Good & Dead #1 (22 page)

Randy’s gaze went to the noose, and understanding registered on his overwhelmed face.

“Now, go!”

Michael reached around and opened the door for him.  Randy turned and ran down the stairs without a second glance.  Michael slammed the door behind him, feeling as though his lungs were going to explode.  Tears spilled from his eyes and he crossed the room to the bathroom and slammed that door, too.  But frustration still tore at his chest.  An anger he couldn’t control had taken hold of him.  He couldn’t forget the look of disgust on Randy’s face. 
Bell was right
.  His knuckles were white on the stained porcelain sink, and when he looked up into the mirror, he saw long fangs fully descended and the same silver glint that he hated so much in Bell’s eyes reflected in his own.  He wanted to smash the picture into a thousand pieces.  His fist hit the mirror; harder than he meant to.  The glass shattered and the room was engulfed in drywall dust.  The room was filled with a cloud of debris, and when it cleared, his eyes met Joseph’s. 

“You done?” the big man asked, standing next to the noose still hanging from the ceiling in Michael’s kitchen.

Michael looked around at the destruction in surprise.  “Oh,” he said.  “Sorry.” He stepped over shards of glass and brushed debris from his hair as he walked around to join Joseph in the kitchen.

“Bell wants to know what she should tell her paramedics.”

Michael coughed on the fine dust, “What?”

“Bell,” he spoke slowly, “sent me to find out what your plan is, and”—He rolled his shoulders back quickly, frustration flashing across his face—“to help you, if you need it.”

“Right.” Michael glanced at the floor.  “Um…”

Joseph gestured to the noose and the blood.  “Looks like fun.  Going with a hanging?”

“Yeah, that…worked, I guess,” Michael wished there was more space between them.  Even with the backs of his knees brushing against his bed, Joseph was still too close for comfort.  His dark eyes were not patient.  “I guess I’ll pretend to fall off the catwalk.”

Joseph smirked.  “You think you have the stones to jump?”

Probably not
.  Michael rubbed his forehead with his fist. 

Joseph cursed.  “This is such a waste of time,” he muttered. “Look, Bell wants me to make sure you have a plan.  Can you or can you not jump to your pretend death?  I’d be glad to volunteer to stage a mugging,” he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket, “And we can practice if you need to.”

“No!” Michael shouted, “No.  I’ll rig the harness to drop me.” 

“Alright then.  Now I have another errand to run for Bell,” he turned toward the balcony.

“Wait,” Michael wished he could let him walk out the window, but something Bell said was nagging at him.  “What’s Bell’s father like?”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s just- Bell said she thought I should meet him.”

“You’re kidding,” Joseph smirked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Michael shrugged.

Joseph stared at him for a moment before busting out in raucous laughter.  “Of course she did!  Why not?  I mean, Tanish and I haven’t even met him so why not you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Michael would very much rather it was Joseph that her father would be interested in.

“Sure,” Joseph said, heading out onto the fire escape.  “Good luck with that.”  He left Michael alone with the blood spatter, the drywall dust, and the swaying noose.

Google was alarmingly forthcoming with instructions on how to rig a harness to fail.  Michael barely needed the directions he had printed out and put in his back pocket just in case.  He crouched on the catwalk where the harness waited for his arrival into the second act.  The instructions were clear that it would look correct, so if the tech who strapped him in couldn’t tell, he’d know he was on the right track.  He wished he could check his work, but the box office people were already in there, and it was a one way trip.  If it failed, he would just have to jump after all.  Michael really hoped it wouldn’t fail.

From his perch in the rafters he heard the front doors open, and saw hard rain sweep into the lobby.  Charlotte came in, drenched and carrying a large garment bag.  She pulled her hat off, static electricity fraying the top of a long braid that had been protected from the rain.

“Hey.” She waved cheerfully toward the box office.  Michael was surprised to hear her so happy; she had not been thrilled to hear that the costume had been confiscated the morning of their closing show.  She came straight into the empty theater and laid the black bag gently on the floor just inside the door.  Michael watched as she pulled out her cell phone and unwound her colorful scarf.  She worked her ponytail out with her free hand as her phone dialed.

“Sarah, hey,” she said, pulling her wet braid apart gently, “I found one.  I think we’ll have to add at least a foot for it to fit Michael, though.”

Michael watched her flip her hair to the other side and bend to pull several soggy leaves out of her boot.  Michael swallowed a lump that rose up in his throat, and quietly got up to sneak to the sound booth.

“Are you on your way?  Okay, thank you!  Yeah, I’ll call him now.”

Michael realized too late that he’d forgotten to turn off his phone.  He scrambled through his pockets as she thumbed her screen.

“I’ll make love to you!  Like you want me to!  And I’ll hold you tight…” his phone sung just as he pulled it from his pocket.

“Randy!” he cursed, hurrying to silence her surprising ringtone.

Charlotte looked up into the rafters.  “Michael?”

“Hey.” Michael blushed. “Randy thinks he’s hilarious.”

She laughed, squinting into the darkness. “What are you doing up there?”

“Oh,” Michael glanced around for inspiration, “I dropped my watch last night.  It was up here.”

“Gotcha.  Come on down, I have a ton to tell you!”

Michael made his way to the sound booth, glancing back at his harness before heading down the ladder to meet her. 
Just act normal
he told himself. 
Don’t think about never seeing her again
.

The moment his sneakers hit the carpet, she was hugging him.

Michael blinked in surprise, awkwardly patting her on the back.

“I talked to my mom!” She released him, positively bouncing with joy.

“That’s great…apparently!”  He couldn’t help but laugh at her silly little happy dance.

“It is!  Obviously I didn’t think it would be, but it was.  Not perfect, but you know.  And I never would’ve talked to her if you hadn’t encouraged me, so thank you!”  She hugged him again, but let him go almost immediately to pull her phone out of her pocket.  She thumbed the screen as she spoke.  “She’s self-enrolled in a rehab program.  I already googled their reviews.” She held the phone out for him to see. “Looks pretty good, right?”

Michael caught a glimpse of a screen full of text and a lot of yellow stars.  “That’s great!”

“I’m very proud of her,” she smiled at the phone’s display.  “And I have a real lead!  So maybe neither of us will go to jail for murder after all!”

“Oh?”

“She had a regular that all the girls are afraid of.  His name is Jerry, and he sounds super sketchy.”  A text beeped its arrival.  “Sarah’s here, let’s walk and talk,” she picked up her scarf and the garment bag.

“Can I carry that for you?”

“You’re so Southern.” She smiled and handed it to him.  “Thank you.”

Their hands accidentally bumped into each other as they went through the door.  Charlotte blushed.  “Anyway.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “The night before…it happened…she had to pry him off one of the girls in a bar.  I went down there, and the bartender confirmed it.  I left a message for Detective Paole.”  There was more than a hint of hatred when she said his name.

“Wow.  You’ve been busy.”

“Yes,” she said happily, “and I found a replacement costume on Halloween day.  Ha!  I am a master multitasker!”

As they wove their way through the messy prop room, she filled him in to all the details of what she had found out, and if Michael hadn’t known the truth, he would have thought it sounded like a good lead.  She talked until they reached the sewing room.  They could hear Sarah inside, singing along to show tunes in a painful key.

Michael couldn’t take his eyes off of Charlotte.  Tomorrow, he’d wake up in a different neighborhood, with a different name.  He would never get to hear her voice again.  Never see her excited smile.  His whole world be irrevocably divergent to this one.  So he soaked up as much of her as he could.  The exact yellow of her hair, the curve of her eyelashes.  The little dimples at the corners of her mouth when she hummed.

“Sorry for the information overload,” Charlotte said, handing over the new scythe.  She sighed.  “I just feel like everything is going to be alright.”

Michael’s eyes burned.  He hadn’t been brave enough to die.  But he could be brave enough to keep her safe, even if that meant saying goodbye.

Her blue eyes looked questioningly into his. 

Michael’s mouth went dry.

He knew he shouldn’t do it.  He had told himself he should be distant with her.  Mean, even.  But her hair was soft and curling as it dried, and her eyes were full of enough hope for both of them. It didn’t matter what happened to him, he was going to keep them all safe. 

He drew her close with a strong hand and kissed her.  Not timidly.  A deep, slow, savored kiss.  The one he had wanted to give her for months.  She inhaled sharply in surprise.  Their eyes met for the briefest moment before she kissed him back.  Michael felt her small body warm at his touch.  Her hands found their way into his hair. 

Her walkie talkie blared a burst of static.  “Curtain in thirty minutes.  Final checks,” Carter’s voice interrupted.

They broke apart, her cheeks flushed pink.  “Hey,” she scolded, “Very unprofessional.”

“I’m Sorry.”

“No, that’s alright.
Terrible
timing, though.”  She laughed. “Whew!  Alright, well…” She pulled her clipboard out of her shoulder bag and fanned her face with it.  “I’ve got to go.” She motioned to the dressing room. “But I’ll see you after.”

Michael opened the door and went in to meet Sarah.  She sewed into the silence of Michael stiffly following directions while he tried to hold on to his resolve.  It was only fifteen minutes before he had a costume that fit well enough for one night.

Michael retrieved the scythe from where he had set it against the prop room wall and cleared his throat before heading out.  He thought he would just get in place early.  He didn’t know if he could bear seeing her again.    Randy was in the men’s dressing room, reciting the “Who’s on First” bit in dueling character voices.  Michael had suspected he would overcompensate, and he was glad for it. 

They’re going to be fine.  It’s going to be alright
.  Randy pretended he didn’t see Michael sneak past, and Michael could hardly blame him.

The whole first act breezed by on autopilot.  He left the stage on cue, and made the trek around to the side ladder, climbing carefully in the long costume.  Michael breathed a sigh of relief when the techie attached his harness like always and gave him a thumbs up.  He looked down at the myriad of tables, all with dinner plates, drinking glasses, and utensils lying atop them and wondered where he would land.  He wasn’t as afraid as he thought he’d be.  He waited for his cue with eyes glazed over, thinking as hard as he could of nothing at all.  He listened as Tom got closer and closer to his cue.  Each line only strengthened his resolve.

“Doubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and store.  Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster followed fast and followed faster—”

Looking good, Michael
, Bell’s voice said.

Michael scanned below and saw her sitting at the table closest to the stage.

I like your plan.
She smiled up at him.
It’s very dramatic
.

Yeah
. Michael rolled his shoulders and kept his cool.  He wasn’t going to lose it.

Listen, I took out a little insurance against any cold feet you might be developing.

What are you talking about? 
Michael heard a muffled argument out in the lobby, and the left-hand door burst open.  Several patrons turned and stared at the trench coat-clad detective and his rookie sidekicks.

Carter ran to meet the detective in the aisle.  Michael pushed all the other sounds out of his mind and focused on the officer’s satisfied face.

“You can’t just barge in during the-”

“I have a warrant for the arrest of Michael Wallace.”  The detective brandished a piece of paper in Carter’s startled face.  “Where is he?”

Carter gestured to the rafters.  “He doesn’t come down for a few more minutes.”

What did you do?

I sent him the clothes you were wearing on opening night.  The ones covered in your DNA and her blood.

Michael gripped the rail with both hands.
  Why?  Why did you do that? 

All you wanted was for them to have closure, right?  Then why should it matter what they think of you?  I wonder if they’ll believe you did it….
Her laugh taunted him
.

And what?  If I care what they think I’m just being noble, it’s all about me, and my friends don’t really matter?  You’ve made your point!  They won’t believe this!  They’re going to wonder all their lives! 
Michael clenched his teeth so hard he gave himself a headache.  He let out a long breath, watching the Detective scan the dark ceiling. 
It’s going to look like I killed that woman and then committed suicide out of guilt!

And what is it going to look like if you don’t go through with this?  It’ll look like you getting arrested, and you know we can’t allow that.

Michael played that scenario out in his mind.  It wouldn’t take long for them to realize there was something supernatural about him.  What would Bell do to keep that from happening? 

“Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door.” Tom talked over the argument in the aisle.  “Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking fancy unto fancy…”

Michael’s cue was coming up.  He got onto his marker, cursing.

I am the leader of this clan, Michael. 
Bell didn’t sound amused anymore. 
I make the choices.  You’ve gotten away with too much already. 
A note of hysteria pierced through her anger.
  You do not get your fairytale ending!

“What this grim, ungainly…” Tom had to yell now to be heard above the shouts of the Detective as he tried to climb up the ladder to the sound booth. “…gaunt! And ominous bird of yore!

“Meant in croaking ‘nevermore’!” 

The motor that controlled his supporting cable whirred into action, lifting Michael off his feet.  He felt the weakened seam begin to rip as his sneakers left the platform.  His stomach did a horrible somersault as he floated unsteadily over the audience. 

Then everything turned upside down.  The long black fabric that encircled his feet fell down over his head, and he dangled, still attached by a margin of stitching, to the harness.  The scythe slipped from his hand and landed on a serving cart, toppling it onto a group of teenagers, splashing them with iced tea.

“This I sat engaged in guessing!” Tom screeched over the riotous laughter from below.  Michael flailed wildly, his hand catching the mesh face piece that had been hot glued on an hour before, sending it floating down onto the audience. 

“But no syllable expressing to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core!”

Michael heard Charlotte calling from the stage for the techies to help him and the raucous laughter of the audience as he fought the flowing fabric for vision.  He managed to get it pushed up enough to see past, and the world spun below him: the audience, the cast, and the detective all voicing their opinions at the top of their lungs. 

The detective was making a beeline straight for him, his eyes stone cold and the only ones in the room unamused.  Michael cursed. He reached for the cable but missed. 

“Mr. Wallace,” Detective Paole waved another crisp piece of paper in the air under Michael’s nose. “You are under arrest for the murders of Ms. Barbra Whitfield, Mr. Jeffery Westen, and Mrs. Edith Brown.”

Charlotte gasped. 

“Ms. Birdwell,” the detective said when he noticed her, “Please get him down from there.”