Read Online Something Wicked by Carolyn G. Hart - Free Book Online Page B

his empurpled face twisted in a furious scowl. Carla was swinging around, head down, evidently on her way out, when Sheridan caught her arm. The hostess patted her guest on the shoulder, nodding warmly. They spoke for a moment more, then Sheridan turned back toward Jenkins.
    “That was thoughtful of Sheridan,” Annie forced herself to say. “I suppose Carla’s terribly embarrassed about the whole episode.”
    “Embarrassed, hell. Carla did it on purpose,” Max chortled. “She’s a well-coordinated woman, even if she does stride around like an Amazon.” He frowned thoughtfully. “You know, she must think Harley’s behind all the trouble, too.” Then he grinned. “Sure glad we came. You were right. You never know what will happen at the Petree house.” He shaded his eyes, as if peering into desert distances. “I think I see a bar over there somewhere. Since it’s still a sexist world, I’ll go for our drinks,” and he plunged into the crowd.
    She hissed at that, but absently, because she was scanning the sea of faces. People were jammed elbow to elbow despitethe sixty-foot length of the Petree.’ baronial living area. All the movers and shakers of Broward’s Rock were present. For the first time, Annie noticed the ten-foot banners strung across the center of the room, blazoning the titles of the five plays scheduled for the summer:
Arsenic and Old Lace, The Mousetrap, Blithe Spirit, My Sister Eileen,
and
The Moon Is Blue.
    Annie’s eyes narrowed. Wait a minute. Wait a minute!
The Mousetrap
was already in rehearsals, because, in common with most summer theater groups, the players produced one play while simultaneously rehearsing the next. While the number two play ran, rehearsals would be underway for
Blithe Spirit.
    But Annie hadn’t heard of any problems with
The Mousetrap.
Was the sabotage limited to
Arsenic and Old Lace?
    She stopped gazing at the milling throng with mild interest and began to hunt. She saw the mayor listening attentively to a banker, Police Chief Saulter shaking hands with the Island Hills golf pro, a damp Harley Jenkins sullenly sampling some of the buffet extravaganza, and there, near the mirrored back wall, the very person she sought.
    When Annie reached the edge of the admiring circle, mystery author Emma Clyde smiled a greeting. Annie waited until she’d finished signing several autographs, then wormed her way closer.
    Emma welcomed her genially. “How’s crime, Annie?”
    As always, Emma’s frosty blue eyes seemed to delve into the untidiest corners of Annie’s mind and Annie had to fight the impulse to flee. Tonight Emma wore a startling print dress, magenta begonias against an emerald background, instead of her customary caftan. She still looked like a housewife playing jet set … until you looked into those piercing eyes.
    “Crime pays you better than it does me,” Annie responded.
    The best-selling author chuckled. “It pays when I concoct, but I’m finding that a little hard these days. I don’t know why I ever agreed to direct
The Mousetrap.”
    “Oh, I know why. It’s the fascination of seeing a Christie plot come to life.”
    Emma nodded appreciatively. “Perceptive of you, dear.”
    “How are rehearsals coming? Have you had any difficulties?”
    Not only had the crew and cast of
The Mousetrap
not suffered any hitches, the entire experience had gone exceptionally smoothly: cast members who liked one another, word-perfect rehearsals, props all gathered in two weeks ahead of time, a perfect attendance record by all the players.
    “How nice that it’s all going so well,” Annie said cheerfully, as she thought how fascinating it was that
The Mousetrap
appeared exempt from the sabotage which had so crippled
Arsenic and Old Lace.
    As they parted, Emma said briskly, “I’ve been meaning to get over to the store. Will you order those TR books for me?”
    Annie looked at her blankly. Had Eugene somehow instilled his mania for Teddy Roosevelt in Emma? She seemed