“That’s true. Don’t panic though. I’m not in business with him in any way. Among other things, I want to remind him to keep his employees away from the Athena. Do you know how to get in touch with his assistant?”
“I can figure it out. Where are you meeting?”
“Somewhere neutral.”
Strangely, her shoulders relax, and she lets out a sigh, saying, “I’ll take care of it now.”
As she walks out the door, I wonder why she had such a strong reaction to the Rossi name. Perhaps learning that her boss is meeting with the head of a mafia family shocks her.
Emily’s reaction is the least of my concerns, considering my unintended marriage, a dead guest, a series of unexplained accidents, and now the mafia on my doorstep. I’m afraid to think what’s next.
22
LOWRI
Emily sent a security guard to escort me this morning. I’m thankful for the company when we walk into the desolate theater. Alone, it would be spooky.
The darkness is broken by spotlights softly illuminating the row of seats where Sean and I sat during the show. We decided that would be the perfect location to hold the individual meetings, so he had Emily arrange for lighting.
Leaving the guard near the entrance, I weave my way to the lighted row. Facing the dimly lit stage, I replay the mesmerizing performance in my head. My body shivers, remembering the moment we learned about the tragic accident.
With the show temporarily closed, the managers and crew have time to address safety concerns. They also cancelled rehearsals until the investigation is complete. That means only a handful of people are working in the theater today. Fortunately, Emily arranged for the ones on my list to be here.
My first meeting is with the lead female performer, Amelia.
“Ms. Upton, is that you?” a woman’s voice asks from behind me.
Turning, I say, “Yes, I’m Lowri. You must be Amelia. Please join me and have a seat.”
“Okay. They said you wanted to ask me questions about the other night.”
“Yes. I’m one of the attorneys for the Athena. I’m investigating Mr. Brentwood’s death.”
“I didn’t see what happened.”
“Understood. Will you answer a few questions anyway?”
“Sure.”
“Do you mind if I record our conversation? I’ll use it to make notes later.” Technically, I don’t have to ask in Nevada. Unlike California, if one person consents–namely me–that makes it okay. I want Amelia to be comfortable though.
“No. That’s fine.”
“Did you notice anything different during that performance compared to the first two nights of the show or the rehearsals?”
“Everything went as usual, except it was the first time we used the tree to set off the fireworks.”
“What do you mean? I understood that the show had opened two nights before?”
“It had, but the tree wasn’t ready. During the earlier performances, the audience member stood on stage with the performers and pretended to light a fuse with a match.”
“I see. Why couldn’t you use the tree?”
“We’d had a few mishaps during rehearsals. The prop guys were unwilling to use the tree until they were certain it was safe. I heard Ron pressuring them to make sure it was onstage the night Mr. Brentwood died.”
“Why that night?”
“Because Mr. Cartwright would be attending.”