All the World (19 page)

              Pierre rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It was like they
tried
to be that bad.”

              “What function will the key serve?”

              “My plan is to use the key to lock the doors leading to a room beneath the stage. That is where most of the equipment from the Stratford Theatre is being stored. The key might get lost if it’s used to lock the main doors to the auditorium. It will only be there temporarily.”

              Lexie knew that construction on the new Stratford Theatre had not yet begun. It would take time to complete the theatre.

              Pierre seemed to read her mind. “I plan to get it out of the school as soon as possible.”

              “How? Are you moving?”

              “My apartment is on the second floor of a building on Sutton Street. It’s similar to the one you and Flora share. The first floor used to be an antique shop, but it closed a few months ago when the owners moved out of town. It’s still up for rent. So, I’m going to rent it and turn it into a small theatre. It’ll be big enough for one act plays, improv, and poetry readings. It won’t be nearly big enough to function as a regular theatre. Maybe I can have a little bar. I’ll talk to Johnny Flesh and see if I can make an arrangement with him.”

              “Bryony would happily agree to be your bartender!” Lexie was extremely impressed. “That’s a great idea! Maybe you can serve coffee from the Piazza Café during poetry readings!”

              Pierre’s smile was genuine. “Thank you! After the Stratford Theatre is rebuilt, I’ll stop renting it.”

              “You wouldn’t turn the place into something else?”

              Pierre shook his head. “I belong with the theatre.”

              “Come on! You have to have other interests.” Lexie pressed.

              “I enjoy photography.”

              “Then turn it into a gallery of your work,” suggested Lexie. “Maybe you could teach photography classes or something. I know I’d been interested—”

              Lexie’s words died in her throat when they reached what remained of the Stratford Theatre. With wet, taupe stones piled high, the ruins looked like a dilapidated sandcastle. Dried mud caked the cracked clock and glass speckled the ground.

             
Cesare did this!

              Hatred for the man rose in Lexie’s chest. She wanted to make him pay for what he had done to the theatre and all the people in Vernon Hills. It was his fault that so many people were dead. Hopefully, he would be convicted of murder, but, after seeing the remains of the theatre, Lexie wanted him to be punished for its destruction as well.

              “I never expected this would happen!” Pierre choked.

              Lexie crossed her arms and stayed silent. How was she supposed to respond? There were no words she could say to comfort the poor man.

              “Well, say something!” wailed Pierre.

              “I am very sorry for all the hardships you have suffered since this beautiful theatre was torn down.”

              Lexie’s mouth dropped open when she whirled around to face the speaker. “Mr. Garland!”

              Guillaume Garland stood calmly with his hands at his sides. Like his son, Guillaume was very tall with auburn hair. However, he had broader shoulders, expressive eyes that wavered between hazel and brown, and an auburn goatee. The aura that surrounded the man was aloof, but it lacked Cesare’s arrogance.

              “Mr. Garland,” sputtered Pierre, “welcome to Vernon Hills. This is unexpected.”

              “Really? I was told you tried to contact me numerous times. Please don’t think so little of me, Mr. Triste. I have much more tact than my son,” Mr. Garland said. “Hello, Lexie.”

              Lexie smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Garland.”

              Mr. Garland clapped his hands. “So, Cesare ruined a landmark behind my back, and it happened to be a theatre. My, it seems like he’s doing everything to spite me these days. He agreed to finance the building of the new theatre, correct?”

              Pierre nodded. “Yes, but I’m more concerned about a personal item that I never recovered. It’s an antique skeleton key with a reddish tint. A quill is engraved on it.”

              Lexie cleared her throat. “I asked Cesare about the key. He said you asked him the same question.”

              “I did, and Cesare was as conceited and snarky as ever.” Mr. Garland looked at Pierre. “Do not be alarmed, but I know all about your lineage, Mr. Triste. You are in a very unique position.”

              Pierre twisted his hands. “How much do you know?”

              “I know you are a descendant of William Shakespeare and own one of the cursed keys. I know the legend, and I assumed that you housed the key in the Stratford Theatre.”

              “You are clever, sir,” complimented Pierre.

              “I’m sorry my efforts to help failed,” Mr. Garland apologized.

              Lexie’s eyes widened. “You’re trying to help? Have you been trying to help us all along?”

              He nodded. “Of course. After Cesare tore down the Stratford Theatre, I asked him to find the key. He had no knowledge of its importance. I wanted him to give me the key so I could put it in Holy Trinity Church until the new theatre is completed.”

              Pierre looked like a goldfish as his mouth bobbed open and closed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “Truthfully,” began Mr. Garland, “I wasn’t sure you would want my help, particularly after the way Cesare treated you. Your calls made me realize that you do need my help.”

              “People are still cursed,” interjected Lexie.

              “That’s because I never got the key,” Mr. Garland explained. “I told Cesare to send it to me in London. You know what I received from him instead? He sent me a nasty letter and a keycard from a hotel.”

              Lexie rolled her eyes. “He’s an arrogant bastard!”

              Pierre and Mr. Garland stared at her.

              She was unabashed. “What? It’s the truth!”

              Mr. Garland’s shrug indicated that he agreed. “Is he cursed? He’s made some odd comments recently.”

              “Yes,” Pierre answered, “he’s Iago from
Othello
. He’s cursed because he tore down the theatre and removed my key. I believe he transformed into such a vile character because he took the key without my permission.”

              “Iago sounds appropriate. Have you seen him since the curse?”

              Pierre glanced at Lexie. Reluctantly, she gave Mr. Garland a recap of what had happened in town hall. She found it much easier giving her account without questions being thrown at her. Guillaume remained quiet as he listened.

              “Does Cesare have the key?” Lexie asked at the end of her narrative.

              “I assume so,” replied the elder Garland. “I can’t seem to find him anywhere. However, he should turn up soon if the police are searching for him.”

              “How are we going to find Cesare?” Lexie muttered.

              “You could bait him, Mr. Garland,” suggested Pierre. “Offer him power. Say you want to focus on Garland Corporation’s business abroad. Let him control what happens in America. As you know from the play, Iago isn’t one to turn away power.”

              “Neither is Cesare,” Lexie deadpanned.

              Mr. Garland thought for a moment. “Alright. We can give it a try. I’ll lure him to Vernon Hills since we are all here. I’ll make a deal with him. He gets the company in America if he gives me the key. I doubt he’ll ask many questions. However, I do have one. Where in Vernon Hills will you put the key to end the curse?”

              “In the high school auditorium,” cringed Pierre. “Lexie and I came here to get the padlock the key fits in.”

              Mr. Garland nodded. “You definitely have a plan. Now, where is the best place to stay in this charming town?”

              “Midsummer’s Inn is the only place here. It is very nice and located on Avon Road next to the Rail View Restaurant,” Pierre answered.

              “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Once I get the key, I will contact the police. Then I will call you, Mr. Triste, so you and Lexie can stop the curse.”

              “Ask to speak with Officer Reading,” Lexie added. “I gave my statement to her. She isn’t cursed.”

              “Really?”

              Lexie nodded. “She’s new. I don’t think she’s had time to change her residency with everything that’s happening in Vernon Hills.”

              “Thank you very much.”

              With that, Guillaume Garland turned and walked to his gold Impala. Pierre reached over and put a firm hand on Lexie’s uninjured shoulder. When the car vanished from view, Lexie looked at Pierre. Hope was written all over his gloomy features, making him appear at least ten years younger.

              “This is almost over,” he whispered.

              Lexie smiled. “The end is almost in sight.”

Pierre carefully steered Lexie in the direction of the rubble. “We better start looking for that lock.”

              “It better be easier to find than the key!” Lexie chuckled.

Chapter Seventeen: Accidental Assistance

              Lexie pushed a slab of brick out of her way, wiping mud on her jeans as she watched it tumble to the side. A crash sounded from her left, and she glanced up to see Pierre chucking rubble in all directions. His eyes were wide, intense, and constantly moving. He tripped, but that did not stop him from marching toward the fractured face of the clock.

              As much as she hated to admit it, Lexie felt exhaustion and something that felt suspiciously like defeat skillfully creeping into her mind and body. Since triumph was near, it was an odd contradiction. They had already accomplished so much and saved numerous residents of Vernon Hills. However, she could not get the suffocating weight to leave her chest. Despite all the good that had happened, an equal measure of bad had taken its toll as well.

             
Well, I’m quite the pessimist today!
She kicked at a stone, her toes colliding harder than expected. The impact jarred her body, but Lexie welcomed the pain as punishment for her negativity.

              “You’re quiet,” commented Pierre.

              She nodded and shrugged.

              Pierre stopped digging around, crossed his arms, and made his way over to Lexie. “What’s this about?”

              “I’m fine, Pierre. I’m just tired,” Lexie insisted.

              “Oh, no, no,” he shook his head. “You aren’t getting out of the question that easily. What’s wrong?”

              Lexie looked away.

              “Is this about your nightmare?” asked Pierre. “It won’t come true. Flora is still in the hospital, and I don’t intend on bringing her home until the doctors are positive that she’s mentally stable.”

              Lexie felt a burning sensation in her nose and eyes. She silently pleaded with herself to hold back the impending tears. “It felt
so
real! I could see, smell, touch, hear, and taste everything so clearly! Then I woke up, and you agreed with the discussion we had in the nightmare! What if Flora really does slit her wrists in the bathtub?”

              “We’ve been trying to work things out for days. Your fear and stress are affecting your sleep,” soothed Pierre.

              She nodded only to pacify Pierre’s concern.

              “Let’s find the lock and get out of here,” Pierre said before wandering off.

              They searched in silence for a time. Pierre picked his way through the rubble until he reached a pile of wreckage from the inside of the clock. Due to her injuries, Lexie was unable to crawl around in the debris like Pierre. So, she helped by scanning the area.

              “I hope Mr. Garland has more success with his son than us,” Pierre said. “I wonder if Cesare will try to kill him.”

              “I hope not.”

              “He might think his father is trying to trick him,” mused Pierre “yet, Mr. Garland seems very clever. He’s probably prepared for his son’s wrath.”

              Lexie tore her eyes away from a bent doorknob. “I still don’t understand why Cesare didn’t kill me.”

              “I’ve been wondering about that as well.”

              “Really? What’s your theory?”

              Pierre shifted his body, rocking back on his heels. “You aren’t going to like it.”

              “I don’t care,” Lexie muttered wearily. “Tell me anyway.”

              The man straightened up. “Maybe later. We can discuss the matter after we find the lock. Come on, we have work to do.”

              “Pierre!”

              “Fine,” Pierre sighed. “I think he might still have feelings for you.”

              Lexie laughed. “Feelings? You’re joking, right?”

              “No, I’m not. In some perverse way, he is still—”

              “If you say he still loves me, I swear I will kill you! Those
feelings
you see in him aren’t love!”

              Pierre ran a hand through his hair. “Just let me finish. All the anger and resentment he directs at you is the aftertaste of failed love. I believe that you still have a place in his heart.”

              Lexie rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the mood for poetry. He doesn’t have a heart.”

              “You asked what I thought,” countered Pierre.

             
I guess I did.

              They turned away from each other and continued their search. As she dug through the ruins with her feet, Lexie thought about why Pierre’s comments angered her so much. She felt his eyes on her back but didn’t turn around.

              Lexie hadn’t been in love with Cesare for a
very
long. Her feelings for him had completely diminished about three months before their breakup. His cocky attitude made her question how she had once loved him. She wondered if she ever really had been in love with him. Lexie shook her head, desperately trying to find something else to focus on. Oddly enough, Braedon popped into her mind and that was when everything clicked.

              Flora had been right when she made that comment about Lexie and Braedon when they were leaving the Windsor Bar.

             
That feels like it happened in another life!

              There had been a spark between them, and it had grown stronger since the curse had taken over Vernon Hills. She remembered how he had calmed her when the news report about town hall had appeared on TV. His heartbeat had been like a metronome with its firm, unchanging tempo. Lexie realized she wanted the spark to continue to grow, and she was afraid that Cesare’s anger and arrogance would harm what was happening between herself and Braedon.

              “Lexie, have you found anything?” called Pierre.

              “No,” she shouted back and scanned the ground around her once again. Her eyes landed on a shattered mirror, the pointed shards gleaming like unlucky daggers. She laughed.             

              “What?” Pierre turned and raised his eyebrows.

              “All the broken mirrors have to add up to at least a hundred years of bad luck.”

              “Well, the bad luck better kick Cesare in butt soon if we want to prevent anyone else from dying.”

              “I think the bad luck already started with the key going missing. Unfortunately, everyone is suffering because of its loss.”

              Pierre looked like he was about to respond with a bitter retort before his eyes widened and became very round. “Hey, what’s that to your left?”

              She looked over and saw a piece of dirty metal. Struggling, she leaned down and snatched it up before Pierre could reach her.

              “That’s it! That’s the lock!” shouted Pierre, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet like an eager child.

              The lock was battered and scratched. Lexie ran her thumb over it, wiping away the dried mud to reveal an engraving. She brought it close to her face to get a better look. The happy and sad faces of the Janus masks stared up at her. When Lexie flipped it over, she saw Pierre’s last name engraved in a loopy font.

              “Wow! This looks like a family heirloom.”

              Pierre walked over with a smile spread over his face. “It’s not. I had it made when I decided to put the key in the Stratford Theatre.”

              Lexie handed him the lock. “You should have said that you had several family treasures in the theatre. I bet the mayor and board members would have allowed you to look around without the approval of Cesare.”

              “I suppose so, but I think the key would have been gone by then. It sounds like Cesare got the key out quickly.”

              Lexie heaved a sigh and smiled. “So, now we wait.”

              “That’s right.”

              “Should we head over to the high school and wait there?” asked Lexie. “Mr. Garland can bring the key to us himself. It might be safer considering what Cesare did to me the last time I saw him.”

              “No,” Pierre answered, “I want to make sure Mr. Garland gets the key.”

              She frowned. “Do you think he’s lying to us?”

              Pierre deflected the question. “I think he’s in danger. Cursed Cesare wants his father dead.”

              “I think regular Cesare wants that too,” grumbled Lexie. “Everything is about power with the Garlands. It always has been. A curse won’t change that.”

              “That’s another reason we need to stay close to Mr. Garland.”

              Lexie folded her arms across her chest as they started to walk. She tried to stretch her back, but a sharp pain went through her injured shoulder. Rolling her eyes and wincing, Lexie dropped her arms to her sides. She caught a glimpse of concern on Pierre’s face, but he turned his head away when he saw Lexie watching him.

              “Where can we wait?” asked Lexie.

              “The Rail View Restaurant is open. We can sit there. Are you hungry?”

              The question seemed so absurd and unnatural at the time. Truth be told, Lexie was starving. However, she didn’t think she would be able to eat much of anything after all that had happened.

              “Lexie?” Pierre prompted.

              “I guess I could go for something small.”

              Pierre clapped his hands. “Then let’s go.”

              Lexie wished she or Pierre had thought to drive a car to the theatre. All the walking was causing Lexie so much pain. Lexie’s car was still at the Lindegaards’ house, and Pierre seemed to be content to walk everywhere. Lexie had enough tact not to complain. It was easy to navigate Vernon Hills by walking. Had she not been so exhausted, Lexie would have found the time outside refreshing.

              “What will you do when all of this is over?” asked Pierre.

              Lexie pushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. “I’m going to check on Flora, and then take a
long
nap.”

              “That sounds excellent, but I meant more long term.”

              Lexie chewed at her cheek as she thought. “Lindegaard Counseling and Therapy won’t close just because Dr. Lindegaard is in jail. Someone else will have to take his place as the lead psychologist.”

              Pierre frowned with curiosity. “Can someone do that? I mean, it is
his
practice.”

              “I think so. There are several well-known practitioners there who could easily fill his shoes. The place won’t close because one man left,” Lexie replied.

              “You’ll still have a job,” commented Pierre. “That’s certainly good news.”

              Lexie nodded vigorously as the Midsummer’s Inn and Rail View Restaurant came into view. The inn was a large white house with navy blue shutters flanking sash windows. It shared a parking lot with the restaurant, and they saw Mr. Garland’s gold Impala parked in the front of the lot. Lexie smiled. The positioning of his car was strategic. He clearly wanted to announce his presence in Vernon Hills to Cesare.

              “You can’t miss that car!” exclaimed Pierre. “He’s staking his claim.”

              “Yeah, but I don’t see a car that Cesare would drive,” agreed Lexie as she scanned the parking lot. Apart from the Impala, there were no flashy cars.

              Pierre gently guided her to the entrance of the Rail View Restaurant. “He probably has to drive back to Vernon Hills. I doubt he stayed in town.”

              “That’s probably true since I accused him of murder. But he’ll haul butt to get back here when he gets the deal from his dad.”

              “Iago is driven by jealousy and greed,” Pierre said as they were directed to a table by a waiter.

              Lexie plopped down in the chair and quickly ordered a water before menus were placed in front of them. The restaurant specialized in comfort food such as fried chicken, meatloaf, casseroles, macaroni and cheese, and fruit pies. It all looked amazing, and Lexie planned to come back when she actually had time to have a decent meal. She and Pierre decided to split a large plate of waffle fries; their food arrived within minutes.

              “I want to have a huge meal when everything ends,” Pierre told her as he fought with the lid of a ketchup bottle. “The last thing I had to eat was a bag of pretzels from the hospital gift shop.”

              “That’s terrible, Pierre!” chided Lexie. “You need to eat! I don’t want you passing out!”

              Even as Lexie lectured, she knew she was being a hypocrite. She hadn’t exactly had much more than Pierre. If it hadn’t been for Braedon, Lexie probably wouldn’t have eaten anything.

              They ate in silence, looking out the windows for any sign of Cesare. Pierre had his phone sitting on the table and seemed to be willing it to ring. The fries were good, and Lexie wished she didn’t have to share.

Lexie wanted nothing more than to put her head down on the table and close her eyes. However, the memories of what she had seen the last time she had slept were fresh in her mind. She couldn’t handle another nightmare, particularly as she was already in one while awake. Sleep would have to wait until after Shakespeare’s key was in Vernon Hills High School auditorium.