The Princess and the Poison Page 9

  But I'd had enough. I told Donna I'd see her later. I also made a mental note to tell Tim the Springdale Sprint was definitely not happening for me.

  * * *

  That evening after I finished my paperwork, I pondered what to do next with my investigations. I watched Dinah wash herself while I tried to figure out my next move. Dinah was especially proud of her front left leg, which was a lovely ebony color that contrasted nicely with her pristine white paw. She washed the beloved leg last and then settled down with it stretched out so I could admire its beauty.

  "Very nice," I told her. "That has to be the most beautiful leg in the animal kingdom." I could have sworn she smiled to acknowledge the compliment.

  So what was next? I thought about Florence. She struck me as the type who might give up some dirt on her fellow cast members. Maybe she had culled some incriminating information during rehearsals. And I knew where she lived. Time to pay an unannounced visit. I gave Dinah a good-bye kiss and headed for the car.

  Florence appeared happy to see me and invited me in straightaway. She seemed completely sober, unlike the first time we met, and I didn't know if this was good or bad. She might have been more forthcoming if she were drunk. But I had to work with what I had.

  "The detectives talked to me too," Florence said once I'd told her the purpose for my visit and we were seated in her living room. "But I don't trust authority, so I wasn't giving up any information. Not to them."

  This didn't really surprise me, given her philosophy of there being too many rules in life.

  I settled back into my chair. "Why didn't you like Katrina?"

  "Oh, darlin'. She just wasn't nice. Even to us fellow actors. I was angry about that. Very angry."

  There seemed to be a lot of that sentiment going around.

  "Now, I didn't tell the detectives this, but I'll tell you." Florence leaned in, even though we were alone. "You should be talking to Julie, the director."

  "I did already. She admitted to arguing with Katrina, but she didn't say what it was about."

  "You didn't ask the right questions." She leaned back into the sofa cushions. "I'll let you in on something. You know the commercials that catapulted Katrina to fame? The ones for It's So Cool Cola?"

  "Sure."

  "Well, you might want to look into who was second in line for the part after Katrina."

  "Not Julie?"

  "Yep. And, believe me, actors have very long memories."

  I nodded. "Thanks. That helps a lot." That must be how Katrina and Julie knew each other.

  Florence and I were quiet for a minute. I looked around her Victorian home, admiring the molding and stained glass windows. "How long have you lived here?"

  "I bought this place a year ago, soon after my husband died."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry about your husband."

  She nodded to accept my condolences.

  "It's beautiful. Did it require a lot of work to fix up?"

  Many of the historic Victorians in the area had fallen into disrepair and could be expensive to restore.

  "Not at all. It had been recently restored when I bought it. Want a tour?"

  I said yes, and she led me around—to the kitchen, into the master bedroom, and through her garden in the back. We ended up on the upper level in a spare bedroom she'd converted into a library.

  I examined the framed photos on one of the bookcases—a picture in a tropical setting of a man and woman I assumed to be her parents, some stills from the movies she'd done, and her wedding photo. Her husband seemed quite a bit younger than she. I wondered how he'd died.

  There didn't seem to be any photos of children or grandchildren. "Do you have kids?" I kept my tone neutral. I knew it could be a sensitive subject.

  "Didn't want to. I didn't need any Mini-Me's walking around. You know, darlin', people say women who don't bear children are selfish. But I always thought it was the other way around. Too many people in the world anyway. And so many children who need adopting. When I was a teenager, my family worked with a lot of orphans. If I'd wanted children, I would have adopted."

  "That's nice."

  I considered telling her about Jamie, but I didn't. I usually had to know someone for a while before I could talk about him. But maybe soon. There was something about her that invited confidences. I told her I had to go, thanked her, and left.

  At home after visiting Florence, I booted up my computer, surfed to a television and movie database, and typed in Katrina Irvine's name. As expected, her first credits were the It's So Cool Cola commercials. From there, she went on to star in Whatever, the popular young adult TV show, and several teen movies before landing the lead in the critically acclaimed drama, You Can't Dance to It, for which she received an Oscar nomination. She didn't win the Academy Award, but I remembered how gracious she had been afterward in the interviews. She'd praised the other actresses excessively, saying she really didn't deserve to win, given their excellent performances.

  I clicked on all the pictures of her—on the red carpet, on location in Miami for You Can't Dance to It, hamming it up with her co-stars from Whatever—trying to figure out her true character. Was it the low-maintenance girl who didn't ask for special treatment before she came to StoryWorld, or the diva who required special lattes to be delivered to her twice a day and who terrified a child? My gut told me it was the latter.

  Next, I typed in Julie Tavern's name. Julie had a short-lived career. She'd been in several commercials before the date of Katrina's first breakthrough ad and, after that, nothing. The bio said she'd decided to move away from the pressures of Hollywood. Was that really the reason or did she give up after Katrina got the cola commercials? Was that what Florence was implying? It seemed so.

  After that, I brought up a video site and searched for the It's So Cool Cola commercials. I remembered the ads—they'd been very popular at the time. The commercials pushed all the right buttons, each ad centering on the character's relationship with a key loved one in her life—her mother, her father, her kitten, and her new husband. She and her mother drank It's So Cool Cola at a mall after shopping. She and her father went fishing and shared a cola from a cooler. After a break-up with a boyfriend, she soothed herself with It's So Cool Cola while petting her cat. And at her wedding, she was toasted with cola instead of champagne.

  Katrina was good, but I could also picture Julie in the role, even though Julie was a few years older. Julie didn't have Katrina's drop-dead gorgeousness, but she had a certain fresh-faced cuteness that fit the part. If Julie had gotten the role, would it have been her springboard to fame instead of Katrina's? Would Julie have been in Katrina's position as Hollywood's hot new actress? Maybe Julie still carried a grudge and eliminated Katrina out of jealousy. But why now? Just because Katrina was there? Had Katrina provoked Julie during their time together, and Julie snapped? Perhaps the argument Bradley overheard was Katrina goading Julie about the long-ago competition for the commercials.

  The phone rang, and I checked the caller ID. Scott. My stomach contracted. We hadn't spoken since I'd left him at dinner. I missed him, but I also was quite sure I didn't want to talk to him. Which was about the extent of what I knew when it came to him.

  I was both curious about the message he left and resistant to listening to it. Just before I went to bed, I finally played it.

  "Hi, Ashling." There was a bit of a pause. "I'm really sorry that I upset you. I'd like to explain. Give me a call if you want to talk."

  I didn't want, so I didn't.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next day, I visited Julie again at the Springdale Playhouse.

  She was busy marking up scripts and grimaced when she saw me, which didn't make for a good look on her. "Terrific. Not you again. To what do I owe the unfortunate pleasure today?"

  "I just wanted to talk to you about the It's So Cool Cola commercials," I said pleasantly.

  Julie turned away from me. "Nothing to talk about there."

  "Oh, really? You wanted those commerc
ials, didn't you? And Katrina got the part instead of you. You couldn't get any roles after that, right? It's almost as though she took away your career." I couldn't believe I was being so forceful. Maybe I shouldn't have had two huge lattes that morning to prepare myself for meeting her. "Is that why you argued with her? Did it escalate into you hurting her?"

  When she turned back to me, she had such a threatening look on her face I instinctively backed up. Unfortunately, I backed up into a wardrobe and hit my shoulder.

  "Look, how is this any of your damn business?" She eyed my Peter Pan necklace, and for a harrowing moment, I thought she was going to grab it and choke me with it.

  "My friend is the main suspect," I squeaked out, now reluctant to continue. This was why I didn't like confrontation. People got crazy.

  "So you're accusing me? Of murder? I'd watch myself if I were you, you little bitch. Step away from me. Step away from the Playhouse. Go back to your little nursery rhyme park where you belong. Oh, and by the way? The troupe now has other plans for July and August. We won't be performing at your park anymore. We're done." She threw her scripts onto the floor and stomped away.

  Thoroughly chastened and not just a little frightened, I left.

  * * *

  Back at the park, I called Donna at the restaurant and asked her to meet me at the Swiss Family Robinson set. We sat outside the treehouse on the bench encircling the oak tree and stretched out our legs. Donna's thighs were still blistered from the spilled coffee incident, just like mine. I hadn't been able to wear pants since. I'd been wearing the same blue skirt every day with a different StoryWorld T-shirt, and Donna had been sporting a series of different-colored linen shorts. She liked shopping a lot more than I did.

  Swiss Family Robinson was not one of our more popular sets, partly because visitors had to climb a rope ladder to get up, so we were completely alone. Even better, it was nowhere near any food, although I considered gnawing on a worm hanging out on a leaf nearby.

  I'd told Donna I'd had a run-in with Julie, but I hadn't explained much. I completed the story. "I really blew it, Donna. First of all, if she is the killer, I've completely enraged her, and now I'm at risk. And even if she isn't the murderer, I messed up with the plays. Now The Springdale Players aren't going to perform! We'll have to cancel Snow White and Cinderella and refund the tickets, and the charity won't get any money. Not to mention, we won't get any money either."

  "That's terrible. But I don't see how they can get away with that. Don't you have a contract?"

  "It was more a verbal agreement than anything else. I don't think I can make them finish out the performances if Julie doesn't want them to."

  "Maybe she'll change her mind. They've been rehearsing Snow White, right? Surely the actors will want to go ahead. And…"

  "What?"

  "You could always apologize."

  "No, Donna, she's awful! She might be even worse than Katrina was."

  "You might just have to do it for the greater good."

  She was right. I nodded my assent but couldn't bring myself to agree out loud.

  We sat in silence for the next few minutes. A light wind blew through the tree and lifted our hair, a cool breeze that kept the day from being unbearably hot. From here, the poppies in the Poppy Field looked like orange polka dots. A far-off squeal came from The Three Little Pigs set, then a bleat from one of the goats at Three Billy Goats Gruff, the animals no doubt eager for Dave to come around with the afternoon feedings. StoryWorld could feel so peaceful. It was hard to believe a murder had been committed here. It was an odd and alarming juxtaposition, and I wondered if I'd ever fully accept it. StoryWorld was a huge part of my family's history book, and I didn't see how I was going to incorporate a murder as one of its chapters.

  "Not to change the subject but anything new with Scott?" Donna asked.

  Ugh, not my favorite subject. "He called, but I didn't call him back."

  "You don't want to talk to him?"

  "I haven't figured out what I want yet." I hadn't forgotten the disastrous dinner, but I also remembered the good stuff: the day of the murder when he'd given me the snow globe and brought turkey for Dinah, the way he never failed to ask how my day had gone, and the many times he'd made me laugh. He'd told me once that he sought out a job with ThrillsLand not just because he loved amusement parks but because he wanted to be involved in work that made children happy. Did I really want this guy gone from my life? "I don't think it's fair to talk to him until I know."

  "You don't want to talk to him at all? Talk to him about what's been going on, at least? Like with Julie?"

  I shook my head. "There's no point. Like I told you, he doesn't think I should be investigating the murder. He thinks it's dangerous."

  "He has a point, hon. He might not have said it as well as he could have, but what he was getting at is true. When someone has killed once, I don't think they'd hesitate to do it again. You could well be in danger. Why don't you just let the police figure out the true killer? They'll have to eventually." But she didn't look convinced.

  "No. I'm going to do this. I can't bear that you and Charlie are under suspicion."

  "I'd hate to think my problems are coming between you and Scott."

  "No. Not at all."

  "Well, okay. If you're sure."

  I was pretty sure I was sure. I eyed the worm again. No, I wasn't quite that desperate.

  "Let's not talk about Scott," I said.

  "Okay. That's fine."

  "I have suspects, and I have motives, but I don't understand how someone could get curare."

  Donna nodded. "Exactly. That's why Charlie and I are the primary suspects. Because of Charlie's job. There are a few botanical gardens around the country that grow it in their medicinal sections. There's one in the Los Angeles area. Curare is one of those plants that can be used as both a medicine and a poison, depending on how much is administered and how it's done. The detectives think Charlie would have been able to obtain a sample."

  "That's just great."

  "But there's also the problem of knowing how to extract the curare from the plant and make up the paste. It's not common knowledge. Charlie and I searched on the internet, and we couldn't figure out how to do it."

  I considered this. No wonder the police suspected Donna and Charlie. It seemed conceivable that a botanist would have known how to prepare the curare. But of course I didn't say so.

  We chitchatted about other things after that, but our hearts weren't in it. I eventually left for the office.

  * * *

  Katie brought down the mail a little later and tossed it on my desk without acknowledging me.

  "Thank you, Katie!" I called as she threw open the door and left. "Nice to talk to you too," I mumbled.

  I flipped through the mail and found a brightly colored brochure for Theater in the Oaks, Springdale's summer musical series. Singin' in the Rain would be featured at the amphitheater in the Springdale hills for the next four evenings and a Sunday matinée. I perused the list of performers and was interested to see the names of three of the actors from The Springdale Players. Apparently there was some moonlighting going on.

  I left for the restaurant, and as soon as Donna was able to come out to meet me, I skipped the small talk and said, "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

  "I've got the feeling I just got some."

  "How would you like to go see Singin' in the Rain? Apparently some of the actors are doing double duty this summer. There's no way Julie's letting me anywhere near the actors at this point, so this might be my only chance to talk to them. If we're lucky, maybe they know something." If we were even luckier, one of them would confess to the murder.

  "I'm in. But let's be careful this time and not order anything hot to drink."

  * * *

  "Have you ever been up here before? Do you know which way to go?" Donna asked that evening as we wound our way up into the hills of Springdale in the Beetle. The road was so curvy at times that I had to slow down
considerably. I was glad we'd given ourselves plenty of time to get there.

  "I've never been, no. But we'll figure it out. How hard can it be? I'm sure there will be plenty of signs."

  We arrived at a fork in the road and searched in vain for some kind of signage.

  Donna pointed to the left. "I would think it's that way."

  "Are you sure? I bet it's to the right."

  "Okay. If you think so. The driver gets to decide."

  I turned right and hit a road that only took us back down the hill. Donna looked at me smugly but withheld comment.

  I retraced our route and went left, where Donna had suggested. Eventually we arrived at the amphitheater's parking lot, and I took our ticket from the machine.

  "Murder investigations sure are expensive," I commented when I noted that the parking would set me back ten dollars. The theater tickets alone had been fifty dollars for the two of us. I just hoped it would eventually be worth it.

  A few minutes later, we found our seats and settled in. Because we'd been late buying our tickets, we were in one of the last rows, but at least we were seated in the center and still had a good view of the stage.

  Waiting for the show to begin, I began to relax in a way I hadn't been able to since Katrina's murder. Eucalyptus, pine, and oak trees surrounded us, and the air, just now starting to cool, danced lightly across my skin. Through the trees, the sun was setting over the bay in a painter's palette of reds and oranges. I had my issues with Springdale's "same ol', same ol'" weather, but right now I couldn't have been more pleased.

  The orchestra, situated in its pit below the stage, began the overture for Singin' in the Rain. I soon forgot all about murder investigations and the costs therein as I became absorbed in the musical. I was delighted the Theater in the Oaks put on a faithful rendition of the story I knew so well from the Gene Kelly movie. Throughout the production, Donna pointed out the three actors from The Springdale Players—Jenny and Kiara, who had played two of the fairies in Sleeping Beauty, and Rob, who'd played one of the unsuccessful princes.