Opera House Ops: A Morelville Cozies Serial Mystery: Episode 3 - Heir Hassles Read online

  Opera House Ops

  Episode 3 – Heir Hassles

  A Morelville Cozies Serial Mystery

  Anne Hagan

  To Mrs. Rotunno for words of praise that sparked a lifelong passion for writing

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Jug Run Press, USA

  Copyright © 2016

  https://annehaganauthor.com/

  All rights reserved: No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without prior written consent of the author or the publisher except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages for review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are actual places used in an entirely fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1 – Helter-Swelter

  Monday, August 3rd

  Morelville, Ohio

  A Mercedes Benz two-seater convertible pulled up outside. Faye nudged Hannah. “Would you look at that?”

  Hannah’s eyes followed Faye’s gaze toward the door. “Well, isn’t that a cute little car?” she said.

  “Harrumph. This ought to be good. Looks like a New York license plate.”

  The two women watched as a thick ankle and a rather large foot in a high heeled, open toed shoe appeared first and then as the rest of the female driver followed. The woman who got out of the little car and approached the door stood more than six feet tall in her heels, she was thick in the middle and broad of shoulder and, as Faye’s mother always used to say, dressed to the nines right up to the rather large hat perched on her head. Faye wondered how she kept it on while driving with the top down.

  When the door swung open and the woman stepped inside, the cloying scent of her perfume filled the little shop quickly and assailed their nostrils. Hannah did her best to turn and cough discreetly, mouth closed, into the crook of her arm.

  “Whew,” the newcomer said, “it’s hot in here. Don’t you people believe in air conditioning?”

  “Sorry ma’am,” Hannah choked out. “It’s on but it’s a bakery. The ovens are always going too.”

  “Yes,” Faye jumped in, “if you think this is hot, you should step into the kitchen.” After taking in the designer dress, handbag and all of her jewelry, she found she had a hard time feeling sorry for her.

  The woman took off her sunglasses with one hand, held them out and fanned her face with the other hand. “No thank you. I’ll pass.”

  “How can we help you today?” Hannah asked her politely.

  “Honestly? I don’t know if you can. I was trying to find Morelville, for one thing.”

  “You found it,” Faye said.

  The woman’s nose crinkled slightly. “Funny, I never even knew this…town was here.”

  “Since just before the Civil War.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind,” Faye said. “Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

  “Not a person; a place. The opera house. My GPS said there was one right near here but it’s obviously malfunctioning.”

  “It’s working just fine. You’re about 100 yards or so from the opera house.”

  “I am?”

  Faye nodded. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you want with that place?”

  “I own it.”

  Faye was taken aback at first but she recovered quickly and said, “Now I beg your pardon. You own it?”

  “Yes. It was willed to my ex-husband by his late uncle. My understanding is that he died there back in June. Now that his will has been read, I’ve been informed it’s mine and I’ve come to claim it.”

  “Your ex-husband, you say?”

  “Gregory Sellers. We split several years ago and went our separate ways. He moved down to Florida to work in his family’s boating business and I stayed in New York to pursue my singing career.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s probably a cruel joke that he never changed his will. He always thought it was funny that he inherited an opera house and I am an opera singer. On the other hand, he never remarried, so he probably forgot all about it.” She waved a hand in the air in dismissal.

  ‘A real diva, then,’ Faye thought. To the woman she said, “Unless you have the key to the back door, you might as well have a seat, Miss…”

  “Bradshaw; Kara Bradshaw. It’s unlikely in this backwater but perhaps you’ve heard of me? Right now I’m doing Puccini’s La Boheme.”

  “Sorry; can’t say that I have,” Faye replied.

  The woman looked at Hannah. “You’re young; did you study the composers in your music classes in school?”

  Faye choked back her laughter but Hannah didn’t notice her distress as she answered the haughty woman honestly, “I used to be Amish. We aren’t taught about such things.”

  “Oh, well then,” was all she could think to say. She trained her eyes again on Faye. “You were saying something about a key?”

  “Do you have the key?”

  “Actually no. Gregory’s personal effects were not turned over to me. His mother has them.” She practically spat the last bit like the thought of the dead man’s mother was distasteful to her. “I was hoping for a caretaker or some such thing to let me in.”

  “That would be Mel, then. She put a new lock on after they had to break in to get Gregory out.”

  “Mel?”

  “My daughter, Melissa Crane. She’s the Sheriff for this county.”

  “Crane…Crane…the name is familiar.”

  Faye refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s a pretty common last name.”

  “I’m aware of that but I recall playing softball with…er, against, a Melissa Crane what must be ages ago.”

  “You’re from the area?” Hannah asked her.

  “I grew up in Philo but, in high school, when my voice coach in Columbus recommended it, my father sent me off to live with an aunt in New York to go to the School of the Arts.” She puffed out her already considerable chest just a bit more.

  “Was your ex-husband from the area then too? I don’t mean to pry…” Faye trailed off.

  “He grew up in Duncan Falls…lived next door to my grandparents. We were high school sweethearts…at least until I left for New York. We both ended up at the same college.” Her eyes twinkled as she thought back to what must have been a happier time.

  “Please have a seat, Ms. Bradshaw. Hannah will get you whatever you’d like and I’ll just go and ring Mel.”

  Chapter 2 – Moola

  “This looks like a barn, not an opera house!”

  Mel shot the woman a look but continued sorting through her key ring until she found the one that would open the padlock she’d found to put on the slider the night Gregory Sellers had been found.

  Faye was the one to respond, “Only from the outside. This door was redone by the previous lessee to accommodate his needs.”

  “It’s still very much a music hall inside,” Mel added as she removed the lock and slid the metal arm back. She gave the door a good shove and got it open enough for the three of them to step inside.

  In the late morning, with the sun moving from east to west across the southern sky, plenty of light filtered through the stained glass, illuminating the dusty hall inside.

  Kara moved in far enough to let Faye and Mel in behind her but she stopped dead and just stared straight ahead.

 
Faye said from right behind her, “You see, it’s not so bad. In fact, It’s in better shape than I expected in here.”

  Kara looked back over her shoulder at Mel. “Where was Gregory found?”

  Mel pointed straight ahead. “Up there in the orchestra pit; just below the stage.”

  “Orchestra pit…if that isn’t something. This is all one floor, it would appear. There are no balconies, no private boxes, no…nothing. You can’t even call it a concert hall. Why on earth it was it ever called an opera house is beyond me!”

  “Because that’s what they called these sorts of buildings when they started going up after the Civil war and into the early 1900’s,” Faye said.

  Kara ignored her, choosing instead to move forward toward the pit. She peered over the thin rail that guarded against people accidentally falling into it from the house side, and looked toward the stage.

  “He fell from there?” She looked back at Mel.

  “We assume. There’s no way to know for sure. He was found a day or more after he died. There are no witnesses.” Mel rubbed the back of her neck and continued, “His mother came up from Florida to claim his body and personal effects. She was vague about why he may have been here to begin with. Do you have any idea?”

  “Not the foggiest; probably to get a look at this place for some ungodly reason. We’ve been divorced for five, nearly six years now. We hadn’t been in touch.” She looked away, to the right side of the stage.

  Mel wasn’t convinced in her gut she was telling the truth but she had nothing more to go on than the woman’s attitude. She watched from the rear of the hall as the woman picked her way up the stage stairs in her heels and walked onto the stage itself.

  Faye turned to her daughter and whispered, “Do you remember her? She says she played ball against you back in school; probably middle school. She didn’t go to high school around here.”

  “What; did you get her life history?”

  Faye grinned. “You know me.”

  Both women turned as a vehicle approached outside and stopped in front of the building. Seconds later, Kent Gross walked through the door.

  Mel moved toward him quickly. “Can I help you with something Mr. Gross?”

  “Just saw the vehicles outside, thought I ought to stop and make sure everything was okay here.”

  “Mel’s Sheriff’s truck is outside, Kent,” Faye said with more than a little emphasis on his name. “You’re just being nosy.”

  “Why are you here?” he fired back.

  Mel, standing between them, put both hands up in a ‘stop’ signal. “Mr. Gross, I’m going to ask you to step outside. If you want to wait around out there to talk when we’re finished here, you’re welcome to do that but you can’t be in here.”

  Gross caught sight of Kara Bradshaw over Mel’s shoulder. “Who’s that?” he asked, tipping his chin toward the stage.

  “This is a private matter. Step outside please. We’ll be with you shortly.”

  “She’s the owner, isn’t she? Does she want to sell? Why can’t I talk to her?”

  Mel started moving toward him, causing him to back up and out the sliding door. “No one is keeping you from talking to anyone but this, right now, is a private matter and I’m asking you to stand down. If you want to wait out here, that’s fine. If she feels like talking, I’ll ask her if she wants to talk to you but I can’t make any promises.”

  He looked down the street and then pointedly at his watch. “I have an important appointment in my office in ten minutes that I can’t miss. That’s where I was headed. How long do you think she’ll be?”

  “I have no way of knowing that Mr. Gross.” A tinge of annoyance crept into her voice.

  Kent dug his wallet out of his back pocket and fished around in it. “Here,” he said, holding out a business card, “can you give her this?”

  Mel took the card from him.

  “You’ll see that she gets it?”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 3 – Up on the Rooftop

  “Where’d she go?” Mel asked her mother.

  Faye pointed. “Off the stage to the left and I assume down the hallway to the back area. I didn’t think it was my place to follow.”

  “He wants to talk to her about buying this place, doesn’t he?” she asked, changing subjects.

  “Yeah, he seemed pretty gung-ho about it. I’m not sure I like it.”

  “I know I don’t! He wants to tear it down Mel.”

  “It’s not our decision to make; it’s hers.”

  “Maybe she’ll want to keep it or lease it out for income or…I don’t know, but not sell it; certainly not to him.”

  Kara emerged from the hallway and called out to them, “Does either of you know who’s been doing the maintenance on this building?”

  Mel and Faye moved forward to meet her half way as Mel answered, “Since the tenant that had been leasing it passed on a few years ago, I honestly don’t believe anyone’s touched it other than to mow the little strip of lawn that runs down the side and around the back. Most of the outside property belongs to Calvin Howe that lives next door.”

  “She’s right,” Faye put in. “And, it’s probably Calvin’s son that’s mowing this when he mows for his dad to keep the weeds down.”

  “Hmm, well there are some things that look like they could be issues; the roof at the back for one. I can see spots all along the ceiling in those rooms behind the stage.”

  “Did you take a look outside?” Mel asked. “I know the tin on most of the roof was redone a several years back, it may just need to be sealed.”

  “Tin? Who uses tin?”

  Faye told her, “You’re in Ohio farm country. It’s pretty common around here.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. And no, Sheriff, to answer your question, I didn’t go outside.” She looked down at her three inch heels. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  “If you just want to stand by the back door, I’ll take a look and see what I can see from down here.”

  Mel walked completely around the vintage building and marveled at its overall good condition. From the ground, she couldn’t see the sealing job at the peak of the roof but she figured it was probably about due.

  When she reached the back right side, she had to work to get a good viewing angle on it. The old auto body shop next door that Kent Gross already owned, was only set off from the opera house by ten or twelve feet. After moving off twenty some yards behind the vacant garage, she could see the problem. Four sheets of tin, perhaps thirty feet long and three to four feet wide each, were missing from the back corner of the roof.

  All that was visible was crumbling old shingle and the rotting plywood sheeting that lay underneath those. That’s not good, Mel thought to herself.

  She went over to the back door where Kara Bradshaw stood waiting, her impatience written all over her face.

  “I won’t mince words here: structurally, the place looks good but you have a major roofing issue on the back on that side.” Mel waved an arm in the direction she meant. “You probably want to get someone to look at that sooner rather than later.”

  Turning to walk back inside and toward that side of the backstage area, Kara shook her head and grumbled, “Not what I wanted to hear.”

  She pointed up to the ceiling, “See all those water spots? Any idea what’s up there? Some sort of attic, maybe?”

  Mel thought for a minute then replied, “There’d almost have to be. The ceiling here is only about ten feet but the roof comes to a peak more than 20 feet up, front to back, outside. There’s a catwalk over the stage area and, if I remember correctly, you can look right up through the rafters to the roof.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Did you look at the roof at all from the stage?”

  Bradshaw shook her head no. “There’s not much light up there, the further back you get and there’s no electric on in here.

  Thinking about Cole, Mel bristled for a minute at the real danger he and his buddies could have be
en in if any of the roof had given way while they were horsing around.

  Faye ventured into the back then. “Sorry; ya’ll have been gone a while. Is everything okay?”

  “No,” Kara said. “It isn’t. I don’t know what I was hoping for but this isn’t it.”

  Chapter 4 – So Over It

  Morelville, Ohio

  “So, now what?” Faye probed Kara as she drove her the short distance back to the bakery where her car was parked.

  “I’m trying to get into producing…Off Broadway, to start and then bigger as I get some shows under my belt; you know what I mean?” She watched Faye’s face.

  Faye wasn’t sure but she nodded.

  “I really need to move quickly. I’m not getting any younger. There’s a lot of competition for the few older roles there are out there for women. It’s nearly as tough to get your name attached as a producer to a good show. The thing is, you’ve got to buy your way in.”

  “I was hoping for a much bigger building here, for one thing,” she went on, “and certainly for one in better condition that I could sell quickly to make my stake for a show that’s looking for investors. I don’t want to put money into that building; I want to take money out of it, and fast. That’s so not going to happen.” She shook her head ruefully.

  Faye suppressed a smile. “Most properties don’t move that fast around here anyway dear, I’m sorry to say. You’re probably going to have to find another way to fund that show.”

  They turned in, in front of the bakery. Kara studied Faye’s profile as she shut off the engine. When Faye started to get out, the other woman put a hand out to stop her.

  “I heard that man that came in and the Sheriff speaking but I really couldn’t make out what they were saying. Do you think he might be interested in buying the opera house building?”