I thought about what Eleanor had told me: that not even sold out shows were going to be enough to save the theater. Maybe Joanne didn’t know the true extent of Eleanor’s financial situation. Even still, it didn’t excuse drugging and kidnapping the lead actress in the play.

“But what you did was wrong,” I said. “It was wrong. It doesn’t make it okay.”

“I didn’t have another choice!” she cried. “I really didn’t! I had second thoughts. I knew it was a dumb thing to do. But then...it got more complicated.”

I wasn’t sure when kidnapping was ever a viable choice for anyone or for any reason. It was like saying you had to rob a store because you needed money. You may have needed the money, but that didn’t make it okay to steal or put anyone else in danger. Joanne may have been desperate and the end result may have been what she’d hoped for, but that didn’t make what she’d done right.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she said again. “You just can’t.”

“Joanne, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “But I have to tell someone. I’m sorry.”

“But she’s fine!” she said, pointing at Amanda, who was now braiding her ponytail.

“I don’t care,” I said. “It’s not right. I have to let the authorities know.”

“I can’t go to jail!” she said. “And it’s not all my fault!”

“Who else’s fault would it be then?” I asked. “You did this. You brought her here. You bribed her to stay here.”

She chewed on her fingernail. “But I was going to back out. I wasn’t going to go through with it. Then...it got complicated.”

“You keep saying that. What exactly does complicated mean?”

“It means when things get hard, I think,” Amanda offered.

I waited for Joanne to give me her version of what it meant.

“It means that it wasn’t just me,” Joanne said. “That’s what makes it complicated.”

“It wasn’t just you?” I asked. “So someone else helped you do this?”

“I knew you wouldn’t keep your big mouth shut,” a familiar voice said behind her.

I leaned over and peered around Joanne.

Madison Bandersand, in her full Snow White costume, was standing there, brandishing a pitchfork.

FORTY THREE

“I just knew it,” Madison said, a sour frown on her face. “I knew you were too much of a wimp to keep this quiet.”

“Oh great,” Amanda mumbled. “The wicked witch is here.”

“I’m Snow White!” Madison yelled. She motioned at her blue and yellow dress. “How can you not know the difference?”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Joanne said.

“Oh my God. Both of you just shut your dumb faces, alright?” Madison said.

I stood there, blinking, just trying to wrap my head around everything. Joanne was a kidnapper? And she’d been in cahoots with Madison? I couldn’t get a clear picture.

“Wait.” I looked at Amanda. “You knew Madison was a part of this, too?”

Amanda nodded. “Yeah. At first, I was like, no way. I’m not doing anything with Madison. But then, you know, I decided I really wanted the money. So I’ve been willing to put up with her. She’s only been here once, though, so it hasn’t been that bad.”

I turned to Madison. “And why aren’t you at the dress rehearsal?”

“We finished,” Madison said. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

She ignored me and looked at Joanne. “Did you tell her everything?”

“No, I didn’t--”

“I’ll bet you did,” Madison said. She adjusted the wig on her head. “You’re so...so...soft.”

Joanne’s shoulders slumped.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” I said. “I put most of it together.”

“Now that I believe, because you’re so nosy,” she said, frowning at me. “I mean, really. You need to learn to mind your own business.” She glanced at Joanne. “I’m totally gonna tell my mom about you now.”

Panic flared in Joanne’s eyes. “You told me you wouldn’t!”

Madison waved her pitchfork in the air and her wig slid to the right, revealing a patch of her blond hair. “Well, that was before all this.”

“You can’t tell her! I’ll go to jail!”

“Not my problem,” Madison said. “The deal was you keep her here and I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“I could’ve left,” Amanda said. “I just didn’t. I need the money.”

“Well, you aren’t getting that, either,” Madison said to her. “Because I’m pretty sure if she’s having to steal from my mom, she doesn’t have any money to pay you, either.”

“You stole?” I asked. “From Eleanor?”

Joanne’s face reddened, but she didn’t say anything.

“From the theater account,” Madison said, smirking at Joanne. “To pay her electric bill.”

“They were going to shut it off,” Joanne said, her eyes on the ground. “I’d held them off for as long as I could.”

I remembered the day Madison had snapped at her about her wig. There’d been something off about the conversation, but I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it. Now, the undercurrent of tension that I’d sensed between them made a little more sense.

“Don’t try to make this all her fault,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes.

“It was,” Madison spat. “It was her plan.”

“It was my plan that I wanted to back out of,” Joanne said. “But then you talked me back into it. And extended it.”

Madison’s face colored.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Joanne sighed and wiped at her eyes. “I went to Amanda’s home, with the flowers and ready to do it. To kidnap her. But not to keep her. Just to create a story.” She paused. “But I got halfway up the walk and then turned around. I couldn’t do it. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a bad idea.” She paused again. “But then Madison came out of the house and saw me.”

The pitchfork twitched in Madison’s hands.

“She saw the opportunity,” Joanne said. “She realized why I was there. And then she suggested we work together. When I said no, she said she’d tell her mother about my taking the money. I didn’t have a choice. So that’s when I went back up to the door.”

“That was the day you came over,” Amanda said. “To drop off the music. And when you told me I wasn’t a very good singer.”

“You’re not,” Madison said. “I was trying to do you a favor. You should’ve just quit and none of this would’ve ever happened.”

“Yeah,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. “Because it’s all my fault.”

“That role was mine!” Madison yelled. “It’s always been mine!”

Amanda smirked. “Apparently, your mom didn’t think so.”

Madison took a couple of more steps into the room and pointed the pitchfork at her. The tongs glinted in the light. “You need to shut up!”

“You’re an idiot,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “A pathetic idiot. If I don’t get my six hundred bucks, I’m telling everyone you’re an idiot. And that Billy Marler broke up with you because he said you’re a terrible kisser.”

“He did not!” Madison said. “And I broke up with him!”

Amanda dropped her braid and examined her fingernails. “Not what he told me. He said it was like kissing a St. Bernard. All slobbery and stuff.”

Anger flared in Madison’s eyes and she made a sound that was half-gasp, half-squeal. “He did not say that!”

“Oh yes, he did,” Amanda replied. “He said he just couldn’t take it any more.” She smiled at Madison. “And he said I was way better.”

A garbled scream escaped from Madison’s mouth. Her hands tightened on the pitchfork. Her face and neck flushed red with anger.

I knew she was about to run at Amanda and all I could envision was her stabbing Amanda with that pitchfork.

I had to do something.

As Madison shuffled her feet, almost like a bull getting ready to charge, I reached out and yanked hard on the garden tool. It came right out of her hands and I stumbled backward.

Madison looked at me, surprised, almost as if she’d forgotten Joanne and I were there. Her eyes darted from me to Joanne to Amanda, unsure of what to do. Then she hitched up her dress, spun and ran for the doors.

“You won’t catch me!” she yelled.