A Knife to Remember

in a sec.”
    Jane then extracted, with some difficulty, Angela Smith from a tête-a-tête with a handsome electrician and sent her to the table. It took her only a minute more to locate George Abington, who was standing in front of the catering truck, studying his options grimly. Grousing about the trendiness of the menu, he went compliantly.
    Roberto Cavagnari was almost as easy.
    “Could I have a few minutes of your time?“ she asked him, putting her hand on his arm.
    “Who are you?“ he exclaimed dramatically, leering at her.
    “The Spirit of Justice!“ Jane responded theatrically.
    As she hoped, this caught his interest. That, and (she suspected) her cleavage, seemed enough to get his attention for a moment. Which was all she needed.
    She led him into the cavern of the tent, steering him through the tables to where the rest had gathered.
    “How nice of you all to join us,“ Maisie said, looking perplexed. “I was just telling Olive—“ her voice trailed off as she looked around the table.
    Nobody was listening to her. They were all looking expectantly at Jane.
    “I want to ask you all a few questions,“ Jane said. She glanced around and didn’t see Mel. He’d hidden himself a little too well for her liking. But she noticed one of the other police officers, out of uniform and, likewise, almost unrecognizable, at the adjoining table.
    “Yeah?“ Butch asked. “What kinda questions?”
    Jane leaned on the back of a chair to help steady herself. Her knees were shaking. What if she’d come this far and was utterly wrong and about to make a prize ass of herself? “Maisie? You told me something interesting the first day of work here.”
    Maisie looked startled. “I did?“
    “You said Lynette Harwell had been on sets that had bad luck. Remember? Tell me again what kind of bad luck you mentioned.“
    “I—I don’t know—uh, accidents, injuries of various kinds, illnesses—“
    “—and thefts, you said.“
    “Yes, I guess I did.“
    “Important thefts?”
    Maisie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    Roberto was deep in thought. He muttered to himself for a few minutes and said, “Yes. I heard—“
    “What did you hear?“ Jane prodded.
    “Lynette’s last film. Before this one. There was talk of a man who almost died because his medicine was taken from the set. I do not know what the illness was, but the pills were important to him.”
    Jane nodded. “And on this set, too, there were thefts. Mr. Cavagnari’s watch—“
    “No, no, no. This was not stolen,“ Roberto said. “This I misplaced among the food.“
    “But Jake had looked on that table only minutes before and he didn’t see it there,“ Jane said. “Is that likely?“
    “Impossible!“ Butch said. “Jake couldn’t miss seeing something he was lookin’ for if it was right in front of his eyes. Anybody else could, but not Jake.“
    “So whoever stole it must have put it there,“ Jane said. “Just as whoever stole the cash put it in the cup in the makeup trailer?“
    “Jokes! You mean these were jokes?“ Cavagnari said. “This is not a thing of good taste to do!“
    “Oh, they weren’t jokes,“ Jane assured him. “And I misspoke a moment ago when I said the person who stole the things put them back. Butch’s medallion and Angela’s ring were also stolen, but there wasn’t time to put them back. Was there?”
    She looked slowly around the table, meeting the eyes of each person in turn.
    “Was there, Olive?“ she finally said softly.
     

26
     
    A babble of conversation broke out and Butch’s voice finally cut through it. “You mean Olive stole that stuff?“
    “No, Olive didn’t steal things. Olive returned them,“ Jane said.
    Olive had started to rise, but Shelley was standing behind her and had laid a firm, but gentle, hand on her shoulder.
    “You see, Lynette Harwell was a kleptomaniac,“ Jane said. “That’s probably what she was treated for at the psychiatric hospital. Not substance abuse like everyone assumed. And what Mr. Cavagnari said about her last film before this probably explains why. My guess is that the medicine the man needed to take was very likely in an attractive container. A container Lynette stole. When Olive Longabach realized how close her mistress had come to killing someone, she persuaded her to get help. Or perhaps forced her to get help. Is that right, Olive?”
    The older woman sat with her head down, staring at the table, and didn’t respond.
    “But it didn’t work.