Set the Stage for Murder (27 page)

“But how?” Vicki asked.

Roz shrugged. “A little bit like you have, I suppose.” She took a long drag and tossed the half-smoked cigarette over the cliff. “They both knew there had to be a reason why I was so against Connor and Juliet having a relationship, but they couldn’t figure out what it was. And the Friday night, when Ed was sitting across the table from Meg and Juliet and Connor, the pieces fell into place for him.” She laughed wryly. “Being the consummate actor that he is, well, I guess it was written all over his face. Sally was watching him and knew that something was wrong. By the end of the evening, I guess she had a pretty good suspicion.” She stopped pacing and looked back over the river. “She met Meg out in the woods later that night and confronted her. Of course, Meggie couldn’t deny it anymore; she admitted the whole thing to Sally. She had kept the secret for so long and I don’t think it had been all that hard for her to do, really. Not until Juliet was in danger, that is.” Roz’s voice had become quiet and her tone had lost its urgency. “Something clicked in Meggie when the problem with Connor came up. Nothing mattered anymore but keeping Juliet safe. She was bound to tell the truth at some point.”

Vicki swallowed and tried to keep her own voice steady. “Is that why you killed her? Because she was going to tell everything?”

Roz stood in total silence for a few seconds before looking back over her shoulder at Vicki. Tears streamed down her face as she nodded her head. “She promised that she wouldn’t tell, and I think that she believed that.” Roz’s well-trained, beautifully modulated voice had become small and quiet. “But I knew she would; I knew that at some point, something else would happen and she would be compelled to reveal the truth for Juliet’s sake. I couldn’t take that risk.”

Vicki’s mind raced as the full impact of what Roz was saying registered. Roz murdered her best friend to save her career. Not only had she killed her but she had planned it meticulously. Clearly, Rosamund Whiting was mad. And now she stood perilously close to the edge of the cliff, on the very spot where, just a few days ago, she had pushed poor Meg to her death. Vicki couldn’t think of what else to do but talk.

“Does Sally know this part of the story?” she asked.

Roz shook her head. By this time she had turned around to face Vicki. “I wasn’t sure you did until now.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “What did I do wrong? How did you figure it out?” She continued without letting Vicki answer. “I thought I’d set up the perfect crime with me as the victim. I created a list of suspects for the police to choose from, although it would be best if Connor were blamed, because then it served the added purpose of removing him from Juliet’s life. I even made sure you and Teddy were there at the closing performance to witness my bow. But I did something wrong; something that gave me away.” She stared at the ground, her countenance the very picture of concentration as she tried to figure out her misstep. “It wasn’t the notes; I made sure they could never be traced back to me. I even made it look as if I were trying to dispose of one of them, knowing Meg would find it and bring it to you.” She looked back up at her old friend. “What was it Vicki. What did I do wrong?”

Clearly, pointing out the absurdity of the question would be lost on Roz at this point. Vicki answered her so that the conversation would keep going. Maybe someone would come along to help. “The bouquet.”

Roz looked at her, puzzled. “The bouquet?” she asked.

“The black bouquet that ended up at your feet on closing night. No one could figure out who threw it or where it came from.” She kept her gaze locked on Roz, willing the other woman to walk toward her, away from the edge of the cliff. “Yesterday at the funeral, we all watched Juliet approach the casket. And then, from nowhere it seemed, she produced a bouquet of white daisies. It was almost as if she had performed a magic trick. Of course, then I realized that she had been holding it all along, within the sleeve of her dress. Voluminous sleeves, not unlike those on your costume that night.”

Roz nodded slightly as she stared at the ground. “I see.”

Vicki rose slowly from her seat and stood in place. “Roz, why don’t you come back to the house with me now? We can call Teddy. You know that his family has the best lawyers in the world. We’ll make sure that you have everything you need.”

Roz smiled and brought her gaze up to meet Vicki’s. “Oh, Vicki. You’re sweet and I believe you; you really would try to help me, even after all that I’ve done. But we both know how my little drama has to end. Please tell Juliet that I really did love her like a daughter. Goodbye, my friend.”

Vicki never knew if Roz screamed as she fell because her own cries drowned out all other noise. It was for the best. Just the image of Roz throwing herself from the cliff would haunt her dreams forever; she didn’t need a soundtrack to go along with it.

Chapter 26

Late that evening, after the sheriff and the police had finally finished their work and left, Vicki sat curled up on one of the sofas in the library, surrounded by family and friends. Clementine, sensing that her comforting presence was needed, had ensconced herself at her mistress’s feet. Although it was a perfectly pleasant August evening, Vicki was chilled, so Ethan had prepared a fire, which now blazed in the hearth. Teddy sat next to his wife, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she sipped a cup of chamomile tea that he had laced, rather liberally, with brandy.

“
Are you sure it’s okay for us to talk about this, Vicki?” Marc asked.

She nodded as she took a sip of her warm concoction. “It’s okay. Honestly, it all happened so quickly that I’m not quite sure I remember everything.”

“So Roz put this plan into motion as soon as Juliet showed an interest in Connor?” Marc asked. One day, in the future, he might be able to tell this story. He wanted to make sure he had the facts straight.

“According to her, she knew almost immediately that Meg was going to betray their secret.” Vicki sighed. “Who knows if that’s even true or not? Still, it’s how Roz’s troubled mind perceived the situation.”

“The part I don’t get is all the
Sturm und Drang
with Roz and Caroline,” Marc said, perplexed. “What in the hell was all that about?”

Ethan, who was sitting on the floor next to Marc’s chair, spoke for the first time. “Roz has been in dozens of plays; even a couple of mysteries, if I remember correctly. She was familiar with dramatic structure and knew exactly what was needed for a well-crafted whodunit. Although she wanted Connor to be blamed for the murder, she knew that other suspects might come in handy. Enter Dame Caroline, Ed, and Sally. Ed and Sally perfectly fit the bill, once Roz became antagonistic to their son; a parent will do almost anything to protect his or her child, including death threats and murder. Naturally, the police were going to look suspiciously at the parents of the boy Roz was blackmailing. And I’m pretty sure she reignited things with Tony just to make Caroline crazy. An insanely jealous wife is almost a stock character, and Roz made sure that Caroline fit the character description.”

Marc turned back to Vicki. “And the solution came to you in a dream?” Clearly, he was dubious.

Vicki smiled. “No, not exactly. But they did help. I’d had a couple of dreams where Clem and I were wandering through the woods. There were things happening all around me, but I could only see fragments or blurred images, like the bouquet of white daisies. And then there was a point when Clementine’s growl turned into a baby’s cry; I suppose that represented Juliet as a baby or something.” She sighed and leaned her head back on Teddy’s shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps none of it meant anything. But after I found out Meg had given birth to a child, everything fell into place.” She sat up again, remembering something else. “Of course, now we know why Roz wouldn’t let Meg change her clothes the other night after she was splattered with the dipping sauce; in order for the plan to work, Meg had to remain dressed similarly to Roz. We had to believe that Roz was the intended victim. That was such an odd moment. Why didn’t I catch it sooner?”

“
You were noticing stuff, but its importance was eluding you.” Vincent said. “Except, not really. Your subconscious mind was working it out all along. You’d make a good detective, Ms. Vic.”

Vicki smiled to herself. She could live with “Ms. Vic.” It was certainly better than “ma’am.” She turned to her husband. “What about Juliet?”

“She’s with Tony and Caroline,” he answered. “None of them know the whole story yet. Let them process the fact that Roz is dead before they have to learn the truth about Juliet’s parentage.”

“Do you think that particular information ever has to become public knowledge?” Phoebe asked.

“I can’t see why,” Teddy said, “unless all parties involved want it that way. Juliet and Tony are crazy about each other and have been that way for twenty years. I think that after the shock wears off, they’ll find that it doesn’t much matter who gave birth to Juliet. Although I’m sure Ed will figure into that equation in the future, he assures me that he won’t do anything that’s going to cause any more grief or suffering right now.”

“So you spoke with him and Sally?” Vicki asked.

“I called them earlier,” Teddy said. “Naturally, they’re feeling some responsibility for what happened today.”

Vicki stared at the fire. “It wasn’t Sally’s fault. Roz was mad. I need to talk to her and tell her that.”

“Yes,” Teddy agreed. “But not tonight. Tonight you rest.”

“Yes. My cup of tea is already starting to take effect.”

Phoebe stared at the fire thoughtfully. “I wonder how this whole thing started with Roz and Meg? I suppose we’ll never really know the answer to that question, will we?”

Vicki put her cup and saucer on the table and relaxed into the crook of Teddy’s arm. “No, I don’t guess we will, although, it could be something as simple as timing.”

“You mean something like Meg calling up to say she was pregnant just when Roz needed a baby?” Marc asked.

“Maybe,” Vicki said, yawning.

“Is it possible that a simple phone call placed twenty years ago could be responsible for all this tragedy?” Phoebe asked, almost to herself. She shook her head and looked back at the fire. “Yes,” she said sadly. “I suppose it is. We’re a very foolish species, aren’t we?

“Yes mother,” Teddy said quietly, as his wife fell asleep in his arms. “Yes, we are.”

About the Author
Brent Peterson is a playwright and stage manager who divides his time between Manhattan and Upstate New York.
Set the Stage for Murder
is his first novel. Follow his blog at www.brenttellsall.blogspot.com.