Turner was being interviewed, Tamara Robinson started talking to Henry Schloss.
“What’s your position at the theater, Mr. Schloss?”
“I’m security at the stage door.”
“That opens into the alley, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How many exits are there besides the stage door?”
“There’s the doors at the front of the Imperial, some emergency fire exits, and a loading dock in the back.”
“Have you been on duty since Mr. Chesterfield’s show started rehearsals?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice anything unusual tonight or during the week?”
“Well, there’s those protesters. They’ve been shouting and causing a ruckus all week.”
“Have you seen any of them in the theater?”
“No.”
“Were you on duty at the stage door while the show was going on tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone leave or come in while the show was going on?”
“No.”
“Okay. Can you remember anything unusual going on inside the theater this week, during rehearsals?”
Schloss thought for a minute. “There were two things that come to mind. On the first day of rehearsal, a woman got into an argument with Mr. Chesterfield. I don’t know what it was about, but I could hear raised voices.”
“Do you know the woman’s name?”
“No, and I just saw her from a distance. I’m not certain I could ID her.”
“Okay. Now, you said there was a second incident.”
Before Schloss could answer, the door to Mr. Chow’s office opened, and David Turner walked out with Carrie Anders and Peter Ragland behind him.
Schloss’s eyes widened and he pointed at Turner. “That guy tried to talk his way into the theater early this week when they were rehearsing.”
“I told you that,” Turner said to Anders.
“Did you tell them I caught you inside the theater a half hour later?” Schloss asked.
“Well?” Ragland asked the magician.
“I’m not talking anymore until I speak with an attorney.”
“I’m placing you under arrest,” Ragland said.
“Why? You can’t do that. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You lied to us about where you were when Mr. Chesterfield was murdered. That’s obstruction of justice. And, because of your skills as a magician, you had the ability to pull off the murder. I think that gives us probable cause. Now, please put your hands behind your back so we can cuff you.”
“This is outrageous!”
“If you don’t comply with my request, you’ll be committing the crime of resisting arrest.”
Turner hesitated. Then he let Anders handcuff him. While she was doing that, she told Turner his Miranda rights.
“Have someone drive Mr. Turner downtown,” Ragland told Robinson.
Ragland beamed as Turner was led away. “That didn’t take long.”
“Nice work,” Anders said, but she didn’t sound sure.
Ragland frowned. “You don’t have any doubts that Turner’s our killer, do you?”
“He definitely had a motive and the opportunity.”
“But?” Ragland pressed.
“I guess it was too easy. The murder was so clever, I thought it would take us a while to figure out who committed it.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ragland said with another big smile. “This is going to look great for you and Dillon, and make sure Officer Robinson gets credit for her excellent work. Now, let’s follow Mr. Turner downtown and see if we can get him to crack.”
“What’s bugging you?” Dillon asked Anders as they followed Ragland toward the exit.
“Something is off. I can’t put my finger on it, but…” She shook her head. “Ragland’s probably right. Turner is our guy. I’m overthinking this,” Anders said, but Dillon could see that something was definitely bothering his partner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
When they were leaving the theater, Robin noticed a tension in Regina’s shoulders and a gleam in her eyes that meant she was on the hunt—a look Robin had not seen in a long time.
“Is there a restaurant or bar nearby?” Regina asked as soon as they were outside the theater.
“The Meridian Hotel is two blocks from here,” Stanley Cloud said, something Regina would have known a few years ago. “They have a bar.”
“Let’s go there and talk.”
Robin agreed quickly, thrilled to see Regina so excited.
The Meridian had been an elegant hotel in the 1950s and sixties, but it had deteriorated as the neighborhood decayed, until it was known by the Vice squad as a hangout for drug dealers and prostitutes. The developer who restored the Imperial had remodeled the hotel and brought in a nationally known chef to run the restaurant.
“So,” Regina said when the couples were seated in a booth in the bar, across from each other, “what did you see? Who do you think killed Robert Chesterfield?”
“Chesterfield sat up just before one of the assistants pushed him down, so he was alive then,” Robin said.