Welcome to the fifth chapter of Gladwynn Grant Takes Center Stage.

As always this is a work in progress and there could be (will be) typos, plot holes, and other errors but those will be fixed before the book is published a couple of months from now.

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If you want to learn more about my other books you can find links to them HERE.

Chapter 5

Gladwynn didn’t have a municipal meeting to cover Monday night so she found herself on her way to Willowbrook theater group’s meeting to discuss what to do about the play in light of Samantha’s death. Tanner had left her a message on her phone the day before during her and Lucinda’s Sunday afternoon nap after church, so now they were playing phone tag.

He caught up to her as she pulled into the parking lot of the community center, his voice stern when she answered with a cheerful ‘hello’. “Miss Grant, I’ve told you before that I’m not free to discuss the case.”

“Wow. That was a nice greeting.”

“I just know you.”

“I called you because I remembered something I forgot to tell you Saturday. Something that might be important to the case. You told me to call you if I remembered something.”

“In that case, go ahead.”

Gladwynn slid the car into park. “I saw Samantha at the lake on Saturday afternoon. She was talking on the phone to someone and definitely looked agitated.”

“Okay. I’ll write that down.”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“It might be. What time was it?”

“Around 11 a.m. She looked very angry and seemed to be yelling.”

“Did you see anything else?”

Yes, she’d seen Samantha talking to Luke in the parking lot, but doubted that was important. Still, she should probably say something. “I saw her talking to Pastor Luke in the parking lot of the swimming area a couple hours later.”

She could hear the scratch of a pen against paper. “Pastor Luke. Right. I’ll add him to my list of people to talk to. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. Do you have her cellphone? Maybe you could see who she was talking –”

“Are you a police officer, Miss Grant?”

“No, but I –”

“We will handle the investigation on our end. Patience is a virtue. Remember?”

Gladwynn flipped open a small makeup mirror and checked her foundation, smoothing down a bumpy area along her cheekbones. “It just seems so odd that a woman who seemed so healthy is dead. I mean, I guess it could be a medical reason but something about the way she was lying there tells me it wasn’t.”

The click of keys on a keyboard on the other end of the phone filled a brief silence. “Young people die for unclear medical reasons all the time. Many people seem healthy. It doesn’t mean they are.”

“Right, but she wasn’t very old really. What, like 29? Maybe 30? So, it just seems to me that –”

“Actually, she was 36, but you don’t need to be seeming anything, Gladwynn. What you need to do is go on with your life and let me handle this. Go to work or to your little coffee shop or shopping or whatever you do all day long. You are not part of this investigation.”

Gladwynn paused briefly, thinking how much younger Samantha had looked than 36. A few seconds later, though, it registered what Tanner had said. “My little coffee shop? Shopping?” Gladwynn raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me, but that was a bit of a sexist comment. As if women just go to coffee shops and shop all day long.”

Tanner cleared his throat. “I apologize. It was just a way of saying that you can return to whatever it was you were doing before I called you. I’m sure you were busy at work.”

Gladwynn smirked. “Actually, I just left Penny’s on Main Street looking for shoes, but that is beside the point. I don’t like the idea that you think all women do is shop and go to coffee shops.”

Tanner sighed and she could imagine him with his hand pressed against his forehead. “I suggested you go back to work, first, so calm yourself.”

Gladwynn laughed softly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go. I have important things to do anyhow. If you find out who called her, you’ll tell me, though, right?”

The line went dead.

Inside the theater, the mood was considerably subdued compared to the gathering on Saturday evening. No one was trying on costumes or arguing about who was playing what parts. Everyone except Emerald was sitting in a seat at the front of the theater.

Emerald stood in front of the seats, wearing a flowing green dress covered in dark green leaves. Her hair was held back from her face with a pair of monarch butterfly barrettes. It was clear she planned to take the lead in the conversation, directing it until a decision was made about whether to continue with the play or not.

“Personally, I think the show must go on,” she declared, clasping her hand at chest level in front of her. The movement made the sheer fabric of her sleeves slide down and Gladwynn caught sight of the edge of an ace bandage around her wrist. “Samantha would have wanted it that way.”

There were a few nods of heads in the group.

“It might be better to postpone it,” Louise said softly. “I mean, is it disrespectful to carry on as if nothing happened?”

She looked at Lucinda. “What do you think, Lucinda?”

Lucinda frowned and rubbed her chin with her hand. “It will be hard for us to continue without Samantha. She was such an important part of this group and our driving force. I don’t find it disrespectful, though, to continue with the performance. Emerald is right. Samantha would have wanted us to carry on. If anything, we would be honoring her creative and encouraging spirit by continuing.”

Gladwynn knew her grandmother’s opinion carried a lot of weight in her own family but the way everyone looked at Lucinda with clear respect as she talked reminded Gladwynn that her opinion carried a lot of weight in the community as well.

“Lucinda is right,” Floyd said. “I say we carry on. I don’t know why she said anything about Samantha and a driving fort but I’m guessing it was metaphorical.”

Gladwynn stifled a giggle behind her hand. Clearly, Floyd’s hearing aid wasn’t working again. Guilt poked at her for feeling like laughing during such a serious conversation. Samantha, a friend of most of the people in this theater, had died possibly under suspicious circumstances. Wanting to laugh about anything right now simply felt wrong.

Emerald drew in a quick breath. “Okay, then. I think we’re all in agreement. The show will go on. Rehearsals start tomorrow night.”

A sharp-toned voice spoke up. “Do we have the extra scripts that Samantha had at her house, though? And her notes?”

Gladwynn glanced down her row and saw the question had come from Martha.

Emerald’s face fell. “No, we don’t actually. Thank you for reminding me. Samantha had all those.”

The group, which had seemed to have gathered new life and excitement a moment before returned to their downcast state.  Gladwynn couldn’t imagine that any of them wanted to go to Samantha’s to retrieve them and Eileen didn’t seem like the most pleasant person to deal with, but — .

“I’ll ask Eileen if she’s seen them or if I can go get them,” she said quickly.

The entire group looked at her, relief on many of their faces. Lucinda looked at her with a grateful expression, reached over and squeezed her hand.

Gladwynn didn’t relish the idea of returning to Samantha’s apartment but she also couldn’t imagine someone who had known her as well as most of the people in the group had having to go in there after what had happened. She’d go to the retirement community manager’s office the next day and see if Eileen could help her.

She wouldn’t mind getting another look at the place anyhow. There might be a clue that she, or the police, had missed. A clue that would prove that Samantha died either from an accident or from foul play.

The meeting lasted another fifteen minutes and then the members split apart to different parts of the theater — either to discuss the set, costumes, or the script itself. Gladwynn, still not ready to commit to playing a part, avoided the actors and followed Lucinda to the prop closet down behind the stage and down the hall.

The closet was a walk-in and larger than Gladwynn had expected. It also featured some old musical instruments, what looked like old marching band uniforms, various decorations, art supplies, and rolls of fabric.

Lucinda began unfurling fabric. “Floyd and his wife have offered again this year to help with the set. Their grandson owns a construction company and Martha — you remember that’s his wife’s name. So not the other Martha. Well, anyhow, his Martha was an art teacher for 25 years so she’s going to paint some beautiful scenery for us. You weren’t here last summer but she painted this gorgeous sunset we used for our performance of Oklahoma.” She unfurled a roll of fabric with pink roses all over it. “This one might work for Anne’s dress. The one with the puffed sleeves.” She reached out to touch a blue fabric with a silkier look to it. “Or maybe this one. I’m grateful for Doris’ sewing skills. I can sew, but not as well as I can knit.”

She hooked both rolls of fabric under each arm. “I’ll be right back. I want to show Doris these and see which one she thinks will work. Can you pull out some fake flowers for us? They are in those bins back there. We’re going to need them for the set. Look for some purple and white lilies if you see any.”

Gladwynn set to work pulling out the large, red bins on the bottom shelf in the back of the closet. She knelt and popped open the lid. A musty smell rushed at her and she made a face, leaning back from it.

No lilies in this one. Only some faded flowers that looked like they’d been pulled off a gravestone after six months of laying in the sun.

She closed the lid and slid out another bin.

“She must love finally being in control. She always wanted Samantha’s job and now she has it.”

Gladwynn recognized the voice outside the door as Martha’s.

Someone else, possibly Louise, sighed. “I suppose this means we will have to hear even more stories about all those years she supposedly worked on Broadway.”

Martha scoffed. “I’m sure we will. You know those stories are all garbage. There is no way she worked on Broadway. If she had we would have heard of her.”

“I don’t know,” the other woman said. “Depends on what she did but I don’t think she did anything.

“Didn’t she say she was an assistant to some famous director?” Martha asked.

There was a small laugh. “Yeah, more than once. Can’t remember which one, though.”

“She never said who.” Martha launched into a dramatic impression of Emerald. “’Sharing who would be bragging,’ she said. More like, sharing who would be proof that her stories are completely made up.”

“And she bragged enough even without the name dropping.”

The voices began to fade as the women started to walk back down the hallway. “If any of it is true then it must have drove her crazy that Samantha took over as director,” Martha said.

Gladwynn stood slowly and moved to the doorway, backing against the wall, and straining to hear the rest of the conversation.

“It probably also drove her crazy that Samantha’s personality was a hundred times more appealing,” responded the voice who she could clearly tell was Louise’s now. “That’s what mattered. She encouraged instead of bullied.” Louise sighed. “I hate that we are talking about her in the past tense.”

Martha’s voice fell to a whisper, losing its usual vibrato. “Me too, honey. Me too.”

Gladwynn returned to looking for flowers, deep in thought.

Had Emerald been jealous of Samantha? Jealous enough to hurt her in some way?

She opened another lid and shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to do this again. She wasn’t going to wrap herself up in a mystery that was not hers to solve.

There was no evidence at this point that anything criminal had happened to Samantha. She could have had a heart attack or a stroke or accidentally taken too many pills. Hadn’t there been a pill bottle on the bedside table? Gladwynn closed her eyes briefly and tried to remember. Yes, she thought she could remember one there. A small one that looked like a prescription bottle.

That very well could have been it. Maybe she’d been upset by Derek’s passing and had purposely taken too many pills. It was a horrible thought but suicide, sadly, happened more often than people wanted to admit. She spotted a strand of lilies that could be wrapped around a piece of the set to look like a row of them. Pulling it from the box she laid them aside and dug for more.

As she dug, the image of Samanth’s face in death swirled uninvited in her mind. To Gladwynn her expression had seemed to be one of shock. And the way her body was contorted, her hand reaching out toward the door? Had Samantha been reaching toward someone? Maybe that happened when the contents of too many pills hit a person’s system. Maybe Samantha had regretted what she’d done and was trying to get to a phone to call for help.

Then there was the knocked over lamp and the piece of paper crumpled on the floor. Could Samantha had knocked over the lamp when the drugs started to take effect and as she fell?

 Gladwynn wished now she had picked the paper up and looked at it closer. Had Samantha been writing something when she died? A suicide note? If it had been a note, wouldn’t she have written it before she took the pills?

She piled more flowers next to her as Lucinda walked back into the closet with the fabric.

“Doris says this blue one will work perfectly so I’m going to take this one home. Now we just need to find a pattern to use. I bet I can find one online. Etsy would be a great place to look. Or maybe Pinterest. I saw one on a cottage core account on Instagram the other day too.”

Gladwynn turned her head to hide her smile. She’d never met a 70-year-old woman so up on the internet and social media as her grandmother.

“Oh wonderful!” Lucinda clapped her hands together. “You found some beautiful lilies. They will look so lovely in front of the Green Gables set.” She paused for a moment. “Gladwynn dear, you have that look on your face again.”

Gladwynn glanced at her grandmother as she placed a lid back on one of the bins. “What look?”

“Your eyebrows are all squished down and your lips are pursed and there is a tightness to your jaw.”

Gladwynn had no idea her expressions were so dramatic.

“What are you thinking about? Is it your father’s visit?”

She’d completely forgotten about her father’s visit. Wonderful. Now she would be thinking about it. “No. It’s nothing. It must have just been my searching face. I had no idea you sat there and analyzed my expressions.” She stood and smoothed her shirt down over her slacks. “I have to be honest that I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Lucinda stepped closer, her eyes boring into Gladwynn’s. “It’s about Samantha isn’t it? Are you still thinking about what you saw?” She set the scissors she’d been holding down and cradled Gladwynn’s face in her hands. “I’m sure it was traumatizing and I know we talked about it some already but if you need to talk more you know I’m here for you, right?”

Gladwynn nodded. “Yes, Grandma, I know. I’m okay, but, yes, I’ve been thinking about her death and what I saw. I’m just processing. That’s all.”

Lucinda kissed her forehead. “I hate that you and Doris had to be the ones to find her.” She tipped her head toward the door and took her hands off Gladwynn’s face “Come on. Let’s get out of here and go grab a sweet treat at Brewed Awakening. It’s just what we all need.”

“Have you seen my hips lately? I’m not really sure sweets are what I need, but I could get a coffee.”

Lucinda frowned. “Honey, I would absolutely love to have those hips. They’re fine. Believe me. But coffee? At this time of the night?”

Gladwynn shrugged her shoulder. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Lucinda sighed as she closed the closet door behind her. “Ah to be young and unafraid of coffee after six again.”

It was obvious that Lucinda hadn’t been the only one who’d thought a sweet treat at Brewed Awakening was a good idea. It was only an hour before closing but the café and bookshop were both packed.

Abbie wasn’t working that night, but Marylou, the owner, was and she had a friendly smile for them despite the apparent hectic appearance of her business.

Gladwynn looked over her shoulder at the crowd. “What’s the occasion? This place is packed tonight.”

Marylou tightened the scrunchie around her ponytail. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray and Gladwynn also saw a few streaks of purple, which denoted Marylou’s young-at-heart attitude. “It’s a fundraiser for the library. Half of my proceeds are supporting the purchase of new books for the children’s section.”

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot that was tonight!” Lucinda said. “In that case we’ll take an extra pastry each!”

Doris shook her head. “Speak for yourself. I’ll take two extra.” She winked. “I can take one home to the mister.”

With their treats in hand, but the café seats all taken, they decided to find a bench outside. The town of Brookstone featured benches dedicated in the memory of former residents along its Main Street. They chose the one was dedicated in the memory of Gladwynn’s grandfather, Sidney, who had been a minister in town for almost 50 years. The black metal bench sat in front of Rose Buds, a local flower shop.

“It’s nice you had a night off work, Gladwynn,” Doris said opening the bag with her pastry.

Lucinda had already taken out her pastry – a strudel with raspberry — and unwrapped it. “It’s not a usual thing, that’s for sure. This poor girl works almost every night until 9 or 10 p.m. She has no time for a social life.”

Gladwynn sipped her coffee and leaned back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other. “And what kind of social life do you think I should have?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t you have friends you hung out with back in Carter?”

The strudel did look good. Gladwynn wished she had chosen one. “Yes, some, but most of them were getting married and having children so there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out anymore. Savanah is still single and we talk from time to time, but she’s also very busy at the library. After they laid me off, they put a lot more on her.”

“It would be nice if Gladwynn had more time to see Pastor Luke,” Doris said breaking off a piece of the pastry. She took a bite, oblivious to Gladwynn looking at her with a confused expression and Lucinda looking at her with a warning expression.

“Why would I want to spend more time with Luke?”

Doris continued to eat. “Because you two hit it off so well that one time he came over for lunch. Then there was the trip down to Sight & Sound and – ouch! Lucinda! You’re digging your elbow into my ribs.”

Gladwynn looked at her grandmother and watched a scowl quickly turn into an innocent smile.

Lucinda nodded at the cup of coffee in Gladwynn’s hand. “How’s your coffee, dear? Enough cream and sugar in there for you?”

“Grandma, I really –”

Lucinda raised her hand in a greeting. “Oh, Eileen! Hello! How nice to see you this evening.”

Eileen stopped walking abruptly, clearly startled. To Gladwynn she looked like a frightened rabbit as she pulled her jacket close around her neck. The night was cooler than some nights but not cool enough for a jacket in Gladwynn’s opinion. The woman’s appearance was a drastic change from the impatient and flustered property manager she’d met at Samantha’s two days before.

“I-I’m fine.” Eileen straightened her hunched shoulders and offered a brief smile. “Lovely to see you too, Lucinda.”

Lucinda seemed oblivious to what Gladwynn saw as Eileen’s discomfort and plowed forward. “Eileen, we noticed this evening that we don’t have some of the scripts and notes we need for the play. We believe Samantha had them. Is there any way we can get to them you think?”

Eileen visibly paled, lowered her gaze to the sidewalk, and coughed softly. “Um, yes. Of course. The police released the scene, um, the condo today. If you come over tomorrow, I’ll take you over there to see if we can find them.” She nodded quickly. “I’m heading home to feed my cats. You ladies have a nice evening.”

She walked quickly past them, avoiding making eye contact and shoving one hand in her jacket pocket while the other kept the top of the jacket closed.

Doris took another bite of her pastry, speaking with her mouth full. “She was a bit squirrely, don’t you think?”

Lucinda shrugged. “Eileen’s always been a bit – well, different.”

Doris snorted a laugh. “You’re always so good at sugar-coating things, Lucinda. She’s always been a bit uptight. Let’s be honest.”

“A bit, yes,” Lucinda conceded. “Anyhow, let’s finish up our treats. I need to get home to bed. I have spin class at 7 a.m., a hair appointment at 9, a library board meeting at 10, a drop off to the loan closet at 11, a trip to the supermarket after that and then lunch with Jacob at noon.”

Gladwynn paused, the coffee cup partway to her mouth, her eyes wide at the extensive list her grandmother had just rattled off. “Don’t you ever slow down?”

Lucinda made a face. “Why would I want to? At my age I’d better keep going or I’ll rust.”

Back in the car, Gladwynn couldn’t help thinking about Eileen’s strange behavior. Or at least it seemed strange to Gladwynn. She’d only met the woman once before. Still, even Doris thought Eileen had been acting a bit, well, squirrely, as Doris had put it. She’d certainly seemed on edge. What Gladwynn wanted to know was if she was on edge because someone she knew had just died or if she was on edge because she was somehow involved with that death.

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