We spent the next half hour going through the paperwork in the folder. Eleanor had given her meticulous instructions as to what she wanted in the program, and I wondered why she hadn’t just told her what she wanted for the design, too. But the information that she had was similar to what I’d seen in the other programs and it all made sense to me.

Joanne closed the folder. “Would you be able to have a rough draft done in the next day or two?”

I nodded, trying to look confident. “I think so. I’ll get on the computer this afternoon and see what I can come up with.”

“That’d be great,” she said, relief flooding her voice. “The sooner we can get it done, the sooner we can get it to the printer. And if I’m able to secure any other advertisers today, I’ll call you and let you know.”

“You’re still looking for advertisers?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yep. I’ve got a few more calls to make today. Revenue, revenue, revenue.”

I leaned back in my chair. “If she’s that worried about money, I can’t imagine the stress she’s under with the Snow White situation.”

Joanne grimaced, then nodded. “Yes, I’m sure she is. You did hear that Madison is the new Snow White, right? Eleanor’s daughter?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “No, I hadn’t heard that. At least not officially.”

She nodded. “Yes, she’s going to play Snow White, what with Amanda Pendleton being gone and all. Which is probably a good thing, since Madison has so much experience playing lead roles. She’ll learn her lines in no time at all.”

She also had experience being a jerky kid, I wanted to point out, remembering my run-in with her on costume pickup night. But I kept my mouth shut.

“And it appears some ears may have been burning,” she said, lowering her voice. “Because my boss just walked in.”

“Your boss?” I asked, trying to collect my thoughts.

I turned around.

Eleanor Bandersand, with her pants pulled nearly to her neck, was striding toward us.

TEN

“Good morning, ladies,” Eleanor said, sitting down before we’d even had time to invite her to do so. “How are we this fine morning?”

“Good, good,” Joanne said. She picked up her phone from the tabletop. “But I was just on my way out. I have another appointment that I can’t be late for. Daisy, here, however, has graciously offered to take a shot at designing our programs.”

Eleanor eyed me with suspicion. Her eyelashes were nearly as long as my fingers. “Is that right?”

I smiled at her. “That’s right.”

Joanne stood and gathered up her things. “Yes, that’s right. And I hate to leave so quickly, but I really do need to get going. Daisy, please call me if you need anything. I’ll be in touch soon.” She forced a smile. “Eleanor, nice to see you, as always.”

“I’m sure,” Eleanor said, stretching out in her chair. The wooden legs creaked in protest. “Toodleloo.”

Joanne waved and set a land speed record getting out of the coffee shop.

I hadn’t planned on sitting down with Eleanor and I was fairly certain that Joanne hadn’t planned on it, either. Eleanor, however, seemed to think that she’d made our day by gracing us with her presence.

“So. Daisy,” she said, still eyeing me with curiosity. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks. “Do you think you can do our program justice?”

“Justice?” I tried hard not to stare at her and her horrible fake eyelashes.  “I’m not really sure what that means.”

“Hmm,” she said, squinting at me. She blinked rapidly, trying to get her lashes unstuck. “I’m not sure that bodes well, then. You do understand how important the programs are, correct? Other than the stage production, they are the showcase piece of our event.”

“Of course,” I lied. Of course I didn’t know that. I thought the kids were the showcase piece, since it was a kid’s community theater group. But clearly I was wrong.

“So then you do understand that these must be just perfect, correct?” She waited expectantly for my answer.

“I’ll do my best,” I told her.

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” she said. “And I guess we’ll just hope that’s good enough, now won’t we?”

She was arrogant. She was haughty. She literally looked down her long pointed nose at everyone she spoke to. So I had to remind myself that two of my girls were in her play and that it would not be good form to dump my coffee all over her pulled-up pants and fake eyelashes.

“My understanding is that you’re really looking to bring in some money with this production,” I said. “So I’ll do what I can to—”

She smacked her hands down on the table and leaned forward. “Ms. Savage.” She sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “These productions are not about money. They are about the art of the theater.”

“Uh, so, then it doesn’t matter if we sell tickets or not?” I asked innocently. “I mean, since this is about the art, not the money…”

“Of course it matters,” she snapped. She took another deep breath. “Without money, we cannot serve the wonderful people of Moose River and the surrounding communities. Of course we must have money – it is a necessary evil, if you will. But the money is secondary to the beauty of the stage.”

“Right,” I said. “Well, this production has probably gotten a lot of attention.”

She settled back in her seat, her arms folded over her enormous pant-covered bosom, and arched a satisfied eyebrow at me. “Well, my dear, anytime my name is attached to a production, I think it’s safe to say that it will garner attention. I’m quite well known around here, and even down in the Twin Cities for what I’ve accomplished. I don’t want to diminish the work of our young actors, but it’s quite possible that many of our attendees will be attending because I’m the director.” Her big red lips parted into a smile. “You’d be hard-pressed to find a director with a larger following here in Minnesota. Perhaps even the Midwest.”

I smothered a horrified giggle at her inflated sense of self-worth. The Twin Cities had one of the largest, most prestigious theater districts in the Midwest. I was fairly certain our tiny town’s local community theater – performing in the rented theater at our high school – was not on anyone’s radar outside of the city limits.

“Right,” I said again, not bothering to hide the doubt laced in my voice. “But I guess I was referring to the drama that has surrounded the play. You know, with Amanda going missing and all.”

Her smile dimmed. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose that probably has drawn the interest of a few folks.” Eleanor drummed her fingers on the table. Her nails were as red as her lips. “But what is the saying? All publicity is good publicity?”

“I suppose,” I said, thinking that there wasn't anything good about a missing teenage girl. “Have you heard anything from the girl's family?”

She made a face at me, a cross between a frown and a haughty look of disdain. “Ms. Savage, it's not my nature to intrude on the business of others.”

“I'd think you might be able to offer some help, though,” I said. “Insight as to what her mood was like before she went missing… things like that.”

“Her mood was fine,” she said curtly. “I don't believe I have anything else to offer her family, thus I've chosen to mind my own business.” Her eyes narrowed and once again, her lashes clumped together. “Which I think might be a wise decision for everyone to live by.”

It felt like a pointed remark, aimed directly at me. I wasn't sure how aware she was of me and the things I'd been involved with in Moose River. However, if I had to wager a guess, I would think she was familiar with some of the stories, as my name had been in the local paper and I knew people had been talking about the computer theft and, earlier on, the discovery of Olaf Stunderson in my coal chute. I was comfortable with my involvement with those other things – well, as comfortable as I could be being tied to a murder investigation and grand larceny – but I didn't like her taking a jab at me. Mostly because I didn't like her.