Authors: Carol Higgins Clark
“What was it?” Kit asked.
“A Favorite Teacher—Favorite Coach award for Adele Cannon. Washington Middle School.”
“Wow,” Kit said. “That’s sad.”
They started walking down the hall. “Pippy and Ellen will be at the party,” Kit mentioned.
“Even Skip is going to make it,” Regan said. “I think Fern insisted he join her. Whatever it takes. I hate to think of him sitting home alone.”
The five of them rode over, Regan and Jack in the front, Kit squeezed in the middle in the back between Ginny and Fran.
“Look how gorgeous!” Ginny cried as The Castle by the Sea came into view. “Look at the sky.” Above the castle, the sky was streaked with blues and reds and purples. “The sun’s finally trying to come out. I bet tomorrow will be a beautiful day.”
Jack started to turn where a sign indicated parking. “Wait Jack,” Ginny said. “We have VIP parking.”
“We do?”
“After I thanked the director for inviting us, I inquired about parking. When he told me, I asked if there was anything closer because I have a bum knee.”
“You do?” Regan asked sympathetically.
“No. Jack, pull down the driveway. We’ll go in through the kitchen.”
In the kitchen, trays of cold hors d’oeuvres were ready to be passed. Hot hors d’oeuvres were heating in the oven. Devon was having a quick chat with the caterer when Ginny knocked on the door.
Devon answered. “Welcome.”
“I’m the one you spoke to on the phone,” Ginny said. “Here are Regan and Jack Reilly . . .”
They stepped inside and introductions were made.
Devon had been a nervous wreck all day. Then the press conference was a disaster. Only one reporter showed up, and he was
late. All he wanted to talk about was Adele Hopkins, making the cast even more dispirited. Did they realize she had drowned so close by? Do they think of her as a tragic figure? . . . Devon had cut the reporter off and tried to put Adele Hopkins out of his own mind. It was difficult, but the show must go on. “Hello, hello everyone,” he said, then turned to Regan, Jack, and Kit. “Your quick action last night saved that woman’s life. You are to be commended.”
“We did what anyone would have done,” Jack said.
“I’m just glad I forgot my cell phone.”
“Indeed. It’s frightening how many crazy people there are out there. Ah, well. Please, go inside and enjoy.”
In the grand parlor, the mood was festive. Two bars were set up at either end of the room, and waiters were also passing around drinks. Before long Pippy and Ellen and Dan and Dorie joined the Reillys’ group. Skip and Fern and a young girl arrived and walked toward them. Regan realized that the girl was the waitress from Fern’s she and Jack had met yesterday.
“Hi,” Regan said. She gave Skip a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Thanks,” he said with a shrug. “Have you met Lila?”
“Yesterday. She took good care of us at Fern’s.”
Lila smiled.
“She took good care of us too,” Dorie said, waving her glass. “Last November. It was one of the first days that you were on the job.”
What a day that was, Dan thought.
“Of course,” Lila said. “You told me you had a house on Pond Road and came to Fern’s often during the summer. I remember everything about those first few days. I was so nervous.” She laughed. “I kept a diary, and it’s funny to read now. That woman you walked out with was nice, but I think I annoyed her
because I talked too much. I asked her about her omelette. Was it well done enough? Are you sure? I felt so bad. I did everything wrong.”
“Lila, you’re a great waitress,” Fern said.
“I’m just glad you weren’t there that day.”
Fern laughed.
Dorie wasn’t going to tell her, but she couldn’t resist. “That woman we walked out with was Adele Hopkins. The woman who drowned.”
Lila’s mouth dropped. “She was?”
Skip’s face fell.
You’re killing me, Dorie, Dan thought.
Poor Skip, Regan thought. Poor Skip.
“May I introduce myself?” a man’s voice boomed.
Yes, Regan thought, please.
They all turned their attention to the attractive, charming man with white hair and a commanding presence. He was clearly a member of the cast.
“I know you,” Fern laughed.
“Fern knows everybody.” Jack said.
“And I was the one who took care of you when you bought all that food yesterday, Lila said eagerly. “The cheeseburger, the omelette, the . . .”
“Yes, you did,” Floyd interrupted. “To you others who I have not met, I just want to say hello. My name is Floyd Wellington, and I am in the play. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” He turned and started to mingle with other guests.
Ellen stopped him. “I met you in New York City way back when at the stage door and you were so nice to me . . .”
Finally it was time for the reading. Devon hadn’t told Floyd he couldn’t use his knife. He’d waited until the eleventh hour, then Floyd was so annoyed after the press conference, Devon
opted for the cowardly way out. He’d seen Floyd put his knife inside his script, then place it on his chair. Devon had switched knives without telling him. Floyd would act like a pro, he thought. If he gets mad, he can yell at me later.
“May I have everyone’s attention?” Devon asked. The crowd quieted. “I am so pleased you joined the Traveling Thespians tonight . . .” He then went on for a few minutes about his play and how wonderful it was to be on Cape Cod. “And now I’d like to introduce my actors,” he said. One by one they came out and took their places. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Devon said. “I hope you enjoy this scene from
Grandpa, Go Home
.”
The actors opened their scripts.
Devon eagerly watched for Floyd’s reaction. He might get annoyed but he’ll have to realize how incredibly real this knife looked. But when Floyd opened his script, Devon’s knees went weak. A dark fury enveloped Floyd’s face. It was unlike anything Devon had ever seen. When Floyd started to say his lines, he delivered them with such anger, no one laughed.
For ten torturous minutes, the crowd watched as Floyd waved around the fake knife, looking as if he wanted to kill some-one instead of like a grandpa proud of the gift he’d brought his family.
When the scene ended, the crowd politely clapped.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Looks like a real winner.”
When the actors exited, Devon went running after Floyd, who was obviously leaving. Floyd was muttering to himself. “Kill you . . . You convinced me . . . I looked like a fool . . .couldn’t act without my knife . . . I’m going to
KILL
you . . .”
Devon grabbed Floyd’s arm.
Floyd turned around. He was wild-eyed with rage. He wiped his face with his hand, still muttering to himself. Then he turned and took off.
Did he say he wants to kill someone? Devon wondered. He ran back into the reception where people tried to falsely congratulate him, but he ignored them and hurried over to Regan and Jack’s group. They all looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Jack. “Floyd just left. I know there’s a woman at his house. He didn’t tell me. I stopped by last night and heard him rehearsing with someone so I didn’t ring the bell. He’s a little crazy, and now he’s furious. The way he delivered his lines tonight was insane. He’s never read them like that before. Just now, I tried to speak to him. He was muttering about killing someone. I think he’s losing his mind. He ran out of here in a frenzy. It might be silly but
please
. . . Can you take a run over there? Maybe if you just check . . .”
“Where does he live?” Jack asked Devon.
“Right on the beach a little ways down from here.”
“I know,” Skip said. “The real estate agent paid me to leave food for him at his house.”
“Come with us,” Jack said quickly.
Jack, Regan, and Skip ran for the door. They raced through the kitchen and out to Jack’s car.
“Take a right at the end of the driveway,” Skip said frantically as Jack started the car. “It’s not far at all.”
“We can’t just barge in there,” Jack warned. “He’s angry, but we don’t know he’s done anything wrong.”
They reached Floyd’s street. Jack zoomed around the corner, down to Floyd’s house. A car was in the driveway, the lights still on, the driver door wide open.
“Oh boy,” Jack said as they got out of the car and ran up the walk. They reached the steps when they heard Wellington scream,
“I’m going to kill you. You made me look like a fool!”
“There’s a key,” Skip said, lifting up a plant. His hand was trembling as he reached down and handed it to Jack.
“I’m going to kill you now!”
Quickly Jack opened the door. Wellington came running out of the kitchen, waving a knife, and charged down the basement steps. Jack raced down the steps after him, grabbed his right arm, and tackled him. Together they fell down the last three steps.
“Jack!” Regan screamed. Wellington was face down, trying to get up. Jack was on top of him. Jack pressed down on Wellington’s shoulders with his hands, and kneed him in the back. Regan stepped on Floyd’s arm.
“He’s pretty strong,” Jack said. “No drama please, Floyd. Let go of the knife.”
Floyd released his grip.
“Oh! Woe is me!”
he cried.
Regan carefully picked the knife up off the floor.
Skip had so much wanted to help. He was right behind Regan, but everything happened so fast. He was standing on the bottom step. Music was blaring. The basement was dark, but in the light from the stairway, he could see a woman across the room tied to a chair. He hopped over Wellington’s legs and found a cord for the overhead light. A bare bulb lit the room. He turned to the woman.
“Mrs. Hopkins!”
he screamed. He ran over, leaned down, and put his arms around her. “Mrs. Hopkins,” he said, starting to cry. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“I am too.” Adele buried her face in his jacket. Tears were spilling from her eyes. “I am too,” she sobbed.
The next morning Regan and Jack were sleeping, Jack’s arm around Regan’s side, when they were awakened by a loud knocking at their bedroom door.
Regan turned toward Jack.
“I don’t want to disturb you, but we’re leaving,” Ginny called.
“Am I dreaming?” Regan whispered.
Jack’s eyes were sleepy. He shrugged, then cleared his throat. “You’re leaving?” he called.
“Yes. We wanted you to have peace and quiet on your anniversary. Fran and I are going up to Boston to visit a friend and spend the night. It’s a gorgeous day, and we want to get going. It’s already 8:30.”
“If you give us a few minutes, we’ll come out and say goodbye,” Jack told her.
“Great!”
Jack smiled at Regan, then put his head on her shoulder. “This is worth getting up for,” he whispered.
When they came out, Fran and Ginny were standing in the living room.
“Happy Anniversary!” Fran said.
“You’re up early,” Jack said, “especially after all the excitement last night.”
“I still can’t get over it,” Ginny declared. “It’s so wonderful. Skip is a new man.” Is that actor a nut or what?”
“He’s a nut,” Regan agreed.
“And Adele Hopkins is still alive? Unbelievable. She was right under our noses.”
They all hugged and kissed goodbye, then Ginny and Fran left.
When the door shut, Jack shook his head. “That’s really surprising.”
“I wouldn’t have predicted it,” Regan said. “I’ll make coffee.”
Kit came out and joined them for breakfast. “Happy Anniversary. I’ll have a cup of coffee, and then I’m hitting the road.”
Naturally they rehashed the events of the previous evening.
“. . . and what I can’t get over is that the expired milk came from that house!” Regan said. “Skip bought groceries for us and that nut job Floyd at the same time. He went to Floyd’s house first, started unpacking the bags, then opened the refrigerator and realized he better clean it out. Everything was on the counter and got mixed up.” She laughed. “I feel so much better that mystery is solved.”
When Kit left, Jack went to buy the papers. Regan opened all the windows. The sun was shining, and life was good. She smiled at the thought of Adele’s face when Jimmy Cannon walked in last night. Jack had called him minutes after they found her.