manager at one of Merry’s stores, and Aline and I are like really close.”

  Jackie had given herself, unknown to me, a promotion. And me, at least one new store.

  They walked off, leaving me alone with Dave and Randy.

  Dave’s eyes were narrow as he watched Jackie, chattering nervously all the while, lead the two men in the direction of my mom, basking in the adulation of people offering their congratulations.

  Dave.

  Dave, whom Paula had called “totally and completely” unsuitable to play Scrooge. Dave, who desperately wanted a bigger part in the play, but had been refused.

  I’d remembered that my mother had gotten angry at Dave and Catherine in front of the entire ensemble, accusing them of letting their egos take over and forgetting this was amateur theater. I’d forgotten, until now, she’d included Dave in that insult.

  Dave.

  I looked into his face. Dark, angry eyes, as cold as chips of ice, stared back at me.

  Oblivious to the currents swirling around, Randy chattered on. “That highway’ll be good for you, Dave. Good for Muddle Harbor. You folks in Rudolph better watch out, Miss Wilkinson. Muddle Harbor’s on the verge of greatness and we’ll be giving you a run for your money.”

  “That’s nice,” I said.

  “I better grab that senator again before he leaves. Maybe he can pay a visit to Muddle Harbor on his way outta town. Yeah, I’ll suggest that.”

  Dave and I were left alone. Alone in a room packed with people.

  “Are you that ambitious, Dave?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What did my mother ever do to you? Why pull that stupid prank? Or was it a prank? Were you stopped before … you could do whatever you’d intended?”

  His eyes flicked as he looked across the room. Catherine, radiant in her triumph. Desmond proudly introducing his old friend to my mother, the diva. Mom, thoroughly in her element. Jackie and the rest of the bit players, giddy with excitement. Sue-Anne and Ralph Dickerson being interviewed by Russ for the paper. Kyle, trying to get Ian and Mom together for yet another photo.

  I hadn’t noticed Kyle taking any pictures of Dave. Dave, almost certainly, had also noticed that.

  “Maybe your mother needs to be reminded she’s not the big opera star anymore,” Dave said in a voice so low and so cold I shivered. “She’s a bit player in a low-rent production staffed by a small-town bunch of wannabes. That costume Irene made up for her might as well be a bedsheet.”

  “No one in this company’s a wannabe,” I said. “Except, maybe, for Jackie. And you. They’re in it for the fun of it.”

  “Fun,” he spat. He walked away.

  “Crostini, Merry?”

  “What?”

  “Would you like a crostini?” The smiling young waiter held up his tray of offerings.

  “Oh. You startled me. I’m sorry I snapped. No. I mean, no thanks.”

  “Okay.”

  I looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Except for the possible exception of the senator, who’d been cornered by Randy Baumgartner and whose expression indicated he was hearing far more about Muddle Harbor’s plans for expansion than he ever wanted to know. Alan was chatting to Vicky and Mark. Mom was with Desmond and Frank while Jackie hovered at the edges of the group. Ian and some other members of the cast were posing for pictures for fans. Rachel stood just out of the picture frame, watching her husband. I hoped they’d be able to get over their problems.

  Dave joined Catherine while Bruce lined up at the bar.

  Everyone was here. Except the two people I most wanted to see: my dad and Detective Diane Simmonds.

  I’ve gotten in trouble before, thinking I was in control of a situation and not immediately telling Simmonds what I suspected. I was not going to do that again.

  I made my way across the crowded room, searching for her. She might have gone out for a breath of air or even decided to call it a night and head for home. I’d give her a call and hope she answered.

  The sounds of the party fell away behind me as I stepped into the hallway. I took my phone out of my small evening bag. The lights were dim behind the reception desk, and no one else was around. I started to place the call.

  Someone grabbed my arm. The phone was plucked out of my hand.

  “Calling someone, Merry?” Dave French asked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’m … uh … checking in with Alan. It’s time we were on our way. Work tomorrow, you know.”

  “Funny you’d come into the hallway to phone him when you walked right past him just now.” Dave shoved my phone into his pocket. “I’ll hold onto this for you, why don’t I? Let’s go for a walk.”

  “I don’t want to go for a walk.”

  “But I do.” His grip tightened on my arm. He leaned toward me and stared into my eyes, and I did not like what I saw there. “You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you? Always poking around where you have no business being.”

  I tried to pull away and dig my heels in. But he had a firm grip on me, and those heels were so high I was thrown off balance. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I just want a nice chat, Merry. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. Why don’t you let me explain the error of your ways to you?” He pulled me along with him, heading away from the party and the front entrance, going in the direction of the auditorium. All the lights in that wing of the community center were off; the dark hallway loomed in front of us. “You’re so interested, I bet you’d like to see behind the scenes of a theater. As miserable a little theater as this one is.”

  “Killing me’s not going to get you a role on Broadway,” I said.

  “Killing you? Why would I kill you, Merry? Then again, I now know you’re tight with that detective. It might have been a mistake, jumping Paula in your place. But I saw my chance and I took it. Fortune favors the brave, isn’t that what they say? You need to keep a better eye on your store. Anyone could walk in and rob you blind.”

  “What did poor Paula ever do you to?”

  “Do to me? She laughed at me; she insulted me. I’m stuck performing in an amateur play with a two-week run, directed by a guy who hasn’t had a new idea in twenty years, and didn’t have the chops to stick it out on Broadway, playing second fiddle to a washed-up opera diva who doesn’t know she’s washed up, and an old man without the sense to know when it’s time to give it up. All I get is put-downs from my father and sneers from those who, like Paula, think they’re my equal. I’ve had enough of it. I saw that miserable Paula go into your store, and I followed her. I intended to give her a fright, put her in her place. But when I saw how easy it was to catch her off-guard, no one around … I did what I should have done earlier.”

  As he talked, he continued pulling me down the dark hallway. I breathed. Stay calm, Merry. Just stay calm. Dave was a big guy, and he had a firm hold on my arm. But we were not in the middle of nowhere. This was a public building; we were only a few feet away from a crowded party. Unfortunately, everyone was having such a good time at the party, they weren’t listening for sounds of someone needing assistance.

  “As for your mother … yeah, I considered getting rid of her too, but I figured it was too close to opening night. Might risk the whole production, or the big shots might not bother to come.”

  I took another breath. I braced myself. Then I let out a scream and pulled backward as hard as I could. Dave whirled around and his mad eyes stared into mine. He jerked me toward him with so much force my feet slipped on the polished floor. He put one arm around my chest and slapped the hand of the other over my mouth. A couple more struggling steps and he was using his body to push open the door to the auditorium. I struggled, both to get away and to breathe. “Will you shut up,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  That, I did not believe.

  If he did kill me, I wanted to leave as much evidence behind as I could. I scratched at the hand over my mouth and tried to reach his face. He grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back. Together, wrapped in a deadly embrace, we stumbled into the auditorium.

  “Hey, man, what’s going on?”

  The dim light that came in with us showed two of the younger members of the chorus as they leapt apart, guilt written all over their faces. The boy stepped forward. “Find your own place, why don’t you.”

  “Hey!” the girl said. “What are you doing? Merry, is that you?”

  Dave shoved me toward them with a growl. I stumbled on my awkward heels but managed to keep myself upright as Dave turned and bolted out of the auditorium.

  “Are you okay, Merry?” the girl said. “That didn’t look nice, but we’ll leave if you want us to.”

  “No, we won’t,” her boyfriend said.

  “Call the police!” I shouted as I sprinted out the door and gave chase.

  Dave was running back down the hallway, heading toward the lights. He reached the reception desk and hesitated, wondering which way to go. An elderly couple came out of the gym, a duet of canes tapping the floor in front of them. Dave whirled around. He saw me, coming his way. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, Merry. I only wanted to talk. I have to make you understand this production might be my last chance to get my career back on the track it deserves, and naturally it’s important to me nothing interferes with that. Not a pack of talentless hacks or a blasted budget motel deal. You need to calm down.”

  “I am calm. You are not. We need the police here,” I said to the couple. “Call them, please. I’ve lost my phone.”

  They stared at us.

  Dave made up his mind and shoved open the doors leading to the outside. He wouldn’t get far. The wisest thing for me to do would be to wait for the police to arrive and then, calmly and concisely, tell Detective Simmonds what I’d surmised and what Dave himself had confirmed.

  But, despite what my dad said only a few hours ago, I am not wise. I followed Dave. My lungs gasped against the sudden attack of icy cold air as I stepped out of the building. While we’d been enjoying the play and then the after-party, it had started to snow, and heavily this time. The strong lights over the parking area shone on swirling flakes; the cars were covered in several inches of the stuff. A snowplow lumbered down the street, yellow lights flashing. A car pulled slowly out of the as-yet-unplowed parking lot, taking care in the fresh deep powder.

  Dave sprinted across the lot, presumably heading toward his own car. I ran after him, my high heels slipping in the snow, the cold penetrating my thin stockings. As Dave passed George Mann’s battered, rusty old truck, George stepped out from behind it, directly into the path of the fleeing man. Strong yellow light from the top of the pole above them shone down. “Hey, Dave. Welcome. The more the merrier. I’ve brought some of my own homemade stuff. That’s good enough for the rest of us, right?”

  Startled, Dave slipped. George reached out a hand and grabbed him to keep him from falling. Another figure stepped into the light, and then another. Mrs. D’Angelo and Margie Thatcher clutched plastic glasses full (or not so full) of red liquid. They were in coats, gloves, and scarves, and had a decided glow to their cheeks that I suspected was caused by more than the invigoration of the performance and the cold of the night.

  “Get out of my way, you old fool!” Dave gave George a hearty shove, and the older man fell back with a startled cry. He struck the hood of his truck but managed to remain upright.

  “What the—?” George stared at Dave in shock.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Mrs. D’Angelo said. “Who do you think you are?”

  I’d told the young lovers and then the older couple to call the police. I strained my ears for the sound of sirens but could hear nothing. Had they made the call, or assumed I wasn’t serious? I should have run into the party, shouting for help. The chief of police himself was still there.

  Too late now. “Someone call the police!” I yelled. “He killed Paula. He attacked my mother. He was going to kill me.”

  “What on earth are you taking about?” Margie turned to Mrs. D’Angelo. “Never mind her, Merry always did have a wild imagination.”

  “I’m not—”

  “That’s right,” Dave said. “Pay her no attention. She’s nuts.”

  George had recovered from the surprise of the unexpected attack, straightened, and took a step forward. “I’ve never known Merry to make things up. Make the call, Mabel, and we’ll let them sort it out. In the meantime, Dave, come and have a drink while we wait.” He stretched his hand out to take Dave by the arm.

  Dave punched George full in the face. This time George crumpled to the ground without another sound. Mrs. D’Angelo and Margie were momentarily frozen in shock. I ran toward them, but my useless shoes couldn’t find purchase on the fresh snow. I grabbed at a car to keep from falling. The cold of the metal stung my bare hand.

  Mrs. D’Angelo let out a cry and fell to her knees next to George. She cradled his head in her lap and cried, “George, speak to me. George.”

  Dave pulled car keys out of his pocket and sprinted across the lot. Later, in the calm light of day, I realized he had nowhere to go. No chance of getting away. But at the time I wasn’t thinking. I was acting on pure instinct.