Murder Ala Mode Read online

  The actors gathered around the large round dining table in the main stage area and sat down to begin their meal.

  “I’ll be around to pour you all a nice glass of wine, just as soon as I fill the glasses of these self-important fools who think the world revolves around their arses.” She took a step toward the main table, then turned back to the crowd. “But be watchful, good people. There’s a storm coming in…”

  A loud clap of thunder was timed perfectly with a blast of light from a strobe above the stage, and the crowd jumped.

  “…And I’ve got a bad bloody feeling that something ’orrible is going to ’appen right here at Berkshire Manor before this meal is done.”

  She turned away as the lights went out quickly but briefly, and then they came up slowly over the large dining table where the music, chatter, and merriment were already underway.

  “You ladies look as delicious as the kidney pie!” Professor Zorn declared, in the character of Duke Middlewick of Surrey, before sipping his wine.

  “Oh, Dukey,” sighed the seductress, Randi Taylor, aka Duchess Vandershallow, leaning her cleavage in his direction, “Aren’t you the sweetest!”

  “Carefull there, Duchess,” said Lady Feffelmeyer, played by Liberty, “the Duke of Surrey is my guest for the party tonight, not yours.”

  “Ohhh, but he’ll be all mine when the party is over, dearie,” she said with a sinful wink.

  Red stood up and held out his glass of wine. “A toast to the loveliest lady in all of the seven kingdoms, my bride-to-be, Signora Cavalachi, the Countess of Tuscany!”

  Cries of “Here, here!” were heard from around the table as Babs stood and curtsied.

  “This is going really well,” I whispered to Brody, who nodded without taking his eyes off the action.

  The First Act was very short, but it was a good introduction of all the characters. Everyone was really marvelous – even old Red delivered his two lines like he was really getting into his character.

  Deloris made the rounds, between the tables of our actual diners and the round table of characters on the stage, pouring wine and other beverages and delivering small appetizer plates. She never came out of character – although, the only real difference from the regular, crotchety Deloris was the accent.

  Zack faded to black on the cast of actors and brought up the house lights to a nice level as the crew moved around some furniture for Act 2.

  “The soup course is on its way, for those of you ’ere in steerage, so to speak,” Deloris said to the audience. “But you see, our highfalutin upper-crust at the fancy table up ’ere has already finished dining, and now they’ve moved to the observatory for dessert and tea. And more wine – it’s always more wine for these uppity louts.”

  The cast brought bowls of soup to all of the diners and then quickly disappeared into the darkness.

  “We’ll call this Act 2,” Deloris continued, “but there won’t be a real intermission until we serve your dinner after these hoidy-toidy buffoons chit-chat a bit more. Keep yer eyes open. I don’t have to tell ya that dessert is a dish best served cold, and I’ve got a sneakin’ suspicion that something cold-blooded is soon to ’appen. I told you that they was a nasty lot, and I’m sure you can already see that I’m right. I’m always right.”

  I think Deloris added that line herself.

  I felt a presence behind me and turned. “Professor Duggery!”

  “Yes, lass. I’ve got a pretty good suspicion about the killer.”

  “But there hasn’t even been a murder yet, professor.”

  “That’s the best time to look for clues, Miss Mercy. There’s only one person of the bunch who seems to hate everybody, now, isn’t there?”

  Was there? Maybe so.

  Then he slinked away, back to his table as the stage lights rose over the characters on sofas and stuffed chairs.

  Red sat in a large throne in the center. At his left was a Queen Anne style wing-back armchair in red velour. Professor Reggie was seated in the chair, with Randi Taylor sitting on one arm and Liberty in a wooden chair on the other side. There was a love seat to Red’s right with a classic sling-back chaise lounge in front to accommodate the rest of the characters.

  “Dance with me, Darling!” Liberty said, getting to her feet and pulling on the hand of the Duke.

  “Or stay here let me massage your temples,” Randi suggested, sliding onto Zorn’s lap.

  Professor Zorn stood at once, thrusting Randi comically forward into an indelicate face-plant on the floor. She executed it perfectly, and the crowd loved it.

  “As wonderful as that sounds, my dear, I think a dance would be lovely while we wait for the chocolate cake and frozen custard.”

  The dancing, wine, and insults flowed freely, and the audience was loving every minute of it. So was I.

  After more dancing, charades, and musical chairs, Red stood up and raised his glass for another toast.

  Brody and I looked at each other with our eyebrows raised in excitement. “Here it comes!” I whispered, knowing the murder was just a minute away.

  “Everyone, gather round!” Red declared, as the actors formed a tight circle around him. “One more toast, and then I shall make the formal presentation of the diamond ring to my beloved on bended knee.”

  Deloris took a fresh bottle of wine from the butler and topped off the actors’ wine glasses, filling Red’s last as Babs, to his left, hugged him tightly around the waist. I could see the kitchen crew sneak out to get a good look too, turning out the lights behind them for the big scene, as we all knew what was to come. Chef JP stood between his student, Betsy, and brother, Del, who were on their feet now. Zack was at the light and sound controls near the green curtain, and Dirk, the butler, stood at attention to the right of Red.

  “Oh, Lord Feffelmeyer,” Babs cooed, “you are the Baron not only of Wessex, but also of my heart!”

  Red smiled at her and raised his glass. “To Love, the only thing that is eternal and good.”

  “To Love,” the cast repeated and sipped their wine.

  “Now,” Red said, “If you will all please take your seats.”

  The players began to move, bumping into each other awkwardly and humorously, toward their seats. Right on cue, the lights went out and the darkness was total and complete. Three seconds later, a shot rang out, and gasps could be heard from the actors. After three or four more seconds of loud fumbling in the darkness, the lights came back on.

  Red was prone on the floor.

  “Oh, my God!” Libby, Lady Feffelmeyer, cried out. “Someone’s killed my father!”

  Then, unexpectedly, Randi Taylor stood up from her seat in the red velour armchair, grasping at her neck and making gurgling sounds. There were a few chuckles from the crowd when they saw the long knife blade protruding from her throat, the cutting edge upward towards her chin. Blood gushed in horrific spurts from her neck as she collapsed to her knees and fell forward across Red’s legs.

  There was some mumbling from the crowd, but the actors and I were all in a stunned silence. This was not part of the play. I knew from years as an ER nurse that this was horribly real.

  Brody and I stood up at the same time, our first-responder instincts taking over, while the others remained in shock.

  “Deloris, call 911, stat!” I shouted, rushing to Randi’s side.

  The old criminology professor was already standing in front of the door.

  “No one goes in or out,” Brody told him, and the old gent gave a knowing nod. We heard the backdoor slam, and Brody ran through the kitchen to stop whoever was leaving.

  I quickly but carefully turned Randi onto her back, as Red sat up to see what was happening on the lower half of his body.

  “What in the ba-geezzuz…?”

  I looked at Randi and then at Red and shook my head. It was too late for her. The carotid artery had been severed, and the spurting had stopped. Her eyes were glassy and vacant. The young beauty was dead.

  I could hear car tires s
quealing behind the diner as I lifted her torso just slightly so Red could slide his legs out and get up. Then I laid her back in the pool of her own blood. She would have to stay right there until the crime scene investigators arrived.

  Brody came back in shaking his head. “It’s a good bet whoever did this just got away in that black sedan that was parked out back.”

  I looked at him with tearful eyes, and he could see that this was indeed a murder. He pulled out his phone.

  “Millie, it looks like we’re going to need Dr. Chambers and CSI too. Did you get the make, model, and license plate I just texted you? Good. Put Stan on it; we’re not going to need him here right away, and send out an APB.”

  Then he took control of the room and addressed everybody.

  “Folks, we’ve got a serious situation on our hands here. Sorry to put a damper on your evening, but nobody will be able to leave until my deputies arrive and every person has been interrogated. One of the actors has been murdered,” he said as the crowd gasped, “and the guilty party may be in this room right now. The staff will see to your comfort, so please just remain in your seats.”

  I was numb. I couldn’t believe this was happening – right here in my sleepy little diner in Paint Creek, Kentucky. I looked at Brody, as he pulled me to my feet with my bloody hands.

  “Brody, you’ll get blood…”

  He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly, cradling my head against his shoulder. I’m not a crier, but I couldn’t help it. My tears flowed as I trembled in the arms of the man I loved.

  Chapter Five

  Most of the diners had been interviewed and allowed to leave. Brody and one of his deputies started with the people farthest away in the back and were working their way towards the front.

  Smoke and JP had packed the hot entrées to-go for those who wanted them. No one was in a mood to eat with a dead woman still lying on the floor – except for Jake and Junior, of course. They were done with their prime rib and working on Cornish game hens. Libby was sitting next to Junior staring into space.

  Medical Examiner Sylvia Chambers and the CSI team were already on the scene. Flashing police lights filled the street in front of my beloved diner, and yellow police tape cordoned off the sidewalk in front and the little open area in back.

  The front door opened, and Deputy Stan Doggerty came in with Betsy and Del in handcuffs. They had taken off in the car right after the murder, and as near as I can figure no one else had left.

  “Deputy Dawg!” Red greeted him, still sitting on his throne.

  “Why are we in handcuffs?” Betsy demanded loudly and defiantly. “We came into this crap-hole greasy spoon and left when we thought our lives were in danger. So, let us go!”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that, Miss,” Brody said, signaling Stan to remove the cuffs, “but if you try to leave again, you will be arrested.”

  “Arrested?” Del said with wide eyes and a pale face, rubbing his freed wrists. “You can’t think that we had anything to do with this!”

  “We had nothing to do with this,” Betsy added, sounding a bit more calm but desperate now. “You have to believe us.”

  “I believe you.”

  Everyone turned toward the baritone voice coming from the odd man at the front table.

  “I don’t think you did it,” Dig Duggery said. “But you have to understand that everyone within seven seconds of the stage – like myself and the two of you – is a suspect. We all have to be questioned. Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty seats at his booth. The two sat down.

  “Stan,” Brody said to his arriving deputy, “you can see if Dr. Chambers and the crime team need any assistance. Rodney and I will finish up the interrogations of the diners. I’ll need your help when we start interviewing the actors.”

  “We’ve got what we need from the body,” Sylvia said as her photographer snapped a few final pictures. “You can send in the paramedics with the stretcher.”

  “Kind of fast for taking away your main piece of evidence, isn’t it?” Professor Duggery asked from his booth.

  “She’s a donor,” Sylvia responded as she removed her latex gloves. “We have to get her to the hospital right away. A harvesting team is waiting for her at McLean County Medical Center in Calhoun. Time is precious. There are four patients in Kentucky and one in Indiana being prepped for organ transplants right now.”

  Dig Duggery nodded. “I see. You Americans are very generous with your body parts. Not so, where I come from.”

  Stan went out hurriedly to get the ambulance team, who was inside in a few moments.

  “You’re going to have to treat her just like a living patient – oxygen, blood, heart massage,” Sylvia told them with a commanding tone. “You have to get moving. It’s going to be too late for this heart if we don’t get her to the hospital very soon. The liver, kidneys, and corneas should be fine.”

  It seemed like no time at all before the ambulance was off with a police escort, lights and sirens filling the night air.

  “Brody, you have to eat something,” I said. “You haven’t eaten since lunch, and you still have hours of work ahead of you.”

  He tried to resist, but I brought him a sandwich of thinly sliced prime rib on a 9-inch baguette, and he couldn’t resist it. He took a bite as he sat down to interview Del and Betsy.

  Dig Duggery came over to me at the counter to give them privacy.

  “You can sit here, sir,” Ruby said, getting up from her stool to my right. She was sniffling back a tear and rubbing her red eyes. “I’m going to grab the booth in the corner and rest my eyes.”

  He nodded a thank-you and sat down.

  “Rough night, Miss Mercy.”

  I raised my eyebrows and nodded. That was an understatement. “So, do you have this real murder figured out yet, Professor?” I asked him. “The killer is still right here in this room with us.”

  “Not a clue.”

  We both looked around the room at the tormented, tired faces of the actors, actresses, and others – all of them suspects.

  Dirk was inconsolable, still sometimes trembling, with his face in his hands as he sat on the chaise lounge next to where the body had been. Professor Reggie Zorn was in the wooden chair next to the red Queen Anne that Randi had been murdered in. He had looked concerned and confused since the murder, but cool as a cucumber, nodding off from time to time.

  Both of those men seemed to have loved Randi. Could they have had a reason to kill her?

  Chef JP came out of the kitchen with two bags of meals for customers who had already been questioned. They took the food and left as JP gave them a tight smile befitting the mood. Could he be the killer? Randi had spurned him for a weekend with Reggie Zorn.

  Babs, Deloris, and Red were in various places around the stage and the diner, though the ladies had been getting beverages to make the audience more comfortable. Certainly, none of them were killers. Ruby had finally fallen asleep in the booth in the back corner after crying her eyes out for 20 minutes or more. She was right next to me during the murder, and Jake and Junior had been at the counter the whole time too. Smoke and Zack didn’t even know the girl either. It had to be one of the new people who came here for the play.

  The professor and I each took a drink of our iced tea at the same time, and our elbows bumped, causing me to get a little tea on his knee.

  “No worries, Miss Mercy. They’re both brown.” His grin was gracious and sincere, but I did dab it with a clean napkin.

  “So, Professor, you said you didn’t think Betsy or Del did it. Why? They ran out as soon as the lights came back on.”

  “Actually, they were here until the girl fell over and died. I really just thought it might help to calm them down if I took their side. But something tells me it isn’t them. They most likely wouldn’t have waited for her to die if they had stabbed her.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t at all sure that one of them might not be the killer.

  “I thought you could figure out an
y crime before it happened, Professor. Isn’t that why you came here tonight?”

  I felt bad for making such a brash statement, but Professor Duggery just smiled and let out a small chuckle.

  “Well, I suppose I did say something like that now, didn’t I? And I am actually quite confident that I know who the murderer in your little play was – assuming that your writers know how to properly craft a mystery.”

  “So, why not the real murder, then?”

  “Well, Miss Mercy, had I been here for all of the rehearsals I might very well be able to tell you who killed Miss Randi Taylor. You see, just as the actions and behaviors at your fictional little dinner party suggested to me who killed Lord Feffelmeyer of Surrey – which is nowhere near any of those sex places, by the way – the activities, relationships, and behaviors of the actors and crew during the rehearsals might well have suggested to me who in fact is the killer of Miss Taylor. Were you here for the rehearsals, Miss…?”

  “Just Mercy, please, if you don’t mind. And yes, I was. I was here for every rehearsal from start to finish.”

  “Then…Mercy, chances are that you have all of the information you need to solve this very real murder mystery.”

  He gave me a wink and got up and stood by the front door, looking outside.

  I was thinking about what Professor Duggery had said. Could I really have the solution to this murder in my head? Maybe I just had to put the pieces together. But…how did I know for sure if he had put the pieces together properly for the Murder at Berkshire Manor?

  “Professor!” I called to him and walked over to the front door.

  “Yes, Mercy? What is it?”

  “I – I was just wondering if you had really solved our mystery correctly.”

  He smiled. He understood what I really wanted to know: Could I really have all the information I needed to solve Randi’s murder? Or was his observational and deductive method flawed?

  “Professor, no offense, but I think we really have a very well-developed plot in our play. I think it would be quite difficult for anyone to determine the killer just by observing the events that occurred before the actual murder.”