Untimely Death (17 page)

“Well, there’s
Downton Abbey
, Mum. You like that.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Oh, I’m sorry, Charlotte, love. All this whinging and moaning. I’ve been feeling so out of sorts lately. Got a miserable toothache, and you just try getting an appointment with the dentist. You have to suffer for weeks before they can fit you in. Oh, this country’s going to hell in a handbasket, let me tell you. You’re well out of it. Our best days are behind us. That’s all this country’s got going for it. Its past.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your tooth.”

“Well, you just have to make the best of it, don’t you? I take a Paracetamol and hope for the best. But honestly, sometimes I can’t even concentrate long enough to read my magazine. Anyway, I’ve been going to the senior drop-in center, and there are some nice people there and they serve a decent cup of tea with a biscuit, so it’s good to keep busy.”

“What did you just say, Mum?”

“I said it’s good to keep busy.”

“No, before that. About the toothache.”

“Oh, I said I’ve been taking the Paracetamol tablets and they help with the pain, a little, until I can get in to see the dentist.”

“Right. Look, Mum, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. We’ll talk soon.”

She ended the session and sank back into her sofa. Of course! That’s what Lady Deborah had said. Not “seat ’em all.” Paracetamol. The British version of Tylenol. She’d just caught the end of the word and had taken it to mean something completely different.
Oh, how could I have been so stupid
, she thought.
If it weren’t so awful, it would almost be funny
.

She reached into her handbag and pulled out the business card of the jeweler she had spoken to in New York, the one who had told her the ring was paste. He answered on the third ring.

“Hello,” she said. “My name’s Charlotte Fairfax, and I was in your store several weeks ago with a ring I asked
you to look at. You told me it was fake. Paste. I think you know more about that ring, more than you told me, and I’m hoping you’ll be kind enough to answer a couple of questions. Did someone else show you that ring? A young woman, about twenty-three, with dark brown hair?”

Charlotte listened for a moment and then repeated what he’d told her.

“She didn’t show it to you, but she took it to a jeweler you know for an appraisal. Right. And she asked a lot of questions about an Englishwoman with a lot of jewelry. And when I came in, because I speak with an English accent, you wondered . . .”

The jeweler spoke for a few more minutes, and then, after thanking him, Charlotte ended the call. She clutched her phone to her chest, thinking furiously. Lady Deborah. A lot of valuable jewelry. Reproductions. And Lauren knew the ring was fake. Did that knowledge get her killed?

She dialed Ray’s number. When it went to voice mail, she left a message.

Aaron was sitting in the workroom, hand-stitching the hat he’d made to accompany his Juliet costume. He held it up for Charlotte to inspect. She took it from him and examined it closely.

“Nice job on the lining,” she said. “You can always tell how well made a garment is by checking the seams. It should look as good on the inside as it does on the outside.” She handed it back to him. “I’m just going to put the kettle on, make myself a cup of tea, and then we’ll have a little chat.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course you’re not. Why would you think that?”

“Whenever you say ‘a little chat,’ I think there’s something bad coming. Maybe it’s just the way you say it.”

For the first time in weeks, Charlotte entered the tiny space not much bigger than a cupboard with a small
table, a couple of shelves, a bar refrigerator, and a tiny sink. To call it even a “kitchenette” would have given it higher status than it deserved. A moment later, she called out. “Aaron,
now
you’re in trouble! Come here.”

He set the hat on the worktable and stood in the doorway of the kitchen cupboard. “What is it?”

Charlotte pointed to the shelf beside the sink. “What’s that?”

“It’s that can of drink Lauren left on the work table when she was in getting measured. You told me to put in here.”

“Yes, I did, but I didn’t think I had to tell you to empty it down the sink and then put the can in the recycling. Did you really need to be told to do that? You don’t just bring the can in here and leave it here.”

“Sorry, Charlotte. My bad.” He reached for the can.

“Don’t touch it. Unless I’m very much mistaken, the police are going to find it’s loaded with Tylenol. Or rather, Paracetamol.”

“So you don’t want me throw it out?”

“No. I’ll let Ray know it’s here. In the meantime, neither of us touches it.”

“And our ‘little chat’?” said Aaron.

“I can’t remember now what it was I wanted to speak to you about, but it’ll come to me, I’m sure.”

“Huh. Well in that case, is it okay if I go back to my hat now? Mattie’ll be here any minute for her final fitting, and I want the hat to be ready.”

“Right. Off you go, then.”

She phoned Ray to tell him about the energy drink can. He told her to expect a visit soon; he wasn’t sure who would pick it up, but one of the state police would be along to get it. In the meantime, he reminded her not to touch it. And then she asked a favor of him, which he laughingly agreed was the least he could do.

Charlotte busied herself with a few little tasks, keeping an eye on the door. When Mattie appeared, Aaron rose to greet her. He had covered his dress on the mannequin with a cloth, and Charlotte sensed he was nervous about revealing it to her, although she had reassured him it was beautiful and that Mattie would love it.

Aaron slowly and carefully lifted the muslin cloth from the Juliet costume. When Mattie’s face lit up and she reached for it, Charlotte felt the beginnings of a watery glaze fill her eyes. She reached for a tissue and dabbed at them and then joined Aaron and Mattie. Aaron’s smile broadened each time Mattie discovered something else she liked about the garment.

“I can’t believe you made this just for me!” she exclaimed as she fingered the brocade. “It’s absolutely stunning.” She turned to Aaron. “How talented you are!”

“All right, Mattie,” laughed Charlotte. “That’s enough, now. He won’t want to return to normal duties if you keep on like that.” Aaron laughed good-naturedly but was obviously pleased that his work had found such favor with his client.

“I’ll carry it to the screen for you,” he told Mattie, “and if you slip it on, we’ll do your final fitting.” He removed the garment from the stand, carried it to the screen, and disappeared around the back. “It’s on the chair,” he said, “and here are your ballet slippers,” he added, handing them to her. “You’ll need to wear them so we can check the length is right.”

Charlotte gave Aaron a thumbs-up, and his grin lit up the room.

“I know how lucky I am,” came Mattie’s disembodied voice from behind the screen. “So many applied for admission to theater school and so few got in. And then, to be chosen to work here this summer and to get a brand-new costume? It doesn’t get much better than that.” This was followed by a soft rustling sound.

“Do you need any help?” Charlotte asked.

“No, almost ready,” she said.

“Aaron, bring down the fan, put it over there on the floor, and switch it on,” Charlotte said.

“What?”

“Never mind asking why. Just do it. You’ll see when Mattie comes out.”

Aaron placed the fan where Charlotte pointed and switched it on. A gentle breeze wafted across the room as Mattie emerged from behind the screen. It caught the bottom of her garment and gave the elegant silk underdress a graceful, billowing lift. Aaron turned to Charlotte with a look of amazement on his face.

“If you want to see how your garment will move,” she said, “just use an electric fan. Do you know who taught me that little trick?”

“Who?” said Aaron and Mattie at the same time.

“The Queen’s dresser.” She turned her gaze toward Mattie. “Now then. Let’s see you walk to the door, then turn around and walk back toward us.”

When Mattie returned, Charlotte took a couple of steps toward her and then gently put her hands on Mattie’s shoulders and pulled them back. “Stand a little straighter, Mattie,” she said. “Pretend you’re squeezing an orange between your shoulder blades. And take smaller steps. You must walk differently in a long dress than you do in a pair of jeans. Now, off you ago. Try it again. You’ll feel the difference.”

Mattie repeated her walk to the door, and on the return, a wide grin lit up her face. “I feel taller and more confident,” she said.

“I can see you do,” said Aaron.

“Right, well, Aaron will finish the fitting now, Mattie. I’ve got to speak to Simon about something.” She picked up her handbag and left the room. Just as she stepped outside the door, she paused to check that she had her glasses.

As she stood there, she heard Aaron respond to something Mattie must have said but that she hadn’t heard: “She is. I’ve learned so much from her. Honestly, I couldn’t have done a better internship.”

Charlotte took her own advice and stood a little straighter, and with a determined, almost jaunty step, she headed off to find Simon.

She found him backstage, as she expected, sitting at the prompt desk going over his script for the dress rehearsal.

“Simon, glad I caught you. Got a minute?”

“For you, my dear, always.”

“Good.” She peered out at the empty auditorium. “How about we sit in the front row so we can be comfortable?”

Once they were seated, Charlotte began.

“I’ve got a favor to ask you. It’s about the dress rehearsal this afternoon. I know you expected Aaron to work the prompt desk, but it’s very important that he experience the entire production, and I especially want him to see the costume he created for Mattie from front of house. To really get a sense of how costume design works, he needs to see the full production as an audience member.”

“That’s all very well,” said Simon, “but I need a prompter if we’re to have a full production. I need to see the play from front of house, too. I can’t do it.”

“I thought of that, so I found a volunteer to work the prompt desk.”

When she told him who, he raised an amused eyebrow.

“Really?”

*

Charlotte’s workroom was empty. “Gone for a coffee with Mattie,” read the little note on the scratch piece of paper on her desk. She smiled and reached for her handbag. Just as she opened it, a soft knock on the door made her turn around. It was Brian. He was wearing some of his costume and was in full stage makeup. The heavily drawn dark lines on his face made him look grotesque up close.

“Could I have a word?” he said.

“Yes, of course. Come in.” She pointed at a chair near her desk and they sat, awkwardly but not uncomfortably. He looked different. Thinner in the face.

“You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you,” said Charlotte.

“Yes, I feel much better,” he said. He lowered his eyes and fiddled with the large costume ring on his finger. “I made a huge mess of everything,” he said. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“Oh, yes, I do. Look, the play’s starting soon, and this isn’t the right time, but later, I was hoping we could talk. I want to explain—”

“Brian, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. It’s unfinished business. Can we talk?”

“If you like. But for now, you need to finish getting dressed. You don’t want to be late.”

“No.” He stood up.

“You look as if you’ve lost a little weight,” she commented. “Are your costumes fitting okay? If not, we can adjust them.”

“They’re fine for now, but thanks for asking.”

She sat quietly for a moment after he’d gone. The only thing she’d smelled on him was the distinctive, unforgettable smell of stage makeup, like a sweet, heavy crayon.

*

“Right, now, everybody, gather round, please.” The cast members, in full costume and stage makeup, crowded together backstage, smiling nervously and encouragingly at one another.

“This is it,” Simon said. “Well, almost. Dress rehearsals. Previews. This is when all our hard work starts to pay off. Everything you’ve all been working so hard for is about to come to life. We’ve got some local high school students and many of their parents in this afternoon, and they’re expecting your best. So let’s go, everybody. Break a leg!” The cast members clapped and took their places, ready for curtain up.

“Oh, good, here you are,” Simon said to Ray. “Almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform.” He handed Ray a prompt book and said, “Follow me.” He led him to the prompter’s table with its little desk lamp, just out of sight of the audience. “Just follow along as the actors speak their lines, and if someone hesitates or seems lost, he’ll look to you for help. Just give him his next line in a loud whisper.”

“Got that.” Ray smiled. “This should be fun.”

The last of the audience took their seats, and as the lights dimmed, the casual chatting stopped and an expectant hush fell over the audience. In the quiet semidarkness, the tragedy of two households of Verona, both alike in dignity, began to unfold. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to be drawn deeper into the world of the two star-crossed lovers, and as the time approached for Brian to make his entrance, she found herself growing nervous for him.

And then, with a dramatic flourish of a fur-trimmed, midnight-blue cloak befitting a nobleman, there he was. He paused as he arrived onstage, giving the audience a sly look, as if inviting them to applaud.
And long ago, and in a different place,
thought Charlotte,
they would have.
When they couldn’t get enough of Brian and his majestic voice. But now, no one really knew who he was.

Suddenly, the years fell away, and she was in her early twenties, standing in the wings of the main stage at Stratford-upon-Avon, watching Brian own the stage as Hamlet. His deep tenor voice resonated with pain, and everyone in the audience felt his mounting anguish. As he stepped off stage, he caught her by the waist and briefly pulled her to him before racing to his dressing room for a quick break. And a quick drink. It fueled his performance, he said. Kept him at the top of the game. Until it began to let him down. And then it was his turn to let her down.

She stole a glance at Aaron on her right. He was entranced with the production, swept away on a tide of emotion.

And then the nurse called out, “Anon, anon! Come, let’s away; the strangers all are gone,” signaling the end of act 1. The drama continued to unfold, drawing everyone deeper into the coming tragedy, until it was time for intermission.

As the house lights came back up, Charlotte turned to Aaron.

“Go backstage quickly and make sure everyone’s costumes are all right. Sometimes things snap or come undone and they need a quick repair during the intermission. And be sure to tell them they’re doing great and everybody’s loving it. Give them some encouragement.” Aaron left his seat, ran up the stage steps, and disappeared behind the curtain. Charlotte twisted in her seat and scanned the audience behind her.

There was no sign of Lady Deborah. Perhaps she thought that Brian no longer deserved her support. Or it might be that she’d seen him perform so many times that it was all wasted on her now. Or maybe she just had better things to do.

Star-crossed lovers,
thought Charlotte. Was that what Brian and Lauren had been? She doubted it; they’d only known each other two or three weeks. That hardly seemed long enough for him to give her a ring, but then drunkards often did daft things they later regretted.

She spent the rest of the play thinking about the ring, the jewelry . . . she was sure that the key to all this lay in the jewelry. And then she realized she needed to spend a little time on the Internet. There were bloggers who paid close attention to the jewelry collections of royalty and nobility. Who wore what to every event. And these bloggers were often knowledgeable about the history and provenance of the jewels. And she needed to know more about Lady Deborah’s father, Lord Roxborough. He must be . . . what? In his mid-eighties?

The play ended to enthusiastic clapping, and as the cast took their curtain calls, Brian especially seemed to cherish the applause, drinking it in greedily and lingering just a moment too long. Charlotte thought Mattie looked lovely in the costume Aaron had designed and made for her, and she told him so, in a soft whisper.

As the audience stood up and prepared to leave, the curtains swished back, and Ray came down the side stairs to join her.

“Did you enjoy it?” Charlotte asked.

“I did. Only had to give two prompts. One to Mrs. Capulet, who I noticed was not wearing any nice rings.”

Charlotte winced. “We do have a few pieces of jewelry in our store room, of course,” she said a little stiffly, “but nothing that would have been appropriate for her.”

He grinned at her.

“So,” she said, “before I forget—final dress rehearsal tomorrow and then a few of us are meeting up in my
wardrobe room to toast the new season. Would you like to join us?”