by Rayna Morgan
Laughing at herself as she locked the car, she heard a sound far different from the voice in her head: the gut-wrenching sound of bone hitting bone. A body slammed against the metal frame of the Camaro parked next to her. She crouched, her heart pounding.
"This is your last warning. You've got until eleven o'clock tonight. You know where to find me. Don't come empty-handed or you won't be showing up for Opening Night."
She heard the roar of a motorcycle revving. The stench in the air made the hairs on the inside of her nose tingle. Holding her breath, she raised slowly to peer over the hood of her car. All she saw was the back of a slightly-built man wearing a blue and green plaid shirt disappearing into the back entrance of the Theatre.
Taking a few deep breaths, Maddy proceeded to the front door. She stopped to compose herself, glancing at the actors' pictures hanging in the foyer. She wondered if her picture might hang there someday.
"Hi, gorgeous."
She jumped, backing away against the wall.
"Whoa, a little nervous, are we?"
Maddy looked into one of the faces displayed on the marquee. The features were easily recognizable: a mop of blond hair, blue eyes, high-set cheekbones, and a smoldering sexuality which turned Maddy off.
"You must be the stand-in, and this must be my lucky day."
"You're in my way." She brushed past him, her chin tilted in the air.
"Chad Stewart," he called after her, "but I'm sure you know who I am."
"Never heard of you," she yelled back, pushing through the door to the main staging area.
• • •
Walking down the aisle, she recognized Art Patton in a group of people standing in front of the auditorium and glommed on to him immediately.
"Good evening, Maddy. So glad to see you. You're a lifesaver stepping in at the last minute like this. Come meet our family of players." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and quickly introduced her to the cast members.
"Last but certainly not least is Eddie King, our Stage Manager, the person who makes our productions run seamlessly," Art concluded as a nondescript man of middle age walked down the aisle toward them. He was wearing a blue and green plaid shirt.
Maddy couldn't help looking for a puffy, red cheek or some other sign he'd recently been struck. If any telltale sign remained, it had been camouflaged, perhaps by actor's makeup.
"Follow me, Miss. You won't make an appearance until the second act, but I'll show you where you need to be on stage. Then we can get this rehearsal started."
"Call me Maddy, please," she offered, but the man showed no interest in social niceties.
After being hastily conducted to her designated spots on stage, she was instructed to return to the audience seats where she watched the actors move effortlessly through their lines.
• • •
Before the first act break, Maddy hurried downstairs to the ladies room to beat the female actors who would be headed there momentarily. Passing the ticket sales office, she stopped to listen to the sound of computer keys clicking away and phones ringing steadily with incoming orders. It was good to hear but nerve-wracking. The people on the other end of those phone lines would soon be watching her perform.
"How are sales going?" she asked a volunteer at the front desk.
"Briskly. We're already sold out on Opening Weekend including the Pre-Opening Dinner. There have been a lot of walk-ins, too. That's unusual. Most people call in for tickets and use their credit cards. Walk-ins pay in cash. I had to send someone to the convenience store earlier for small bills. I think all four weekends will be sold out by the end of the day."
A middle-aged, slightly heavy woman with black hair twisted in a braid hanging to the middle of her back stepped into the room. Her bright red lipstick made her lips the focal point of her face. Maddy recognized Julia Mason, co-founder and co-producer of the Players Theatre.
Brushing past Maddy, she asked, "Can someone help you with something?"
"Sorry, no. I just heard the good news about the ticket sales." She reached out her hand. "I'm Maddy Conley, the fill-in for the actor who got sick."
The older woman seemed distracted. She said absently, "Rehearsals are held upstairs."
Maddy stepped aside. "On my way there now."
Moments later, she was smoothing her hair as she walked out of the restroom when she saw the Stage Manager go into Julia's office. She couldn't help but overhear the woman's sharp, clipped voice.
"The volunteers found money missing from the ticket sales cash box again, Eddie. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Maddy stopped at the water cooler in the hall, close enough to hear the conversation.
"The people in ticket sales are always miscounting the money from walk-ins,” the man countered. “It'll show up tomorrow."
"Don't think I don't know about the money you borrowed from my husband. You're lucky Barrett and I have separate bank accounts because I would never have agreed to it. Giving you money to cover your gambling losses only encourages your addiction."
"Like I told Barrett," came the angry response, "I've stopped gambling. What are you worried about? It wasn't your money. Besides, every nickel will be repaid."
"Sure, sure; a gambler's famous last words."
The man stormed out of Julia's office slamming into Maddy and splashing her with the contents of the paper cup in her hand.
"There are plenty of coffee mugs in the break room," he growled, pulling a paper towel out of the dispenser and pushing it at her. "Use those to get yourself something to drink." He hurried down the hall and out of sight.
• • •
The evening flew by for Maddy. She enjoyed every one of the few moments she appeared on stage. As the Director thanked everyone for a good rehearsal and dismissed them, Chad Stewart rushed to her side.
"How about a drink at the Harbor? There's a great jazz band at the Blue Moon. We could catch a couple of sets."
"No, thanks. I'm going home to practice my lines. Only one more night until the show opens."
She tried to move around him, but he grasped her shoulders. "No problem. You can go over your lines with me at the club."
"I hardly think the musicians would appreciate that."
"Who cares? We pay a cover. Besides, we'll probably be more entertaining than their act." He reached for her hand.
"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" Maddy said angrily, color rising in her cheeks. She felt an arm on her back as Chad was pushed brusquely aside.
"I'll walk you to your car, Miss. See you tomorrow night, Chad." She found herself steered quickly out the front door before the brash young man could argue.
Releasing her arm when they were outside, the Stage Manager appeared flustered. "Sorry for that. Chad's a jerk." He softened his tone, making an attempt at a half-smile. "I'm also sorry for soaking you at the water cooler earlier."
"No need to apologize, but I appreciate the escort. He wasn't about to take no for an answer."
"It's not the first time I've had to rescue a woman from his clutches. He thinks he's God's gift to women."
Walking through the lot, Maddy took the opportunity to trigger a reaction from him. "I'm sure it's perfectly safe here at night being so close to the Harbor, but I suppose a person could be assaulted."
A shadow passed over his eyes. He appraised her quizzically but kept walking. "No need to worry, Miss. Nothing like that happens around here."
He gave her car a quick once-over as she unlocked the door. He seemed to take no note of it being the car behind which Maddy had observed his earlier confrontation. "See you tomorrow night. Please be on time for rehearsal."
Watching him drive out of the parking lot, she called her sister.
"You won't believe what went down before rehearsal tonight," she exclaimed, quickly filling Lea in on the details. "It's past ten. Eddie's probably heading to meet the thug's eleven o'clock deadline. I'd love to see what he's up to."
"Are you crazy? Do
n't even think about it," Lea pleaded. "I'm not kidding."
"Lighten up, Sis; I'm the one who's kidding. Pulling your chain a little. I'm exhausted. Straight home to bed for me. Talk to you tomorrow." She hung up before Lea could protest further.
Steering her car out of the parking lot, Maddy convinced herself a little drive was exactly what she needed to calm her nerves before bedtime. She turned in the direction the Stage Manager had taken.
CHAPTER THREE
Gracie and Spirit sat at the upstairs window, ears cocked, heads moving from side to side almost in unison. When a car pulled into the driveway, they raced down the stairs to be the first to greet the visitor. Walking in without ringing the bell, Warren Conley was almost knocked over by the enthusiastic greeting of the two canines.
"Whoa, guys, give Grandpa a chance to get through the door," Jon ordered, pulling the dogs away.
"It's okay," the older man insisted, "I'm glad to see them, too." He leaned over the canines, stroking their heads before reaching into his pocket to produce dog treats.
"How's my favorite grandson?" he asked, standing up to give the boy a bear hug. After two years of experiencing growth spurts typical to teenagers, the gangly youth had begun to tower over his grandfather.
"I'm your only grandson, Grandpa," Jon smiled.
"That's what makes you my favorite and so special."
Lea emerged from her office giving her father a peck on the cheek. "Let's go out on the patio where we can relax. I've got a pitcher of sun tea ready," she suggested, putting her arm around her father while Jon corralled the dogs outside.
Settling into cushioned patio chairs, Lea glanced at her father with approval. "You look good."
Her father had suffered a stroke shortly before his retirement from a distinguished career with the San Diego Police Department. The partial paralysis which resulted prevented him from pursuing his dream of sailing his boat to South America but he had maintained a vigorous rehabilitation program which included miles of daily walking. Lea knew even though his family hoped he had forsaken his ambition to sail around Cape Horn, there was no such thing as abandoning a dream in Warren's world. In the meantime, he pursued his other passions of fishing and restoring antique cars.
Lea filled a glass with iced tea and handed it to him. "How was the drive?"
"Not too bad. I got through the Los Angeles traffic at a decent time, so I can't complain. Still, there's a lot more freeway congestion than when we first started coming to visit."
"I'm so grateful I don't have to make that commute anymore. I used to be stressed out by the time I got home."
"I miss all the takeout we got back then," Jon teased his mother.
"You probably don't want to go there, young man," the grandfather advised.
"Speaking of food, I'll let you two catch up while I put some appetizers in the oven. Jon said something about being anxious to collect a bet from you."
Warren grinned, turning to Jon. "You're right. I owe you a buck on the baseball game last weekend. The home team is falling apart."
"You can be like Mom and switch the team you're rooting for in the middle of the season."
"No way. I've been a loyal fan for forty years; I'm not giving up on them. They'll come back before the playoffs."
Lea was carrying a tray of hot hor d'oeuvres when Paul walked through the back door. "Perfect timing from what my nose tells me. I saw your Dad's car."
"He's on the patio with Jon."
Opening the screen door, he snatched a cheese cube and followed her.
"Is Maddy coming?" Warren asked.
"Sends her regrets but she's going to her first night of rehearsal for her debut as an actress."
"Really. I haven't heard anything about it. She hasn't called your mother."
"She just found out. She's filling in for a sick actor; only has a few lines. Probably wants to see how things go Opening Night before telling you and Mom about it."
"Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's right up Maddy’s alley. She always was a ham."
"What's up my mom's alley, Grandpa?"
"Doing what she's doing. In school, she liked writing, especially short stories and essays for her English class. Did she ever tell you she was editor of the school newspaper?” He glanced at his daughter with pride. “Yep. Your mom was the studious one. Always made the honor roll and was involved in a lot of activities. "
"Except sports. Maddy was the athletic one,” Lea said. “Sports was the only thing school had to offer that Maddy was interested in. That and boys."
Warren smiled before expounding. "I think for your sister it was the competitive nature of sports she thrived on. Excellence in academics challenged you. Her challenge was in winning.
Even more than winning, it was testing herself over and over to find out how good she could be. If she won a race, next time she wanted to run it faster. When her basketball team won a game, next time she wanted to score more points. It wasn't just the contest that drew her; it was the challenge to discover what she was capable of."
"My sister is fearless," Lea stated.
"I don't think it's a matter of being fearless as much as knowing she can't set boundaries or draw lines in the sand if she wants to find out what she's capable of. When Maddy's following her intuition, it's damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead."
"Sometimes without thinking ahead and regardless of the consequences," Paul complained.
Lea looked from Paul to her father. "Paul isn't a great believer in women's intuition. He's a facts and figures kind of guy. Thinks there should be a logical, or at least a practical, purpose for actions a person takes."
"You'd never make it in law enforcement, Paul,” Warren responded. “There, you're dealing with some of the most illogical behavior in the world. If you expect people to act in a reasonable manner, you can make costly mistakes. You have to anticipate the irrational as much as you plan for the rational. People or situations may be so bizarre the only thing you have to go on is your gut reaction, women's intuition, if you will."
"Which could have cost them dearly in their last escapade," Paul mumbled under his breath.
"Which reminds me," Warren said, ignoring Paul's comment. "Congratulations on your part in catching the construction site burglars. The boys in my old precinct caught wind of it because the fugitives were in our jurisdiction when they tried to cross the border."
Paul winced. "Did you get the 'chip off the old block' 'apple doesn't fall far from the tree' bit?"
"Sure did, and proud of it."
Lea stood up, signaling it was time to eat. "Can we have a game of chess after dinner, Dad?"
"I need to finish my drive, but I'll take you on the next time I'm here. I'd like to get even after the last drubbing you gave me."
"She certainly inherited a love of a mental challenge from you," Paul said. "She's addicted to crosswords, word games, and brain teasers."
"She probably did. It didn't come from her mother who lacks the patience to solve puzzles. But enjoying a mental challenge is what made me a good investigator. A big part of solving crimes is fitting the pieces together; figuring out the motive, determining the means, and narrowing down the opportunity. Once those factors fall into place, the rest is elementary as a famous detective once said."
At the dinner table, Jon wanted to learn more from his grandfather. "Tell me more about Mom and Aunt Maddy growing up, Grandpa."
"For one thing, we seldom knew for sure where Maddy was. Likely as not, she was out in one of the empty fields playing tag football with the boys. Your Mom was usually at home playing Clue with the egghead kid who lived next door. Maddy's favorite family outing was a picnic where we played sand volleyball. Your Mom preferred the treasure hunts."
"Yeah, Mom's not good at sports. Dad and I don't even let her play beach volleyball with us. When she does, she has black and blue marks on her arms for days from hitting the ball wrong."
"I tried to play with Maddy and the boys once," Lea recalled. "It was
a game of kick the can. The game had just started. The biggest kid on the field took the first shot. It came right at me. I just stared at it, frozen in place; couldn't move. The can hit me on the forehead right above my eye. Another inch and it would have put my eye out. That pretty much ended my interest in sports. Maddy was upset because she had to leave the game to walk me home so Mom could take me to get stitches."
Lea good-naturedly joined the laughter before Warren continued, "I credit Maddy with being the one to give your Grandma and me our first gray hairs. Your Grandma got more calls than I care to remember from the school principal about her starting a fight with the boys, disturbing a class with her chatter, or not bothering to show up at all. I don't know where she spent some of those days. She'd come home right on time, and when your Grandma nailed her about not being in school, she'd give some vague answer about spending the day communing with nature or some such thing. I was the one who had to dole out the punishment so I'd ground her. Some months it seemed like that girl was grounded as many times as not, but it never fazed her; not one bit. Didn't serve as much of a deterrent either."
“Did Mom ever cut classes?” Jon asked.
"Never. She studied hard, too. She was naturally smart, but she earned every grade she got. Maddy used to call your mom 'little Miss perfect' but never out of spite or jealousy." He smiled at Lea. "You actually were. I sometimes think you overachieved to compensate for the worry your sister caused us. I don't remember a single time we had to ground you or scold you for anything."
"How else were Mom and Aunt Maddy different, Grandpa?" Jon asked.
"Your Mom was luckier in love, I'd say," he answered, nodding toward Paul. "She found her partner early on. Knew right from the start your father was the man she'd be spending the rest of her life with. Maddy went from one boyfriend to another, but none of them was ever a good match for her. She was usually better than they were in sports, braver, and more adventurous. It somehow never made for a balanced relationship. They never held her interest for more than the wink of an eye. Your mother and I were surprised she stayed married to Eric as long as she did. It was a bad match from the beginning."