Murder, Most Sincerely

By Beverly Nault

Ding dong, the Tin Man’s dead! Will stage manager Lucy Lambert also get the ax? Toto’s been poisoned, a cast member’s dead, and the police blame Lucy’s lax safety measures. To clear her name, she investigates, revealing the true killer hiding behind the curtain, and becomes the next target. When the Tin Man dies during Morgan Valley Community Theater’s closing performance of “The Wizard of Oz,” Lucy Lambert’s dream job as stage manager is on the chopping block. When the police blame her poor safety procedures for the death, she’s determined to prove her competence. In the process, though, she uncovers evidence the actor was indeed murdered and becomes the killer’s next target. Handsome veterinarian, Cade Winston, doubts Lucy even when he finds Toto has been poisoned, but then events unfold convincing him there is trouble in Oz. The two work together to lure out the culprit bent on framing Lucy for the Tin Man’s demise, and discover there’s no place like home in each other’s arms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beverly Nault
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310412332

Beverly Nault

Beverly Nault writes from a 2014 Newmar Ventana named Flight Risk. Married to her high school sweetheart, she's been penning novels and nonfiction ever since launching their gorgeous daughter Lindsay, now married to the handsome Josh, and the wise and wonderful Evan, married to the beautiful and smart Kamie. So far, the RV has taken Gary and Bev on short trips around the southwest. Stay tuned for new adventures as they develop.

Book preview

Chapter One

Darkness wrapped around Lucy Lambert and she twisted from side to side, checking the path of the tornado as its momentum increased, whirling higher and higher, making her hair stand on end. Blinking against dust and torn bits of paper mixed with insect parts and whatever the cast carried in on their shoes racing directly for her, she braced for impact as the brunt force of the wind hit her broadside.

In a flash, it was over, and she righted herself on the stage manager’s stool and delivered a warning Shh! The Cowardly Lion and Tin Man huddled nearby in their usual impatience for their cue to enter stage right.  The Morgan Valley Community Theater’s matinee performance of The Wizard of Oz had the entire cast and crew buzzing with the nervous energy that usually permeated the last show. Despite their energy, she had to keep everyone focused until the final curtain fell.

In the house, the audience reacted with the expected oohs and ahhs as smart lights spun a tornadic illusion across the stage’s wooden planking, and giant fans blew pre-set papers. Wearing heavy gloves against the thorns, her assistant stage manager, Justin, cut the tumbleweed loose from the temporary curtain hung for the purpose of catching the sticky weed. It was now bedraggled and lopsided from rolling from stage right to left, brittle and half the size it started out three weeks ago. After fifteen shows and countless rehearsals, Lucy was planning a happy dance when it was tossed in the dumpster, by her calculation in less than two hours. She breathed a sigh of relief as the pesky piece disappeared, and Justin handed her the Swiss army knife her dad had given her. You never know when you’ll need one of these, he’d said. Although he worried about her financially, her dad seemed to support her dreams.

She returned the knife to her pocket. Should be smooth sailing from here on out. Lucy had developed an almost sixth sense, an uncanny awareness of her surroundings. Her ability meant that she was keenly aware of the unspoken rhythms; she sensed the movements, the subtle ambiance of every light, actor, sound cue, and musical note as they pieced together to make a seamless picture, a story world of imagination and escape for the theatergoer when things were going smoothly. When they weren’t, she was quick to react, a precious gift for a stage manager who must know without stopping to think, how to fix a problem almost before it happened. Certainly before it was evident to the audience.

This ability, combined with her passion for theater, was something she hoped would make her dream, to have a permanent staff position, a reality. Others might want the spotlight; she adored being in the back, in the black. This show, her first large cast musical, the hardest to manage for its scale and precision, would prove if she had the chops.

Have a heart. Lion held giant paws to his chest, and affected the shaky timbre of his character’s signature voice. Admit you’re glad this is the last time we have to stand here in these stinky costumes. Nudging her, he lifted a wooly arm and shifted his smelly self toward her.

Stop. She only half pretended to be angry, smirked to herself, and squinted at her binder in the blue light clipped to her podium. It was nice to be kidding around with the cast. Ever since a very public argument—and resulting breakup—with the director, Dillon Chandler, during technical rehearsal week, she’d wondered if she would ever regain the cast’s and crew’s respect. Unprofessional to air their personal problems at work, she knew it was made even worse when he openly doubted her ability to handle thirty-five cast members, a crew double the size of any she’d ever worked with, and all the technical staff necessary for a show of this magnitude. All on her first gig at the manager’s podium.

Tin Man lifted his prop can, teasing her with a mock dousing of oil. She tried to throw him a good-natured smile, but a crucial call was coming up and her attention was pulled back to the script. From the corner of her eye, she saw him swing his rubber hatchet at the Lion, who flicked his long tail behind him and squared off, paws up.

Knock it off, you two, Lucy hissed at them, trying to sound stern. Their pretend battles were legendary, and when the flying monkeys egged them on, had been a constant reminder that Lucy barely clung to her authority. When they’d placed a rubber spider on her stool the first day of technical rehearsal, she knew Dillon had sold her out to the cast. But her deathly fear of spiders would not keep her down. After collecting herself in the shop office, she’d returned, replaced her headset and commanded authority. She’d been pranked, and welcomed the good-natured initiation, as it meant the cast and rest of the crew was beginning to accept her.

She rubbed her temples, glad this was the last time she would have to worry about those two hurting each other, or worse, making so much noise Dillon would spring from his seat in the audience and appear at her side, and reminding her she didn’t have control back here. Despite their breakup, his concerns about her, and some illnesses in the cast, the backstage glitches had been kept to a minimum. The show had been a box office success, and the gig boosted her bank balance until now it almost hovered in the black.

Resisting the urge to celebrate prematurely, she reminded herself that just like most car accidents happen close to home, her show could go south at any moment before the final curtain fell if she let down her guard. She leaned close to her monitor, making sure the 2D house façade was sitting on the correct marks before uttering the order to raise the lights. Satisfied the ruby-slippered prop legs indicating the Wicked Witch of the East was dead were suitably visible, she gave the okay, turned the page, and lifted off her headset.

She had three minutes, more or less, depending on whether Dorothy stumbled on all, or just a few of her lines, to escort an increasingly reluctant, yet crucial, actor on stage. Slipping past some gossiping Ozzians, she stepped into the hallway to a small crate underneath a prop table.  A pair of round brown eyes blinked at her through the grill. Come on, sweet girl, it’s time for your close-up. Even though Lucy’s original contract prohibited her from being the animal wrangler on top of all her other duties, when the terrier rescued from the local animal shelter to play Toto had begun losing her dark brown fur from the stress, she’d banished everyone else from touching the poor creature for the duration. And even though she hadn’t intended to keep a pet because of her odd schedule and limited budget, she’d begun taking the little dog home with her to try and staunch the poor thing’s alarming hair loss. But the dog still seemed to be failing.

Just one more, and I promise, no more acting gigs for you. Lucy unlocked the door beneath her hand-scribbled sign, Only SM handles dog! and lifted the grayish-brown mutt into her arms. Craning her neck from a slobbery kiss, she football-carried the pup, keeping her other hand free to hold off the youngsters dressed as munchkins, who invariably wanted to touch the dog as she passed.

She managed to skirt them, and settled on the stool at her podium. Penny, as the dog had been named by the Animal Friends rescue shelter, was a lethargic lump in her lap. Lucy rubbed her head. Almost final curtain, baby, she reassured her.

Headset repositioned over her ponytailed hair, she saw Lion from the corner of her eye. He’d once suggested she could donate her own hair to the balding dog since they were oddly the same color. Cheeky actors.

Script pages flipped over as she caught up to the dialog. Ten weeks of rehearsals, one very long hell week that lived up to its name, and fifteen performances later, Lucy was ready to put this show away. She’d promised to visit her dad, who would, of course beg her to move closer to his senior community in Phoenix so he could watch out for her. But now that her first show was a success, she could prove to him she could make it on her own.

A musical cue sounded, and she sat up straighter, adrenaline surging. The next few moments were what made working on a stage the wildly creative, exciting, and yet frustrating profession that Lucy adored.

As the orchestra neared the end of a measure, she and the crew would have less than five seconds to perform their magic. Dorothy would exit, a dresser would whip off the gray and white gingham apron to swap with its techni-colored twin, taking care not to disturb her hair and body microphone. Someone else would grab Penny from Lucy while the crew removed the house, place the dog, set flower boxes and fake trees. Tin Man and Lion would hurry out onto the stage to hide behind set pieces, and Lucy’s heart would beat a staccato while she waited for the