Page 39 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

Definitely not physically. She had on contouring and false eyelashes at nine a.m. I was going to assume she meant emotionally. “It was such a shock. What do you think happened?”

“I think someone swapped out the knives,” she said without hesitation. “But that fat old cop said I was just being hysterical. That I “misunderstood” what a prop knife means.” She jabbed herself in the chest. “I did theater for a decade! I did theater in New York City! I know a prop knife from a kitchen knife.” Then she made a face. “I just didn’t look that closely because I’m the one who ordered the props and it was totally a collapsible knife in the box when I took it to the senior center last week. I just grabbed it out of Clifford’s hand to demonstrate, assuming it was the right knife. I never dreamed it would have been switched out.”

“That was my theory too,” I said.

“No one listens to women,” she muttered. “Especially women in their twenties. They look at us and just see a pair of boobs.”

Maybe her boobs. Not mine. But I definitely understood where she was coming from.

“Why would someone do that?”

“There’s a killer loose in the senior center! Who knows why? But that janitor died too.” She picked off a piece of her vegan and gluten free doughnut and shook her head. “I’m not going back there. I might be next.”

“Don’t you have to go for your community service?” I lifted my own coffee mug and took a sip. I had a vegan and gluten free doughnut as well and it was quite tasty, with a sugar glaze.

“That’s just something my parents said I have to do if I want to live with them for free. Court ordered, because my parents are literally sitting in judgement of me.”

While it was good to know Sara Murphy hadn’t morphed into a criminal, I was now wondering why I was spending my precious pre-work time sitting here with her.

Sara shook her head. “Boomers. My parents act like I’m wasting all my money on coffee and avocado toast but rent is sky high right now. Didn’t you just buy a house? It’s ridiculous out there, isn’t it? And this is Cleveland. Like how does anyone in L.A. or Seattle or New York even exist? Next thing you know we’ll have to pay for water.”

We already did pay for water, both to drink and in our houses and apartments, but I didn’t think it would help to point that out. “It is insane right now. We had to buy an outdated house. We can’t afford a new build.”

I don’t know why I felt like I had to downplay our financial status. Must have been a Midwestern thing. We can’t take a compliment on an outfit without mentioning we got it on sale either.

“I can’t even afford life. But I can’t afford to die either so I can’t go back to the senior center. Hey, what happens to your student loans when you die?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any loans. I went to community college.” Again, I almost sounded like I was apologizing for not having debt. I needed to work on that.

“So I guess you’re the director of the play now,” Sara said, popping another bite in her mouth.

I almost choked on my coffee. “What?”

“Yeah. I can’t do it, so that leaves you.”

“Why me? I don’t have any theater experience. I didn’t even understand Shakespeare in high school. I still don’t.”

Also, why is it she couldn’t die but she was willing to let me suffer a brutal fate?

“You don’t want to let them down, do you? They’ve been working really hard.”

“I’ll have to think about it. They might not even want to do it, considering what happened to Mary. There is no Thisbe.”

“Please. All those women hated Mary for being the one to snag Clifford.”

We both realized what she said at the exact same time.

“Oh my God!” Sara leaned forward and hissed at me. “Do you think one of them switched the knives to kill Clifford because he didn’t pick them?” She lifted up her doughnut. “Women competing for a man is a tale as old as time.”

“That is true. But wouldn’t they want to kill Mary, not Clifford?”

“Hmm. Good point. Let’s noodle on this. I have to go to pilates now. I’ll text you later.” She stood up, leaving her dishes on the table and said, “Kisses, bye!”

Were Sara Murphy and I best friends now?

Maybe. I had to admit, she was shockingly fun to discuss potential murder with.

I stood up, gathered up all of our plates and mugs and put them in the serving tub so that I didn’t get stink eye from the staff. Lost in thought, I stepped outside.

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