A Midsummer Night's Scream (7 page)

Shelley shrugged. "I guess so. I wish Mel would call and fill you in a little bit. He knows, doesn't he, that we're tending to the catering?"

"I told him what we were doing. Or rather, that I was tagging along as a mere taster. But I only mentioned that it was a theater Paul had donated to the college. That's not all that specific. They must have some other buildings that previously served as at least rehearsal halls. Maybe we're wrong about where this body really is."

"That will be easy to find out. After dinner we'll drive by. If it's our theater, it will be surrounded by yellow tape saying CRIME SCENE-DO NOT CROSS; it will be obvious."

"You can do that if you want. But I don't want to be with you. Mel wouldn't like to see me snooping," Jane said.

"We could park a block or two away and just sneak a peek around a corner of some other building, couldn't we?"

"Shelley, get a grip. This is getting too elaborate. Mel will realize whether this is the theater where you're providing food. He's sure to ask us what we know about the cast and crew — when he's ready."

"Okay, okay. I give up. You're right. It's not any of our business unless Mel thinks it is. I'll have to tell Paul tonight, just in case the authorities need to know anything about the donation of the building."

"Where is Paul this time?"

"Doing a grand opening ceremony at a new restaurant in Dayton, Ohio."

"How many of his Greek fast-food restaurants are there now?"

"This is the forty-fifth. He always says it's the last one. He's starting to talk about retiring."

Jane laughed. "Don't let him do it, Shelley. You and I both know several women with husbands who retired early. They hang around the house driving their wives crazy."

"I know. They all say the same thing. Every time the wife picks up the car keys, the husband asks, 'Where are you going?' Or tries to tell her a

more efficient way to do the laundry, talking about how his mother always dried the sheets on a clothesline outside. They want to go along with you to the grocery store and the tailor. That would drive me wild."

She thought for a moment about this scenario and said, "I'm sure if Paul tried to retire, he'd find something else to do. Consulting with young entrepreneurs. Setting up a new business to try his hand at. Don't you think so?"

"I hope so for your sake," Jane said, patting Shelley's hand.

Mel
called
Jane
just before eight o'clock the next morning. All she'd done since she'd heard the bad news was needlepointing. She couldn't bring herself to work on a murder mystery novel on a day when someone she probably knew, however slightly, had been killed. And the needlepointing didn't go as well as she hoped, either. She'd almost finished a big triangle when she realized the colors weren't right, and she would have to carefully pull all the threads out.

"Jane," Mel said, "this isn't for the public yet, but I'm calling on my home phone. Tell Shelley I've had a crew in overnight with flashlights, floodlights, little vacuum bags of hundreds of things that probably won't ever be relevant. Mostly candy wrappers and solidified chewing gum. We've gone over each inch of the main floor. They can resume the rehearsal tonight. We'll still be there, doing the basement, balconies, and the flies."

"Shelley will be glad to hear this. She can alert the caterers in time. Mel, who was the victim?" "Dennis Roth. Called Denny."

Jane sighed and said, "Thank goodness it wasn't Ms. Bunting or Tazz. I wasn't crazy about Denny, but it's sad when someone so young, with his whole life ahead of him, has it snatched away."

Mel said, "I understand that both you and Shelley have been sitting in on the rehearsals."

"Not the whole duration. We get there later than the rest of them, but before the caterers come. As soon as they've cleaned up and gone, so are we. Gone, I mean."

"Still, you've been there for — what? Half the time?"

"Pretty close to that. You can't imagine how boring it is. And how obnoxious most of them are."

"Denny in particular?"

"Not really. He was pushy and rude. But for sheer gall, the director, Professor Imry, is the worst."

"That's my impression, too. I've already interviewed him once. He turned up early yesterday afternoon."

"I was somewhat surprised, frankly, that he wasn't the victim," Jane admitfed.

"He'd have made a good one." Jane could hear the smile in his voice."What have you learned about Denny?"

"All too little. He only enrolled in the college summer session after it was announced that the play was being put on and the Buntings were starring. Which means nothing. Lots of the cast and crew signed up around the same time. Nobody we've talked to so far knows anything about Denny's background. The college registrar says he claimed on his application that he'd only be there for the summer session. Gave credits for previous acting jobs that we can't confirm yet. The application said he currently lived in a suburb of Los Angeles. I've got someone there asking the neighbors about him."

"And—?"

"Not much of anything. It's tacky furnished apartments, month-to-month rent, with all sorts of starving artists and actors who come and go nearly every week. Nobody so far admits to remembering him."

"So he really is a mystery man."

"What do you mean?" Mel asked.

"Just that you know so little about his background. Have you contacted his family?"

"I've been trying repeatedly, but all I get is an answering machine that won't take a message. As for knowing about his background, we'll know everything eventually. It takes time, Jane." Mel paused. "I want your opinion on something."

That surprised Jane. "Ask away," she said.

"What's your view of Professor Imry? You've been around him longer than I have."

Jane thought for a moment. "Okay. A vast mountain of arrogance on the surface, and a small core of tasteless, suspicious gelatin underneath."

Mel laughed. "You should have been a writer."

"I am," she said indignantly.

"That was a joke, Janey. I wouldn't have put it that way, but you perfectly described my impression of him. He's like most bullies — soft and scared inside. My cell phone is ringing. Have to go. Thanks for your insight."

Jane was astonished. She'd given her opinions to and occasionally forced her suspicions on Mel before, but he'd seldom asked her to. Her remark was a good answer. She told herself to write it down before she forgot it, so she could use it again sometime in a book.

Having made a quick note to herself, she called Shelley to tell her that Mel said they could have the rehearsal that evening, even though the police were still looking for clues in the theater.

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned."

Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She'd wanted to fix that awful triangle she'd had to take out, thread by thread. Shelley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Shelley would rub it in.

When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.

"Such a tragedy," Tazz said. "He was so young."

Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn't look as if she were.

"I think we should say a prayer for him," Ms. Bunting said. "John, could you do that for us?"

John stood up facing the rest of them and said, "Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms." For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he'd memorized from some play he'd been in.

"Amen," John added.

All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.

Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, "We're allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. Nobody may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the basement or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a 'police presence' here."

He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.

"Now, let me introduce Denny's substitute. This is Norman Engel. He'll be playing the eldest

son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston." He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.

"See here, young man," Ms. Bunting said. "That's offensive and unprofessional. We've told you this before. We're Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we're on stage."

"Excuse me, Professor," Tazz said. "Isn't this Norman person the one that you said the day before yesterday was simply observing?"

"Yes."

"So you were going to fire Denny and replace him?"

A stunned silence followed this question. Jane nudged Shelley and whispered, "That's what I thought but didn't want to say at that last rehearsal."

Imry pretended, badly, that hadn't even heard the question. "Hadn't you better get on with your job? That's costuming. Not casting."

"I think I'm going to withdraw from providing the costumes," Tazz went on. "You can find them yourself." She picked up her belongings and started up the aisle.

"Wait.
Wait!"
Imry shouted.

"Wait for what?" Tazz replied. "An apology?" "Yes."

Another long silence fell. Everybody was gazing critically at the director. "Get on with it and make it good, young man," John Bunting said.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker." He said this so quietly nobody quite understood it. "Speak up!" John barked.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker!" he shouted. "Now let's all get to work. That's what we're here for, in case you've forgotten."

Tazz had returned to her seat, and now rose again. The rest of them also left their seats and followed her. All but Imry and his pet, Norman. Bill Denk muttered, "Exit to stage right."

"I'll sue every single person who leaves! You're all in violation of your contracts."

When the rest of them were halfway up the aisle to the lobby, a woman standing in the doorway stopped them. "Hold on," she said. "I'll get this sorted out. Go sit back down."

She spoke with such authority that they obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

The unknown woman followed them and approached the stage. "I'm Evelyn Chance. Remember me, Steven Imry?"

The cast and crew had filed back to their seats to hear what she had to say.

Ms. Chance went on, "I'm the person who helped the college solicit the funds to put this play on. I'm the one who's going to sue you for every penny I raised for this pitiful script, and for paying Mr. and Ms. Bunting, putting them up in the hotel, their airfare, their food, and rental car.

I've also put in a lot of time promoting it, to my sorrow. Now, you will make a real apology, and mean it, to each and every one of us. Or we're all walking out and filing civil suits against you, you rude bastard. And keep in mind, too, that you are currently the most likely suspect for the murder of one of your actors. I've heard about him telling you off about your faulty grammar."

Imry all but collapsed, mumbling incoherently. "Stand up straight, Steven. Don't be such a wimp," Evelyn Chance said.

Imry stood, shaking with fury. Jane spotted Mel standing on the edge of the stage behind Imry, making notes.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But you have no right to say I'm a suspect. I've never even thrown a rock at a bird in my whole life."

"Huh?" Shelley muttered to Jane.

He went on. "In spite of all of you misjudging me, I do apologize. I'm under a lot of stress here. This whole production rests on my shoulders. Don't you understand that?"

Ms. Chance stood her ground and said coldly, "That's not even a feeble apology. It's simply an arrogant attempt to justify your bad temper. I saw how you behaved the day before yesterday. Now start over and do it right."

Finally, after dithering, Imry started over and made a semi-real apology.

"I'm sincerely sorry if I offended anyone. As Isaid — no, never mind. I truly regret having been rude to anyone. The caterers, Ms. Nowack, and Ms. Jeffry. Ms. Tinker, Mr. and Ms. Bunting, Jake Stanton, Joani, Ms. Chance. Buddy Wilson, the head stagehand. Bill Denk, who plays the butler, and anyone I've left out by accident."

Then he turned and walked unsteadily up onto the stage and through the door to the workroom.

"I guess we'll have to stay," Tazz said. "Much as I regret it. I'd have liked to see him try to find the costumes by himself."

"And find caterers," Shelley added.

"And substitutes for us," John Bunting gloated.

When everyone had recovered
from this
scene, which
was far more exciting and dramatic than anything in the script, the rehearsal went on. This time it was to work out where people stood or sat, or entered or left, in each scene. A sofa was represented by three chairs in a row, taken from the workroom. Three more of them represented armchairs. The placement of the doors was marked on the floors with chalk. Imry was subdued and relatively well behaved. When Bill Denk made another snide remark to the audience, Imry didn't even chide him.

Evelyn Chance was still sitting in the front row, and Imry kept giving her anxious glances.

Jane and Shelley took their needlepoint materials back to the workroom, after washing their hands as they'd been instructed. They left the door to the serving room open and the back door slightly ajar so they could hear when the catering truck arrived.