“No, not here. He doesn’t make physical contact until act two when she visits his apartment and they kiss. I know you’ve got it in your mind that this is the scene, but you’re on the wrong track. Finding the death threat on this page of the script was probably just a coincidence.”
“It does not feel coincidental. But, perhaps in your own tangential, confused way, you are on to something. We should focus more on Lisa’s movement throughout the play.” Rowan paced the short platform. “So, my friend, from the top. The lights come up on scene one. Where is she?”
Walter pulled his notebook from the inside of his suit coat. “We all start in the dressing room. When it’s show time, Timothy and Lisa go through the wing to the crossover and wait for their cue. They enter at the right slit in the curtain to the dining room.”
“Is that stage right or house right?”
He paused for a moment and then pointed.
Rowan said, “That is stage left. Use the lingo.”
Walter made a note of it. “Gotcha. So they enter stage left. At some point, Maura comes to the crossover and enters the same way. They fight, they tell each other off. The lights go down and all three actors exit and return to the dressing room.”
“Scene two is with Allison and Edward?” asked Rowan.
“Affirmative. It’s about fifteen pages long. Awful stuff. It makes scene one sound like Dashiell Hammett. While that’s happening, Timothy and Maura head to the crossover to get ready for their scene three entrance. I’ll be alone with Lisa in the dressing room the whole time. When the second scene mercifully ends, Maura and Timothy get on stage for scene three. She’s going to run away from home and her father begs her to stay.”
“Concentrate, Williams. I do not care about the play. When and where does Lisa move?”
“Lisa and I are in the dressing room for scenes two and three. The balcony is scene four. Lisa and Edward wait in the crossover behind the…” Walter checked his notes. “…stage right side of the curtain. This slit.” He pointed down to the stage directly behind them. “After scene three ends, Edward comes up the ladder first and then Lisa follows. He comes forward to the railing and has a monologue. It’s not really a monologue though. He talks to these flowers about the sun and the moon—”
Rowan made a cranking motion with his hand.
“Right, right. Lisa waits at the back near the ladder.”
Rowan walked to the back of the balcony. “In total darkness?”
“Yes. Edward says his cue, Is someone there? After that line, Lisa comes forward and joins him. Lights up on her, and they have dialogue. Oh fancy meeting you, I’m your neighbor, blah blah blah. When the scene ends, they climb down the ladder. Edward goes back to the dressing room, but Lisa remains onstage and walks to the dining table where she’s joined by Timothy and Allison for scene five. After the fifth scene, act one is over and we have an intermission.”
“This is where it will happen. She is alone and enshrouded by darkness.”
“How?” Walter knocked on the partition. “Edward has the wall between him and Lisa. I’m watching the ladder the whole time. No one can get up here. I figure no one can touch her.”
Rowan pointed to the catwalk. “That spot provides a propitious opportunity.”
“That’s ten feet away. What would Grizz do from there? Shoot her? He’d be arrested immediately. I still say we’re looking backstage. That is, if we’re looking at all.”
Rowan grimaced. “Do you want to go home, Williams? I can handle this assignment without you just fine.”
Walter sighed. “Manory, you know I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Then no more baseless innuendo. Let’s hear the movements of acts two and three.”
The detectives finished hashing over the rest of the plot without making much headway as to the killer’s method. While Walter checked the exits, Rowan shuffled up the iron staircase to Lisa’s office. She was leaning back in the chair with her legs propped up on the desk. Rowan’s eyes drifted from her exposed thigh above knee-high, polka dot socks, past the emerald lamp shade, and finally settled on the pack of Chesterfields jammed at the base of the Underwood. “Walter will be finished in a few minutes. We will not keep you much longer.”
Lisa said, “You were right.”
“About what?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the note.” She tied her hair into a lazy bun, a single black lock falling demurely over her face.
How do women do that? They must practice for hours.
“And the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not a joke. They had to spend time cutting out the letters, gluing it together and then sneaking it into my office. It’s too much effort, isn’t it?”
“Was there anything out of the ordinary during today’s rehearsal? Anything at all?”
“Not really. We rehearsed the same as always.”
Rowan nodded. What if Grady and Walter are right? If there is something you are hiding, Lisa, now would be the time to tell me.
She stood, turning off the desk lamp. “You look troubled.”
He motioned toward her desk. “I thought you did not smoke.”
“I don’t.”
Rowan pointed to the Chesterfields under the typewriter.
“Oh, those.” She slid them into the drawer. “Grizz’s. He must have left them here.”
Maura brought Edward a Styrofoam cup of burnt hospital coffee with the dregs forming a layer of sludge at the bottom. He grasped it with shaky hands and tilted the cup forward, scalding his lips. “She’s been in there a long time. It must’ve come out one way or the other by now, don’t you think?”
Maura tried to fill the cold waiting room with positivity, remarking how lucky they had been, being at a hospital and deciding not to wait for the march to pass. None of it eased Edward in the slightest.
“I knew something was wrong. You never think about how you’ll move on after they die. It never occurs to you. She’s the only constant thing I’ve—”
A doctor walked through the emergency doors, his head bent toward the clipboard in his hands. There was no emotion on his face, or at least, nothing Edward could read.
He sprang from the sofa. “Is…Is she dead?”
The doctor took a pen to the clipboard, checking something or other. “She’s fine, Mr. Filius.”
“What do you mean, fine?”
“I mean there is nothing wrong with your aunt. She’s absolutely fine.”
A pent-up breath rushed free from Edward’s mouth. “Oh, thank God.” He laid his hand over his breast and laughed.
Maura put her head on his shoulder. “See, Eddie. I told you everything would be okay.”
“I can’t tell you how extraordinary this is,” said the doctor with raised eyebrows. “Resuscitation failed, but there was still a faint heartbeat. We are one of the few hospitals in Chicago equipped with an iron lung. I made the decision to encase her, and she responded quite well. We were determining the next course of action when there came a knocking on the glass. Never seen anything like it. Did she show any symptoms at all?”
Edward looked to Maura.
She said, “No. Nothing. One minute she was there and then the lights went out.”
Edward said, “That’s not quite accurate. She had been a little less communicative today. And she was complaining of heat.”
The doctor made a note. “Well, she’s a little batty, but her vitals are positively humming. Very strong.”
“Batty’s good. Batty’s normal. Can I take her home?”
“We’d like to keep her a few more days, just for observation.”
“Whatever you say, but I’ll need to get her personables. Her purse and her jewelry.”
“Nurse Gonzalez has them. You can collect at the front desk.”
Edward thanked the doctor a few times before heading for the exit with Maura by his side. “I’m sorry, Maura. I’m not in much of a mood for the shindig. I guess this was a disappointing date.”
&n
bsp; “Aww, don’t get all sweaty about it. We’ll go next week with Allie and Tim. I should get home anyway what with the play tomorrow and everything.”
“Can I at least give you a ride?”
She shook her head. “I’ll walk.”
“That’s silly. Let me drive you. It’s getting late.”
“No, I like walking. See you tomorrow, Eddie.”
He stopped at the desk and called out to her. “Hey, Maura.”
“Yeah?” she said from the doorway.
“Did she say anything? You know, before she passed out?”
“I hate to say it, Eddie, but she’s a full-blown whackaloon. Nothing she said made any sense.”
“Tell me anyway. Please.”
“She kept going on about taking a test.”
Edward nodded. “She used to be a teacher. Maybe she was remembering something from the past.”
“She also told me to stay out of the attic. Do you even have an attic in your house?”
“Yeah, but we don’t go up there.”
chapter 4 Opening Night
8:00 a.m. Friday, April 5th
Rowan sat in the chair, concentrating on the task of rolling a tidy cigarette. Grizz offered him a Chesterfield. “No, thank you. I find that commercial cigarettes taste of dust.”
Jenny sat, smoking behind her desk, her heft creaking the wood of the chair. “Forgive me if I’m in a foul mood, detective. I just learned of this situation last night. Lisa has quite the talent for creating turmoil at the last minute.” She threw her pack to the edge of the table. “Join the party, Walter.”
Walter scrunched up his face. “Manory smokes enough for the both of us.” He hovered over the pack on the desk. “Beechnuts? Aren’t those men’s cigarettes?”
“Isn’t that the same pansy bowtie Marlene Dietrich wore in Morocco?”
He nodded. “Touché, Miss Pluviam. Touché.”
Rowan’s exhalant smoke mingled with the cloud in the center of the room. “I’m curious. As the director, you have firsthand knowledge of the respective personalities of the cast. Do you have any theories about who is behind this threat?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
He waited. The second hand of the clock on the wall ticked six times. “Care to share them with me?”
“Not especially,” Jenny said flippantly.
“Now I am curious.”
“I’m not going to share my thoughts with you because of the cop you got back there. Lying can lead to jail if the police are involved, and my sister is my lead actress.”
Rowan put two and two together. “You believe your sister concocted this story?”
Jenny finally smiled. “I didn’t say that out loud. You did. Who knows, it might be true.”
“If you had to guess?”
Her eyes shifted to the tip of her cigarette as if she were studying it. “I don’t have to guess. That sounds an awful lot like your job.”
Rowan pointed at Grizz. “And you? Any theories?”
With arms folded, Grizz leaned against the wall behind Jenny, the cigarette stuck to his chapped lower lip. “It was Maura that done it.”
“Miss Lewis? Did you see her entering Lisa’s office?”
“No, but she’s one o’ them starry-eyed types. I can see her getting it in her head to scare Lisa away—take the role for herself. Or it coulda been Edward. Why did he audition? Never did a play before and all the sudden he wants to be an actor. My foot. Maybe he did it to get closer to Lisa. Or maybe—”
Jenny said, “You’re done in here, Grizzy. I don’t need you anymore. Go make sure Eddie’s tape is in the right place so he doesn’t wander off the stage.”
Rowan could swear he heard a certain four-letter word muttered under Grizz’s breath as he left. He made a steeple of his fingers. “If this is all a farce, why do you think she hired me?”
Jenny stubbed out her cigarette. “Lisa is my sister. If she feels that she needs protection, I’m happy to have you here. It doesn’t matter what I think. Just don’t disrupt my play and for God’s sake—”
“What happened to your hand?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard my question just fine.”
Jenny snorted. “Accident.”
“I stubbed my toe this morning. That was an accident.”
“A bad accident.”
“Merely engaging in small talk. If you do not wish to discuss it…”
“My hand was run over by a car many years ago in New York. Is it pertinent to your job?”
Rowan leaned forward. “That depends. What were you doing in New York?”
“The same thing you’re doing now.”
“Which is?”
“Fishing.” Jenny pointed her stump at the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do, and none of it involves your questions.”
“Of course. Come, Williams.” They ran down the iron staircase into the aisle. “Did you see that? She wanted out of that conversation faster than the Nazis wanted out of the Sturmabteilung.”
Walter said, “I don’t speak German.”
“She is hiding something.” Rowan checked his pocket watch. “The actors will be arriving soon. Lisa will inform them about the threat when they are all gathered in the dressing room. Then I will address them personally.”
“Manory?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think it’s like to bed an amputee?”
“Stop talking.”
“But—”
“Just stop.”
“We’ll discuss it later. Oh, here. I grabbed you a program from the front of house.”
Stuffing it lazily inside his suit pocket, Rowan looked back to the window of Lisa’s office. Why would she hire me if she is lying?
The cast listened, first with curiosity, then almost impassively, and finally, with stunned clarity. A stagnant, funereal atmosphere hung in the dry air of the dressing room. They sat on chairs, surrounding Lisa in a frightened little bundle. Rowan stood with his back to the wall, studying the reactions, trying to gauge if any of them were capable. To a man, they all seem surprised.
Lisa’s voice could not disguise her apprehension. “We have to act as if nothing is wrong. These past weeks have been so wonderful, I hate to introduce this…this ghastly distraction.”
Timothy was the first to speak. “We gotta cancel the play.”
Allison glared at him. “It’s Lisa’s decision.”
“Horseshit. I don’t care what she wants to do.”
“Babe, what if it’s not real? What if we cancel the play for no reason at all? Think of all the work we’ve put into it.” Allison turned to Lisa. “She’s a big girl. She can decide for herself.”
Edward looked sick, his eyes unfocused. “It can’t be real. It’s got to be a joke, right?”
Timothy walked aimless circles. His nails dug into his palms. “A very unfunny one. You got no idea who it is, Leece?”
She answered by lowering her head.
Edward kept going, talking to no one in particular. “How could he hope to get away with it? Two-hundred people will be watching.”
“What do you mean he?” Timothy folded his arms. “It could be a woman. We don’t know.”
Maura pressed her hand across her chest. “Well, it isn’t me. I’ve been with myself all day, and I didn’t plan a murder. I have trouble planning dinner. And who’s to say it’s somebody in this room? Grizz and Jenny were here on Wednesday. You’re all acting like it’s got to be one of us.”
Edward looked around at the faces of his cast mates. “No one in this room would kill anyone. The very idea is absurd. But I must say, I feel the same about Jenn and Grizz. I just can’t imagine anyone doing something like this.”
Timothy finally settled against the dresser. “Even if I was some maniac killer, I wouldn’t be right stupid enough to tell everybody what I was going to do. When did you get it, Leece?”
Lisa was about to answer when Rowan butted in. “It is not ne
cessary for you to know that.”
“Why is that? Who the hell are you people anyway? Are you cops?”
Rowan thought one of them might slip up and say something they shouldn’t have known. It was a technique he had used successfully many times; the less information the suspects had, the more likely the killer among them would foolishly reveal his true nature. Rowan introduced himself along with Walter and Officer Young. Then, in the midst of the room’s grimness, he decided to extend an olive branch, recommending that, if anyone had made a miscalculated attempt at humor, he or she could cop to it now and face no repercussions. As he fully expected, no one copped.
“Then it is my duty to inform you, or at least one of you, that there is no hope of escape if you are preposterous enough to attempt to make good on this vile threat. Not only will I be watching everything on the stage, and not only will a police officer be stationed at the entrance, but my trusted assistant will be following Miss Pluviam backstage at all times. We have eyes everywhere. There will be no murder tonight.” He pulled Young aside to give him more specific instructions.
Walter took this opportunity to warm himself to the cast. “I want all of you to know that I will do my best to stay out of your way and not interfere with your performance. Pretend I’m not here. On a personal note, I know the situation seems dire, but Manory and I are professionals. We are quite confident you will all make it through tonight unscathed.”
Maura tugged on his sleeve. “Walt?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Does this mean all of our lives are in danger? I mean, a guy who’s slap-happy, he’s not going to care who gets killed.”
“Nothing will happen to you. Not while I’m around.”
Rowan said, “Williams.” Walter and Maura turned to him. It was then that the detective got a centered view of the girl and saw something odd, something he hadn’t expected. He saw recognition in her face. “Let us continue our inspection of the theater. We’ll give the actors some privacy.” Officer Young remained housed in the wing, just outside the door.
Forty-five minutes before show time, Lisa stepped into her ankle-length silver gown. She put on her necklace and earrings. Her hand touched the reflection of her mole. “Goodbye, Lisa Pluviam. Hello, Margaret Hunt.”
The Opening Night Murders Page 5