Read Online Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery) by Annette Meyers - Free Book Online

some in wheelchairs.
    Jeff and Eric carried the trunk out onto the stage as if it held bricks, and the audience applauded when they set it down stage left after almost dropping it several times. Jeff mimed opening it but was unable to and was finally replaced by Eric who did so with a grand gesture. More applause. At once all the mimes, except T.J., crowded around the trunk. T.J. hung back, playing shy, eyes downcast, knees together, pigeon-toed, finger in her mouth. Almost automatically, she’d fallen in with the routine.
    The mimes began pulling things from the trunk. What looked like an old-fashioned phonograph, but was really cardboard. Eric mimed winding its handle and a kind of circus marching tune began to play. A belled jester’s hat with bells was claimed by Jeff; Zoey tied a piece of black tape, from which bells were suspended, around her waist and proceeded to flounce about the stage, magnifying her puzzlement about where the tinkling was coming from.
    T.J. edged over, still keeping her eyes down. They surrounded her suddenly, tied a ruff around her neck and thrust a tambourine in her hands. Then they all had tambourines. The music changed to a ballad and violins. They began acting out a love story. Mona, a married lady, loves Jeff, a dashing captain, and is determined to take him away from his true love—Zoey, as Columbine. Eric, Jeff’s friend, the sly buffoon Harlequin, pretends he’s Jeff and exposes Mona’s wickedness.
    And T.J., not quite knowing where she fit in the scenario, found a place for herself by reflecting her horror at Mona’s behavior and her amusement with Harlequin and her sadness over Zoey’s plight.
    The happy ending came to the accompaniment of tambourines. From a red velvet bag Harlequin threw showers of confetti. Then bows to the applause. T.J. looked out into the audience. To her horror, standing in the back was cop with the mournful face.
    “Grouch bag duty,” David told them, patting the drawstring bag hooked to his belt. “Get everything back in the trunk and I’ll meet you in the lobby. Remember, T.J., we don’t speak while we’re mimes.”
    T.J. nodded. The mournful cop seemed to have slipped away, which was good. Maybe he just liked mimes.
    Except for the confetti, everything was returned to the trunk; the props, the belts and bells, ruffs, hats and caps and tambourines. Movement was exaggerated and no one spoke.
    She felt buoyed by the experience. For the first time since she’d awakened in the hospital, she had a sense of solace. It was all too brief. In the lobby, waiting, was the mournful cop, and when he saw her, he headed right over.
    “Excuse me,” he began, but he got no further. The others closed in around her.
    David appeared, sized up the situation, and tapped the cop on the arm. “Can I help you? I’m David Lumare. This is my mime troupe.”
    “Yeah, I’d like to talk to one of your troupe.” He turned and looked at T.J.
    A quiver ran through her. She knew him. His name was ... it was on the tip of her tongue. It got stuck in her head. Was he one of the good guys or one of the bad guys? She couldn’t take the risk.
    “Mimes don’t speak when they wear their makeup,” David said. “I’m their voice right now. Which one of my troupe do you want to speak with?”
    “That one.” He pointed to her. He smiled. He was being friendly. Why hadn’t he said he was a cop?
    “Well, why don’t you give us your card and I’ll have T.J. call you when she’s out of makeup.”
    “T.J.?” The cop looked puzzled. He pulled out his wallet and handed David his card.
    David read it out loud. “Detective First Grade Arthur Metzger, Twenty-first Precinct. That’s you?”
    “Yes.” Detective Metzger stood well above the others, even Mona, and his gaze was so blunt, T.J. lowered her eyes.
    “This is police business?” David asked.
    “Not yet. Right now it’s personal. Give me your business card and I’ll get in touch.”
    “Why not?” David patted his