"Which means his death was murder," Lindsey said.

"Yes," Emma confirmed.

It was like a punch to the gut, but Lindsey couldn't deny that there were a lot of people who had issues with Robbie. He did not manage his personal life very well, and it seemed that for every person who adored him another loathed him.

Lindsey spent the next few minutes describing everything she had seen that night as Emma took notes. It seemed to Lindsey she was building a chronology of the evening's events. It was going to take her a long time to get through the cast and crew but maybe at the end of it, she'd have her suspect.

"If you think of anything else, call me," Emma said as she rose to leave.

Lindsey made her way out of the theater, wondering if the others were outside. They weren't. It was just Sully, sitting on the bike rack, waiting.

"Want a lift home?" he asked.

"Are you allowed to leave?"

"Emma's only questioning the people who were in the theater when it happened," he said. "The rest of us were questioned by one of her officers, presumably to establish our whereabouts."

"Did Violet go home?"

"Nancy took her to go break the news to Charlene."

"In that case, I'd really appreciate a ride home," she said.

Sully stood up, and Lindsey unfastened her bike. She wheeled it around the building to the parking lot, where Sully had his truck. He hefted it up into the back for her, and Lindsey climbed into the passenger seat.

It had been a long time since she'd gotten a lift from Sully, and it felt nice to be with him again. They were quiet on the ride. In fact, the whole town seemed quiet as if maintaining a respectful hush after such a horrible tragedy.

It was a short drive and Lindsey was grateful. All she wanted to do was go and hug her dog. When Sully pulled into the driveway, Heathcliff came barreling around the house from the backyard.

Lindsey and Sully both got out of the truck. Heathcliff wrapped his front paws around Lindsey's leg and hugged her tight. Then he barked and ran around the truck to do the same thing to Sully.

Charlie came around the house at a jog. "Heathcliff, hey!"

"Hi, Charlie," Lindsey said.

"Oh, it's you. I might have known. I swear, that dog can sense when you're a quarter of a mile away."

Charlie glanced past Lindsey to where Sully was hauling her bike out of the back. He raised his eyebrows at Lindsey. Lindsey gave a quick shake of her head.

Charlie raised his hands in the universal sign of What gives? Lindsey shook her head again and jerked her head toward the house to let him know they would discuss it later.

Lindsey knew Charlie was torn because while they were neighbors and friends, Sully was his boss and a friend, plus the two of them had known each other a lot longer. Charlie had never come out and directly accused Lindsey of breaking Sully's heart, but she sometimes thought he believed that, even though he knew full well that Sully had been the one to end their relationship.

Charlie shook his head back at her and pointed to the ground as if to say Explain now.

Lindsey bugged her eyes at him and tried to look threatening.

"Are you two done with your sign language now?" Sully asked as he plopped the bike down next to Lindsey.

She jumped and turned to look at him in surprise.

"We weren't-" Charlie began but Lindsey interrupted him.

"Yes, we're done," she said.

Sully gave her a slow smile and she found herself returning it, even though she knew hers was probably hampered by the overwhelming shock and sadness that seemed to weigh her down with all the grace of a cinderblock.

Sully looked at Charlie and said, "We've got some bad news. Robbie Vine is dead and it looks like someone killed him."

"Oh, boss, you didn't!" Charlie cried.

14.

"What?" Sully asked. "No, I didn't! What would make you even think a thing like that?"

"Well, he was moving in on your girl," Charlie said.

"Oh, my god, do you not have a filter for that mouth?" Lindsey asked him.

She snatched her bike from Sully and wheeled it through the side door of the garage. When she came back out, Sully was glaring at Charlie, who was looking sheepish.

"It's just-" Charlie began but Lindsey held up her hand to stop him before he said something even more incredibly stupid.

"Come on, Heathcliff," Charlie said. "Looks like I'm sharing your doghouse."

Heathcliff jumped on Sully one more time before following Charlie into the house.

"Sorry about that," Lindsey said.

"No need for you to be," Sully said. "Charlie leads with his mouth. That's what makes him such a good rock singer."

Lindsey smiled. "Well, thanks again for the ride."

"Anytime," he said.

She gave him a small wave and turned and headed to the house. Maybe if nothing else, she and Sully were reestablishing their friendship. The thought made the heaviness in her chest ease just the tiniest bit. But then she thought of Robbie and she felt taken out at the knees once again. How could someone as vibrant as Robbie Vine be dead?

"Lindsey, wake up!" a voice called, accompanied by a fist pounding on her apartment door.

Heathcliff bounded off of the bed and out of the bedroom, and skidded across the wooden floor of the living room to the front door, barking all the way.

Lindsey squinted at the clock. It was seven o'clock in the morning but it felt like the middle of the night. Sleep had been impossible last night and she hadn't drifted off until the wee hours of the morning.

"Lindsey!" the voice called again.

She was wearing her favorite blue-and-green-plaid pajama bottoms with a matching solid green top. She glanced down and decided she was decent enough to let in whoever was outside and so followed Heathcliff to the door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Charlie."

Definitely decent enough; Charlie had seen her in her jammies a million times.

She unlatched the chain and turned the deadbolt. She pulled the door open and Heathcliff shot out to greet Charlie with a hug around the knees and some furious wagging of his tail.

"Hey there, boy," Charlie said as he scratched Heathcliff's ears.

"What is it, Charlie? Is Nancy okay?"

"No, Nancy is fine," he said. "She's already over at Violet's, going full mother hen on her."

Lindsey nodded.

"But you have to turn on the news," he said. "Emma Plewicki is about to give a press conference about Robbie Vine's death."

"Oh! Oh!" Lindsey turned and hurried back into her apartment. She grabbed her remote and flipped on the local news channel.

Sure enough, there was live footage of Emma Plewicki at the police station. Lindsey turned up the volume.

"At seven forty-seven last night," Emma said, "Mr. Robert Vine took ill while performing on the Briar Creek Community Theater stage."

The sound of cameras snapping pictures of Emma buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. Lindsey was pleased to see that Emma kept her composure. Charlie came to stand beside her.

"She's representin'," he said as he nodded with approval.

Lindsey gave him a sideways look and turned back to the television.

"Mr. Vine was rushed to the hospital for further treatment," Emma said. "I want to assure his adoring fans that everything has been done to give Mr. Vine the best possible care. Because we have been unable to locate Mr. Vine's immediate family, we ask that you respect their privacy until we can fully inform them of the situation."

"Chief Plewicki, was it a drug overdose?" one reporter shouted.

"I am not at liberty to discuss the case any further," she said. She was very firm, and Lindsey was proud to see her shut down the reporters without losing her cool.

"Was it a self-inflicted condition or do you suspect foul play?" another reporter asked.

"Again, I can give no further details until I have been in communication with his family," she said.

The reporters continued to shout questions at her even as Emma walked away from the front desk at the station and back into her office.

A reporter, Kili Peters, stepped in front of the camera. She was a blonde bubblehead whom Lindsey had had the misfortune to have stalking the library several months back when Beth's ex-boyfriend had been slain. Lindsey was not a fan.

"Well, there you have it," Kili said. "Robbie Vine was rushed to the hospital last night. Reports from people on the scene say that he took his last breath on the stage, but this has yet to be confirmed by the police. It sounds as if it won't be until they can locate his family."

"Thank you, Kili," the male news anchor said. "Please keep us up to date as the story unfolds."

"Will do, Jim," Kili said. "This is Kili Peters, reporting live from Briar Creek."

Lindsey switched off the television and turned to face Charlie. "What do they mean they can't locate his family? Wouldn't that be Kitty?"

"According to Nancy, it's actually his mother they're trying to get into contact with," Charlie said. "She's on vacation in Italy and they're hoping to reach her before the news media does."

"Oh, poor thing," Lindsey said. "What a horrible way to find out that your son is dead by having a reporter scream it at you while they try to take your photograph."

"Agreed," Charlie said. "So, how are you doing?"

"Fine; no, that's a lie," she said. She pulled out the fixings for coffee and held them up. Charlie nodded, and Lindsey began to brew a double pot of coffee. "I feel like road kill actually."

"You liked Robbie," he said. He sat at the counter and watched her while she scooped coffee into the filter.

"He was very likable," she said.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said.

"Me, too. I'm more worried about Violet and Charlene, however. I got the distinct impression that Robbie was like family for them. They have to be devastated."

"What do you think will happen to the theater if they cancel the show?" Charlie asked. "I mean, don't they need the advertising and ticket sale revenue to keep the mortgage paid on the theater?"

"They do," Lindsey said. "But maybe the bank will be forgiving in light of the tragedy."

Charlie gave her a flat stare as she poured his coffee. "Yeah, because banks are really known for that."

Lindsey sighed as she poured her own cup. The boy had a point. So now, on top of losing her friend, poor Violet was probably going to lose her theater as well.

A meeting was called for all of the cast and crew for seven o'clock that evening. Lindsey was one of the last to arrive, as she'd gotten caught up with helping Mrs. Fisk research the legal forms she needed to give her daughter power of attorney when she died.

Mrs. Fisk was nowhere near death. She was only fifty-five, but she was a nervous sort who liked to have everything in order just in case.

As Lindsey walked her bike from the library to the theater, she couldn't really fault Mrs. Fisk. Given that Robbie, who had only been in his late thirties, was now dead, it was pretty clear that you never knew when your number was up and it was good to be prepared. Lindsey wondered who would inherit Robbie's fortune. If Kitty was his beneficiary, it certainly gave her a heck of a motive to kill him.

She locked up her bike and then slipped through the door to take a seat with the rest of the crew. Mary and Nancy were sitting with Ian and Sully. The cast was sitting closer to the stage, and she could just make out Beth's spiky black hair in the second row.

Violet was in front of the stage. She looked pale and tired, and Lindsey imagined that she hadn't gotten much, if any, sleep.

"How's she holding up?" Lindsey asked.

"As well as can be expected," Nancy said.

"Good evening, everyone," Violet said. "Thank you all for coming."