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She abruptly turned, and almost bumped into Don Stryker, who’d been standing right behind her.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he said, steadying her by placing both hands on her upper arms. He immediately let go again, but not before giving her a gentle caress that sent shivers running down her spine—and not the good kind of shivers.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, quickly composing herself.

“The great and powerful Detective Kingsley. Obviously even our stalwart upholder of the law isn’t immune to the charms of the innocent and beguiling ing?nue.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, more brusquely than she intended.

He laughed an obnoxious laugh.“Oh, dear me. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Detective Kingsley, if I’m not mistaken, is not getting any tonight.”

“Oh, Don,” she said. “You are—”

“Incorrigible? That, I am. And if you care to apply that age-old remedy for the wandering eye, my dear, I’m all yours.” He gave her a wink. “Use me as you see fit.”

Ugh.“No, thank you.”

“Not that! You do have a dirty mind, young lady. No, I was thinking more along the lines of this scenario: you pretend to laugh uproariously when I whisper something in your ear, and I can promise you the handsome detective will suddenly find the company of the delectable Miss Grey a lot less appealing.”

He’d taken her hand again, and she jerked it free. Having to kiss this man was bad enough, but she drew the line at having to undergo his repulsive flirtations.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Don,” she said. “I am not now, have never been, nor will I ever be, interested in you, so bury those romantic notions or you’ll be very disappointed.”

“And already the lady starts to adopt the language of the bard,” he said, and faux-applauded. “Bravo, Odelia Poole. Bravo, indeed.”

“Oh, can it, buddy,” she said.

“Not very Shakespearian, but I get your point,” he said with a smirk. He glanced around. “What did you think of our great leader’s speech? Not giving in to murderous bastards and all that?”

“I think he’s right. We shouldn’t stop this production just because of one madman.”

“You do realize that there are ulterior motives at play here, right?”

Odelia studied her co-star.“What do you mean?”

“Wolf isn’t doing this for poor little Dany’s sake. He’s sunk every last dime he owns into his production company. If these shows get canceled he’ll be broke, and so will his producing partner.”

“But I thought they were the most successful producers on Broadway?”

“Bullshit,” spat Don. “Dear old Wolf has a serious gambling problem. When he’s not studying the works of the bard, he can usually be found in Las Vegas squandering other people’s money.”

This was food for thought.“You don’t think he had something to do with Dany’s death, do you?”

Don gave her another one of his trademark smirks.“Very perceptive of you, my dear. Your reputation as Hampton Cove’s premier sleuth precedes you. Yes, I do think he had something to do with Dany’s murder and that’s what I told that police detective of yours. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to like the aspersions I cast upon divine Wolf’scharacter.”

“But why would he jeopardize his own production? Dany’s death might have caused this whole thing to collapse, and then, as you said, he would have destroyed his own company.”

“Oh, Odelia, Odelia,” he said, shaking his head as if addressing a wayward child. “Don’t you see? Dear Dany was blackmailing Wolf. The two of them were engaged in a torrid affair, behind Wolf’s long-suffering wife’s back, of course. If Wolf ended the affair, Dany threatened to spill thegoods—talk to the enemy of every creative person in the world: the tabloids. And New York’s tabloids can be notoriously vicious when they smell blood in the water. Already they were circling, and Dany’s stories, whatever they were, could have seriously tarnished his reputation.”

And with these ominous words, he left her to wonder about that message.‘Hurry up, Wolfy. I’m naked and ready.’ It didn’t sound like the message from a girl threatening blackmail.

Chapter 17

Conway Kemp was refilling his glass at the drinks table. Judging from the misty look in his eyes, it wasn’t his first. Or his fifth. Odelia had seen him imbibe drink before, though, and therefore knew he could hold his liquor well.

“Hey, Con,” she said, remembering their first meeting with fondness. In spite of Wolf’s statement that he always hired the core crew himself, leaving only the bit players and the technical staff to Con’s eagle-eyed judgment, he’d actually been the one to tap her for this role. She’d never had acting ambitions before, being content to be a small-town reporter and occasional sleuthhound, so when Con walked up to her three weeks ago in the local deli and asked her if she had any acting experience, she’d been highly surprised to say the least. Her answer had been a big laugh, which told him everything he needed to know.

“I’ve read your articles,” he’d said, “and I’ve watched your YouTube channel. And I know this may come as a surprise to you, but have you ever considered acting?”

“Never,” had been her instant reply, followed by more laughter. Simply the idea of being an actress sounded ridiculous to her, and that’s what she’d told Con.

A classically handsome man in his early forties, Conway Kemp had clearly been around the block a few times. Later she’d discovered, over a cup of coffee at Cup o’ Mika, that he was an ex-marine, and that he’d only stumbled into the theater business by accident. His captain in the marines was Wolf Langdon’s father, and he’d asked Con to keep an eye on Wolf when he first decided to enter the theater business as a young man. Con had quickly become responsible for Wolf’s security, not a luxury as Wolf had initially made a name for himself setting up street theater productions in some of New York’s roughest neighborhoods. Con had been his security detail, creative sounding board and assistant all rolled into one. Once Wolf had accepted an offer to direct his first Broadway play, Con figured his role was finished. Broadway might be tough to launch a career, but it was hardly the kind of place where you could get a knife planted in your back if you upset the wrong people.

But Wolf had made Con an offer he couldn’t refuse: set up a production company together, financed by the woman Wolf would go on to marry, and after some hesitation Con had agreed. They’d quickly settled into their respective roles: Con took care of the business side, with Wolf handling the creative stuff. But part of Con’s duties was also scouting new young talent to put in minor roles. This entailed trolling YouTube for fresh faces. Like Odelia.

“Hey, Odelia,” he said now, slurring his words only a tiny bit.

“I can’t imagine how tough this must be on you,” she said. Con had been the one to recruit Dany, after all.

He nodded.“Yeah, it’s the first time since I entered civilian life that I’ve lost a member of my team. Like you said, it’s tough.” He shook his head. “She was so young and full of life. A rising star. I’d already offered her a part in Wolf’s next Broadway gig. She was going places, that kid.”

“Do you have any clue who might have done this to her?”

“Not a one. I’ve been wracking my brain. Why kill the loveliest, most innocent and sweetest soul on the planet? I mean, if you’re going to kill someone, why not kill that guy?”

Odelia followed his gesture, and saw he was directing a scathing look at Don Stryker. To be honest, she harbored some harsh thoughts about the man herself, but murder?

“I don’t think we should say such things,” she said therefore.

“No, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… Of all people—why Dany?”