Freesias and Foul Play by London Lovett

Author:London Lovett [Lovett, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Fox Press

Chapter 19

Ryder had come back from his special lunch with Lola considerably cheerier than the morning. And I was feeling back to my old self again. Thank goodness it was a short cold and not some long, drawn out flu. We'd hit the usual afternoon lull in the shop, so I used it as my chance to do some investigating.

The usual flutter of activity at the town square had slowed considerably. Group members were meandering around the square in pairs and threes, likely a safety precaution. Despite the sunny skies, there was a general cloud of gloom over the whole scene. What was noticeably absent was the sense of invigorated purpose I'd noticed the day before. Yesterday, people had tasks, whether it was painting a prop tree or sitting under a real tree studying lines with a partner, everyone had something to do with one common goal in mind—putting on a stellar opening night performance. This afternoon, the frenetic creativity and anticipation had been replaced by sorrow, angst and, I could only assume, mistrust. It was entirely likely that someone they had been traveling, living and working with for months or even years was a cold-blooded killer. That would definitely dampen team spirit and cooperation.

The day before, I could never have walked freely through the area, but today, everyone was in their own heads, too steeped in their own thoughts and worries to care about a lone woman strolling along the path. No one paid me much attention as I pretended to look at the scenery while eavesdropping on conversations. One particularly loud one was happening next to the tent. Three crew members were touching up paint on a large wooden cutout of Emerald City. It was an impressive piece sitting on a dozen or so wheels for easy movement. Their backs were toward me as they focused on their task of touching up the green paint.

"If you ask me, she just pushed too hard for all her special treatment," a woman said to the man next to her. "I don't know why she thought she deserved spa days and fancy flavored coffees. We all worked just as hard as her. Someone must have finally gotten sick and tired of her constant complaining and whining."

The guy lowered his brush and looked at the woman. "Do you think it was Susie?" he asked point blank. His gaze flitted to the nosy woman lingering behind them. He elbowed the woman and whispered something in her ear. She took a not too subtle look over her shoulder. I moved along without the answer on whether or not the woman with the green paintbrush thought Susana Damon was the culprit.

Five or six people, Johnny included, were eating lunch on one of the picnic tables in the square. The group chatted and there was even an occasional laugh. From my vantage point, it seemed that Johnny was quite the entertainer. He spoke animatedly about something and his audience chuckled. It was an oddly cheery scene considering what had transpired the night before.

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