File M for Murder (9 page)

All conversation ceased as every person on stage turned to stare at the prone body of the playwright. My feet felt frozen to the carpet as I continued to watch in growing concern. Perhaps this was serious after all. Lawton lay immobile. Diesel, sensing my unease, muttered and rubbed against my right leg.

Then, to my great relief, Lawton pushed himself to his feet in one swift move. He regarded the company with contempt.

“Based on the reading I heard, the audience will stagger out of here and die like I did just now. If that’s the best you can do”—he turned to glare at Laura—“and the best your
acting coach
can teach you, I might as well cancel the production.”

The general look of dismay around him made me want to storm up there and give Lawton a piece of my mind. Even if the reading was as bad as Lawton proclaimed, it surely couldn’t have been bad enough to warrant such vitriol.

My daughter apparently agreed with me. Her face flushed red. She stepped forward until she was almost nose to nose with the irate playwright. “You’re being a complete jackass, Connor, and you know it. You’re pissed at me, and you shouldn’t take it out on the students.” She expelled a harsh breath. “Besides, if you insist on rewriting the scenes every night and then giving the cast three minutes to look over the new pages, you’ll get what you get. Your expectations are ridiculous.”

Lawton didn’t appeared fazed by Laura’s counterattack. “What I expect is for your so-called
actors
”—the word dripped with contempt—“to act, not read as if English were an incomprehensible tongue. Pardon me if that’s
ridiculous
.”

I started down the sloping aisle toward the stage, a skittish Diesel at my side. Laura might believe Lawton was a physical coward, but I didn’t intend to give him the opportunity to prove her wrong. If he laid one finger on her, I’d break his scrawny neck. I halted midway, however, when I heard another voice.

“This has gone far enough.” Ralph Johnston, head of the department, emerged from the wings and made a beeline for the embattled couple. “You will stop this embarrassing display
now
, do you hear me?”

Johnston’s words would have had more force had they been delivered in a voice with more conviction, instead of in his quivering tenor. His hands flapped like metronomes out of control, and he skidded to a stop so suddenly that I thought he might knock both Lawton and my daughter off their feet. To steady himself, Johnston stuck his right hand on Lawton’s shoulder.

The playwright shrugged off the hand and stepped back from Laura. “This is what happens when I work with freak-in’ amateurs. You know why I’m rewriting those pages,
babydoll. You of all people in this hayseed town ought to understand.” Neither he nor my daughter appeared to be paying any attention to Johnston, despite his proximity.

Laura groaned, a sound of mingled exasperation and impatience. “You can’t write
and
direct anymore. You should let someone else direct the play. Right now you keep erupting like Vesuvius every five minutes and still expect us to make progress.”

“Excellent idea.” Johnston bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet, his face alight with excitement. “I think it’s a mistake for the playwright to direct his own work. I’m going to take over directing the production. You’re too emotional, Lawton, to do a proper job.”

Lawton cursed, loudly and fluently, and Johnston tensed, like someone bracing for a collision. Laura stepped back, taking herself out of the picture. I resumed progress toward the stage, in case I needed to intervene between the two men. Diesel came with me, though I could feel resistance on the leash. He didn’t care for confrontations any more than I did.

“What do you know about directing a play?” Lawton glared at the other man. He was two inches shorter than Johnston but much more muscular than the reedy department head. “You sure as hell don’t know anything about writing them. That piece of garbage you submitted to the American Academy of Drama prize committee was a total waste of my time. You’re nuts if you think I’m going to let you have anything to do with
my
work.”

Johnston’s face paled. He sputtered, but no intelligible words emerged from the sounds. I heard a few titters, quickly hushed, from the crowd of students.

I reached the stage, then, and ran up the stairs stage left. Laura saw me coming and met me at the head. I handed Diesel’s leash to her, and she took it. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Johnston still seemed unable to articulate, but he drew back his right arm and punched at Lawton’s head. The playwright’s reflexes were too good, however. He ducked, and Johnston’s fist sailed past Lawton’s face. The momentum caused Johnston to teeter backward and stumble.

Before Lawton could react, I motioned to a tall, muscular youth a few feet from the other side of the combatants. He responded immediately and stepped forward to grab Ralph Johnston and pull him further away. I stepped in front of Lawton and glared at him.

“Enough.” My temper flared, and I knew if the playwright attempted to attack me, I’d knock him back so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him. He was much younger than I, but I outweighed him by at least fifty pounds and was several inches taller.

Lawton took one look at my face and apparently read my intent. He stepped back, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” A new, but familiar, voice startled both the playwright and me. I glanced aside to see Sarabeth Conley, Johnston’s administrative assistant, her expression one of grim determination, striding toward us.

Lawton glanced at her and paled. He took two more steps back, almost to the edge of the stage. Sarabeth, tall and heavyset, was a formidable sight, like Boudicca defying the Romans. She stopped a couple of feet away and raked Lawton with a glance of disgust. “You were raised better than this. How long do you think you can get away with treating people like idiots before someone teaches you a lesson you won’t recover from?”

With that she turned away and focused her attention on Ralph Johnston. The light caught her caftan, the same one she had worn at the party, and played off the many beads
and sequins. The muscular student had released him, and Johnston was breathing deeply to regain his composure. When Sarabeth slid an arm around his shoulders, he spoke. “First I must offer my apologies to you all. My behavior was inexcusable, though I feel justified in saying that I was the subject of extreme provocation.” He paused for a deep breath. “I’m going straight to the president of the college to report his incident, Lawton. I’m going to do my best to have your contract terminated immediately.”

Lawton made a rude gesture, but before the situation could escalate again, Laura stepped forward, Diesel at her side.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Professor,” she said in her best placatory tone. “Things have certainly gotten out of hand, but I’m sure once Connor has had time to think things over, he’ll apologize to you and to everyone else.” She glared at Lawton, as if to intimidate him into submission.

Why on earth was my daughter running interference for this cretin? Did she still harbor feelings for him? Or was she simply trying to help a friend who’d gone too far?

“And here I was, thinking maybe you didn’t care after all, babydoll.” Connor crowed with laughter.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Laura had fire in her eyes, and if Lawton knew what was good for him, he’d back off. Laura was like me, with a fuse slow to ignite, but once it did, she would take no prisoners. “I’m looking out for the students, not you.”

“I guess that puts me in my place.” Lawton’s tone was mocking. “Fine. Sorry, Johnston. Guess I got carried away, heat of the moment and all that. I promise I’ll chill out.” His voice hardened. “But
I’m
going to direct this play. No one else.”

I watched Johnston for his reaction. His pugnacity
seemed to have fled, replaced by exhaustion. Sarabeth still had her arm around him, and he appeared to need the support. Johnston waved a hand in Lawton’s direction. “Long as you don’t browbeat the students anymore, I guess we can go ahead.”

“Right, then.” Laura moved forward to center stage. “Let’s all take ten, then we’ll start again from the top of scene two.” She clapped her hands, and everyone on stage began to move.

Sarabeth led Johnston to the wings, and the students quickly disappeared.

“So now you’re stage manager as well?” Lawton smiled sourly.

“Take a smoke break,” Laura advised him. “Maybe some nicotine in your system will calm you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lawton sketched a derisory bow, then turned and jumped down from the stage. He headed up the aisle toward the door.

Laura turned to me, and I could see the strain in her expression. Diesel rubbed against her legs and chirped. With a quick smile she squatted and hugged the cat against her. Diesel kept chirping and meowing, and Laura told him, “You’re the best tonic in the world, big boy.”

I moved closer and extended a hand. Laura grasped it and stood. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you and Diesel are here, but I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that clown.” I frowned. “Johnston was right. He ought to see what he can do about cancelling Lawton’s contract. He’s surely not worth all this hullabaloo.”

Laura sighed. “I know he’s difficult. Trust me, I’ve seen him in action several times. But usually after one good blowup he settles down.”

“I hope you’re right.” I put my arm around her, and she
rested her head on my shoulder a moment. Diesel rubbed against both our legs. He was so big he could actually touch all four at once.

Movement in the wings stage right caught my attention. A man stood in the shadows. I couldn’t see his face, but he moved into the light for a moment. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with a stocky build, a shock of salt-and-pepper hair, and stubbled cheeks. His rumpled clothing, similar to what the college custodial staff wore but less well kept, lent him a seedy air. He hesitated, then moved forward. He looked vaguely familiar.

I released Laura, and she straightened as the stranger paused in front of us.

“Excuse me.” His voice was deep. “Looking for Sarabeth Conley. They said she was here. You seen her?”

“She was here until a few minutes ago,” I said. I gestured toward stage left. “She went out that way, but I’m not sure where she is now.”

“Thanks.” The man nodded and disappeared moments later into the shadows of stage left.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“I’ve noticed him a couple of times, hanging around the theater.” Laura frowned.

“I’ve seen him around campus, I think,” I said. “Pretty recently, too.”

“Oh, I know,” Laura said. “He was also at the party we went to. Someone may have introduced him, but I can’t recall his name.”

“Now I remember. I don’t know who he is either.” My mind shifted back to the subject of discussion before the stranger appeared. “Now, about Lawton. Why are you going to bat for him? Surely your life would be simpler if Johnston did manage to get him fired.”

“Probably.” Laura flashed a quick grin. “He got me this
job, though, and I owe him something for that. Besides, I love his work. Whatever else he is, he’s an amazing writer.” She paused. “When he actually finishes a play, that is.”

“Is the writing not going well?” The question sounded fatuous to me, given what had ensued on stage earlier, but Laura forestalled me when I tried to explain what I meant.

“I don’t think it is. I haven’t been around Connor while he’s actually writing a play before.” Laura massaged her temples and stared down at Diesel, who sat looking up at her. She smiled at him as she continued. “He keeps bringing in revisions. Maybe he’s always worked this way, but the plot seems to be turning into a mystery of some kind. He’s never written a mystery before. Plus he’s introduced a new set of characters, so I’m not really sure where he’s going with it.”

The chatter of returning students interrupted us before I could probe further. I looked out over the auditorium and spotted Connor Lawton ambling along behind the students.

Laura sighed and set her shoulders. She had seen him, too. As she moved away I heard her say in an undertone, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.”

“Come on, boy. We’ll be in the way here.” I patted Diesel’s head and led him across the stage past the proscenium arch to the stairs. As I settled into an end seat a few rows back, with Diesel getting comfortable in the aisle beside me, I tried to identify the source of Laura’s quotation. I’d heard or read it before, and after a minute or so, I had it. “
Henry V
. Shakespeare, of course,” I muttered. Diesel meowed in response, as if he were acknowledging I was right.

Meanwhile the cast had reassembled center stage. With the area bare of any props, even chairs, the space the cast occupied appeared almost desertlike. I couldn’t imagine watching a play without some kind of set. This would be an interesting experience.

Connor Lawton stood downstage. From my vantage point his face was a placid mask, his stance relaxed. I hoped he could maintain this mood.