Stages of Grey

by Clea Simon

  Roni stood to leave the office.

  ‘Um, you don’t think he might be here?’ Dulcie looked over at the corners, where the big filing cabinets almost touched the wall. ‘A scared cat can fit into some tiny places.’

  ‘Oh, good idea.’ In her eagerness, Roni pushed past Dulcie and dropped to her knees. ‘No, no Gus. Besides, he usually hangs out in the theater itself. He loves being backstage.’ Locking the door behind her, Roni led the way down the hall.

  ‘How did you train Gus?’ Dulcie caught up to the other woman as she opened a nearly invisible door, set flush in the black wall.

  Roni turned, the question in her eyes.

  ‘To walk the tightrope like that?’

  ‘Oh, Gus? He just did that on his own.’ With a flick of a switch, the mystery door revealed an ordinary-looking storeroom. Off to one side, a narrow set of stairs led up. ‘We were doing some work on the sets and someone had a beam set out from the bar to the stage – same as the tightrope. It’s funny.’ She knelt to peer under a rack of white robes. ‘He doesn’t always want to do it.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dulcie checked behind the door and under a small metal desk. Obvious hiding places, it would seem, though Roni probably knew Gus’s habits.

  ‘Yeah.’ Roni started up the stairs and motioned for Dulcie to follow. ‘Sometimes, he’s up here and we know we can do the stunt. Sometimes not. Last night, I thought we were going to skip it, but after the opening music, Gus ran up here, like he was afraid of missing his cue.’

  The stairs led to a small balcony on top of the bar. To the left, a row of shelves held what looked like props – a large plastic jar of metallic confetti, some rope, and a stack of programs. To the right, Dulcie saw a small platform that allowed access to a row of lights – as well as to the edge of Gus’s tightrope.

  ‘Was someone up here?’ Dulcie peered over the platform to the seating area below. She wouldn’t have wanted to make that walk.

  ‘I was.’ Roni’s voice made her turn. ‘That’s how I knew Gus wanted to do the trick. I know, I know.’ She raised her hand before Dulcie could ask. ‘We’re a small company, so, yeah, I’m the office manager. But I also help out with the stunts. Plus, I can keep an eye on the audience from up here. That’s how I knew to come down when your guy started freaking.’

  ‘He didn’t …’ Dulcie’s defense was automatic.

  ‘When he noticed,’ Roni corrected herself. ‘You’d be surprised how many people don’t!’

  ‘That’s because we’re good,’ another voice chimed in, and Dulcie saw Heath Barstow’s golden head popping up from the stairwell. ‘It’s our job to amaze you. To take you away from your daily cares, at least for a little while.’ The actor emerged with a dazzling smile directed at her, or so Dulcie thought. Still, behind her, she felt Roni shuffle and sigh.

  ‘Not that we can forget.’ Sorrow eclipsed the smile, and Dulcie realized how different the star appeared in real life, as compared to how he looked on stage. Taller than Dulcie – everyone was taller than she was – but smaller than he appeared on stage. Everything but his head, which seemed abnormally large. Handsome, but no longer invulnerable. Dulcie struggled to find the right words, but before she could Roni squeezed by.

  ‘Heath, I’m so, so …’ Before she could finish, he had turned away, leaving Roni standing there, arms outstretched.

  ‘Later,’ he said, as he plodded back down the stairs.

  ‘He must be devastated.’ Dulcie stepped up to Roni. In the confined space, it was impossible to pretend she hadn’t seen how dismissive Heath had been – or how hurt the bespectacled office manager now looked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Roni nodded. ‘We all are, but …’ She left the sentence hanging as she turned and ducked, the better to peer under the shelving. ‘No, no Gus.’

  Dulcie did the same, squinting into the dark corners in the hope of seeing those dark green eyes. ‘I don’t see him here, either.’

  ‘Does he spend a lot of his time up here?’ It seemed safer to talk about the missing cat than either Heath or the dead girl.

  ‘Well, he did.’ Roni was still on her knees. ‘At least, once Amy joined the troupe.’

  ‘I thought he was your responsibility?’ Dulcie sat up, realizing her mistake. ‘I’m sorry, I was talking about Gus.’

  Roni sat up too, a sad smile playing across her pale face. ‘No problem. I guess I was distracted. And, yeah, I’m the one who takes care of Gus.’ She started to shake her head, then stopped as her ponytail began to come loose. ‘He sort of fell into my lap cause I was the new girl,’ she continued, as she reached back automatically to loop the elastic. It was the kind of gesture one did without thinking when one was working. When one was used to being practical, to being businesslike. ‘Like, well, so many things. Making sure he got fed. Setting him up with a litterbox.’

  Dulcie waited, not wanting to say anything. Sympathy in such a situation would be unbearable, even though she certainly understood what the other woman must have gone through. It wasn’t easy being a woman. Being a bespectacled brunette in the presence of a brilliant and beautiful blonde would have been worse. Especially if, as Dulcie suspected, you harbored a secret passion for the troupe’s leading man.

  Roni meanwhile seemed to be deriving some comfort by talking, and Dulcie was glad to be a sympathetic ear. ‘Not that I mind, really,’ the office manager was saying, leaning back against the shelf. ‘He’s such a smart cat, you know? Like, he knows when to stay out of the way, when the set builders are working. And when to show up, at least most of the time.’

  ‘Wait, what did you say?’ Dulcie felt she had missed something.

  ‘That he showed up on time?’ The way Roni looked at her, Dulcie wondered if she’d forgotten that she was here.

  ‘No, before then.’ Dulcie tried to play the words back in her mind. ‘Where did you feed him? Where was his litterbox?’ She could have kicked herself. This was so basic.

  ‘Oh, his litterbox is in the basement.’ Roni pulled herself to her feet. ‘It had been in the ticket office, but some of the girls complained. He had a water dish in the dressing room. And, really, everybody feeds him. We keep a stock of cat food down there, bought with petty cash, but everybody gives him treats. Especially before performances. I guess being able to pet a cat before a show is good luck?’

  She looked at Dulcie for confirmation, but Dulcie only shrugged. ‘Sorry, I don’t know. Sounds nice though. And, hey, maybe we should check there next?’

  Roni paused, pushing those glasses back up her nose, and prompting Dulcie to spell out the obvious. ‘Because if that’s where he gets fed, it makes sense that even if he got out, he’d try to get back there.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Roni walked to the edge of the lighting box to look down on the space below. ‘I’m just wondering if we can.’

  ‘You mean, because the police …’ Dulcie didn’t even want to say it. The tragedy was still too fresh.

  ‘I think they’re done,’ the other girl said. ‘But that means we might be open tonight. And the number one rule here is nobody who isn’t in the show can go backstage.’ She blinked up at Dulcie. ‘I could get fired.’

  It was a lot for Dulcie to take in. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No, really.’ Roni nodded. ‘Sometimes I think they’re looking for any excuse to get rid of me.’

  ‘Not that.’ Dulcie felt for the other girl, she really did. But the brunette’s feelings weren’t her top concern right now. ‘There’s going to be a production tonight?’ It seemed so wrong.

  Roni nodded again, her mouth in a wry grimace. ‘You know what they say. The show must go on.’ Before Dulcie could protest, another voice chimed in.

  ‘The show will go on.’ Dulcie turned, to find herself facing one of the more fanciful moustaches she had ever seen, as the stout man to whom it was attached emerged from the stairwell.

  ‘Bob, Bob Gretna, artistic director.’ Not much taller than she was, the hefty man held out a surprisingly delicate hand. ‘Are y
ou one of the ushers?’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, but – ah – no.’ Dulcie shook the outstretched hand and was about to explain when Roni saved her.

  ‘She’s worried about Gus,’ the dark-haired girl explained. ‘It looks like he got out last night, and it’s so cold.’

  ‘Ah, bad luck that.’ The moustache, surely more wax than facial hair, twitched, the man’s gaze straying to the back wall. ‘Well, don’t let me stop you. If you’ll excuse me …’ With an agility that defied his girth, the director ducked down to pull what looked like an oversized lunch box out from under the shelf. ‘I’ve got a set to work on. Apollo’s cart really can’t get hung up like that again.’

  With that, the director opened the box, revealing a multitude of tools in apparent disarray. Pulling out a screwdriver and pliers, plus what looked to Dulcie like some kind of vise, he looked up with a smile. ‘This should do the trick,’ he said. ‘But just in case …’ He slammed the box shut and tucked it under his arm.

  ‘He’s not as bad as he seems,’ Roni said as they watched him retreat down the stairs. ‘We’re – well, we’re really hurting, and most of our ticket sales are pre-orders. If we don’t do a show, we have to reimburse those people. If we do, even if they don’t show up …’

  ‘You get paid, I get it.’ Dulcie did. Barely. ‘But the cast … everyone must feel awful.’

  ‘Everyone does.’ Roni’s face was grim. ‘But they all know the bottom line. Besides, to be honest, Amy was new here. She showed up at an open casting call for this production. Only Heath was really close to her.’

  ‘Poor guy.’ Dulcie thought of the golden actor, of how his glamour seemed to suddenly shut off.

  ‘Hey, let’s go downstairs, anyway.’ Roni roused herself. ‘We can check the basement, and even if you can’t go in, I can check the dressing room. Maybe we’ll get lucky.’

  As Dulcie followed the other woman down the narrow staircase, another thought hit her. Not that Roni had a crush on Heath Barstow. Probably half the cast did, and it was likely that proximity to the actor was one reason a business type would work for such a financially unstable company. Nor that he was into Amy Ralkov. Even if she hadn’t seen his reaction last night, or the quick change in his mood today, such a pairing made sense. A golden god belonged with a golden goddess. It was that the director hadn’t referred to the murdered girl at all. And that even after he had pulled out the tools he thought he needed, he had made a point of taking the toolbox with him when he left.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘I think the director is covering something up,’ Dulcie tried to explain to Chris when she met him back at the apartment. ‘He insisted on dragging this huge toolbox down the stairs with him, like there was something in it. And he had the weirdest moustache.’

  It was after five and Chris was rooting around in the kitchen cabinets, but Dulcie wasn’t thinking of dinner. ‘I don’t know if the police have the murder weapon yet, but I think they should know about that toolbox. Who knows what’s in it?’ she asked. ‘Roni seemed pretty in awe of him. I mean, I know she’s one of the newer hires, but still … She pretty much just went on about how lucky she was to get out of sales and stuff, how happy she was to be doing something artsy, all the time we were going through that awful basement.’

  Dulcie shuddered, remembering how unidentified creatures had scurried as she poked around the trunks and boxes. ‘But she doesn’t seem happy. I think she was trying to distract me. Or maybe distract herself.’

  ‘Are we out of Fancy Feast?’ Chris, taller by a good six inches, was craning to look. ‘Didn’t we just get some?’

  ‘Next cabinet over. Bottom.’ Dulcie couldn’t help smiling. How could Chris think that she would put anything on a top shelf? Esmé, who was busy twining around Chris’s ankles, turned toward her and chirped. ‘Esmé’s been trying to tell you that,’ Dulcie translated.

  ‘Sorry.’ Chris reached over to the next cabinet, Esmé’s attentions keeping him from stepping closer, and managed to extract a can. Dulcie, out of sympathy, handed him a clean dish. ‘Thanks. But run that by me again? You think the director did it, and is hiding the murder weapon in a toolbox? And that the office manager knows something that she’s not telling?’

  ‘Well, knows or suspects.’ Seeing that her boyfriend was still cornered, she took the dish and stepped over by Esmé’s water bowl. ‘There was something hinky going on with her. You think I should call Rogovoy?’

  Esmé looked from one of her people to the other, momentarily thrown by the trade off of her food dish.

  ‘And what would you say?’ Chris gestured with the empty can. ‘That the director might be a murderer because he was intent on fixing a broken prop? That maybe he hid the murder weapon in a tool box, in plain sight, but that they didn’t think of looking there? And that the office manager knows and was covering up by helping you look for their cat?’

  Dulcie opened her mouth but before she could clarify, Chris kept talking.

  ‘I know how you feel, sweetie. Honest, I do. But don’t you think you should let the police handle this? You said you were going to help look for the cat, not—’

  Esmé had had it. She’d leaped up, raking Chris’s hand with her outstretched claws.

  ‘Esmé!’ Dulcie looked down and realized she was still holding the cat’s dinner. ‘Here, Esmé. Bad cat,’ she added, belatedly. ‘I’m sorry, honey. I’m afraid I caused that.’ She followed him over to the sink, where he washed his hand.

  ‘You weren’t the one who scratched me.’ He turned and looked over his shoulder at where the plump tuxedo was noisily licking at her dish. ‘But really, Dulcie, I trust your instincts, I do. I just don’t know about them this time. This is serious, and you’ve already been hurt. Which reminds me—’

  ‘Do you think Roni knows what happened to Gus?’ Dulcie broke in before Chris could ask her, yet again, if she’d consider going back to the health services for a check-up. ‘Maybe it plays into what happened to Amy?’ Dulcie tried out the scenario as she handed Chris a paper towel. ‘Maybe the two crimes are related?’

  ‘Dulcie, are you listening to yourself? Isn’t one crime enough? Besides,’ he paused as Dulcie handed him a paper towel, ‘we don’t even know that something has happened to that cat.’

  ‘I know, Chris.’ They both turned to watch their own pet eat. ‘And I know I don’t have any proof. It’s just a feeling.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because you had a really long day – and we saw something terrible last night?’ He put his uninjured arm around her and drew her close. ‘And then you saw that poor scared animal out in the alley and got worried about him? Maybe you’ve linked the two events, when there isn’t a connection?’

  His voice was gentle, and his words, Dulcie knew, contained sense. Still, she shook her head. ‘I just don’t know, Chris. I was with the office manager for a while. She’s covering for someone, Chris. She knows something, and part of it is that Gus the cat is gone.’

  Chris, wisely, declined to comment, and lost in their own thoughts, the pair managed their own dinner without further incident. Afterward, they both retired to the living room couch, Dulcie to work, Chris to tune into what seemed to be a sporting event in the middle of a snowstorm.

  ‘It’s football, Dulcie.’ Chris responded to the question in her eyes. ‘They play whatever the weather. Just as well; I think that storm is coming our way. See, that’s the quarterback. We’ve got a first down and …’

  ‘Bother.’ Dulcie had been trying to listen. She really had, but it was just too easy to check email as Chris explained.

  ‘What?’ Luckily, he was used to her. ‘Something from Thorpe?’

  ‘No.’ She made a few moves with the mouse. ‘Well, yeah. Thorpe sent me some article he wants me to read. And incorporate into my new chapter.’

  ‘By Friday?’ Chris reached over to put a consoling hand on Dulcie’s knee.

  ‘Yeah, but that’s not it.’ Dulcie tapped away. ‘Hey, maybe you can help me?’

&n
bsp; ‘With your deadline, probably not.’ He reached for the laptop anyway. ‘Here, what is it?’

  ‘I clicked on something, and now …’ She leaned over and pointed out the window that had just opened on her screen.

  ‘Dulcie, don’t you know by now not to open everything that comes in?’

  ‘I thought it was from Roni,’ Dulcie cut him off. ‘It said University Rep,’ she explained. ‘But it’s just another ticket offer.’

  ‘They must be hard up.’ He closed the window, only to see another pop up. ‘And they’ve got a bug in their software.’ Another click, another window. ‘Serves them right for spamming everyone.’

  ‘It’s not spam if I gave them my email.’ Dulcie wasn’t sure why she was defending the theater company. ‘I don’t think Roni is telling me everything, but still, they are hurting for funds.’

  ‘Oh?’ Chris muted the television and sat up, both hands working over the keyboard.

  ‘I gather the university gives them a break on rent and access to some services, but it’s not enough.’ Dulcie had related what the office manager had told her earlier, but now she filled in the blanks. Or started to, until she realized Chris wasn’t listening. ‘It’s like with all the arts, Chris. We should care.’

  It was a last-ditch attempt to break through, but her boyfriend didn’t even look up.

  ‘You’ve got bigger problems, Dulcie.’ With a mechanical sigh, her laptop shut down. ‘Hang on.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Dulcie looked over. Chris had two fingers on the keyboard in what she suspected was an ominous sign. When he didn’t answer, she felt the tension mount. But then with a happy chord the screen lit up and all her familiar icons began popping back into place. ‘Chris?’

  ‘It was that stupid survey.’ Chris opened a window, then another and grunted what sounded like approval. ‘Okay, all gone now.’

  Dulcie simply shook her head. ‘There’s something wrong with their emailer,’ Chris said. ‘If you didn’t buy tickets, it wouldn’t close until you did the survey.’