Read Online Set the Stage for Murder by Brent Peterson - Free Book Online
Authors: Brent Peterson
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triangles with a pastry cutter, “I hate to speak ill of anyone, Vic, but it’s been my observation over the years that if Roz Whiting wants something, she takes it, plain and simple. Damn that Clea Greene; I think she must be a witch. How else could she know half the stuff she knows? It’s freaky. I mean, what do we really know about her, after all?”
“Well,” Vicki said, as she got up, crossed to the kitchen island and grabbed a handful of raspberries, “we know that she’s trumped you on gossip for over fifteen years.” She sat back down at the table and popped a berry into her mouth. “And we all know that nothing gets under your skin more than coming in second, especially to Clea.” An eagle-eyed Clementine had observed Vicki’s actions and now sat up and looked longingly at the berry in Vicki’s hand. “You won’t like it, Clem, but okay,” she said as she gave it to the dog. Clementine bit down on the treat and immediately spat it on the floor. She heaved a sigh, sat back down on the pillow and cast a look of disgust toward her mistress. “Don’t blame me,” laughed Vicki. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”
Ethan grinned as he sat at the table polishing the silverware. “You know, Marc had a point before he veered off course. Roz is no angel, Vicki.”
“Oh, I’m aware she’s no angel,” Vicki said. “Look, I’ve been in shows with her. I’ve seen her pull the diva routine. I’ve witnessed the tantrums and the theatrics. But it’s part of who she is and it’s what makes her so good; she wears her emotions on her sleeve. But I have to say that I’ve never seen her be openly cruel or insulting to someone. And to do something that would destroy Juliet, of all people? I just can’t see it. Maybe I’m just not a very good judge of character.” She took another sip of coffee and nudged Clem’s pillow more into the sun.
Marc opened the oven door and placed the second tray of scones on the lower rack. He poured a cup of coffee for himself and refilled Vicki’s and Ethan’s before joining them at the table. “Vicki, dear heart, I think you’re a fine judge of character. It’s probably more a matter of Rosamund Whiting being a careful and masterly performer, onstage and off. She let’s you see what she wants you to see. And you, well, you are one of her peers and now the wife of a wealthy and successful producer. Maybe Roz has made sure that you never see her dark side.”
Vicki sighed resignedly. “Phoebe said something similar yesterday. I suppose there really must be a side to Roz that I’ve chosen to ignore.”
“I’ve got a feeling that Sally Crandall and Caroline Dupree would say so,” Marc said.
“Hmmmm,” mused Vicki. “I wonder if Sally is aware of any of this? I’ve got a feeling she wouldn’t be too happy about Roz having anything to do with her son. I mean, come on, he’s just a child, for God’s sake. Roz is really pushing buttons all over the place, isn’t she?”
Marc gave Vicki a familiar world-weary look that always, no matter what the circumstances, pointed out her naiveté. It was the purpose of the look. “Victoria Locke, Connor Cortez has not been a child since he was fourteen years old and in the chorus of Godspell . No woman was safe once his hormones kicked in. He’s been around the block more times than all of us in this room put together. And I’m not even talking about the drinking and the drugs.”
“I wonder why Sally and Ed didn’t rein him in?” she asked. “Why didn’t they intervene before he ended up stoned out of his mind in Soho, waving a gun at strangers? He’s just lucky he ended up in rehab instead of prison.
“Are you kidding?” Marc asked. “Ed loved it. As far as he was concerned, Connor was just a chip off the old block. The more outlandish Connor’s behavior, the prouder he was.”
Vicki rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet it would have been a different story if he’d had a daughter.”
“What about
“Well,” Vicki said, as she got up, crossed to the kitchen island and grabbed a handful of raspberries, “we know that she’s trumped you on gossip for over fifteen years.” She sat back down at the table and popped a berry into her mouth. “And we all know that nothing gets under your skin more than coming in second, especially to Clea.” An eagle-eyed Clementine had observed Vicki’s actions and now sat up and looked longingly at the berry in Vicki’s hand. “You won’t like it, Clem, but okay,” she said as she gave it to the dog. Clementine bit down on the treat and immediately spat it on the floor. She heaved a sigh, sat back down on the pillow and cast a look of disgust toward her mistress. “Don’t blame me,” laughed Vicki. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”
Ethan grinned as he sat at the table polishing the silverware. “You know, Marc had a point before he veered off course. Roz is no angel, Vicki.”
“Oh, I’m aware she’s no angel,” Vicki said. “Look, I’ve been in shows with her. I’ve seen her pull the diva routine. I’ve witnessed the tantrums and the theatrics. But it’s part of who she is and it’s what makes her so good; she wears her emotions on her sleeve. But I have to say that I’ve never seen her be openly cruel or insulting to someone. And to do something that would destroy Juliet, of all people? I just can’t see it. Maybe I’m just not a very good judge of character.” She took another sip of coffee and nudged Clem’s pillow more into the sun.
Marc opened the oven door and placed the second tray of scones on the lower rack. He poured a cup of coffee for himself and refilled Vicki’s and Ethan’s before joining them at the table. “Vicki, dear heart, I think you’re a fine judge of character. It’s probably more a matter of Rosamund Whiting being a careful and masterly performer, onstage and off. She let’s you see what she wants you to see. And you, well, you are one of her peers and now the wife of a wealthy and successful producer. Maybe Roz has made sure that you never see her dark side.”
Vicki sighed resignedly. “Phoebe said something similar yesterday. I suppose there really must be a side to Roz that I’ve chosen to ignore.”
“I’ve got a feeling that Sally Crandall and Caroline Dupree would say so,” Marc said.
“Hmmmm,” mused Vicki. “I wonder if Sally is aware of any of this? I’ve got a feeling she wouldn’t be too happy about Roz having anything to do with her son. I mean, come on, he’s just a child, for God’s sake. Roz is really pushing buttons all over the place, isn’t she?”
Marc gave Vicki a familiar world-weary look that always, no matter what the circumstances, pointed out her naiveté. It was the purpose of the look. “Victoria Locke, Connor Cortez has not been a child since he was fourteen years old and in the chorus of Godspell . No woman was safe once his hormones kicked in. He’s been around the block more times than all of us in this room put together. And I’m not even talking about the drinking and the drugs.”
“I wonder why Sally and Ed didn’t rein him in?” she asked. “Why didn’t they intervene before he ended up stoned out of his mind in Soho, waving a gun at strangers? He’s just lucky he ended up in rehab instead of prison.
“Are you kidding?” Marc asked. “Ed loved it. As far as he was concerned, Connor was just a chip off the old block. The more outlandish Connor’s behavior, the prouder he was.”
Vicki rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet it would have been a different story if he’d had a daughter.”
“What about
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