He tilted his head. “Oh, I have thoughts, all right.”
“Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”
“It looks like someone was hit on the head while wearing the headpiece. The position and type of indentation, the stains—which look like old blood to me—and their position would bear out this theory. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
She nodded. “Yes. Is that really what you believe?”
“It’s plausible. More than plausible—”
“And the fact that it was locked in the bottom of a trunk that was basically hidden in a crawlspace way beneath the stage…doesn’t that follow too?”
“It certainly doesn’t do anything to debunk the theory.” He picked up the mask again, turning it around carefully in his hands. “But the question is, was it an accident, was it fatal, and was it purposeful?”
“That’s three questions, but I concur that they’re all vital. Now, look at these.”
She laid out the other two costumes. Jake picked them up, one at a time, and gave a low whistle. “These rents in the back of both of them—and the stains—”
“From stab wounds, don’t you think?” she said. “The stains are harder to see on the red military coat, but it’s really obvious on the Sugarplum Fairy’s costume.”
“So you think someone killed both of the people who were playing these characters—and that’s who’s haunting the theater,” he said. “Makes sense to me.”
She hugged him exuberantly. “Oh, good, oh thank goodness you agree. I thought I might be going a little crazy.”
He shook his head. “This whole thing is crazy, but this actually makes a lot of sense—as far as ghosts are concerned.”
“Exactly. I mean, they are logical in their own twisted way.”
“So then italsofollows that whoever is sabotaging you is trying to keep the theater from opening because they don’t want the mask to be found—because they attacked and possibly murdered the Nutcracker,” Jake said. “The two things have to be related…otherwise it’s just too much of a coincidence.”
Vivien felt spikes of relief and excitement that he agreed with her. “It just makes sense—the mask was hidden away—and Iva, I think it was, said no one really knew what happened when the theater suddenly closed down and never opened again.”
“Maybe. But if someone killed theactorwho played the Nutcracker,” he said with a quirk of a smile, “and the actress playing the ballerina—wouldn’t the owner of the theater or the producer or someone notice they went missing? It would have been all over the news, I’d think.”
“Unless that’s who killed him. The person in charge—the producer or troupe leader or owner of the place. And Iva, I think it was, said they heard the Sugarplum Fairy—that’s whose costume that is; it’s just as iconic as the Nutcracker’s—ran off with the Nutcracker. What if that’s not what happened, but that they were both killed, and the story was just put out that they ran off together or were sick or whatever happened—and that was why the show was canceled.”
She brought over the poster-sized blowup of the cast photo forThe Nutcracker. The date was December 1994, so she knew it had to be the right one.
Scrutinizing the photo, she looked for anyone who might be familiar. The core cast was in the photo, each in their costumes and in an active pose. She paid special attention to the Sugarplum Fairy and the Nutcracker, who wasn’t wearing his headpiece in the picture, and felt a little pang of grief when she looked at their smiling, happy, electric faces. She could only assume the worst had happened to them.
“I wonder who that is,” Jake said, pointing to a distinguished-looking man standing with his hand on the ballerina’s shoulder. “He’s the only one not in costume.”
“Probably the director or the producer,” Vivien said. “But he’s standing with the Sugarplum Fairy—maybe he was her husband or something. I think Iva did mention someone from town played the ballerina. Maybe that’s who she meant.”
“Well, we need to get this stuff to Joe Cap right away,” said Jake.
“Agreed,” Vivien said. “He can take it from there. See if that’s really blood on it, and let him follow through on the investigation. Oh, and I can make sure Maxine and Juanita and the rest of the Tuesday Ladies know about the headpiece and our theories when I go into town for the book signing this afternoon. It’ll be all over the county by the end of the day. Then the vandal would have no reason to try to keep a secret, because the secret’s already out.”
Jake was nodding. “That would definitely help. But more important, we’ve got to figure out if there’s anyone who’s been in and around the theater recently that might be connected to the 1994Nutcrackerproduction.”
“Everyone I’ve had out there at the building—contractors, visitors, volunteers—are locals, and they wouldn’t be the right age to have acted in a professional show nearly thirty years ago.”
“What about those little children?” Jake asked, looking at the poster again. He pointed to three young children in the very front dressed in period clothing. “Guessing they’d be about your age now, wouldn’t they?
“Well, I’m pretty sure a five-year-old girl didn’t murder two adults,” Vivien replied. “But I think everyone in the picture should be identified.”
“Hopefully it won’t take the police too long to do so.” He frowned, then his expression relaxed. “Now, what do you say we have some lunch—whichI’llmake—and then we take a nap? Sundays are perfect napping days—especially when you didn’t get much sleep the night before.”
* * *
