All the World (20 page)

             
There will still be things that need my attention after the key is put there.
Lexie frowned grudgingly at her musings.
I need to get Flora out of the hospital, deal with the Lindegaard situation, and get Cesare convicted of murder. Why is my life so complicated?

              “Look!” Pierre tapped his fingers on the table and nodded at the parking lot.

              Lexie leaned back to get a better view. Mr. Garland was rushing to his car, an envelope clutched tightly in his hand. He looked around and smirked before pulling his keys out of his pocket.

              Pierre jumped to his feet and started towards the door. “Where is he going? Why didn’t he call?”

              Lexie dropped some money on the table before jogging to catch up with the agitated man. “Did he really lie to us, Pierre?”

              “It looks like he has the key. Maybe he’ll call when he gets in the car,” murmured Pierre.

              “Call him and say we are at the restaurant,” suggested Lexie. “No, wait! Send him a text instead. He might not answer or check his voicemail now. We can see his reaction to a text.”

              Pierre fumbled with his phone as he struggled to text and watch Mr. Garland at the same time. Lexie tripped and fell into a chair. She smiled apologetically at the waitress, but then promptly knocked over a stack of menus. Pierre grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the restaurant before she could do more damage.

              “When did you become so clumsy? You look drunk!” he muttered.

              She glared. “I’m a bit preoccupied looking for Cesare! If Mr. Garland has the key, Cesare is around here.”

              They watched as Mr. Garland looked at his phone. The man smiled, shook his head, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He then proceeded to get in his car without a glance at the restaurant.              

              “What the hell is he doing!” exclaimed Pierre.

              Lexie wasn’t naïve enough to think Mr. Garland was taking the key to the high school. “He didn’t want to help us in the first place! He
did
lie!”

              Pierre’s voice hit a hysterical note. “Does he want to see Vernon Hills destroy itself? Is the man completely mad?”

              “Come on!” Lexie pushed by Pierre. “Let’s catch him before he leaves!”

              They ran to the parking lot, blocking the exit and waving at the billionaire. The man’s eyes flickered between Pierre and Lexie. He revved the engine, but neither moved. Finally, he put the car in park and stepped out.

              “Are you going somewhere?” asked Lexie sarcastically.

              “I am,” Mr. Garland replied smoothly. “I have some important business outside of Vernon Hills that requires my
immediate
attention.”

              “Well,” Pierre began, “you can hand over my key and be on your way.”

              Mr. Garland clucked his tongue and gave a smile that bore a striking resemblance to the one Cesare wore when he was taunting the Leer sisters in town hall. The uncanny similarity made Lexie want to hurl.

             
What would he do if I puked all over his lovely Impala?

             
“I want to thank you for confirming my suspicions about the key. I wasn’t entirely sure my son found the right one, but it appears he actually did something productive for once,” said Mr. Garland, shaking the envelope.

              “W-what?” Lexie stuttered.

              “This key is the final piece,” Mr. Garland continued. “I knew the legend about the cursed keys, and then I found one of Shakespeare’s heirs living in the town where my son decided to build a lab that could hurt the company. One of the Garland Corporation board members has a daughter who works as a surgeon at the hospital. She told him about the sudden influx of patients in the psychiatric ward and the commotion in Vernon Hills. I decided to investigate and found out that Flora Brookes was there.”

              “What?” Lexie was shocked at the words coming from Mr. Garland’s mouth.

“I remembered that you were close with her in college, so I brought flowers. The doctors were more willing to talk to me if they believed that I knew Flora well. After hearing about her behavior, I realized she was Ophelia and that the curse had started.”

              “My key is the final piece for what?” asked Pierre. “Do you have some grand plan? Please, give me the key. It belongs to my family.”

              “You aren’t going to give us the key?” Lexie frowned. “I don’t understand. Vernon Hills will completely fall apart if we don’t stop the curse.”

              “Oh, I know,” Mr. Garland calmly told her. “That’s what I want to happen.”

              “Why?” Pierre and Lexie shouted in unison.

              “It’s the only way to discredit Cesare. He has cost Garland Corporation so much money and integrity.  We are losing investors! A lab in a ruined town will easily persuade the board members to remove him from his position. There’s no point in denying that curiosity was also a large motivator.”

              Pierre, eyes wide, wailed, “You own the company! Can’t you fire him? You gave him the job in the first place! Why did you give him power if you expected him to fail? There has to be another way! You are destroying our home! People have died! More people
will
die!”

              “I truly am sorry,” whispered Mr. Garland. A glimmer of pity shown in his eyes. “Cesare has gathered enough support, through bribes and such, to take full control of the company. He has little business sense and will run it into the ground within a year. I
won’t
let my legacy be destroyed!”

              Lexie wanted to scream, cry, or shatter the windows of Mr. Garland’s car. “This isn’t fair!”

              She wanted to kick herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She sounded like a testy, petulant five-year-old whining about sharing a toy. Lexie saw Pierre’s mouth grow thin, and she wondered if he had the same thought about what she had just said. Mr. Garland simply studied Lexie, the amber hue in his hazel eyes glowing.

              “I’m afraid the old cliché is true, my dear,” he said. “Life is rarely fair. Hopefully, the board will take immediate action. As soon as Cesare is removed from his position, I will return the key. Until then, it will remain safely in
my
possession.”

              Pierre threw up his arms. “It might be too late by then! I don’t think Lexie and I actually stopped the plays from coming true. We merely stalled them, and we cannot do that forever! Can’t his title be stripped when he is taken in for murder?”

              “What if he isn’t convicted?” countered Mr. Garland.

             
He better be!
Lexie thought viciously.

              “Being accused of murder could persuade the board members to take away his power,” Lexie argued. “Is ruining Cesare’s reputation more important than the lives of good people?”

              Mr. Garland’s frown was so deep that his brows met above his nose. His eyes grew distant. “Don’t you think I weighed the choices already? I want his reputation totally destroyed. I want to show the world that he is a failure as a
businessman
. A murder conviction will only stain his character.”

              “You are selfish!” Lexie’s accusation came out weak, pathetic, and pitiful.

              “Perhaps I am, but—”

              “Dad!”

              Cesare’s voice cut through his father’s self-centered comment, starting Lexie, Pierre, and Mr. Garland. The irate man marched down the steps of the Midsummer’s Inn, phone clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckle bones were visible.

              “Son,” Mr. Garland greeted him placidly, “are you already dissatisfied with our business arrangement? You seemed quite pleased a few minutes ago.”

              Cesare’s breathing was shallow, rapid, and erratic. “I spoke with one of the board members, and he said you never approached the board about giving me the company in America. You lied! You tricked me!”

              “I did no such thing. As I told you, I plan to remain in charge of our business in Europe while you handle things here. The arrangement will truly make us co-owners of Garland Corporation.”

              “I don’t believe you!”

              Mr. Garland placed the envelope on the hood of his car and loosely crossed his arms. “You are not yourself, Cesare. Jealousy and greed are clouding your head and affecting your judgment. We can arrange a meeting with the board this week if you like. Let’s head back to Benton Junction. Vernon Hills is hardly a place to discuss company business.”

              “I have a lab here!”

              “Not yet. Get in your car and follow me back to headquarters.” Mr. Garland’s words were firm but lacked a commanding edge. 

              Lexie heard the jingling sound of bells. She looked up to see the door of the Midsummer’s Inn open, and two people peered out. Lexie quickly turned away, only to catch sight of faces staring through the windows of the Rail View Restaurant.

             
Come out! Come out! Please, come out!
Lexie silently begged the audience, her eyes locking with that of an adolescent boy. His mouth dropped open, and he waved his hand at someone sitting across from him.

              “We can talk here!” Cesare’s shout was embellished by a sharp crack.

              Mr. Garland staggered and lunged for his car, but the Impala was too far away. He sunk to the ground, landing on his right hip. He grabbed his thigh and closed his eyes.

              “No, no, no!” Pierre wailed, pressing his palms over his ears.

              Lexie’s mouth dropped open when she saw the purple stain on Mr. Garland’s blue slacks and the small puddle of red on the ground by his thigh. Her eyes flew to Cesare who flung the handgun to the ground. Lexie jumped when it went off, sending a bullet skidding across the parking lot.

              “You idiot!” Mr. Garland snapped at his son.

              In Lexie’s mind, antagonizing Cesare was a stupid idea. The gun was still within his reach and the burning hatred in his eyes was fully directed at his injured father. Lexie’s gaze found Pierre. He nodded at the car, and Lexie started creeping to the Impala. She snatched the envelope, but flinched when it rustled against the car. She was about five feet away from the Impala when a hand seized the back of her shirt.

              “I knew you were working with him!” Cesare snarled.

              “Take the envelope from her, Cesare! She could destroy Garland Corporation if she steals it!” ordered Mr. Garland.

              “I won’t help you, Dad!”

              Lexie threw the envelope and tried to pry Cesare’s fingers from her shirt. Her attempts were futile because her injuries made it difficult to grasp much of anything without flinching. When she did manage to wrench one of his hands off, he simply found another place to grab.

              “I should have killed you in town hall!” Cesare whispered heatedly.

              Lexie balled her right hand into a fist and punched Cesare in the nose. Rivulets of blood trickled down her fingers and made tiny pools between her knuckles. “Yeah, you should have!”

              Lexie’s triumph was short-lived. Cesare clutched his nose for mere seconds before gripping Lexie’s left arm and slamming it against the side of the Impala. She heard a snap, and a flash of pain went through her wrist. The rattle of a gun caused her to freeze.

             
He’s actually going to shoot me!

              Pierre suddenly appeared and punch Cesare in the jaw. Both of Cesare’s hands went to his face, giving Lexie a chance to pull away. Pierre had the envelope in his hand as he hurriedly helped Lexie run. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, and was delighted to see Cesare still clutching his broken nose and jaw.

             
Those were some good punches!

              A light flutter passed through her chest, and the sensation almost caused her to fall over. She accidentally reached for Pierre with her injured hand and cried out when she gripped his arm. Pierre’s face was filled with anxiety and his breathing was shallow. Lexie shook her head and they continued to run.

              “To the high school?” Lexie asked when she and Pierre were out of Cesare’s sight.

              Pierre nodded and exhaled loudly. “To the high school.”

Chapter Eighteen: Players Put to Rest

              The Vernon Hills High School parking lot was crowded with cars and trucks, many sloppily parked. It never occurred to Lexie that normal activities, such as school, would still be taking place. From the number of vehicles, it appeared that Shakespeare’s characters could still attend high school.

              “Several students are interested in acting, and they convinced the principal to let me keep some of the Stratford Theatre’s equipment in a room beneath the stage. It’s not the best place, but it’s free.”

              Lexie grit her teeth, cradled her broken wrist, and forced out a smile. “That’s nice of him, but I thought you said the high school actors were terrible.”

              “For the most part, they are a dreadful bunch. However, one or two students show promise.” Pierre looked over at Lexie. “I’m very sorry about your arm.”

              “It’s not your fault, Pierre,” mumbled Lexie bitterly. “I guess Cesare considers this revenge for working with his dad. I wonder if he’s found out that I went to the police.”

              Pierre opened the door and held it for Lexie. “I doubt he knew when he confronted us. He’d have said something, and I imagine the police would have taken him in for questioning before he saw us.”

              “People saw him shoot his dad and attack me. They were watching from the inn and restaurant. He can be arrested for several things right there, and they’ll add weight to my accusations,” Lexie continued as they entered the main office.

              “Cesare actually helped us.”

              “He didn’t do it out of—”

              Pierre stopped Lexie from finishing her rebuttal. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but Mr. Garland would have gotten away with the key if Cesare hadn’t shot him. He’s a horrible man, but it’s an interesting twist considering all that he’s done.”

              Lexie felt her insides squirm and a sick feeling wormed its way into her throat. She didn’t want to admit that Cesare had, unintentionally, aided Pierre and herself in their quest to end the curse.

              “We’re just lucky Cesare is so self-serving and jealous.”

              “Mr. Triste!” an airy, sweet voice called.

              They turned to see a girl with long, silvery blond hair and sky blue eyes walking through the office door. A battered algebra textbook and pink binder were in her arms. There was something sweet, naïve, and familiar about her.

              Pierre smiled kindly. “Hello, Blanche.”

              The girl’s eyes shifted to Lexie.

              “This is Lexie Stanley. She’s a friend of Bryony,” Pierre explained. “Lexie, meet Blanche Shrewsbury. I don’t know if you have met her older sister Kaitlin yet, but she is something of a protégé to Bryony.”

              “It’s nice to meet you,” Lexie said politely.
I remember the Shrewsbury sisters. Kaitlin was throwing tennis balls with Bryony and Blanche was the girl the police escorted away from the riot.

              “How are you?” Pierre asked, infuriating Lexie. They had a job to do, so why was he stalling?

              “I’m okay,” replied Blanche, “but my sister is more bitter and stubborn than ever! She’s turned into such a shrew!”

              Lexie saw Pierre’s lips twitch with amusement. “That’s rather unkind, especially from you as her sister.”

              “It’s true! Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Kaitlin is staying in Vernon Hills for spring break this year. She hardly ever comes home now that she’s made all those college friends. It’s nice to see her, but I wish Bryony would come back from wherever she went. I don’t want to listen to Kaitlin complain about men all the time! She has such a scolding tongue!
I
want a boyfriend! Where is Bryony?”

              “I don’t know, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Pierre assured the flustered teenager.

              A bell sounded, and Blanche bid them farewell as she dashed out the door. Lexie smiled to herself. She wondered what Bryony would do when she realized she had married Ben Forester. The plane ride home from their honeymoon in Sicily was bound to be filled with angry awkwardness.

              “Personally, I think Bryony and Ben fit well together,” whispered Pierre as he signed the visitors’ log.

              “Really?”

              “They handle each other well even though they bicker half the time.”

              Lexie laughed. “Don’t let them hear you say that!”

              “Pierre!” a man wearing a yellow polo shirt, blue tie, and navy pants made his way over to Pierre and offered his hand. “How are you?”

              Pierre shook his hand firmly. “I’m just here to look through some of the theatre items. Lexie Stanley is here to help me.”

              “Welcome to Vernon Hills High School, Ms. Stanley. I’m Principal Johnson,” said the man before he turned back to Pierre. “Take your time. Choir just ended, so you’ll have the auditorium to yourselves.”

              “Thank you. I’m so grateful for your help.”

              “No problem,” he said before marching out of the office and fussing at several students for inappropriate dress.

              Pierre leaned down and whispered, “Mr. Johnson is a nice man, but he can be rather strict when it comes to the high school dress code.”

              Lexie laughed as they entered the lobby. “I remember my high school dress code. It was so ridiculous! So, where’s the auditorium?”

              He pointed in the direction of the lobby to his right. “This way.”

              The lobby was nothing special. Two cases held athletic trophies, and a maroon and grey banner was draped across the wall opposite of the front doors. Numerous neon-colored posters were taped to the walls with saying such as “Go Wolves” and “Keep Howling! Wolves are Number One” written in puffy paint. A few benches lined the walls, and a bulletin board was covered with sports team schedules and sign-up sheets for band, choir, and theatre auditions.

              “The auditorium is at the end of this hall.”

              They made their way by maroon and grey lockers and classrooms buzzing with activity. No one seemed to take any notice of them. Lexie assumed that Pierre was a familiar sight at the high school of late. His appearance did not raise suspicion, and Lexie was thankful they were not interrupted.

              The three auditorium doors were still swinging from students rushing out to get to their next classes on time. A boy smiled at Lexie and held the door for her. His face flushed when she thanked him, and he hurried away without looking back.

              Lexie chuckled.
Oh, the awkward teen years! How I don’t miss those!

             
“My, my, you do turn the boys’ heads,” Pierre laughed, nudging her gently.

              “I assure you, I didn’t when I was in high school.”

              “Well, things seemed to have changed,” teased Pierre. “Braedon might have some competition.”

              Lexie just shook her head and waited as the straggling students exited the auditorium. It was a large, oblong room with a high ceiling and rows of maroon cushioned chairs. The floor was covered with worn, grey carpet which ended at the base of the wooden stage. Thick, burgundy curtains were tied back, exposing a piano and stack of choir folders.

              Pierre took a shaky breath. “Let’s put the curse to rest.”

              They walked through the auditorium and stopped before a set of doors beneath the right side of the stage. The silence was oppressive and filled with tension, anticipation, and fear.
What if it doesn’t work? What if the key is a fake?

              Pierre opened the doors, a chain sliding to the floor with a harsh crash, to reveal a dark space filled with racks of costumes, a bookshelf filled with odds and ends, and numerous music stands. Audio equipment was shoved in a corner toward the back with a huge sign warning people to keep their hands off. Plastic tubs were neatly labeled and stacked to make the most of the small area.

              They stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the Stratford Theatre’s belongings. Lexie felt her heart rate pick up and the blood pounded in her ears. This was it! Once the room was locked, the curse would be over.

              After everything she had seen and done, Lexie knew things would never be exactly like they were before the curse. Still, Lexie hoped that she and the people of Vernon Hills could find some semblance of normalcy.

              “Here we go,” she whispered breathily, watching as Pierre took the key out of the envelope.

              He weighed the lock and key in his hands, shifting them up and down as though he were a scale. His grip tightened and loosened on each. He swallowed and breathed in deeply before opening the lock. Pierre handed the key to Lexie as he bent to pick up the chain.

              The skeleton key was dark gold with flecks of deep crimson. Lexie assumed the red was Shakespeare’s blood, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable holding the powerful object. The Janus masks were etched on one side of the handle and Shakespeare’s initials above a quill were on the other.

              Lexie blew out an uneasy breath.
I can’t believe this is finally happening!

              Pierre wrapped the chain through the door handles and slipped on the lock with trembling hands. Lexie silently tried to press the key into his palm.

              The man shook his head, eyes overly bright. “You’ve seen so much death and suffered through horrors I wish you never had to witness. Lexie, you have the honor of fixing all the wrongs in this town. Make Vernon Hills a safe place again. Bring back our home.”

              Lexie’s blue eyes held his own for a moment, an understanding of all the twisted tragedies passed between them. She tightened her hold on the key, said a silent prayer, and shoved the ancient piece of metal into the lock.

              A loud peal suddenly sliced through the air like a knife cutting through butter. The sound was long, clear, and sustained. It was the same noise the Stratford Theatre’s clock had made when it crashed to the ground. Then the key grew hot, burning Lexie’s hand before she jerked away.

             
That sound has to be a good sign.

              The key turned cobalt and the heat radiating from it was so powerful that Lexie could feel it from several feet away. There was a whooshing sound, and Lexie felt as though she were holding seashells to her ears. A light filtered out from the lock, and images of Janus masks flashed around the auditorium. The images flickered over the walls like shadows, and Lexie and Pierre watched in awe as they faded away until they were left staring at off-white walls.

              Then there was silence and stillness. Lexie pressed her lips tightly together and looked at Pierre.

              “Did it work?”

              Although Lexie whispered, her voice carried through the auditorium like the Janus masks. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she had to lean against the locked door to keep from falling over.

              Pierre’s face was tense and drawn with a number of emotions. He glanced at Lexie briefly before his eyes darted around the room.

              “Pierre?”

              Lexie jumped when she heard shouting from outside the auditorium. Pierre carefully placed a hand on her back and propelled her toward the exit of the auditorium. They rushed down the hallway until Pierre bumped into Blanche Shrewsbury. She was clutching the hand of a boy with reddish-blond hair, and Lexie recognized him as one of Theodore’s friends.

              Pierre grabbed Blanche’s arm and studied her intently.

              “Pierre, what’s happened?” the frightened girl asked.

              Pierre ran a hand over his face. “What…what do you remember?”

              “Where’s Kaitlin? Where’s my mom? Where’s my dad?”

              The boy wrapped an arm protectively around her waist and looked at Lexie and Pierre.

              Lexie frowned. “You know Theodore Rose.”

              “He’s my cousin.”

              “Benvolio!” Pierre’s whisper was so rushed and soft that Lexie almost missed it.

              Blanche buried her face in his shoulder. “What’s going on, Benny?”

              “I feel like I’ve been in a dream! Yesterday, Theo called and said he and Giulia were in hiding and that I needed to talk to you and someone named Lexie Stanley. Is it true? Are they married?” Benny paused, and Lexie realized he was fighting back tears. His memories of what happened while he was cursed were still in his head. “Is Mark really dead? Did Sheriff Cato kill him?”

              Pierre pulled away from the students as tears slid down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. The teenagers exchanged confused glances before fixing their eyes on Lexie. Still dazed from what had just happened, all she could do was nod her head and shrug.

              Blanche and Benny pulled out phones as they stumbled off to find the rest of their friends. Lexie hoped they could reach Theodore and Giulia.