“Kate”, Susan yelled.
“Honest to God, Susan, you should have made a career in the theatre. Your voice projection is phenomenal.”
Kate turned, waved, smiled, pointed to her watch, and exited backstage.
“Murder’s been done, Alexis. Accident my foot. No accident would see a member of the Murder Squad here.”
Alexis said not a word.
“Quick Alexis, to the left. If I’m not mistaken, the tall black man motioning to the usher is none other than handsome himself. It’s Roger, the second member of the murder team. I told you, Alexis, murder’s been done.”
Alexis suppressed her groan. Had it only been two years since the murder; two years since they met Kate and Roger. The memory seemed as fresh and chilling as autumn air. She shivered at the remembered heartbreak; the trauma; and, at the end, the sheer terror.
“Indigestion, Alexis?”
“You could say that.”
Alexis forced her thoughts elsewhere. She thought about the first time she experienced one of Tennessee Williams’ play. She was only 19 and had just moved from a small rural town to attend university. The play was The Glass Menagerie and it had stunned her senses. She identified with Laura, the pathologically shy young woman who lived in a private world of glass animals and old phonograph records. She knew the reason she related so well. She suffered too from a life-long painful shyness, haunted by the ‘otherness’ of people; tongue tied, self-conscious, at school, at home, at work.
Loud, persistent coughing from the woman seated a row behind disrupted of her thoughts. She was trying to immerse herself back into her reverie when she was struck by a horrid thought. She turned to her friend.
“Tell me, Susan, please, that you don’t know a single person involved in this play?”
“I know two, the Director, Jeffrey Stone and the Producer, Henry Ward. No, wait a minute, make that four, I know their wives as well, Catherine and Cheryl. No, sorry, make it five. I forgot about Eleanor; she’s in charge of set design and costumes. I went to boarding school with sister, Alice. I have memories of her trailing behind us on weekends, a bit of an oddball ...WHAT? ”
“Listen to me, Susan. If you value our friendship, you’ll keep your distance from whatever is going on backstage. The police will handle it. I’m not; hear me, NOT, getting involved in another murder case.”
“Relax. My ambitions to be a sleuth have been wiped as clean as the doctor’s operating table. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic in my wave to Kate; I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong impression”.
“No need to fear, Susan, Kate and Roger would move heaven and hell to keep us out of police business.”
Chapter 1
Kate lifted her arm towards the snooze button, remembered the early morning briefing before the interviews and threw back the covers. Her head pounded as she stumbled to the shower, headaches were ever present during murder investigations due to the sheer lack of sleep.
As the hot water pounded away her body’s stiffness, she thought about the messages waiting on her answering machine when she got home. The first one was from Abir who left the typical rant. Sorry she hadn’t been able to join them; they had a good time without her; and, if she continued in her career as a homicide detective, they were sure to continue having good times without her. Please let them know about this Saturday night.
The second message interfered with her sleep. It had been from David wanting to know if she was free next weekend. It was time to face the music. Their relationship was going nowhere; it was time to end it. He was too dependent, too needy. It didn’t start that way.
They met over a year ago at detective’s conference in New Brunswick. The attraction was immediate and the romance blossomed. Maybe it was all those back and forth trips to each other’s city that cooled things down. She wasn’t sure. One thing she was sure of though, his feelings hadn’t cooled towards her. In fact, just the opposite was happening – vague hints surfacing about long term commitment. David was fourteen years older than her, divorced, and had a 16 year old daughter. He didn’t come baggage free but then who did?
On his promotion to Chief Inspector in charge of the detective division, his work schedule doubled and they saw each other less and less. Slowly, their relationship began to change. David lost interest in going out, preferring to spend their time together inside either his or her apartment, cooking meals, talking about the breakup of his marriage, his concern over the impact it would have on his daughter and the guilt he experienced over his failure.
He treated her like a sob sister. Their intimacy took a nose dive, her passion cooled. She became bored followed by guilt. He was a great guy who deserved another chance. But not with her. She kept stalling, worried about his damned helplessness and how it would affect him. She’d decided to call him in the morning. Her decision haunted her dreams.
She reluctantly turned off the shower. It was the ultimate of showers; a shower that wraps water, sound, light and steam together with the push of a button. Most people, when choosing a condo, fall in love with the layout, the kitchen, the gardens, or the balcony. She had fallen in love with the shower. Towelling off, she didn’t think about what she would wear. When an investigation was running in the fall of the year, it was always the same: a black turtleneck, black jeans, red blazer, and black Doc Martens.
Finishing her breakfast of coffee, orange juice and lightly buttered toast, she punched in David’s cell number. It went to voice mail. She left a message that she was on a case and this weekend wouldn’t work. Told him she would call when things slowed down. She left the condo and headed for the precinct.
***
The team met in the
