What had she gotten herself into? More important at the moment, was she cut out for directorship? Should she trade positions with April, sit at the sewing machine, and watch her friend take over?

“What’s that?” April noticed the paper in Gretchen’s hand.

Gretchen gave it to her.

“Die, Dolly, Die. Not a bad title,” April said. “But don’t you like the one we already have? Ding Dong Dead has a nice ring to it, and we sent out invitations using it.”

A play title? April thought it was an idea for a different title? “It was stuck on my windshield wiper blade,” Gretchen said. “I thought it was a joke or prank of some sort, but you didn’t even know.”

“Know what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She realized with increasing concern that she hadn’t told the club members about the horrible words on the headstone. Not even Bonnie knew about that; if she had, it would have been the first thing she mentioned. The police were keeping it quiet.

“I like the one Caroline came up with better,” April said. She scrunched the paper and tossed it into the garbage can before Gretchen could stop her. She would have to dig it out before she left to show it to Matt.

They stood in the doorway and watched the rehearsal. A man wearing gray overalls came out from behind the stage. He unrolled a black extension cord as he backed up. “Who’s that?”

“Jerome. He’s our new lighting expert.”

The man produced a roll of duct tape from a deep pocket. He squatted and began covering the electrical cord, taping it to the floor.

“Where did you find him?” April was turning out to be a competent general manager, even though her original title had been seamstress and donut runner. She was a woman of many talents, and Gretchen wasn’t about to waste those talents on gofer runs.

“I plucked him right off the street.” April giggled. “Well, not really. Mr. B. recommended him.”

“Great. Where’s Nina?”

“Oops.”

“Oops?”

“You weren’t supposed to be back from your morning date with Hot Man yet.”

“Something’s up.”

April looked guilty. “Nina’s walking the dogs,” she said. “Please don’t be mad. I couldn’t leave Enrico home alone.”

“April, we had one rule and one rule only: no pets.”

“I know, I know. It won’t happen again.” The new light technician had noticed Gretchen and was heading over. April dropped her voice and redirected the conversation. “Don’t call Jerome names. He gets really mad.”

Gretchen whispered back. “What kind of names?”

“Like Sparky or Lampy or Noodle Tech. Oh, look, here he comes.”

Jerome stood silently while April introduced him. She talked him up, describing his contribution in the most glowing terms possible. He shuffled uncomfortably, watching his feet, while April laid out his achievements. At first Gretchen thought he was self-conscious, not used to compliments.

A flash of icy steel in his eyes when he finally looked at her informed her otherwise. After he went back to work, Gretchen said, “Not the friendliest guy.”

April shrugged. “He’s doing his job, free of charge I might add. He’s a volunteer. Lighten up.”

“How is he getting along with the cast?”

“Fine.”

Gretchen thought she detected something in April’s tone, but why should she worry herself about every little detail? Whatever April was doing was working.

“Would you mind directing for a few more days?”

“Gee, no, not at all. I really like it.”

“That’ll give me time to catch up on a few repair jobs.”

“Don’t feel bad that I’m doing a better job than you are,” April said. “Our minds work differently. Mine’s just better suited to this line of work than yours is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, look at your director’s desk.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a mess. Papers scattered everywhere, old coffee getting moldy in cups.”

What could she say? April wasn’t lying. The proof was right in front of them.

“I never pretended to be a neat freak,” Gretchen said.

“Directing a play takes a lot of organizational skills. Creative people, like you, don’t compartmentalize like accounting types.”

“You aren’t an accounting type.” April’s home furnishings were topsy-turvy, every single bit of space taken up with something.

“Yes, but I make up for it by having an excess of managerial skills. You know what you should be doing?”

Spending time with Matt, Gretchen thought.

“You should be creating museum displays,” April said. “I suggest that I take over your job. You take over mine.”

April had a point. Hadn’t Gretchen wished for that same thing, to help out at the museum instead? “Let me think about it,” she said.

After promising to meet them at the cemetery later in the afternoon, depending on April’s assessment of their performance, Gretchen returned to the break room to retrieve the note from the trash.

She bumped into Jerome as he was coming out. When he looked into her eyes, she sensed his coldness again. She gave him a weak smile.

What a creepy guy!

After pulling every single item out of the garbage, Gretchen gave up.

The note was gone.

16

It takes several hours to extricate all of the victims from the crumpled cars and to clear the street of scattered debris. Firefighters, paramedics, police officers, and equipment contribute to rescue efforts. The team cuts away whole sections of cars to get at victims trapped beneath steering wheels or pinned against crushed dashboards, prying open vehicles like giant tins of tuna. They are professionals, and they work quickly and quietly. Everyone has a job and knows exactly how to accomplish it.

Caroline is bloody, but other than superficial wounds, most of the blood is from others. She doesn’t have time to think of herself. She reacts instinctively, offering comfort and reassurances to the other victims.

By the time Matt Albright arrives, those involved in the five-car accident have been extricated and transported to the hospital. One woman is already at the morgue after having been pronounced dead at the scene. Caroline watches Matt scan the wreckage before his eyes find her. She is sitting on the curb next to her car, which is upside down. The windows are blown out. A cop sweeps up the last shards of auto glass.

Emergency vehicles are still on the scene, although the ambulances are gone. Several tow trucks idle while the drivers load crumpled cars onto flatbeds.

“Are you okay?” Matt squats beside her, his dark eyes penetrating her own.

“Other than a sore neck, yes.”

“Let’s have you checked out.” He rises and stops the officer in charge, who has chosen this moment to walk past them. “Why wasn’t she transported? Get an ambulance. Now!”

“I refused,” she says. “It isn’t his fault. Others needed it more than I did.”

Matt doesn’t respond, although she can tell that he is upset. Instead, he confers with the officer.

“One dead,” the cop says. “The rest? Multiple injuries, a crushed pelvis, head wounds, et cetera.”

“Any kids?” Matt asks.

Caroline hates when children are involved in accidents and sees Matt’s relief when the officer shakes his head. No kids.

“This is what’s left of the vehicle that started the chain reaction.” They stare at Caroline’s car. Matt crouches and ducks his head to peer inside. A few items are on the roof of the car, which is now the floor.

Until this moment, Caroline has been too busy helping others to consider her own situation. She begins to tremble slightly.

“I’ll put your personal belongings in my car,” Matt says. “Once your car is towed away, retrieving contents will be more difficult.”

Caroline nods.

“Plenty of witnesses to the accident,” the officer says while waving one of the tow trucks through. “According to them a white van sideswiped the vehicle, this woman lost control, jumped the median, ended up in oncoming traffic, going the wrong way. Nobody coming at her is paying enough attention, talking on their cell phones, et cetera. So they pile up, one after the other. She manages to roll the car-sorry, lady, but don’t even ask me how-and it spins over this way, taking out the Mini Cooper.” His arms are flying back and forth across the lanes of traffic, which have been reopened. Cars are passing slowly by, passengers gawking at them, trying to get a grasp on the events that led to this chaos.