“Not that I can remember.”
“What was your relationship with Malcolm Wudbine?”
Johnson looked off to some point beyond Ray, then back. “He was a real pain in the ass. Obnoxious and controlling. I learned years ago whenever possible to stay away from difficult people. This is a big area and our cottage is in a remote corner of the property, very private. The only time I saw Malcolm most summers was connected with the play, and I didn’t have any face-to-face dealings with the man. So while he was enormously vexatious to some people here, Malcolm was never more than a faint blip on my radar. And I worked to keep it that way.”
“You talked about electrical problems?”
“Yes, like I was telling you. All the equipment is old and should have been replaced decades ago. But it has been hard to make a case for stage lighting against the other needs of the colony. The whole infrastructure of Mission Point is crumbling. Everyone is sentimental about this place, but few are ready to put up some real cash. In fact, every time there’s been a major crisis—like our treatment plant dying and pouring raw sewage into the lake—Malcolm and his millions have come to the rescue. I think we all started to believe that we didn’t have to attend to these problems because at the end of the day Malcolm would come in and take care of them.”
“Motives for murder, do you know anyone who wanted Malcolm dead?”
“No. He was enormously unpleasant. But murder, that’s a whole different story.”
“And you’ve never had any personal or financial dealings with Wudbine?”
“Like I suggested, my motto is to avoid skunks. I always tried to stay upwind of Malcolm.”
15
Ray’s conversation with David Johnson was just winding down when he noticed Richard Grubbs standing outside the screen door peering in, looking agitated and weary. As Johnson walked away, Ray ushered Grubbs in.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“I thought you should know, Sheriff, there’s a panic going on. I mean, now that people are awake and drinking coffee, and…well…people are thinking of going home. What they’re saying is that there was one murder, there could be more. They want to get away from this place, take their families somewhere safe.”
Ray didn’t respond for a long moment, then said, “I can understand their fears. I think you need to be out there helping people vent their feelings. You might want to consider bringing in a crisis response team. That said, you probably have trained mental health workers in the colony. Pull them together and get their guidance.”
“People are demanding that I hire a security service and get streetlights installed immediately.” Grubbs’ face was flush, his hand trembling as he gesticulated his points.
“I was just chatting with you twenty or thirty minutes ago. How many people are we talking about?
“Well, a few, but they were very upset.”
“You need to be calm, Richard. Think about this crime. Does this look like a random event?”
“Well, no. Someone clearly wanted Malcolm dead. This murder was, what do you people say, premeditated. But why here, why onstage?”
“That’s a very interesting question. How often is Malcolm alone? How easy would it be to get to him?”
“Malcolm was seldom alone. He always had his people around him. The ‘people’ thing, that’s his phrase, not mine. He was always saying ‘I’ll have my people take care of it, or ‘I’ll have my people look into it.’ Phrases like that.”
“Did he have a security detail?”
“Personal assistants, I think that’s what he called them. I never paid close attention. But now that I think of it, yes, they could have been security people. If rock stars and politicians all have security details, why shouldn’t Malcolm?” He paused for a moment, then pointed at his chest, “This old college professor, there’s this big world out there that I don’t understand.” He paused again, “Come to think of it, that new person, Alyson Mickels, his personal trainer and helicopter pilot, could be a security type. He bragged that Alyson was a former special ops officer. She’s quite attractive and clearly a jock.”
“Was she in the audience last night, or backstage, or when we went up to the Gull House?”
“No, I didn’t see her, and she’s hard to miss. Tall, very blond with long, thick hair like a Norse goddess. And the way she fills her clothes, I don’t think she means to be provocative, but boy.”
“There was another Wudbine in the cast.”
“Yes, his daughter-in-law, Jill. She had the part of Anne Protheroe.”
“Was his wife in the audience?”
“No. To my memory Brenda has never stepped foot in the Assembly Hall. She figured out the chemistry of this place the first summer Malcolm showed up with her. What you have to know is everyone was on Verity’s side when the big breakup took place. And to give you a little background, years before they split there were rumors of physical abuse and infidelity on Malcolm’s part.
“Brenda never became part of the colony. When she’s here in the summer, she doesn’t participate in any of our events. She just stays up there in that enormous house. I have heard that she has a group of women friends who come and visit. Rumor has it that she’s an alcoholic. I guess that’s one way you could endure living with Malcolm, but one should not speak ill of the dead.”
Ray listened to Grubbs closely. He wondered what was really going on in the man’s mind.
“Well, I better get back,” said Grubbs. “I imagine my office is probably filling up again. And your advice was good. I’ll get some people organized to help me deal with this.”
“Events like this generate enormous stress. Like I said, people need to vent their feelings and fears. If you can get that process going, I think you will see things start to calm down.”
After Grubbs hurried away, Ray thought about the cast and crew in the green room when he went in to talk to them. He was starting to put faces with names, starting to see relationships. He wandered outside, seeking the warmth of the sunshine.
“I was hoping to catch you between interviews,” said Sue Lawrence coming down the sand trail, a well-worn path bordered on each side by moss-covered stones. The path snaked through the second-growth hardwoods.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s not much more to do there, other than tear the place apart looking for the weapon. Brett and I went out to take a break, and he called my attention to the four dumpsters sitting at the base of the hill. We went down and took a look. And while we were there one of the residents drove up with a couple of garbage bags. Here’s the deal, that’s where everyone drops their garbage. It’s all got to be bagged. Pickups are on Monday and Friday.”
“I think I know where you’re going.”
“Do I need to get a search warrant?”
Ray took a long time to answer. “Let’s be on the safe side. And get some hazmat suits. I’ll come and help you when I’m done. That Brett, he’s too observant for his own good.”
16
Florence Carlotta arrived like a small tornado, breathless and animated, dragging two huffing Scottie dogs, rotund mops of black hair pulling in opposite directions at right angles to her intended course. A pair of vintage Birkenstocks, peaking from beneath a large floral skirt, provided the platform for Florence’s ample figure.
Ray started to bend to pet the Scotties.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Carlotta warned sternly. “Una doesn’t fancy men much. Araballa, she’s the younger one, doesn’t either, but she’s less of a biter. They have nailed the phone man, the UPS driver, the plumber, and the painter. I’m sure they would have gotten the butcher, the baker and candlestick maker, too, if they were still around. Equal opportunity biters who don’t discriminate.”
“Seems to me their targets are very gender specific,” observed Ray.