Shooting Star by Cynthia Riggs Read Free Book Online

Equity player,” said Dearborn Hill. “His mother usually sits through rehearsal until little William is killed, then they go home together.”
    Smalley nodded. “Was it generally known that Mrs. Vanderhoop was going to California?”
    “Certainly. Mrs. Vanderhoop told me of Teddy’s good fortune, and I informed everyone in the cast.” Dearborn Hill swept his arm around the table. “She asked me to excuse Ms. Storm from rehearsal early to get Teddy home by bedtime. I told you, didn’t I, that Teddy is Equity?”
    “You did,” said Victoria.

CHAPTER 6
    “Would you explain, Mr. Hill, what ‘Equity’ is all about?” Smalley asked. “Does it have any bearing on this situation?”
    “I’d be delighted,” said Dearborn, adjusting himself in his seat. “Equity is, essentially, a theatrical union. A director, such as I, prefers to work with Equity players because we can depend upon their learning their lines, showing up for rehearsals, and performing on stage.” He sat back. “Amateur players undercut the professionalism of theater.”
    Dawn Haines snickered. She had started to sketch again.
    “Acting is a serious business, my dear, not to be laughed at.” Dearborn scowled at Dawn. “Vacationers on Martha’s Vineyard these days are people of discrimination …”
    Victoria interrupted. “Have you contacted Ruth Byron?”
    “Ruth Byron?”
    “The playhouse founder.”
    Smalley scribbled a note.
    “She’s hasn’t been around for some time,” Dearborn said.
    “Actually, she’s here most of the time,” said Dawn. “Just not when Mr. Hill is around.”
    “Ruth inherited the theater building from her aunt,” Victoria said.
    Dearborn leaned back again. “Ruth and her sister, my wife, disagree about their aunt’s legacy.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Ruth and I have our own legitimate disagreement over artistic matters. No bearing on little William Frankenstein.”
    “His name is Teddy Vanderhoop,” said Dawn.
    “What are you drawing?” muttered Bruce Duncan.

    Dawn tilted her head and held up her sketch. “Mrs. Trumbull. Is that okay with you?”
    Bruce looked at the drawing, then turned away.
    “Pretty good likeness,” said Tim Eldredge, leaning forward.
    “Ruth Byron hired Mr. Hill as artistic director on a trial basis,” said Gerard Cohen. “He’s an excellent director.”
    Dearborn Hill bowed his head in Cohen’s direction.
    “Thank you, Mr. Cohen,” said Smalley. “Does anyone know Teddy’s father’s first name?”
    “Jefferson Vanderhoop the Fourth,” said Dawn.
    “We’ll need to bring Mr. Vanderhoop here.”
    “He’s rented his house for the summer,” said Dawn.
    Smalley sighed. “Do you know where he is, Ms. Haines?”
    “On his boat. On a mooring in Lagoon Pond.”
    “Anything else you can tell me?”
    Dawn shook her head.
    Smalley murmured, “Vineyard Haven harbormaster.”
    “His boat is, like, on the Oak Bluffs side.”
    Smalley took a breath. “Oak Bluffs harbormaster. Is there anything else you can tell me, Ms. Haines, before I send Trooper Eldredge off again?”
    She shrugged.
    Smalley returned to his notes. “Did Ms. Storm have any close friends? Male or female?”
    Dearborn Hill cleared his throat. “She and I went to dinner once or twice to discuss her role.”
    Smalley frowned. “Any other friends?”
    “I was as close to her as anyone,” Gerard Cohen said. His heavy horn-rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose. “She lived next door to the Vanderhoops on Job’s Neck, across the road from me. Mrs. Vanderhoop encouraged me to get involved in the theater after my wife died. Right after Peg’s divorce.”
    “Any other friends?”
    “None that I know of. She kept to herself.”

    “Did she have a job?”
    “She was a photographer. Weddings, family gatherings, that sort of thing. Not steady employment,” said Cohen.
    Tim Eldredge returned and Dawn stopped sketching long enough to look up at him.
    Smalley checked his watch. “Did