Page 93 of Reckless Chance
“It doesn’t matter, maybe something with soft music. I suspect it’ll be background entertainment tonight,” I say, rolling over to face him.
“It’s a date.”
The giant grin on his face and steel rod digging into my thigh tell me he’s going to be counting the minutes until tonight. With the ache between my legs, I will be too. But satisfying our needs is going to have to wait until after I watch the videos from the last performance. I think we missed something.
Work first, then play hard.
52
LOWRI
Back in Sean’s apartment, I open my laptop at the dining table and start watching the videos of the performance where Mr. Brentwood died. Switching between views from different cameras, I start following Amelia throughout the evening as she moves on and off stage.
She’s nearby Reese when he falls. I replay that part to see if Amelia had the opportunity to damage the dangling vine that tore, causing his fall. As the video plays again, Reese’s facial expression catches my eye. He wincesbeforehe falls. He must sense the silk giving way. That must have been scary.
As I continue following Amelia through the videos, she dances off the stage a few minutes before the baseball-capped person shows up next to the tree, which is backstage. Then another camera shows Amelia dancing back onstage after a costume change. It’s not clear that she had enough time to change into crew clothing, sabotage the tree, return to her dressing room, change into her next costume, and return to the stage for her next scene. I need Ron’s opinion. This is something the stage manager will know.
With an arrest made, the show is back in rehearsals today, so Ron should be in the theater now. I grab my purse and phone,intent on resolving this quickly. It’s almost noon. If I hurry, maybe I’ll catch him before they break for lunch. If I’m correct, Amelia is innocent, and a killer is still lurking in our midst.
Openingthe door to the theater’s backstage entrance, I’m met by an unexpected quietness rather than the usual clamor of rehearsals. I look around and spot a woman organizing a rack of costumes down the hall. I walk close enough to be in earshot and ask, “Excuse me, where can I find Ron?”
“I haven’t seen him yet. Rehearsals don’t start until 1:00 p.m. today. I’m leaving to grab a bite to eat now, but you can wait. Rob should be here in the next twenty to thirty minutes.”
“Thanks. I’ll wait outside his office. That way I won’t miss him.”
The woman takes off, and I type a quick email to Sean summarizing what I saw in the videos. That done, I go in search of Ron’s office. It’s dimly lit backstage, requiring me to move with caution as I step around racks of costumes, props, and lighting equipment on my way.
“Ouch,” I mumble as I bump my arm against something big and rough. To my surprise, it’s the infamous tree. I rub my sore elbow where the bark cut into my skin. With the light from my phone, I take a closer look at the gigantic monstrosity. The trunk must be eight feet across. Sean said they’re not going to use it in the show going forward, but I guess they haven’t had time to get rid of it.
The police tape surrounding the tree has been cut, and the door on the far side of the trunk stands open. Curiosity getting the better of me, I step inside. During the night of the tragedy,we were focused on investigating. I didn’t notice that the interior is so large. You could fit four or five people in here.
I start looking around, not sure what I’m expecting to find. Metal posts, spaced a few feet apart, run from the floor to the platform above. Looking up, the opening Brentwood fell through has been sealed shut. I’m about to step out when I hear footsteps and a male voice. I turn to look and catch a glimpse of Reese coming toward me with a scowl on his face, talking into his mobile phone.
“That’s not the plan. They’re going to figure it out. I have to get out of here,” he hisses.
Shit. I carefully pull the tree’s door almost closed, leaving only a small gap to peer through. I watch as he draws nearer.
Grabbing my phone, I hit record as Reese starts talking again.
“Galanis, you better keep your fucking mouth shut. The money is the only way out of this for both of us. Youwillgo through with the plan.”
He paces while listening to the response.
I had no idea he knows Mr. Galanis. Did he know Brentwood too?
Peering out the door gap, I anxiously await what he’ll say next.
“Cabo San Lucas. I should be safe there. I’ll lay low, maybe find a job at a hotel or somewhere until you send my share of the money.”
Silence.
“No, I’m not worried about the dumb actor. He doesn’t know anything.”
More silence.
“I’m not talking about this now. Someone could overhear. You and Brentwood signed up for this deal. Let it play out, and we’ll both be fine.”
Shit. He did know Brentwood.
