Swan Dive (4 page)

FOUR

(Day #2 – Friday Afternoon)

The sun was beginning to set. The sky’s blue deepened with every minute. I needed to stop at the cottage for a wardrobe change before Lexie’s dedication at
The Nutcracker
. And to hopefully get a moment with her dancer friends, perhaps take a look at her dressing room.

Wearing a black maxi skirt and a crisp white blouse, I drove to the Sea Pine Community Theatre. Located mid-island, it fronted Locke Harbor, a center with boutique shops, nautical restaurants, and a one-hundred slip marina on the Intracoastal Waterway.

I parked around back near the exit door and slipped inside just after six. The performance started at seven, so I had no more than thirty minutes before the frantic pace turned chaotic. Even though two of Lexie’s friends, the newly-promoted Sugar Plum Fairy and the Cavalier, didn’t take the stage until the second act, the Mouse King showed up in the first.

Every dressing room door stood open. The closest one to the exit, and farthest from the stage, was the largest. Ten portable lighted mirrors circled the room. Children, the oldest no more than a pre-teen, sat in front of each vanity, applying makeup like professional models before a photo shoot. False eyelashes, heavy liners, glossy lipsticks. Their mothers (presumably) stood behind them, creating intricate hairdos with rhinestone clips and industrial cans of spray.

Yellow crime scene tape crossed the threshold of Lexie’s dressing room in a large X. The construction paper nameplate was still taped to the door. Interesting to note that Lexie shared with Courtney, who was dressed in Lexie’s costume right before the police arrived, yet somebody else found Lexie inside.

The door was unlocked, so I eased under the tape and slid into the room. I dialed Parker at the station.

“The dressing room’s cleared, right?” I asked once she answered.

“Yep. You’re legal. Since I’m sure you’re standing inside the room.”

“Me? No, but I’ll go ahead inside, now that I have your permission.”

The place was still as messy as I remembered. I tiptoed around and stepped on the end of an iPhone charger. Still plugged in, no phone attached.

“Did you find her phone?” I asked.

“Yep,” Parker said. “And other evidence, too. We’re pretty good at this.”

“Evidence, huh? As in evidence of a homicide, not an accident, right?”

Silence.

“If you won’t confirm homicide, at least tell me what other evidence,” I said. “Although I don’t need you to confirm because I did not buy Ransom’s whole it’s an accident so I don’t need to be involved story.”

“Talk to the lieutenant.”

“You’re no fun.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said. “Happy detecting.”

I carefully looked around. Though it probably wasn’t necessary to be careful. I couldn’t make it look worse, and there was nothing to damage. Nearly everything was made of fabric, and I didn’t find much after five minutes of solid digging. No phone (the police took it), no poison cupcakes (also took those), no suicide note (probably did not exist).

I picked up a discarded program for
The Nutcracker
. I thumbed through until I got to the cast. Courtney Cattanach, Dew Drop Fairy. Bergin Guthrie, Mouse King. Vigo Ortiz, Cavalier. I circled their names and tucked it into my hipster.

The lighted mirror was lined in photos. All Lexie and Vigo, her boyfriend, the Cavalier, save one tucked into the corner. I plucked it from its spot. Three children in leotards, two girls and one boy, at a dance studio, sitting up against a mirror, a long bar above their heads. I flipped it over:
Lexie, Courtney, and Berg, Our Three Musketeers
written in a sophisticated hand. Courtney sat on the left, Berg on the right, and Lexie in the middle. All were laughing, and Berg was handing Lexie something. Maybe a flower?

I slipped it back into the mirror frame. Why did that happy girl eat those damn cupcakes, and why would someone poison them?

A woman with a more-salt-than-pepper bun on her head came into the room and gently closed the door behind her. She jumped when she saw me. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She put her hand on her chest and backed up a step.

“Johnnie Mae Tidwell,” I said. “We met at the volunteer luncheon last week for the theatre.” Johnnie Mae was new to Inga’s studio and to the island. And she probably thought I was pilfering through Lexie’s belongings. “I’m Elliott Lisbon with the Ballantyne Foundation, one of the sponsors of the ballet.”

“Yes, of course. Nice to see you again,” she said. “Well, not nice. I mean, under the circumstances.” Her face was drawn, her eyes red, not a dab of makeup.

“Did you need something in here?” I’d left the crime scene tape on the door. Interesting she slipped beneath it, too.

“Deidre asked me to clean her condo. The kids are staying there and they left such a mess. Teenagers, you know? She mentioned Lexie’s dressing room. I thought I’d clean in here, too.” She stood close to the entry, barely a foot inside the room.

“Did you know Lexie well?”

“Well…” She looked past me, into the makeup mirror and beyond, far, far away. Her reflection looked pale and fragile, with tiny opal earrings and a delicate knit sweater. She shook her head as if to bring herself back. “I did. And I didn’t.” Tears pooled in her eyes, then dripped down her cheeks. “It’s the most awful thing in the world.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said and crossed the room to hug her.

She hugged me as if she never wanted to let go. After a full ten seconds, she pulled back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this hit me so hard. I only knew her a week.” Johnnie Mae took a crumpled tissue from her pocket, then looked at its tattered state. It seemed to sadden her more.

A paper box of tissues sat on the vanity. I grabbed the box and held it out to her.

“Thank you,” she said. “This probably wasn’t a good idea. To come in here. I keep thinking about Lexie’s mother. I lost my only child, too, and it broke me.” She blew her nose and took another tissue. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t even know you,” she said with a half laugh.

“Please don’t apologize. I lost my parents twenty years ago and I still miss them,” I said. “The loss never fully goes away.”

“Or the loneliness,” she said softly. 

Though I missed my parents, I probably missed the idea of them more. I never experienced profound loneliness after they were gone. They loved me, but I arrived later in their lives, and they were inseparable, even to make room for me.

The door flew open and Berg Guthrie burst in, nearly knocking Johnnie Mae to the floor. “What are you doing in here?” He was in his full Mouse King costume and carried the head in his hands.

Courtney and Vigo came in behind him. Both in tees and tights, but Courtney wore her hair in a tight shellacked bun.

“You can’t be in here,” Berg said. “None of us can. This is private.”

“I know it’s upsetting,” I said. “But I’m assisting the police.” The room felt overcrowded and stifling. But more, it felt inappropriate. “Let’s go outside.” I held the door while everyone shuffled into the hall backstage. “Courtney, I noticed you and Lexie shared that dressing room, but Berg, you’re the one who found her?”

“Lexie wanted to lie down, so I left her alone,” Courtney said. “Took my stuff down to the kids’ room.” Courtney led us to Berg and Vigo’s dressing room and sat at the lighted table in the center of the room. She opened a makeup bag larger than a carry-on. “I won’t do that again. Those dance moms are nasty to be around. Really bad vibe. Even worse than the volunteers.”

I winced on Johnnie Mae’s behalf, one of Inga’s volunteers, but she hadn’t followed us into the room.

“Lexie’s dressing room should open up soon, right?” Vigo asked me. He sat on the loveseat and rested his feet on a black trunk. “You were in there, and the tape’s been torn down. It must mean they’re done.”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll talk to the investigative team,” I said.

“You can’t go in there,” Berg said. “No one can. Leave her be. All of you, just leave her be.”

“She’s not in there,” Vigo said.

“Her spirit is,” Berg said. “Her life ended in there. It’s not right for someone to sit in her chair and slap on makeup like nothing happened.”

“It’s just a room. Chill out,” Vigo said.

“Show some respect,” Berg said. He towered over the seated Vigo, his face red and his fists bunched.

“Stop it,” Courtney said and threw a blush brush at the mirror. “Just stop! You two fighting every minute makes everything worse.”

Berg backed down, ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not the same without her here.”

“She wouldn’t be here anyway,” Vigo said. “She was always late.”

Courtney kicked him in the shin.

“What? I’m being honest,” Vigo said. “She liked that about me.”

“I don’t see why,” Berg said.

With a boyfriend like Vigo, Lexie needed a better boyfriend. On the surface, he was the full package: tall, dark, and handsome with a mop of wavy hair and pale green eyes. But he didn’t seem distraught or upset or even bothered by the loss. Yes, I could be judgy.

Courtney looked at me through the reflection in the mirror. “Lexie wasn’t always late.
Sometimes
she came in a little late. But we all did.” She applied glue to a fluttery black lash and stuck it on her lid. “Just that lately, she was unfocused. Like dance wasn’t her everything.”

“I heard she liked to cook,” I said.

“Oh my God, like every day,” Courtney said. “Baking was her new thing. Everything baked. Quiche, pot pie, beef wellington. She made
beef wellington
.”

“Yeah, and cakes,” Vigo said. “Even though no one ate them. Not after you two got sick.”

“We weren’t that sick. Stop exaggerating,” Berg said. He peered out the door as a stampede of footfalls thundered by. “I’m not used to rich food.”

“I think it was more than that,” Courtney said. “Nothing major. Lexie probably messed up the recipe.”

“Except when Lexie did something, she was Miss Perfect,” Vigo said.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Berg said.

“I didn’t say it was,” Vigo said. “She strived for perfection and didn’t want to settle for less.”

“This is bullshit,” Berg said. He put the Mouse King head over his own and stormed out.

“Whatever, man,” Vigo said. “I have to get ready.” He got up and went behind a divider screen.

Courtney took a deep breath and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “It was not supposed to be like this. Our reunion. We were a team. And now...Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Is that why you’re staying at the condo?” I asked. “A reunion?”

“Yeah. It was Lexie’s idea. She’d been planning it all semester. When Miss Inga asked us to reprise our
Nutcracker
roles, we were all in. A week together at the condo sounded like so much fun. We haven’t seen each other in months.”

“You guys didn’t go to the same college?”

“No, different dance programs, different entry auditions. I’m at Oklahoma City. Vigo got into UNT and Lexie chose UNC. Berg followed Lexie. Berg always followed Lexie. She was special.”

Courtney spun on her chair and grabbed my wrist with such intensity it hurt. “I don’t care what it takes, you find the person who did this.” She choked back a sob. “They will not live free. They will suffer.”

She got herself together with three plucks from a tissue box and turned back to the mirror. I left her to clean up her smeary eye makeup.

In the background, Inga called for places. The performance was about to begin. I made my way to the stage steps, ready to dedicate the performance and name the scholarship in Lexie’s honor.

“There you are,” Inga Dalrymple said in her shout voice. “I wondered if you were going to bail and make me go out there to do your job.”

The dance mom from the night before, the one with striped hair, approached us. “I guess everyone got a promotion,” she said. “Courtney doesn’t make near as pretty a Sugar Plum Fairy, but at least my daughter is finally dancing in the Land of Sweets.” She turned to me. “It’s tragic and all, but what’s done is done. Might as well make the most of it.”

Another mom joined us as the orchestra started playing. Her hair was styled in a chic blond pixie cut. “Did you see who’s playing Clara?” She looked positively giddy. “And Shirl isn’t even here to watch Courtney dance.”

“What kind of mother doesn’t watch her kid dance?” the striped hair mom said.

“Courtney won’t let her,” the other mom replied.

“Won’t let her? The day my child doesn’t let me go where I want to go, let me tell you...”

“Special performances only,” the other mom said.

A new mom walked up. She wore dangly plastic wreath earrings and a matching necklace and the brightest purple eye shadow I’ve ever seen. “My daughter is the Sugar Plum Fairy, ladies. Pretty darn special, I’d say.”

“Go on, all of you,” Inga said and made shooing motions. “I know you have seats. Go stick your butts in them.” As they grumbled their way up the long interior corridor, Inga turned to me and pointed. “You’re on.”

With a deep breath, I followed the same path as I had the night before and walked onto center stage. I made my announcement and asked for a moment of silence. The audience was subdued and respectful, and it was dreadful. I noticed my first best friend, Sid Bassi, in the third row, and she motioned she’d meet me in the lobby.

I slowly climbed down the steps and the dancers took the stage. I’m not sure I could ever watch
The Nutcracker
again.

Sid wrapped me in a giant hug. She towered over me by a foot, and her long, dark blond hair cascaded over my shoulders. “Sweetie, I’m so very sorry,” she said and kept hugging.

“I needed that,” I said. “But you’re going to miss the show.”

She waved me off. “Seen it a dozen times. Just an opportunity to get out of the house.” Sid was a top realtor on the island, a volunteer at the hospice thrift store, on the board at the hospital, and played in a beach volleyball league. She also dated the most eligible bachelor on the island, if not the entire state of South Carolina.

“You hardly need an opportunity to get out of the house,” I said.

“Milo’s busy this weekend. I can’t just sit around binge watching
Alias
on Netflix,” she said.

“Vaughn!”

“I know! I started with season one and I’m on five now.”

“That first season killed it. Not so much by five. I’m still jealous, though. I’d love to crawl under the covers and live vicariously through Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn,” I said. “But no time.”

“How are you holding up? A lot to deal with a week before Christmas.”

“Yeah, and after spending most of last night here, I’m ready to leave.”

“Wait. Wasn’t Matty your date last night? How’d that end up?”

“With him going home alone and me staying here with Ransom.”

She pushed my shoulder. “Stop it.”

“I know. And it’s only going to get more complicated. My investigations make Matty uncomfortable—”

“And Nick Ransom.”

“—and Nick Ransom. But I’m not going to disappoint Mr. Ballantyne. Or the Allens.”

“That girl really poison herself?”

“Not likely,” I said. “But I’ll find out for sure.”

“I know you will,” she said. “Let me know what I can do.” She put her hand up. “I’m not scaling any walls this time, ’kay?”

“Deal,” I said and gave her a quick hug. 

My phone chirped. Then again. And again. And again.

“Sorry,” I said. I hated to be one of those people who checked their phone whilst in the middle of a conversation with a friend, but four chirps was a lot for me. No one ever texted me. They were all from Deidre Burch.

Key under the sea.

Empty.

Dot those i’s.

Mums the word.

“Something good?”

“Possibly. But I need your help.” I tucked my phone away. “You sure you don’t mind missing the show?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s go.”

We snuck out the front doors of the theatre. I’d rather trudge around the outside of the entire building to get to my car than face those backstage moms again. Besides, we didn’t have that kind of time.