A Poisonous Play (The Rebecca Orange Castle Cozy Mystery Series Book 7) by Valerie Brandy

Author:Valerie Brandy [Brandy, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emerald Lion Press
Published: 2025-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twelve

I take a deep breath before knocking on Josh Thoroughgood's dressing room door, still processing the pitiful scene we just witnessed in the hallway. The man clearly has no business being in a Shakespeare production— or any production that requires memorizing words more complex than "Would you like fries with that?" Joe stands beside me, his massive head tilted slightly as if he, too, is wondering what kind of suspect struggles this much with iambic pentameter.

My knuckles rap against the wood, and there's a startled "Just a minute!" from inside, followed by the sound of something— possibly several somethings—falling to the floor. When the door finally cracks open, Josh Thoroughgood's face appears in the gap, flushed and glistening with sweat. His eyes widen when he sees us.

"Oh! Your Grace! And, um, Ms. Lefevere." He clutches his script to his chest like a shield, using it to fan himself frantically. "I didn't realize... I mean, I wasn't expecting... is there something I can help you with?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," I say, keeping my voice gentle. The man already looks like he might bolt at any sudden movement. "Do you have a moment?"

His eyes dart from me to Maggie, then drop to Joe, who's watching him with unblinking intensity. "Is the dog... friendly?" Josh asks, his voice rising an octave.

"Only to people who haven't committed murder," Maggie says cheerfully. I shoot her a look, and she mouths "What?" with exaggerated innocence.

"Joe is perfectly friendly," I assure Josh, giving my dog the training signal for ‘belly flop.’ Joe immediately softens his gaze and lets his tongue loll out in what I call his "harmless goofball" expression, then rolls over on his back and kicks his legs into the air. "He just likes to meet new people."

Josh hesitates, then opens the door wider. "Come in, I guess. Sorry about the... everything."

The dressing room is surprisingly barren for someone who's been cast in a production for weeks. There's an ancient-looking couch with stuffing escaping from multiple tears, a wobbly makeup table with a single script and water bottle on it, and a rack holding exactly three items of clothing— all of them costumes, not personal items. No photos, no knickknacks, no coffee mug with a witty theater quote. Nothing that says "Josh Thoroughgood works here."

Joe immediately makes a beeline for the couch, circling once before settling his enormous bulk onto the cushions. There's an ominous creaking sound, and Joe's eyes go wide with alarm as the couch sinks dramatically beneath him. He freezes, looking at me as if to say, "Do I get up, or will that make it worse?"

"It's fine," Josh says, noticing Joe's distress. "That's been broken since before I got here. It won't collapse completely. Probably."

Joe gives me a skeptical look but settles in, his massive head resting on the arm of the couch like he's posing for a portrait titled "Mastiff on Couch."

"You haven't really moved in, have you?" Maggie observes, gesturing to the stark room.

Josh laughs, a nervous sound that escapes like air from a punctured tire.

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