THE SPIRIT IN QUESTION

by Cynthia Kuhn

  We took our usual seats in the front just as Tolliver addressed the company, assembled on the stage. The actors were wearing their costumes, the scenery was in place, and there was an expectant energy in the air.

  “Our final dress rehearsal is here! Thank you for your lovely work to date—please clap for yourselves.” They did. “Thank you for putting your soul into your performances. And let’s give a round of applause to the crew, whose fabulous work behind the scenes has made the world of our play come alive!” The cast applauded and whistled, and the crew members looked gratified.

  Tolliver swept his hands up. “And now, my ducklings, it is time to shine. Let us take it from the top. Places, everyone.” He clapped twice and made his way down the side stairs toward us. He sank into the chair he favored, which squeaked, then there was silence. The red curtain came down slowly, its gold tassels shining in the lights.

  “And go please...” Tolliver said quietly into his headset. The stage manager would take over the cues from there.

  The theater went dark and the overture began to play as the curtain rose again. A spotlight focused on Oliver standing center stage, reciting random but familiar lines from famous detectives as the other characters filed in. It soon turned into a big number, “Nothing Is Ever As It Seems,” with a decidedly carnivalesque feel. There was so much going on that I hardly knew where to look. Actors in multicolored costumes crossed the stage, belting out lyrics, while tap dancers, fire spinners, and acrobats were leaping, twirling, and tumbling. Carts rolled out of the wings and released swarms of balloons. Aerialists spun down from the ceiling on silks and swung in from the sides on hoops. The sea of motion was punctuated by flashes of color and the glitter of sequins. Just when it seemed as though nothing else could possibly be added to the frenzy, a brass band came down the aisle, dividing into two lines that filed up the stairs on both sides, filling up every space on the stage. It was joyful mayhem. When the song came to an end, there was a moment of silence followed by spontaneous cheers from the cast themselves. They knew they’d nailed it.

  Tolliver laughed. “I agree with your assessment, but don’t applaud for yourselves during performances, okay?”

  The rest of the scenes went smoothly and, before long, we’d reached the end. I was surprised to find myself feeling strangely uplifted. Either I was too familiar with the play to be bothered by its absurdities any longer or somehow we had addressed the worst of them and...it all sort of worked.

  When the lights came up, Tolliver called everyone to the stage again and enthusiastically praised them. “Although it may be unusual for us to take a day off now, right before we open, it’s Halloween. That’s how the schedule landed, and I think it may sharpen your creative energy! Go enjoy the holiday and come back ready to act your hearts out on Wednesday. Can you do that for me?”

  There were sounds of assent around the room. Zandra, who’d gone up to stand next to him, beamed at them.

  “Just be sure to give your costume to Luciana before you leave! They are not to be worn for Halloween, ducklings.”

  After Tolliver said goodbye, the students bustled offstage.

  As I stretched my neck to get the kinks out, Zandra glided down the stairs, her chiffon wrap floating out behind her. Her face glowed. “I’m absolutely thrilled, aren’t you?”

  Luckily, I didn’t have to answer because she plowed on ahead.

  “He has outdone himself. This is his very best play. So cutting edge, don’t you think? I think he’ll be written up everywhere that matters.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she was off and running again.

  “I’m going to go find him and tell him so. He’s drifted off somewhere. Then I need to finalize the details for the cast party. I told Tolly I’d take care of everything. There’s so much that remains to be done. It has to be fabulous.”

  She walked right past me, still reciting items on her to-do list. It appeared that we were all a little overwhelmed, with opening night looming.

  I took my time gathering up everything that needed to be packed into my satchel and pulled on my coat. I called goodbye to Tolliver, who was nowhere in sight, but maybe he’d hear me.

  I switched on the ghost light that had been set onstage by a crew member, as always. “Goodnight, Malcolm,” I said. If we did have a ghost, I might as well acknowledge him too. “Thanks for letting us have our play here.”

  He didn’t reply.

  In the lobby, I pulled out my script and spent a few minutes jotting ideas for Tolliver on the back page. He’d asked me to email him any final thoughts and I wanted to make notes before I forgot. The company gradually cleared out, and the theater grew quiet.

  Then a bloodcurdling scream rent the air.

  I whirled around and ran through the empty auditorium, racing toward the cries coming from downstairs. I followed the sounds to the prop room, where Tolliver lay on the floor, directly beneath the open trap door. He wasn’t moving. Zandra was bending over him, calling his name, and Parker was standing behind her, looking unsteady.

  “Call 911,” I said to Parker as I ran to Tolliver. When I knelt next to him, I could see his chest moving and his eyes fluttering. Relief coursed through my body. Zandra burst into tears and shook Tolliver’s shoulder.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” Parker announced. “They’re staying on the line if we need anything.”

  I thanked him and put my hand on Zandra’s arm. “Be sure not to shake him too hard. He may have broken something. And he’s breathing, so let’s just make him comfortable.”

  She pulled her hand back and wiped her cheek.

  I tore off my coat and put it on top of him. I knew there was a chance of him going into shock and that we were supposed to raise his legs as well, but since one of them was in an unnatural position, it seemed better to leave it as is.

  “Who could have done this?” Zandra wailed. Her face was contorted, as if more tears were on the way.

  “I’m not sure anyone did. Doesn’t it seem as though he fell through the trap door? Perhaps he was fiddling with the lock. Did you see or hear him fall?”

  “No. I came down to make sure the lights were out and found him like this. Thank goodness I did.” She went into another round of sobs.

  I took a few deep breaths. It was almost too much to take in. “Where are the mattresses?”

  Zandra twisted and pointed to the far wall. “Someone dragged them over there.”

  The missing mattresses made this situation even more disturbing. We were under strict orders to leave them below the trap door at all times, to keep everyone safe. The entire company knew the rule. Removing them could only have been intentional.

  “I can’t believe it.” She wiped her eyes and bent down to murmur what sounded like comforting words to Tolliver.

  I told them we had everything under control, and I tried hard to make it sound convincing.

  I almost believed it myself.

  An hour later, Zandra and I were in the lobby. The ambulance had taken Tolliver to the hospital. He woke just before they arrived and seemed more irritated than anything else; my guess was that the shock was masking the pain for now, which was a blessing.

  Zandra was planning to follow in her car so that they’d have a ride home from the hospital. I offered to come along, but she discouraged me. “I’ll take care of him, Lila. It’s just a broken leg.”

  “If it turns out to be more than that, will you call me? And please let me know if there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.”

  “Thank you.” She shifted their coats and bags in her arms. “But I will say that I don’t think he just fell. I think he was pushed.”

  “Pushed?”

  “This man has done more plays than anyone I know. He wouldn’t just fall through the trap door.”

  “People have accidents.”

  “I sense that there is more to
it, Lila. And, as you know, my otherworldly faculties are sharply attuned.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Clearly we are not wanted here anymore. That’s the only possible explanation.”

  Well, not the only one.

  She reinforced her pronouncement with a dip of her head.

  “You’re not talking about a person, are you?”

  “No.”

  “You think a ghost pushed him?”

  She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Stranger than a ghost pushing someone through a trap door?”

  “Yes.” She pressed her lips together.

  Now it was my turn to shrug.

  Chapter 21

  I spent Halloween morning grading essays. Although it was always heartening to see evidence of students mastering material, it was difficult work. My eyes were tired and my head had begun pounding slightly, so when my cell phone rang, it was a welcome interruption.

  The screen displayed Zandra’s name. I pressed the accept button. “Hello?”

  She got right to it. “Remember how you offered to help, Lila?”

  “Yes. Is Tolliver okay?”

  “It’s a bad break. He’ll be in a cast for awhile.”

  “I’m so sorry. Is he in a lot of pain?”

  “Well, the medicine is taking the edge off and he’s resting comfortably right now.”

  “That’s good. Will he be able to make the opening?”

  She laughed. “Nothing could keep him away from that. But beforehand, I need your assistance. Are you free tonight?”

  I paused. My plans involved handing out candy and getting a good night’s sleep before the play opening. “What do you need?”

  “I’m going to hold a séance, and I’d like you to be one of the participants. Since you are one of the souls who has had a presence in the Opera House in recent weeks.”

  “Any number of students—”

  “No students. I’m inviting just a few carefully selected individuals. Remember when I said yesterday that I sensed something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last night, I had a powerful dream. It was Malcolm, telling me he had a message that could only be shared to the group. He even listed the attendees and you were one of them.”

  Goosebumps broke out on my arms in response to having been hand-picked by a ghost for the guest list. My mind raced to come up with a good excuse.

  “You said you were willing to help out, Lila.”

  She had me there.

  “Or was that just lip service?” There was a crisp edge to her voice.

  I sighed. “No. I meant it. I’ll join you.”

  “This is very important. I need to know who has it out for Tolliver. He’s a dear man, and he doesn’t deserve anyone stalking him. In this realm or the next.” Her voice was low and fierce.

  Wow. She really thought she could not only clear things up but keep the ghosts in line too? Now I actually wanted to go and see that. “When do you need me?”

  “At the Opera House. We’ll meet at eleven thirty and begin at midnight. That’s the optimal time, of course.”

  “The witching hour.” I’d read enough Gothic texts to know that one.

  “It’s also the anniversary of the day Malcolm Gaines fought Camden Drake,” she said.

  That, too.

  “Could I bring someone?” I thought Lex should be there.

  “No. Only the dream invitees are welcome, I’m sorry.”

  “Got it. Are the spirit wranglers on the list?” I couldn’t bear being filmed again.

  “No. Malcolm has said all he needs to say to them.”

  “Ah.”

  “You should consider yourself very lucky, Lila. The spirit realm is picky.”

  So I had that going for me.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I was standing in line at the corner market. I’d run out of peppermint tea and biscotti, which were, in my humble opinion, grading essentials. There was a credit card issue with the person checking out ahead of me, and we were at a standstill.

  I was half-heartedly eyeing a rack of celebrity magazines when I heard my name and turned around to find Bella smiling at me.

  She set a loaf of wheat bread and a container of hummus on the counter.

  We exchanged pleasantries, then she surprised me by asking if Zandra had called.

  “Yes.”

  She tilted her head toward me and said, out of the corner of her mouth, “So you’re going to the séance?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “I don’t really want to participate, but Zandra said it has something to do with my father and, you know...” she trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

  “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I pointed out.

  “I know. But Clara wants me to, and she’s already upset with me, so...”

  That was interesting. “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t been able to persuade the chancellor to sell us the theater. And also because I haven’t been able to magically produce some long-lost paperwork that proves my father secretly wanted to keep the theater in the family or changed his mind about the bequest to the university. I don’t know why she thinks that exists. It doesn’t. He disowned my mother and gave the theater to the school.”

  “Gave? Not sold? So there wasn’t any money as a result?”

  “Yes. That was the point. He wanted to punish my mother. And, I guess, me.”

  “I’m sorry, Bella.”

  “I’ve never had money so I don’t miss it.” She laughed, though it sounded somewhat sad.

  “I know the feeling,” I said.

  “Anyway, if you’re going to attend, I will too. Though I’m getting tired of Clara bossing me around. Lately I feel compelled to do the opposite of what she wants me to do.” She picked at the label on the hummus. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  “It can feel good to vent.”

  “It does, honestly. And I’ve just this minute decided to do something else that will set her teeth on edge.”

  “Which is?”

  “Bring Chip Turner along.”

  “That might make Clara lose it altogether.”

  This time, her laugh wasn’t sad at all. “I’m turning into a rebel.”

  It was about time she stood up to Clara. “It will definitely make a point. How well do you know Chip?”

  She looked down. And was that a blush?

  “Since he approached the Historical Society about eight months ago. I’ve been the main point of contact since Clara can barely bring herself to speak to him. As for Braxton, well, he doesn’t like to talk to anyone, even people he actually likes.”

  “Has Chip visited Stonedale often?”

  “Oh yes. Many times over the past year—ever since he decided to try and buy it.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  Yes, that was definitely a blush.

  “I wish he would leave the Opera House alone. Even though I don’t have any claim to it, I know it’s historically significant. And if we could just find enough funding, we could fix it up and open a museum there or something.”

  “Have you spent much time with him?”

  “Yes.” She looked around before taking a step closer and practically whispering. “But don’t tell anyone, please. I accepted his dinner invitations at first because I thought I might be able to convince him to buy something else instead of the Opera House. But then...” she rolled her finger in a circle.

  “It became romantic?”

  She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Couldn’t help it. He’s very charming. And a very good person, despite how he may come across. I know I have to tell Braxton and Clara, but I haven’t worked up the nerve yet.”

  “I understand. Do you think y
ou’ve managed to persuade him?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m still working on it.”

  My items moved forward on the conveyor belt and the cashier greeted me. After he’d rung me up, I said goodbye to Bella.

  She gave me a wave. “See you tonight.”

  On my way home, I decided to alert Lex to the gathering at the theater. He didn’t answer his phone, so I shot him a detailed text and considered my civic duty complete.

  After handing out candy to neighborhood children for several hours, I headed over to the theater for Zandra’s séance. Many of the homes and stores had gone over the top with festive decor—cauldrons smoldered, oversized monsters crouched on roofs, ghosts fluttered along awnings and porches. The streets were full of partiers in the annual Halloween pub crawl: costumed citizens moved in merry groups and there was a celebratory vibe in the air.

  The Opera House looked magnificent from the sidewalk. The chandelier hanging in the lobby was visible through the large arched window that graced the facade. Perhaps because of the fanciful spell cast by Halloween, it was easy to imagine a well-dressed crowd, in days of yore, all top hats and gowns, descending from their carriages to enjoy a performance. Or, perhaps, a less-elegantly-clad throng of townspeople clamoring for a seat at a vaudeville show.

  I pushed open the door and entered the lobby. Zandra immediately swooped over. “Oh good, you’re here! You’re the last one.” She pulled me toward the theater. “We’re on the stage.”

  I followed her to the stage, where a circular table with a white cloth was set up over the trap door. Bella, Clara, Braxton, and Tolliver were already seated. I greeted them and gave Tolliver a little hug before claiming the chair next to him.

  “How are you?”

  He looked down at his cast ruefully. “It’s a bit painful, but the doctors assure me I’ll heal with proper rest and therapy.”

  “What happened?”

  “Someone pushed me.” His forehead creased as he thought. “I just opened the trap door to make sure it was working properly for the scene we changed—you know, the one that now has Poe arising from the grave instead of flying down from above?—and as soon as it was all the way open, I felt a shove.”