Dean finished checking to make certain that everyone had returned all their costumes before picking up the ones that needed minor fixes or alterations. “The joys of dress rehearsals,” he grumbled, depositing them on the rack in the costume shop.
“Especially ones that run into the wee hours of the morning.”
He turned to smile at Carrie. “Why aren’t you home in bed? At least you’ve got the option.”
“Because I figured you could use some help.” Carrie glanced around with a shake of her head. “You sent your crew home, didn’t you?”
“Yes. No reason they should suffer too. Besides, they did yeoman’s work during the rehearsal so there’s not that much left for me to do.”
Carrie picked out a tunic, read the note Dean had pinned to it and set to work repairing a small tear in the seam. Dean took one of the dresses that needed a minor repair and together they worked in companionable silence.
“So,” Carrie said as she hung up the last costume she’d been dealing with, “do you think they’ll catch whoever killed Ange?”
Dean chuckled, although it wasn’t really a laughing matter. “I wondered when you’d bring the subject up. I sure hope they do, and that it wasn’t someone from the company.”
Carrie nodded, worry in her voice as she replied, “Do you think it could have been?”
“I guess it’s possible. She ruffled enough feathers. But you don’t beat someone to death just because she made a play for your man, or didn’t make a play for you, or did, or… well you know.”
“Yeah, I know. You were at the club. Did she piss anyone off there?”
“Mal, unfortunately. Me, sort of, though it blew over quickly enough when Jim let her know he was definitely not interested.” A brief frown crossed her face before she said, “I hope the detectives don’t think…”
“Carrie, I’m sure they’re good at what they do. They know how to filter what’s important from what’s not.” He patted her shoulder before beginning to pick up the costumes to return them to the various dressing rooms “If they listen to what everyone told them, they’ll know you and Jim kissed and made up. I mean you did, didn’t you?”
“Oh yeah.” Carrie smiled at the memory of the ‘makeup’ kiss. “We did and then we spent the rest of the time there joined at the hip.”
“As always. Hey, speaking of which, where is he?”
“I sent him home to sleep. He was exhausted, since Frank wanted him and Mal to work more with Tayla once the run-through was over. She’s going to be good, maybe even better than Ange.”
“I got it!” Dean grinned. “Frank dusted Ange so he’d have a reason to give Tayla the role full time.”
“Or she did it.” Carrie picked up the remaining costumes, trailing along behind her brother. “I can see the headlines now. ‘Understudy kills star. Wanted lead in show’.”
“Right, uh huh.” He paused to hang up some of the costumes he was carrying on the rack in the main dressing room, waiting for Carrie to do the same. As they continued on to the stars' dressing rooms he shook his head. “I honestly don’t see any of us being the killer.”
“Me neither. I mean, okay, maybe Mal was jealous and upset with her dancing with that guy but…” When Dean asked, because he hadn’t been there, she explained.
“He was fine when he left after supper?”
“He seemed to be, yes. We got him laughing and telling theater stories.”
They finished up and then, both of them yawning in unison, decided it really was time to leave. “And pray nothing else happens to screw things up,” Dean said as he set the alarm then locked the back door of the theater behind them.