Evening the Score

By Deborah Nicholson

Kate Carpenter, the front-of-house manager of Calgary’s largest theatre company, has just returned from a well-earned vacation after the murder of a patron in her theatre’s lobby and the mayhem of the ensuing investigation left her more than a little stressed. She had been looking forward to a return to normality – working at the theatre, adjusting to her new life with her boyfriend, Cam, and planning a surprise birthday party for her chief usher, Graham. Nothing more exciting than that.

Instead, what she gets is a flooded concert hall that results in a huge piano competition being moved to her theatre. From there, the appearance of her old college boyfriend – along with his wife and daughter – followed by a surprise visit from her mother and a dead body hanging from the second balcony of her theatre can only mean more problems for Kate.

Trying to juggle friends and family, past and present, Kate unwittingly embarks on another murder investigation, which leaves her with a clearer picture of her future – and of who is most important to her now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Nicholson
• Release date: Jun 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9780987694614

Deborah Nicholson

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg4z5aE0CTIDeborah Nicholson has always loved the arts. She studied dance for over ten years. She took drama in school, working as playwright, stage manager and director. She studied music for almost 20 years and taught music for ten years. She moved into medical administration but kept up her love of arts by working and volunteering at the Calgary Centre for Performing arts, with the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, The Calgary International Children’s Festival, Alberta Theatre Projects and Theatre Calgary. Deborah worked as an usher, bartender, shift supervisor, secretary, receptionist, volunteer coordinator and craft designer for these various organizations.The culmination of her career at the Centre was as House Manager for Theatre Calgary for several years. Leaving this position, and the longing to still go to the theatre every night, led to the creation of the Kate Carpenter Mystery Series (Severn House). There are currently five novels published in this series, available in eight countries around the world, and widely reviewed. Deborah has also completed a medical mystery/thriller, Mind Games.To balance her career in the arts, she has continued to work in medical administration with various specialties, such as physiotherapy and rehabilitation, dermatology and cosmetic surgery, general practice and now chronic pain. This interesting field has led to her upcoming series of medical thrillers.Since being published, Deborah has done several workshops and readings to encourage people who dream of writing to stop dreaming and start writing. She has joined several organizations, very interested in literacy and mentorship.She has made numerous appearances on The Breakfast Show, Shaw Television and was a featured performed in “The Letters”. Deborah is a member of Mystery Writers Ink, The Alexandra Writers Society, Crime Writers of Canada, The Alberta Writers Guild, and Romance Writers of America. Deborah is a great supporter of charity and volunteerism and donates 10% of all profits of her novels to charity.In 2009 Deborah wrote The Pain Diaries, a play based on her experience at the Chronic Pain Centre. She spent three years researching the topic, interviewing patients and experts in the field. The play won the CPS Pain Awareness Award in May 2009 and was then workshopped in December 2009. Two sold-out public readings happened in February 2010, followed by a one week run at the Grand Theatre in Calgary in May 2010. A movie adaptation of The Pain Diaries is currently in production.

Book preview

EVENING THE SCORE

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

Deborah Nicholson

Contents

Prologue

Monday October 20

Tuesday, October 21

Wednesday, October 22

Thursday October 23

Friday October 24

Saturday October 25

Sunday October 26

Monday October 27

Tuesday October 28

Wednesday October 29

Thursday October 30

Friday October 31

Saturday November 1

Sunday November 2

Monday November 3

Tuesday November 4

Friday November 7

Epilogue

About the Author

Further Titles by Deborah Nicholson

Novels:

Evening the Score

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

Sins of the Mother

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

Flirting With Disaster

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

Liar, Liar

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

Ghost of a Chance (2012)

A Kate Carpenter Mystery

A Very Bad Day

A bloody sexy short story

The Pain Diaries: A Love Story

Adapted from the play

Mind Games

A medical thriller

Stop Lying (2012)

A personal journey through weight loss and change

Plays:

The Pain Diaries, a love story.

First Edition published in Great Britain 2004 by Severn House Publishers LTD.

Electronic Edition released 2011.

Copyright © 2004 by Deborah Nicholson

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Nicholson, Deborah

Evening the Score

Women theatrical managers – Alberta – Calgary – Fiction

Murder – Investigations – Alberta – Calgary – Fiction

Detective and mystery novels.

Title

813.6 [F]

ISBN-10: 0727861379 (hardcover edition)

ISBN-13: 978-0727861375 (hardcover edition)

ISBN: 978-0-9876946-1-4 (electronic edition)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

EBook Design by 52 Novels

Cover Design Clayton Hansen Design, Calgary, Alberta.

Photographs © Deborah Nicholson

Smashwords Edition June 2011

This book is dedicated to my friends, who become the family we choose for ourselves. These people have supported me through my journey as an author since the beginning and they will probably never know how much I really appreciate them. So thanks Ramona, Krista-Dee, Joe, Mimi, Susan, Marlene, Con and George.

I donate my time and money to various charitable organizations. I believe that those of us that are blessed should pay it forward, whatever your favourite cause. One of the ways I do that is to donate 10% of the profits of all my novels to various charities.

For this novel, my donation will go to The Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra. Hug a musician – they never get to dance.

Prologue

The rain was pounding down harder than she had ever seen before. Thunder and lightning were crashing directly overhead, making the ground shake. She pulled her car into the nearest space to the door, turned off the lights and ignition and made a mad dash for it. She was soaked by the time she let herself in. She looked down at her dripping clothes and laughed. It didn‘t matter. She was on her way to see her boyfriend with the best news of her life. And in another month, if everything went according to plan, he would be her husband. She had missed him so much while she’d been gone and could hardly wait to see him again, to give him the good news. She dropped her hand protectively over her stomach and smiled. She knew a baby would bring them closer together, would cement their relationship and convince him that it was time to settle down. This might have been a little sooner than he had planned, but she knew he would be thrilled and would realize that it was all meant to be. She would have to drop out of college, but, being married to a famous conductor, she wouldn‘t need a college degree. She could just stay home and raise their house full of children.

She got out of the elevator and ran down the hall with all the exuberance her twenty–year-old legs could manage. She let herself in and was surprised to find the apartment in darkness.

‘Chéri!’ she called, but got no answer. He must be out.

She pushed her way into the bedroom, dropped her dripping coat on to the rack and turned on the light. In that moment, her life changed forever. There he was, in bed, naked, with another woman.

‘Mon Dieu…’ He stood up and came over to her.

She turned and ran out the door before he could touch her, passing by the elevator and running down the stairwell. She thought she might be sick as her world swayed around her and she tried not to faint.

She didn‘t notice the rain as she got back into her car, not stopping to turn on the lights or fasten her seat belt. She sped out of the parking space and into the traffic. The cars she cut off blasted their horns but she didn‘t hear them. She couldn‘t see or think of anything except the sight of him in bed, naked, on top of that woman. She didn‘t see the red light, or the other car veering to try to avoid her, or even the windshield as she started to fly through it. And then she didn‘t see anything for several days, until she woke up in a hospital bed. And when they told her she should be fine, with months of therapy, but that she had lost the baby and any chance to have other babies, she didn‘t see or hear anything for several months.

Monday October 20

Musicals. I have a love/hate relationship with them. They bring in the crowds, almost without fail, but after hearing the same songs for four weeks straight – twice a day when there is a matinee – well, you get a little tired of them. And when I find myself humming those songs in the grocery store, then I know it’s time to move on.

My name is Kate Carpenter. I am thirty-three years old, blonde (still, thanks to Clairol), with blue eyes and the first smattering of wrinkles framing them when I smile. I work for Calgary‘s largest theatre company, Foothills Stage Network, as the front-of-house manager. I know it sounds exciting, but the glorified job description entails hiring and supervising ushers and bartenders, dealing with audience complaints (trust me, they rarely compliment and mostly complain), and working almost every night and weekend. In reality I spend most of my time counting cash floats for the sales tables and adding up how many T-shirts we have sold after the show has ended and the actors have gone home. I also get to count liquor inventories for the bars twice a night (four times when we have matinees) as well as trying to keep our audience happy while they pay $5.95 each for watered-down, non-premium drinks. What a life. But for some reason, I love it. Working nights and weekends suits me, as I am not known as a morning person. I get to drink all the coffee I can swallow and I supervise a smart-ass staff that seems to have little respect for me. Despite that we are a happy little band and we manage to get through eight shows a week.

I live in a cute but tiny loft with my boyfriend Cam. He works at the Plex too, in the maintenance department. He has his HVAC ticket, which I think means that he does heating and air conditioning. I don‘t really care about that, but I do love the fact that everything in my place works since I started dating him. He is a great handyman who actually fixes broken things instead of just talking about fixing them. He is also incredibly good-looking and a fitness nut, which I‘m learning to live with. Cam always thought he could convert me, but after the first time he took me for a jog, he pretty much gave up on that idea. So now, while I sleep in, he gets up bright and early and goes jogging. A great compromise as far as I’m concerned.

Cam moved into my life about two years ago and my apartment about two months ago. We had a murder in the theatre lobby during Much Ado About Nothing and I somehow got involved in it. Cam was my knight in shining armour, moving in to protect me. Luckily he did a good job of it, or I would be just another greasy spot on the stage by now. I’m glad that’s all behind us and we can get on with the business of settling in together.

I don‘t have a great track record with relationships, and Cam is divorced, but we are struggling through. I thought, when he first moved in, that it would only be temporary, but when the danger had passed and it was time to move him out, I couldn’t make myself do it. It seems I’ve gotten used to having him around. And I always say that Cam‘s greatest attribute is that no matter how hard I push him away, he keeps coming back.

Cam and I had just returned from a mini vacation on Vancouver Island, tanned and relaxed. One of my favourite places in the world is Long Beach in the Pacific Rim National Park. When I was little we used to camp right on the beach, surrounded by hippies and other assorted dropouts from society. The first year we got washed away at high tide, but Mom dried out the tent, Dad dried out the engine of the car and we survived and learned and kept going back for more. Now, as grown-ups, we stayed in a hotel, but it was right across the road from the beach. When life gets me down, I love to lay on the beach with a book, pretend to read and let the crashing Pacific surf cleanse my mind. Cam and I walked for miles and miles when the tide was out. Plus, we were lucky enough to catch the tail end of the grey whale migration. Nothing like sitting on the patio of a great seafood restaurant, watching a grey whale breech in the harbour. Cam had never been there before and he is already talking about planning our summer vacation there next year. Luckily, camping is no longer allowed on the beach, as I’m much more of a room service type of girl these days.

But for now, it’s back to reality. Home, my tiny loft and work tomorrow. It will be the first preview for the new show, but for today I have ten days’ worth of laundry to get through. I couldn‘t even guilt-trip Cam into doing it for me, as he has been busy in the kitchen, defrosting the fridge and spraying some disgusting stuff into the oven to try to get my five years of grease off the racks. Personally, I would have happily stopped using the oven once the smoke alarm started going off and ordered takeout instead for the rest of my life. Cam loves to cook, though, and he has insisted on getting the kitchen back into shape. He has scrubbed the floor and cleaned out some sort of trap in the dishwasher that I never even knew existed. At least the dishwasher doesn’t flood the kitchen anymore. So now I can use real dishes and wash them in the dishwasher instead of eating out of takeout cartons. Cam once said something about being able to wash the dishes in the sink if the dishwasher was broken, but I just laughed. He knows me better than that, but I guess you can’t blame the guy for trying.

I had almost finished folding the last load of laundry, desperately trying to think of a reason to go to the theatre before Cam could make me dust or start vacuuming. Graham, my eighteen-year-old assistant, called me yesterday to tell me that something exciting was happening at the theatre and left instructions for me to call him as soon as we got back into town. I think Cam had had enough excitement for a lifetime because he threatened to cut the phone cord if I even thought about calling Graham before tomorrow. Everyone still thinks we’re out of town and Cam likes it that way.

I carried the laundry basket up the cute spiral staircase to the bedroom. Cam has started moving some of his stuff in and it’s getting a little crowded up there. I know I could probably put half my stuff in storage but I’ve been avoiding that. I set the laundry on the bed and sat down beside it. The bookcases would be a good place to start, I thought. Crammed with years and years of music and textbooks from university, most of which I haven‘t cracked open since my last final, I‘m sure I wouldn‘t miss half of them if I packed them up. Yet I have been a little scared to do it. If I let Cam start to put his stuff on my shelves it’ll mean he’s here for good – something I haven‘t really admitted to myself yet.

I stood up and grabbed his underwear and socks from the basket. I’ve rearranged my drawers and Cam now claimed half of them. I don‘t really miss the space, like I said; it’s just that the idea of the whole commitment thing is a little hard for me. My closet has one of those modular units, with everything from a jewellery drawer to a scarf rack, and everything is arranged by size, style, and colour. I have too many clothes and accessories, but by rearranging everything slightly, I had freed up space for Cam without crowding myself too much. Maybe it would stop me from buying clothes for a while . . or maybe I‘d just keep more of them in my office at the theatre.

‘Are you finished down there yet?’ I called over the loft rail to Cam.

‘Not quite,’ he answered. I could hear him scrubbing something.

‘I need coffee, Cam. When am I going to be able to get into the kitchen?’

I leaned on the railing and propped my chin in my hands. Cam really is a good-looking man and he looked especially good from this vantage point. I love to watch him work. Actually, I love to watch anyone work, as long as it isn‘t me.

‘Katie.’ He is the only person who can get away with calling me Katie. ‘You really won‘t die if you don‘t have a coffee for five minutes.’

‘You know, it‘s a lot easier just to buy new rings for the burners,’ I offered.

‘I‘m almost finished.’

‘I could walk down to Gus‘s and pick up a cappuccino for us,’ I suggested, hoping he’d give me one of his automatic yeses.

Gus owns the coffee shop located at one end of the Plex. I go there so often that Gus jokes that if I ever quit my job at the theatre, he will go out of business.

‘Sure, and sneak into the theatre while you‘re there?’ Cam asked. ‘I don‘t think so.’

‘Can I have a cigarette then?’ I asked. I’m quitting, but that only seems to mean I don‘t buy my own and only smoke Cam’s – or anyone else‘s that I can beg.

‘I thought you really were quitting this time,’ he said.

‘I am, just not today.’

‘Did you finish the laundry?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘Are you going to give me a cigarette or not?’ I was determined.

‘All right.’ He took a cigarette out of his pack and set it on the counter.

I came downstairs and picked up the smoke.

‘Can I have a light?’

Cam took his head out of the oven and rinsed his hands in the sink.

‘No,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘You do realize that smoking is really bad for you.’

‘Please?’

‘No, we both decided we were quitting,’ he repeated. ‘Besides, you know what they say about kissing someone who smokes.’

‘No, I don’t, and I wouldn’t say it if you ever hope to kiss me again,’ I threatened.

‘OK, but we did promise each other we were going to quit, Katie.’

‘Then why do you have this in your pocket?’ I asked, holding up the cigarette.

‘Because I knew that if I threw them out here, you would scavenge them from the garbage, hide them somewhere and smoke them when you were alone.’

I put the cigarette in my shirt pocket and wrapped my arms around Cam‘s neck, pulling him away from the sink.

‘Katie, I have to finish the oven before we pass out from the smell,’ he protested, but I felt his arms encircle me.

As I kissed him, my hands wandered down his back, stopping when I reached his back pocket. I found his lighter, removed it, and pulled away from him.

‘Sucker,’ I teased.

He grabbed the lighter out of my hand and put it on top of the kitchen cupboards, where he knew I couldn’t reach it.

‘Now let’s see you get it,’ he said, turning back to the sink and rinsing out his cloth. ‘And perhaps if you finish your share of the chores, I‘ll get it down for you.’

‘I‘m living with my mother!’ I pouted, climbing back up the stairs.

I finished putting the clothes away, hoping I wasn‘t actually supposed to iron anything. Maybe he wouldn‘t notice. I straightened out the bed, swiped at some dust on the bedside table, and looked through the CDs on the rack. I picked out a new Train CD that I had just bought and put it on, cranking up the volume. This and my piano are the two reasons I live in a concrete building. I can play my music as loud as I want and the neighbours rarely hear a thing.

I heard Cam humming away downstairs. It’s nice living with someone with the same taste in music. We hardly ever disagree about what to listen to, unlike trying to pick a movie to watch. That is something we can never agree on. When Cam picks, he tries to educate me in the classics, like the Three Stooges, or Laurel and Hardy, while I prefer more modern fare like a good Bruce Willis action movie or maybe a classic like Indiana Jones or Star Wars. We are both convinced that we will eventually turn each other on to our tastes in movies, but so far neither of us has been successful. Not like we need anything else to argue about. That is something we do really well.

I heard the coffee pot beeping and poked my head over the rail again.

‘Coffee?’ I asked, feeling my mouth water at the thought of a nice strong cup of the African blend I had picked up last week. Cam had come through for me again.

‘And a cigarette,’ he said, waving his lighter.

I bounded down the stairs like a child on Christmas morning and sat at the little wicker table I have set up in the kitchen. I noticed my plants were wilting and decided I had better water them before the day was over.

Cam poured me a coffee and lit my cigarette for me. I hadn‘t smoked for twenty-four hours and it tasted great. I seem to be a born smoker, which is why I am having such a hard time quitting. At least that is my theory. Cam lit a cigarette and sat down across from me with a beer for himself.

‘Well, the place is looking good,’ he said.

‘Are we going to have to do this cleaning thing all the time?’ I asked.

‘Katie, I promised you I would cook every meal as long as we‘re together, but I am not the maid. We are going to split the chores.’

‘What about hiring a cleaning service?’

‘I think we can manage this once a week or so, don‘t you?’ he asked. ‘Besides, if we keep it up, it won’t be so bad. This place has been suffering from a few years of neglect.’

‘God, your room-mate must have been glad to see you go,’ I said. ‘Did you try to run his life, too?’

‘I have certain standards, Katie, like not being able to write my name in the dust on the coffee table.’

‘I think you‘re exaggerating slightly,’ I protested. ‘I‘ve never been able to write my name in the dust on the coffee table. Now, the TV screen is a whole different story.’

‘Well, they‘re both clean now,’ he said proudly.

‘You‘re one in a million,’ I said, taking another cigarette from his pack. While I didn’t really appreciate the abuse I was taking, I loved the way the apartment was beginning to look and I didn’t want to derail his enthusiasm.

‘You have absolutely no will power, do you?’

‘Very little. How do you think Graham‘s doing?’ I asked to change the subject.

Graham had also been involved in the murder during the previous show, and had the injuries to prove it. He was sporting a brace on his right leg, had some new front teeth, and a few assorted bruises. I hadn‘t fared too well either, I thought, looking down at the cast that was to stay on my arm for at least another week.

‘I‘m sure he‘s fine,’ Cam said. ‘We would have heard if he wasn‘t. And he didn‘t sound too sick when he left the message on the answering machine.’

‘I suppose.’

‘It‘s just killing you, isn‘t it?’ he asked. ‘Being away from the theatre for ten days. I would have thought that after the last month you spent there, you would never want to go back.’

‘It was kind of exciting, Cam.’

‘Getting thrown down a flight of stairs was exciting?’ he asked. ‘That kind of excitement I can do without.’

‘Well, Sam and Ryan thought it was exciting.’

My best friend and her husband had just returned from a vacation the night after the murderer had been apprehended, and Cam and I had gone out for coffee with them, regaling them with tales of murder and intrigue. It was a story from which I intended to get plenty of mileage.

‘We should give them a call and see if they want to do a movie tonight,’ Cam suggested.

Just then, the phone rang. I turned to answer it but Cam put a hand on my arm, holding me down.

‘Don‘t even think about answering that,’ he warned me.

I listened to my message play, heard the beep, and waited anxiously to hear who was calling.

‘Hello, Katherine? Are you there? Pick up, darling, it‘s Mother.’

I looked at Cam. ‘Oh God, my mother!’

The machine continued recording. ‘Katherine, I‘m coming into town tomorrow and I just wanted to let you know. My plane won‘t get in until seven, so I‘ll take a taxi to the theatre and meet you there. I can only stay for two or three weeks but I‘ll tell you all about it when I get there. Bye for now.’

‘I finally get to meet your mom,’ Cam said.

‘I was hoping you wouldn‘t have to so soon. I thought we would wait until we‘d been married for ten years or so,’ I said.

‘Katie, seriously, I can hardly wait to meet her,’ he said. ‘Where does she stay when she‘s in town?’

‘On the couch.’

‘For three weeks?’ he asked. ‘Isn‘t it going to get a little crowded here?’

‘Not after you move out,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘I haven‘t even told her I‘ve been seeing you,’ I said. ‘She‘s going to die if she finds out you’re living here.’

‘Well, you’d better come up with something.’ He smiled. ‘I‘ve already given notice at my old place, remember?’

‘Shit, my mother and you together in this apartment for three weeks? Maybe I‘ll just get struck by lightning right now and won‘t have to live through it.’

He ruffled my hair, laughing at me. ‘You know you never have that kind of good luck.’

‘Well, my bad luck is your bad luck,’ I said. ‘You‘re looking at enforced celibacy until my mother leaves.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Take advantage tonight, Cam, it may be your last chance for a while,’ I teased him.

‘Forget the movie then,’ he said. ‘We‘re not leaving the house tonight.’

I stood up and ran over to the phone, dialling Sam‘s number.

‘Too late,’ I told him. ‘I think a movie would be fun tonight. Maybe dinner afterwards, a late night and then straight home for a good night‘s sleep.’

‘You can be cruel,’ he said. ‘After all I‘ve done for your kitchen.’

‘Hi, Sam, it‘s Kate,’ I said into her machine. ‘Book the nanny for the night and let‘s go to a movie. It‘s my last free night before the show starts. Call me as soon as you get in.’

I hung up and turned to find Cam standing right beside me.

‘You‘re just joking about your mother staying here, right?’ he asked as he kissed me.

‘No,’ I said, kissing him back, letting my hands work their way up under his sweater and trace the outline of his spine. ‘I wasn‘t joking about any of it.’

‘Then I think you’d better accompany me upstairs before Sam calls you back,’ he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the stairs.

***

Sam called back an hour later and we arranged to go to an early show. She and Ryan like Arnold Schwarzenegger as much as I do and we agreed that someone had to see Terminator 3 so it might as well be us. Between our house-cleaning and frolicking, Cam and I both needed a shower. He wanted me to come and wash his back but I knew we‘d never be ready on time if I did, so I sat on the couch, leafing through a magazine, waiting for my turn in the bathroom – something else that was new to me. I looked around the apartment, glad Cam had bullied me into cleaning the place up now that I knew my mother was coming to stay. I don‘t think she‘s ever seen it this clean or organized before and I hoped she would be impressed by it. My mother hadn’t even arrived yet and I was already worried about getting her approval. It‘s amazing how I become a child again the second she appears in my life.

It was after five and I was sure everybody at the theatre would have gone home for the day, so I called the box office number and left a message to say that I would need a ticket for Mom the next night. I thought she‘d have a much better time watching the show than sitting around the lobby watching me. I heard Cam come out of the bathroom so I got up to