Page 69 of Murder on the Page

“Upton has done some work for me, too,” Lillian said. “For my website.”

“I do not wonder that Katrina has broken up with him,” Yvonne went on. “He is stuck on himself, if that is the term. He thinks he is the next Florin Ghioca.”

“Who?” Lillian and I asked in unison.

“A renowned theater photographer in Romania.”

“That’s a thing?” I asked.

“Indeed,” Yvonne said. “Theater photography is quite unique. Ghioca knows everything about how to work with dim lighting, angles, and live action. He also has photography exhibitions and gives master classes. He is brilliant. Upton Scott cannot hold a candle to him.”

Yvonne’s assertion rang true, making me wonder if Katrina’s secret had something to do with her ex. Maybe she’d wronged him or hurt his career, and Marigold found out. Thinking about theater people made me also reflect on Evelyn Evers and her alibi for Saturday morning.

“Say, Yvonne, do you know Evelyn Evers?” I asked.

“Yes, of course!” She beamed and clapped a hand to her chest. “She is the glue that holds the theater together. A marvelous woman. A mentor to many. Why do you ask?”

“She told our friend Tegan”—I motioned between Lillian and myself—“that she was working on set design early Saturday morning.”

“We all were. We worked through the night. The production ofAnnie Get Your Gungoes up next weekend. We were falling behind. I do not sing or I would have auditioned for it.”

Well, that settled that. Yvonne’s testimony exonerated Evelyn. The young woman had no reason to lie.

A bell chimed, signaling the beginning of a musical session inside the rec center.

Lillian said, “Allie, listen, if there’s anything other than the costumes that I can do for the memorial to help Tegan or Noeline or you, you have to tell me.”

Gratitude clogged my throat. I croaked out, “Thank you. Bythe way, how are the costumes going? Are many people getting in the spirit?”

“Honey, you have no clue. So far, there are over fifty who want to dress up to honor her.”

“That’s great to hear. She would be so pleased.”

“Ooh!”Lillian snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot. I’m having a soiree in two weeks. At my house. A dozen people. Will you cater it? They’re not fussy, but they’re clothing reps that I’d like to impress.”

“Allie!” Zach was wending through a knot of silent bagpipers filing out of the hall.

“I’ll send you the details,” Lillian said, and blew me a kiss.

Yvonne flicked her fingers as a good-bye, and they went inside.

Zach looked as handsome as ever, his cheeks ruddy, his gaze direct and warm, though I could see he’d been concentrating. Hard. His forehead was creased, and the lines between his eyebrows were deep. “You didn’t don a costume?” he teased.

“Gee, if only I had a costume at the ready,” I said, making a mental note to ask Lillian if I could purchase the sage-green one she was altering for me. “Have you decided whether you’re dressing in costume for Marigold’s memorial?”

“I’m considering it.” He clasped my elbow. “How about a beer?”

“I’d love a tasting of scotch.” I saw a vendor across the way and steered Zach in that direction. “I seldom drink hard liquor, but it sounds like a perfect match for tonight’s cool weather.”

“Why, Miss Darcy, I do declare you’re taking my breath away.”

“Wrong,” I chided. “I’d be Miss Bennet. You’d beMr. Darcy.” I squinted at him as we waited to purchase two tastings of single malt scotch. “I know you’re well-read. How did you miss out onPride and Prejudice?”

“In high school, if it wasn’t required reading, I didn’t do it. Iwas a B student who dreamed of being an A student, but I didn’t have the dedication to work harder.”

“And now?”

“I’m as hard a worker as anyone you’ll meet, and nobody since college has ever asked me my GPA.” He grinned and purchased our drinks, which were provided in disposable shot glasses, and then we continued on through the arts-and-crafts booths, browsing various wares, like hand-tooled leather belts and hand-carved pipes. “So tell me why you’re enthralled with the story.”

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