Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery by Teresa Watson Read Free Book Online

swept up in the scene. I didn’t do it intentionally.”
    “Yes, you did,” a second female voice said. “You did the same thing to me earlier. Richard, if you don’t tell her to knock it off, I won’t be responsible for my actions the next time she upstages me.”
    The first woman laughed. “What are you going to do? Kill me? I’m already dead.”
    I heard some scuffling, then the sound of someone gagging. “Listen, Rachel,” the second female said, “do you hear that? That’s the sound of me choking the life out of you with your pearls. That’s exactly what’s going to happen if you cross me again, do I make myself clear? Then you really will be an apparition, and I guarantee no one will give a damn when you’re gone.”
    Lillian gasped, her hand flying up to her own neck as she listened. I saw a look of fear in her eyes as she clutched her pearls.
    There was more scuffling from behind the curtain, followed by the sound of little beads bouncing all over the hardwood stage floor. I jumped up and ran toward the stage, climbing the steps  on the left hand side of the stage. As I stepped behind the curtain, I almost slipped on the dozens of pearls scattered all over the floor. Rachel was kneeling on the floor, gasping for breath. ‘Charles’ was kneeling beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her. The second woman stood over them, her arms crossed, with a very satisfied look on her face. Richard stood next to her, clearly torn between his two female leads.
    “Everything all right, Richard?” I asked as I stepped closer, brushing aside more pearls with my foot.
    “Just fine, just fine,” he said. “We’re just having trouble with the blocking for this scene.”
    “Try every scene,” the woman next to him scoffed.
    “Diane, that’s enough,” he said. “Simon, does Rachel need some water or something?”
    “That’s a good idea, Richard,” Simon replied. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart. Just stay right there, and take slow, deep breaths.” He got to his feet, and slipped his way offstage.
    Diane looked down her nose at me. “And just who are you?” she said haughtily.
    “Why don’t I do the introductions?” Richard said, coming over to stand next to me. “This lovely young lady is Cam Shaw, daughter of Charlotte Shaw, the organizer of our event. The woman acting like she’s better than the rest of us is Diane Martin; she plays Ruth in the play. The gentleman who just left is Simon Edwards; he’s Charles, Ruth’s husband. And the young woman clutching her throat is Rachel Newton; she’s portraying Charles’s dead first wife, Elvira.”
    “Is there a reason why you are interrupting our rehearsal?” Diane said to me.
    “Because you were trying to choke this poor girl to death?” I shot back.
    “Oh please,” she replied, wave her hand at Rachel dismissively, “I didn’t hurt the child. She’s just being melodramatic.”
    I looked down at Rachel and noticed the bright red marks around her neck. “Let me guess, those marks are just make up, right?”
    “So I got caught up in the moment,” Diane said. “But she had it coming to her. Prancing around here like she’s God’s gift to acting.” She leaned over until she was eye to eye with Rachel. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you have, sweetie. You better learn your place, and learn to show some respect.” She straightened up and brushed the wrinkles out of her dress.
    Rachel struggled to her feet. “If you’re all that and a bag of chips, then why are you doing dinner theatre in a small Texas town in the middle of nowhere?” she said in a raspy voice. “It’s because you got kicked out of the last Broadway show you were in.” She looked at me. “Want to know why?”
    “I really don’t think…” I started to say.
    “Because she started to forget her lines,” Rachel said smugly. “Of course, getting caught with the twenty-one-year old son of the director in your dressing room certainly didn’t