Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [77]
“What are you fine ladies whispering about?” he asked. Dolores gazed up at him with what could only be described as adoration. She definitely needed to have a long talk with Evangeline.
“Nothing important,” Evangeline said.
Amusement crinkled his eyes. “I thought maybe Benni was tellin’ you all the inside scoop about Nora’s murder that she wouldn’t share with me.” He said it loud enough for everyone to stop chattering and stare at me.
“I don’t know any more than anyone else,” I said, glaring at Ash. I crumbled my paper napkin and threw it on my plate. “Let’s start this meeting and get any problems solved so we can begin with a fresh slate tomorrow.”
“I agree,” Grace said.
I pulled my notebook out of my purse and quickly ran through the list of things that still needed to be done. After everyone had their assignments, had voiced their complaints and problems, and I made note of them, I closed my notebook and stood up.
“I’ll see all of you tomorrow night at Farmers’ Market. Remember, our storytelling booth opens promptly at six. The first story is at six-fifteen. Everyone is clear on their time, right? We want to attract people to the festival and show how storytelling is a means to promote peace and brotherhood. Let’s keep it civil.” I looked pointedly at Roy and Peter. Peter stiffened his bottom lip. Roy grinned and saluted me.
“Okay, then, good luck and knock ’em—” I stopped and rephrased my thought. “Uh, break a leg.” A nervous laugh rippled through the group.
“Leaving us so soon?” Ash said, his arm still draped over Dolores’s shoulder. She rested her dark, shiny hair on his shoulder, her eyes glowing.
I glanced down at Jillian, who’d been unusually quiet during the evening, picking at her pizza and casting an occasional furtive glance at Ash. Had Ash officially dumped her? Was he with Dolores now? Or was he playing them against each other in a bid to . . . what? Jillian had financially helped both Ash and Dolores. Did seeing them hang all over each other like this make her regret it? I glanced around at all the people at the table and felt a dull headache start to smolder behind my eyes. Secrets. This group was full of them. Secrets they were afraid would get out. Secrets that apparently Nora knew. Secrets, or at least one secret, worth killing for.
I slipped out of the pizza parlor as everyone said their good-byes. I was opening the truck door when Grace caught my arm.
“Benni, have you got a minute?” Her red hair appeared an odd clownish orange under the parking-lot lights.
I shut the truck door and leaned back against it. “Sure, what’s up?”
“It’s about Roy.”
She fiddled with her hair, and I waited silently for her to go on. In the distance the sound of raucous laughter came from the weight-lifting gym that occupied the second floor above Angelo’s. I glanced up at the thick-necked guy in black bicycle shorts and a yellow tank top standing in front of an open window. He gave a Tarzan yell and beat apelike on his rippled chest.
“He was questioned by the police again today,” she said, her clear green eyes darting up at the sound then back at me.
“He was?”
“You didn’t know?”
I felt my jaw tighten. “Grace, how many times do I have to tell people? Gabe doesn’t confide in me about his work. You know that better than anyone.”
“You said he was getting better.”
“He is, but he’s deliberately keeping me out of this particular investigation because I’m working with all of you.” I paused for a moment, then compulsively asked, “What exactly did the detectives ask Roy?”
She shifted from one boot to the other. “They found out some stuff, and it . . . it doesn’t look good.”
I touched a hand to my forehead, not certain now if I really wanted to hear this. But I was involved with these people. They were my friends and also major players in the storytelling festival. It would be easier to put out fires if I had some idea about what started the flames, and of course, I was a bit curious. . . . “What stuff?”
“There was something he didn’t tell the police. He saw Nora that night . . . the night she