53. Lowri
LOWRI
I wake up in Sean’s bed, surrounded by billowy pillows everywhere—under my head and back, around each arm and leg, even between my legs.
I can barely move because there’s so much padding.
It’s like I’m a fragile sculpture packed and ready for shipping.
This is hilarious. I’d be laughing uncontrollably if it wouldn’t hurt my ribs.
This must be his way of protecting and cushioning me to ease the pain inflicted by Reese. It’s way overkill, but I’ll admit, it’s not just funny; it’s sweet.
Last night, Dr. Stewart assured Sean that while I’m badly bruised, my injuries aren’t serious.
The doctor prescribed rest, pain relievers, and ice packs—not pillows.
Those were entirely Sean’s idea. When I went to sleep, there were pillows tucked under my head and supporting my lower back.
He must have added the ones around my arms and legs as I slept.
Despite the painkillers, I had trouble falling asleep last night.
It wasn’t until we heard that Reese was in custody that I finally relaxed enough to doze off.
This morning I’m feeling better, except for the soreness and bruises.
Those will take time. Of course, when I can actually move, who knows what else will be hurting.
Maybe immobilizing me with padding really did help me sleep through the night.
I’ve never seen Sean this attentive, and it’s not just the multitude of pillows.
Between the continual offers of food, drink, and fresh ice packs last night, Sean smothered me in attention.
I’d swear that he purposefully woke me up at least twice to make sure I was alright.
Finally, I told him he had to let me sleep.
Ironically, I felt loved for the first time since I was a young child. That’s when my parents were still happily married, or at least pretended to be.
Oh, I know Cassie loves me. She’s my bestie, but it’s different. This is a different type of love. It’s deep and intimate. I swear Sean stared at me all night long with a mix of worry and adoration.
Wait a minute. Careful with those emotions. Otherwise, I risk being hurt yet again. It may
feel like love to me, but this isn’t a love that’s meant to be forever. We’re temporary, even if I’m wishing for more.
“Sweetheart, are you awake?” Sean asks when I turn my head toward him. It’s obvious he didn’t sleep a minute, based on the bags and dark circles under his eyes this morning.
“Uh huh. But I’m stuck. Please unpack me.”
“Okay, but It’s going to hurt if you move around.”
“I’ll be careful, but not being able to move is making me claustrophobic now that I’m awake.”
“Got it. I’ll remove the pillows. Give me a minute. I’ve asked Jenny to stay with you for the next hour or so. Detective Fielder called. He wants to give me an update. Will you be okay while I’m gone for a little while?” Sean asks as he frees me from the pillow packing.
“No. I’m going with you.” I laugh. Oww. No more coughing or laughing until these bruises heal.
“You should stay in bed. Dr. Stewart said you need rest.”
“I slept all night. A hot shower and I’ll be fine. There’s no way I’m going to miss hearing the detective’s update firsthand.”
Slowly maneuvering myself out of bed, I hobble my way to the bathroom and savor a hot shower.
Emerging, Jenny has clothes ready for me.
I’m starting to understand why Sean likes having a butler.
She saved me from the painful steps and movements that would have been required to retrieve my underwear, clothes, and accessories.
I won’t admit it to Sean now because I’m going to the meeting, but my body hurts like hell, and without her help, I doubt I could dress myself.
When I’m dressed, Jenny hands me a couple of the pain relievers and a glass of water. I thank her and carefully walk to the living room to meet Sean.
“Are you sure you’re up to this meeting? You don’t have to go. I’ll tell you everything,” he says, handing me a cup of steaming coffee.
“I’ll be okay. I’m moving a little slower than usual, but after yesterday, it’s important to me to be at this meeting. I need to hear the final update in person.”
“I understand. You need to know the threat is gone.”
“Exactly.”
Gently wrapping my arm around his for support, he says, “Fortunately, my office is only an elevator ride away.”
The caffeine I consume on the ride to Sean’s office gives me a welcome energy boost. We exit his elevator as Emily is showing Fielder into the office. Perfect timing.
“Good morning, detective. We understand you have news for us. Let’s sit by the window.
It’ll be more comfortable for Lowri after her ordeal yesterday,” Sean says, ushering us to a sitting area in his office.
With Sean’s help, I sink into the comfy sofa with a pillow at my back for support.
He and Fielder choose the nearby chairs.
“Ms. Upton, I hope you’re feeling better today,” Fielder says with a nod in my direction.
“I’m recovering. Thank you. I’m anxious to hear what you are here to share.”
“We both are,” Sean adds.
“I thought you would be. Once we had both Reese and Galanis in custody, they were tripping over each other to be the first to make a deal. It didn’t take long to piece together the rest of the puzzle.
It turns out that Reese and Brentwood ran into each other in a bar one night soon after Amelia dumped Brentwood.
They’d met a few times when Brentwood picked Amelia up after work, so they recognized each other and started talking.
That led to drowning their sorrows over their money problems.”
“We pay our performers well. Why did Reese have money problems?” Sean asks.
“Reese owed a small fortune to the Rossi family for gambling debts. He’s the gambler you’ve been trying to identify.”
“So, the gambling and murder are related after all?” Sean asks.
“Yes. Brentwood was also in financial trouble. He didn’t have a job and was mooching off women he conned.
Somehow, he learned that Amelia was from a rich family and hooked up with her for the free ride.
In reality, however, he was romantically involved with Mr. Galanis, who was also broke.
Amelia found out about Brentwood’s affair with Galanis and dumped Brentwood, leaving him in need of money again. ”
“How did that lead to Brentwood’s death?” I ask.
“As they drank, Brentwood mentioned to Reese that he had a ticket to the upcoming show and that he wasn’t going to give it back.
He’d always wanted to appear onstage, and this was his chance.
That’s when Reese cooked up the idea for Brentwood to fake an injury to extract a quick settlement from the Athena.
Then they would split the settlement. Reese would pay off his debt to the Rossis, and Brentwood and Galanis could pay their bills until they found another mark to con. ”
“So, Brentwood wasn’t supposed to be hurt. He was going to fake his injury?” I ask.
“The plan was for Brentwood to stand on the edges of the tree’s platform and pull the lever to set off the pyrotechnics for the show’s finale.
Then he’d kick the platform underneath him.
That would cause the screws Reese had loosened to fall out, exposing the opening.
Brentwood would drop to his knees quickly and lower himself down into the tree’s trunk.
When he was found after the curtain went down, he’d feign extreme pain from severely spraining his back.
It was supposed to be a fake fall. He certainly wasn’t supposed to die. ”
“Reese must have been in shock that night,” I say.
“Absolutely. Not only was he upset that his friend was dead, but also his only hope for paying back the Rossis was lost.”
“Let me guess, Reese and Galanis then decided to team up and still come after money from Sean. Am I right?” I ask.
“You are. The original plan went to hell when Brentwood died. The problem was that Galanis still needed money and figured someone should pay for the death of his lover. So, he and Reese decided to go through with a modified plan and demand compensation from the Athena for Mr. Brentwood’s death.”
“That explains why they hired an actor to play Galanis’s attorney. They couldn’t risk a real attorney investigating the accident,” Sean says.
“Exactly. Reese also admitted that he staged all the accidents, including his own, essentially for the reason we suspected. He wanted everyone to believe Brentwood’s accident was one more mishap resulting from ongoing negligence by the stage manager and the Athena.
Reese also worried about being caught. The earlier accidents were experiments to see if he could get away with them.
He wanted to make sure that if anyone checked the videos from the cameras, they wouldn’t recognize him.
That’s why he opted for the crew shirt and baseball cap.
Lots of people wore those. He figured he’d fit in, and he did. ”
“Why didn’t Reese arrange for his own accident to be more serious and collect money for that? Why involve Brentwood in the first place?” Sean asks.
I respond, “That’s easy. Reese was one of your employees.
He wouldn’t be entitled to anything except workers’ compensation for an on-the-job injury.
That wouldn’t be nearly enough to pay off his debt to the Rossis.
He needed a guest who could claim an injury and sue the Athena for enough money to solve his problem. ”
“Of course. I should have thought of that,” Sean says.
“Detective Fielder, did Amelia know what they were planning?”
“No. She had no idea. She really had washed her hands of Brentwood entirely.”
“Then why didn’t Amelia mention that she knew Brentwood? That still bothers me,” I say.
“The answer is simple. The night Brentwood died, the police officers only interviewed people directly involved with the tree prop. She wasn’t one of them, so no one spoke to her.
Later, she learned we suspected sabotage, but she didn’t want to get involved.
Had she been forthcoming, she might have avoided arrest.”
“Or you might have arrested her sooner,” Sean says.
“Well, there’s that. I need to get back to the station now.”
“One last question. Why had Amelia packed her car to leave town if she wasn’t involved?” I ask.
“She hadn’t. That morning, she cleaned out her closet. The bags of clothes in her trunk were for charity.”
“Oh no. Has she been released?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Detective, thank you for your help. We appreciate you coming in person to give us the update,” Sean says.
When we’re alone again, Sean joins me on the sofa, commenting, “It’s a relief to have the murder and gambling issue solved.
I’d contemplated they might be linked if Rossi’s guys were to blame.
When they weren’t responsible, I was sure we were looking for two separate people: a murderer and a gambler. ”
“I know. If I hadn’t gone to the theater to meet Ron when I did, I’m not sure we would have ever figured it out.”
“But you could have been killed. Next time, take backup.”
“What’s this about next time? I don’t plan to be involved in any future murder investigations,” I chastise, playfully slapping him on the shoulder.
“Good point. Neither do I. Let’s focus our energy on enjoyable pursuits.”
“What do you have in mind that will avoid my bruises?”
“I know a safe spot to direct my attention. Part those gorgeous legs and let me show you.”
He does exactly that.