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time.
    Yes, it was an easy test, one she’d be glad to perform on the blood samples in the refrigerator when she had time to get to it—the body had been sent on to Sally’s family in New Jersey as soon as the coroner ruled natural causes.
    Yes, she had reported the tests on Erin’s pills to the police, but they hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Rushed off their feet they were, like all public servants—herself included. But, yes, she could see the possible connection, so she would put the first available person on it.
    The others moved on and left Elizabeth alone, staring at the carefully arranged props table. In her mind she saw the gleaming goblets and carafe, purportedly of finest Venetian glass, brushed with gold. Was it like this backstage two days ago?
    Hilary’s work done, the tours completed, all dim and silent behind the reset stage? How easy it would be for a shadowy figure to slip in, lift the stopper from the beaker of apple juice, tip in the white powder collected from Erin’s capsules, give it a few shakes to dissolve the powder, and slip out again.
    A matter of two minutes. But it had meant the rest of Sally’s life.
    If it had happened at all. Perhaps Elizabeth had succumbed to the very allure of the fanciful atmosphere around her that she had tried to warn her sister against.

Chapter 10
    ELIZABETH WAS STILL THINKING about all that and trying to decide where it would leave them if her suspicions were borne out when they left the theatre and met Gregg at the box office as Tori had arranged. The two couples walked on up the street to Ariel’s Antiques and French Bakery where they had planned to have afternoon tea.
    It took some time for the four of them to sort through the temptations of eclairs, Napoleons, cream horns, fruit tarts and chocolate tortes. Finally they took seats on Victorian chairs around a small table and relaxed to the recorded music of James Galway’s golden flute. Richard held Elizabeth’s hand under the table, and she smiled at him.
    “You enjoyed Henry last night?” Gregg asked.
    “It was great.” “Loved it.” Elizabeth and Richard answered together.
    Gregg set his teacup down. “Sure glad it went well. It would be awful to get the story that we have an unlucky season going here. Theatre people are notoriously superstitious. Once you get people spooked, a rumor like that can be self-fulfilling. They’ll see bad luck in the simplest thing, then their own nervousness will cause more accidents.”
    “Is that all you think it is? Superstition, nerves and accidents?” Elizabeth asked.
    Gregg shrugged. “Seems most likely. This many people working in close quarters under pressure, you’re bound to have accidents.”
    Elizabeth licked a dollop of French pastry cream off her fork before she answered. “And so we talk and do nothing, but methinks, ‘tis shame to stand still.’” She paraphrased King Henry’s Irish captain. “You two have talked a lot about searching for truth. I think we need to search further for the truth here. I think something is going on, and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”
    Gregg frowned, and his blue eyes clouded, but he didn’t say anything.
    “Will you help?” She watched closely for Gregg’s reaction, but he didn’t betray anything.
    “Yeah. Sure. But what can I do?”
    “First, tell us about the people who seem to be the most involved—Sally, Larry, Dirk. . .”
    Since Gregg was in the midst of a large bite of eclair, Tori spoke first. “Funny, isn’t it, how much we see of Dirk, and how little we know about him? I’ve asked Erin general stuff about him—where he’s from, what he does, if he has a family—she never really tells me anything.”
    “Sally’s bio is in the season program. She has—had a degree in theatre arts from some college back East, had done rep with a couple of new England companies. Seems I remember Emily in Our Town and Juliet in Romeo and Juliet were a couple of her favorite roles.