Dead By Dusk by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2014-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

They ate early again. That night, the restaurant was filled, and now people knew and recognized them, so they came to the table in a constant flow, telling them how much they had enjoyed the show, and how they were looking forward to the evening.

Grant left the table before the others to check the set, and Stephanie followed soon after, feeling somewhat guilty. Since she’d wound up as part of the cast, and he’d been there, she’d left him to attend to the details that were really her responsibility.

But he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even want to hear her thank him that night. He seemed oddly distracted. She decided for the time to leave him alone.

The show went up. The second night was even more fun, with their audience aware that they’d be participating.

Yet, in the middle of it, Stephanie was startled when she was in the eaves with Suzette and she whispered to her, “You’re not going to believe who I saw out there tonight!”

“Who?” Stephanie whispered back.

“Gema!”

“Gema—back here?”

“Look, she’s in the rear, near the door to the resort lobby.”

“I never met her,” Stephanie reminded Suzette.

“I’ll bet she’s sorry she walked off!” Suzette said. “And please, Stephanie, if she comes begging, do not give her her job back. She left us high and dry.”

“Try to show her to me when we’re back out there,” Stephanie said.

Suzette nodded. But when they had a chance to speak again, Suzette said, “I didn’t see her again. Well, I’ll just bet that she’ll come around. This show is going to wind up in newspapers across the globe, if we keep doing this well. She doesn’t deserve to be any part of our success!”

That night, when the show ended, the cast determined to mill with the men and women who had come, and who had headed back into the bar to enjoy the remnants of their last evening. Stephanie mulled that it might not be a bad thing for her to do as well.

But when she told Grant what she was thinking, he had other plans.

“You go ahead. I . . . I have to do something else.”

“What?” she asked him.

“There’s a wake for Maria tonight. The viewing goes on to eleven. Since I’m the one who found the body . . . well, I feel I should pay my respects,” he told her.

Stephanie felt slightly ashamed. The shows had been so magnificently received that she had pushed the local tragedy out of her mind.

“I’m coming with you,” she told him.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I want to. Just let me get out of this makeup.”

“All right,” he said. “But we have to hurry. The funeral home is just up the street, but it’s also getting really late.”

She scrubbed her face and didn’t bother with reapplying street makeup. Grant ran back with her to her cottage to find something appropriate to wear. She chose a simple black dress. In the States she might not have been so concerned about color or tradition, but here, where old values were so important, she wanted to be in proper attire.

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