She woke with a start, flew into a sitting position, eyes wide in the dark-as-charcoal room. The red LED on the bedside clock clicked from 3:35 to 3:36. Most times, when she woke like this in a hotel, it was because of some sound in the hallway, or the flushing of a toilet in an adjoining room. Right now, the building seemed quiet.

Wait, hadn't she pushed that chair straight under the table? She squinted at it, trying to remember.

Maybe. She recalled sitting on the chair to remove her shoes. But couldn't remember standing from it, let alone pushing the thing in place. It was the kind of movement, in her neatnik mode, as Jarvis called it, that she did automatically.

What about the bra.s.s lock on the door? Pushing that in place was automatic too, wasn't it? When a person entered their room for the night, it was the last thing they did. Try as she might, Angie couldn't remember touching the bolt. What was the difference-n.o.body would want to break in here. Over and over she'd made it clear she had nothing to do with the case. She'd been careful to do only things related to the production of the play. The fact that she socialized with key people in the case wouldn't be a contradiction at all. The thought made her grin.

As she sat in the dark, the duvet clutched against her chest she knew what woke her. It was nothing to do with crooked chairs or toilets flushing. It was something that happened at the Philmores'. Or something one of them had said. But what?

Angie lay back and sought the answer on the ceiling as the evening's events replayed on the stark white rectangle. And came up with nothing.

She woke to the alarm beeping at 7 a.m. The day of the first performance had arrived. Two more days and she'd be back in her normal life. Normal? What a joke. Fifteen months ago, her life ceased being normal. The day she gave Will that fiftieth birthday fishing trip, things had been forever changed. This life-this crazy schedule at the theater-was the new norm. Not a bad thing usually.

After a shower, Angie settled at the table with a cup of coffee, made there in the room. Though the school was footing the hotel bill she didn't take advantage of room service. The coffee from the tiny coffeemaker wasn't bad, but that powdered creamer left something to be desired. She opened the drapes and stood there fingering the pretty sapphire pendant and looking out at the city street below. Right now the traffic was moving faster than the pedestrians.

Her phone rang. The caller ID said it was Tyson. She answered with a jolly, "Mornin' pardner. How's our little diva doing?"

"Fine for now. I gave her yesterday off so I could work with the understudies." He laughed. "You should've seen her face when I said she could take the day off. At first she looked happy, then this layer of suspicion glazed over. I walked away expecting to feel claws in the back of my neck."

"She didn't say anything?"

"Not to me. I heard her asking the others if they got the day off too." He gave a sigh that came through the cell phone as a hiss. "Why didn't we hire Lynn instead?"

Angie didn't reply.

"I thought about hiding in the wings with a baseball bat and...oh, never mind, breaking her legs wouldn't solve anything."

Angie laughed. Tyson was usually a mild mannered guy. Marie must be even worse than Angie thought.

"I guess I'll hold off hurting her for now."

"I'll come back this afternoon and talk to her."

"You really don't have to."

"I do. You know it and I know it. The sooner it's done, the better."

"How was your dinner with-what was their name again?"

"Philmore. It was delicious."

"Did they bombard you with questions about the murder?"

"As a matter of fact, neither said much of anything." Which, Angie just realized, was the whole problem. Gwen and Cilla had been best friends. Gwen was devastated at her loss. And yet, when someone is brought on the scene ostensibly to solve the case, she asks only if Angie has any idea who did it, but when no answer came, she didn't press the issue. Didn't ask a single question more.

"Angie!"

"I'm here. Sorry. What did you say?"

"Never mind."

Angie sat in the chair to put her shoes on. "Anything new besides Diva Marie?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course."

"Okay. The ticket order didn't come in. The distributor stopped carrying the makeup we use. And, oh yes, my stockbroker buddy bought four season tickets."

She stood and made sure to tuck both chairs squarely under the table. "Four season tickets-isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

"Would be, except his check bounced."

d.a.m.n. "Any of ours bounce as a result?"

"Not yet. So, how're things on your end? Solve that case yet?"

"Tyson."

"I know, I know."

"I have some news. I found us a girl Friday. She can write, she can act and she's willing to do about anything backstage."

"Tell me more!"

Angie told Tyson about Kiana and her need for credits toward her scholarship.

"Have her come in after school on Monday," he said. "We'll show her around. We have plenty for her to do. Maybe I can set her on Diva Marie."

"Marie will be gone by then. Besides, let's not alienate the girl right away."

"Right. Best to let her see the bad side of things, so she knows what she's in for."

"Believe me, after this past week, she knows. On top of all the stuff going on here, she's got personal troubles too."

"She gonna bring them here when she comes?"

"I doubt it. That's what's impressed me about her. No matter what's going on, she handles it with style."

"Any idea what the problem is?"

"Not yet."

"But you will. You will," Tyson chuckled.

Angie opened the top dresser drawer and reached in for her red scarf. The scarf was all bunched up-not folded neatly the way she'd left it. Maybe it got caught on something when she closed the drawer last night. She'd been so tired, most of the evening was a blur. She picked up the scarf. Something heavy held it down so she pulled until the lightweight silk came free. The brown and gold scarf underneath was bunched up too. What was going on?

Wait, she didn't have a brown and gold scarf. Angie looked closer. "Oh my gosh."

She vaguely heard Tyson's shouting voice in her ear, but couldn't answer because her attention was riveted on the enormous snake peering at her, its bulbous face looped through one of her bra straps.

TWENTY-FIVE.

Evan stopped the bike at Mine Falls Park. Dawn was just creeping between the trees in a mottled display of greys and yellows. The weatherman said it would be cold and bl.u.s.tery today, but right now it was calm and clear-two things Kiana definitely didn't feel.

He drew two steaming cups of hot chocolate from a holder on the handlebars and led her along one of the many paths through the park. They found a bench overlooking one of the ca.n.a.ls and sat wordless for several minutes. Something was wrong with him. It wasn't the not-talking, they never spoke much early in the mornings, it was more in his demeanor. On the bike, he rode stiff and formal beneath her arms around his waist. In line at the coffee shop he gazed around like a zombie.

What reason would he give today to quit investigating? Too much danger or he didn't like the sour news they kept turning up?

They'd always been able to talk about anything, even internal emotions. At one time or another she thought they had discussed about every topic-even politics. Kiana realized yesterday that a conversation on h.o.m.os.e.xuality had never come up. She wondered if Evan was grossed out mostly because it was Mr. Reynolds, the school princ.i.p.al. Maybe the news wouldn't have been so momentous if it was somebody more obscure in the school. Like that janitor.

To her right, Evan sat on the bench with his forearms on his thighs, the hot chocolate clutched in his hands. So far, he hadn't touched it. Well, she wouldn't make this easy on him. If he was about to drop another bomb, she would wait him out.

After a while Evan sat up straight, pulling the cup close and raising it up. She expected him to finally drink but he set the cup on the bench between them and stood. Kiana was about to ask what was wrong when she saw the movement down the path. Two people had strolled up and sat on a bench about forty feet away. Kiana would bet money that other couple wasn't here to discuss a murder investigation. Or h.o.m.os.e.xual princ.i.p.als.

Evan stepped behind a tall bush. What was up with him? She turned her gaze away thinking he had to go to the bathroom. But when a suitable amount of time pa.s.sed and she dared look again, he'd disappeared. She located his dark shadow behind another bush. Kiana couldn't believe her eyes; he was sneaking up on those people.

Curious, Kiana rose and tiptoed along behind him. Through the shrubbery, she had occasional glimpses of the silhouetted couple. They sat close, upper arms and legs touching. The woman was almost equal to the man in height. She had on a dark color knit hat and a heavy coat. The hat bulged, which meant she either had a lot of hair or long hair tucked inside. The man was clean-shaven with short hair and gla.s.ses. He was wearing a parka of some kind, with fur around the hood. Something about him was familiar. Kiana caught up with Evan at a bush covered in tiny leaves. Under the leaves were cl.u.s.ters of long thorns that p.r.i.c.ked her hands and wrists.

The couple bent their heads bent together talking in low tones. Kiana couldn't distinguish their words but the way the man tilted his head when he talked- When Evan's hand clamped over her mouth she realized she'd gasped in recognition. The couple stopped the conversation and turned to stare in their direction. The man stood up and walked toward them.

Kiana pushed Evan's hand away from her mouth and took a step. She wasn't sure where she'd go but Plan A formed in her head. A simple plan that involved running very fast in the opposite direction. Surely she and Evan could outrun old people. After all, they had to be in their forties.

The woman stood up too, and called out that it was probably a squirrel. The man laughed and went back to sit down.

Kiana chuckled inside. Of course, it had to be an animal. No way would anyone else, potential witnesses to this clandestine meeting, be out at five in the morning.

The couple returned to their low-toned talk. Kiana barely noticed because another recognition had taken place. When the woman stood up, Kiana realized she'd seen her before too. But where?

Evan tugged on Kiana's sleeve. He wanted to leave. Embarra.s.sed at catching illicit lovers or scared of being caught catching them? She wasn't sure. But she had to know more. She yanked her jacket out of his grip and moved in a low crouch to another bush. The couple had relaxed and resumed talking.

"I thought you were going to call today," the man said.

"Sorry, I had rehearsal. And I spent the afternoon moving things. You know about the move, right?"

"Of course. How'd rehearsal go?"

"Same as usual."

"You excited about the show?"

She leaned away a moment so she could look up at him. "Sure."

"Not nervous?"

She looked up at him again. "No. Why so many questions?"

Kiana fell back on her haunches. This scene wasn't at all as she originally thought, a meeting between two lovers. Well, it was, but the reality of it was growing at an alarming rate. This person in the knit hat wasn't, as Kiana originally thought, an adult keeping warm. She was a student from the school-acting in Kiana's own play-and wearing the hat to disguise her ident.i.ty. To hide the fact that she was dating an adult! A person employed by Carlson South High School.

She turned to see if Evan had made the identification also, but he had disappeared. When Kiana again focused on the couple, they were walking along the path, back the way they'd come. She rose from her hiding spot and followed.

She stopped on the edge of the parking lot. They stopped between their cars, ducked their heads together a moment, probably for a kiss good-bye, though Kiana couldn't tell from this far away. Each got into their cars and drove away. Kiana took special notice of the girl's car. Tomorrow she would seek out this girl. Why? Maybe to talk some sense into her. It was illegal for students to date teachers, wasn't it?

The only other vehicle in the parking lot was Evan's motorcycle. Where was he? Skirting the perimeter of the lot, in case some rapist came, she made her way to the bike. Just then, somebody hissed at her from behind. It was Evan. He hurried toward her.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"I wanted to leave."

"But you knew I'd kill you if I had to walk home from here," she said, climbing on the motorbike.

"You're going home?"

"Yeah. I want to take a shower."

As Evan chugged toward her house, Kiana put thoughts of students messing with adults aside for a moment and wondered about Mr. Reynolds. It must be hard hiding a secret such as his. Hard to find somebody to go out with. Did he go to gay bars-things like that? Was there a gay bar in Carlson? Kiana didn't think so, but there had to be several in Nashua.

The question was, did it matter? Could Mr. Reynolds' possible relationship with another man have anything to do with Gwen's murder?

TWENTY-SIX.

The tongue flicked and the snake tilted its head. Angie slammed the drawer and backed away from the dresser even though the snake was too big to get out any of the tiny openings around the drawer.

Eyes riveted to the dresser she ran to the phone on the bedside table and dialed 9. When the operator answered she said, "I need help in room 554. There's a snake in my dresser."

"A snake, ma'am?"

"Yes. You know, big long and slimy, with scales and venom."

Several second's silence was followed by, "I'll send someone right up."

"Send a manager too."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And the police."