“But yeah, the police are probably right,” I continued. “If she’d wanted the QB dead out of revenge for getting fired, she’d have managed to bring it off a long time ago.”
Then again, what if she had another motive for killing the QB? Something a lot more current than her own firing two years ago.
What if I found out, for example, that Maggie was very fond of someone the QB was threatening to hurt in the present—Nate, or Walker or any of the rest? Killing to defend someone else seemed a lot more in character for Maggie than killing out of revenge for being fired.
Or was I only projecting my own values on Maggie, because I liked her?
“So who else do they suspect?” I said aloud.
“Well, me,” he said, shrugging. “But only a little. I think they’re still having trouble imagining that anyone would actually want a smaller part. They let that Ichabod Dilley guy go pretty fast once they figured out he’s here by mistake. Should I assume from your questions that you’re trying to figure out who did it before the police do?”
“I’m sure the Loudoun County police are perfectly competent,” I said. “I’m just trying to make sense of it. After all, I did see her body. And probably heard her last words.”
“Last words? I thought she was already dead when you got there.”
“Yeah, but one of the damned parrots was fluttering around in the room, shrieking out things in her voice.”
“I know,” Michael said. “Get out! I need my rest! Leave me alone!” he added, in a half-decent imitation of the QB’s voice.
“Not just that,” I said. “The parrot said something else even more important. At least I think it is, and I’m wondering if the police realize it.”
“What did it say?”
I closed my eyes and concentrated.
“I’m pretty sure it was, ‘I can do anything. I
“Ggggggggg?” Michael repeated.
“Sorry, I don’t do that very well,” I said. “It was a death rattle, as they call it in the crime books. There may be a scientific term for it; you could ask Dad.”
“Death rattle will do,” Michael said, with a slight shudder. “Call me squeamish, but I hope I never meet that particular parrot.”
Chapter 20
I was still wondering what had happened to the poor witness parrot when Michael spoke up again.
“I see what you mean, that what she said before the death rattle could be significant. She was probably arguing with the killer about something she wanted to do with the show. Something the killer disagreed with, and the QB said there was nothing he or she could do, she owned it. Meaning the show.”
“Can’t be the show,” I said.
“Why not?”
“She said ‘them,’ not ‘it,’” I said. “The show would be an ‘it.’”
“You’re sure? ‘Them’ not ‘it?’”
“Positive.”
“Damn,” Michael said. “So it’s not the show; she only owns the one show that I know of. What else does she own, but in multiples?”
“People,” I said. “When I was talking to Harry, the other guy in the sword skits, about Chris’s problems with the QB, he said ‘She owns him.’ Meaning his contract, of course. But that’s how he said it. That she owned him.”
“And that’s how she’d say it, too,” Michael said.
“Especially if she was talking about people she was messing with, like Chris and Andrea.”
“Not just Chris and Andrea,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Even me and Walker. Oh, she wouldn’t come right out and say she owned me, at least not to my face, but you could tell that’s what she thought. So maybe she was talking to someone else she was jerking around. But no, that doesn’t work either. If she was talking to me or Chris or Walker, she’d say, ‘I own you’ not ‘I own them.’”
“True,” I said. “Even if she was talking to Chris about both him and Andrea, it would still be you, not them. And while I can imagine someone getting so fed up that they’d confront her about their own complaints, it’s hard to imagine anyone tackling her on someone else’s behalf.”
“Unless it’s someone who’s paid to do it,” Michael said, slowly. “What if Francis went to argue with her about both my contract and Walker’s?”
“Was he supposed to do that?”
“Yes,” Michael said. “Remember when I was talking to him yesterday? I finally laid it on the line. Told him if he couldn’t work out a compromise on my contract, a schedule that wouldn’t interfere with my responsibilities at the college, I’d fire him and find an agent who could.”
“So he was going to confront her.”
“Yes, on my behalf,” Michael said. “And I expect Walker wanted him to talk to her, too.”
“Maybe Walker wasn’t such a weasel, pointing the finger at Francis,” I said. “Maybe just a realist. He’s known Francis a lot longer than you have. When was Francis supposed to meet her?”
“Last I heard, he didn’t have an appointment,” Michael said. “I suppose he might have just gone to her room to confront her.”
“Would he?” I asked. “Confront her that way? He always seems so…um…”
“Wimpy?” Michael said, with a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, it’s hard to imagine him getting up enough nerve to tell the QB she can’t do something, but if he did, that’s just how she’d react. That she owns us. Which, from a contract standpoint, thanks to Francis, she does.”
“Did,” I said. “Not anymore. Who owns you now? Or rather, who owns the show and gets to decide what happens with it? If Francis knew he’d have more luck negotiating with whomever took over after her death, he’d have a motive.”
Michael shrugged. I could see by his anxious expression that he didn’t like talking about this.
“Who wouldn’t be easier to negotiate with?” he said. “But I have no idea who will take over for her in the negotiations. If there are any negotiations; maybe whoever killed her killed the show, too.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “She may be the title character, but she’s not exactly the star.”
“True,” he said. “The show could go on without her.”
“Queen Porfiria could die and be replaced by her sister,” I suggested. “Queen Eczema the First.”
“That would work,” he said, with a faint smile.
“They’d probably want to rethink firing Walker, too,” I said. “I don’t think anyone but the QB wanted him to go.”
“The fans certainly wouldn’t,” Michael said. “Walker has a lot of fans.”
“Not as many as you,” I said.
“No, but almost. The fans would certainly rather have Walker stay. And Nate. If Walker leaves, he’ll have to scrap a storyline he really likes. And the way Nate felt about QB, if he hasn’t already written a death scene for her, he could do it in a heartbeat. He was always complaining about how she mangled his words.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Michael, what if she wasn’t talking about people, but the scripts. What if Nate told her she couldn’t mangle his words this time—”
“And she told him that she could do anything she wanted because she owned them,” Michael said. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
“Although I have a hard time imagining Nate getting that worked up about it,” I said. “I mean, he loves complaining, but would he really kill over a script?”
