The Final Curtain

by Gilbert, Morris

“Good enough for me! I quit!”

  Simon Nero cried out, “Now just a minute, both of you. Don’t start on this again—not now!” He told Goldman, “They fight like this all the time, Lieutenant, but it means nothing! If you were in the theater, you’d know this is part of the profession—goes with the territory.”

  “Oh.” Goldman asked dryly, “And what about you, Mr. Nero?”

  Nero looked at him blankly. “Me?”

  “Yes—you. Where were you when the thing happened?”

  “Why, I was out front.” He seemed suddenly uncertain, and added with difficulty, “I—I wanted to see what the play looked like from the rear of the theater.”

  “I didn’t see you, Nero,” Charlie Allgood objected.

  “Why, Simon, you were beside us before anyone else!” Ainsley said in astonishment. “You and Dani. You couldn’t possibly have gotten there so fast from the back of the theater.”

  “Of course he was there!” Lyle Jamison had come to stand right in front of Simon Nero. His eyes were fierce, and certainty edged his voice as he added, “He’s said more than once, in public, that he’s going to kill me.”

  Nero glared at him. “And I may do it, but I’m not stupid enough to do it so that I’ll go to Riker’s Island for it! No one’s putting me in jail!”

  “You have made threats against Mr. Jamison.” Goldman pursued the thought, “And you did lie about being backstage when the rope was cut.”

  Nero looked around with a furtive expression. “I’m not saying a word. You can talk to my lawyer!”

  “Want me to take him in, Goldman?” Sharkey asked eagerly. “He looks like a good bet to me!”

  Goldman shook his head. “No.” He walked over and picked up his overcoat. “Come along, Jonathan. We’ll have a little talk.”

  “All right, Jake,” Jonathan said. “But what about the play? I mean, opening night is the fourteenth. This business—dreadful as it is!—it won’t change that, will it?”

  Goldman stared at him. “The show must go on?”

  Ainsley flushed, but then held his head high. “That may be foolishness to you, Jake—but the theater is my world.” He looked around and added his familiar refrain, “I think all of us want to go on, even with all this.”

  Goldman cocked his head and stared at him as if he were some exotic species. Then he smiled and commented, “Good to know some people in this world take their work seriously. But you know I can’t order any protection for you. We don’t have the manpower.”

  “We’ll take the risk,” Ainsley agreed firmly and left the theater, talking to Goldman. Sharkey followed them, leaving a cloud of foul smoke in his wake.

  Tom Calvin came to stand beside Danielle, remarking, “He’d have the play on if every one of us were murdered for it.” Then he asked, “Are we still on for church tomorrow?”

  “Of course, Tom.” Dani had enjoyed the service she had attended with him last week. It had been a little formal for her tastes, but the minister had given a very good sermon. “Tom, what do you think? You’ve been around all these people. It seems unbelievable to me that anyone would try to kill Lyle.”

  “Well, Nero is crazy enough to pull it off. He loved his wife more than anything. After she was murdered, he had a nervous breakdown. I think he’s still abnormal.”

  “But what about the attempts on Jonathan’s life?”

  “I really don’t know. Doesn’t seem to make any sense. Jonathan’s the most likely victim. Maybe the chandelier was meant to hit him.”

  Danielle turned to leave, with the words, “There’s no doubt the house will be full Monday night. Charlie All good’s story will take care of that.”

  “Phantom of the Theater!” Tom said in exasperation. “What nonsense!”

  “Maybe—but that chandelier isn’t nonsense. It means none of us is safe. Watch out for yourself, Tom. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

  He flushed and took her hand. Turning Dani around, he spoke quietly, “It’s been good, having you here. I felt so left out before you came.” Then he sobered and cautioned, “Don’t be surprised if I fall in love with you, Danielle.”

  “Don’t do that, Tom,” she warned. To pass the matter off, she added, “After all, I’m not what I seem to be.”

  He stared at her and admitted, “None of us are, Danielle—none of us are!”

  5

  Opening Night at the Pearl

  * * *

  Sunday was a welcome island in the midst of a turbulent sea to Dani. She had stayed up until two o’clock, Saturday night, trying to make sense out of the case. Finally in desperation she called Savage, and it was a comfort to hear him say, “What’s up, Boss? You showing the Big Apple fuzz how it’s done?”

  “Oh, Ben.” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s happening. It’s so crazy—and it’s impossible trying to make anything fit!” She talked for an hour, telling him every detail. “I can’t make anything of it, Ben. It’s like—it’s like trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together in the dark!”

  He laughed softly at her. “I know you, Boss. You’ve just got the acting bug and are looking for an excuse to stay in New York and become an aspiring actress. Say, I’ve got an idea!”

  “You have? What is it, quick?”

  “My dad’s got a barn—let’s put on a show!”

  Dani laughed loudly, the tension running out of her. “You idiot!”

  “What’s wrong? That always worked in the old Judy Garland movies!”

  Dani shook her head, but she felt a little better. “Tell me what’s happening at home.” She listened as he brought her up to date on the cases the agency was working on, then told her what he could about her family.

  Finally he said, “Hey, you want me to come give you a hand? Your dad’s putting in half a day at the office now. We got a new guy, too. Name’s Roy Rogers. He came right out and admitted it! But he’s done some work for the feds, and it looks like he’ll work out.”

  “Oh, Ben, I don’t think so. This little world of the stage is really tiny. It’s like a ship out in the ocean. We’re the crew, and Jonathan is the captain—sitting alone and steering our little vessel. A stranger would be spotted right off.”

  “Okay, but call if you need me.” He paused, then added, “Don’t get sore now, but I know how you hate to ask for help. You think it’s some kind of weakness. That’s because you’re afraid to be afraid—because you’re trying to make it in a man’s world, and you think you have to be tougher than any man, so you hunker down and get beat up because you’re afraid someone might think you had a weakness. I bought a book last week—Feminine Psychology Made Simple. That’s how I know all this stuff about you. Now, do you want me to come or not?”

  She smiled into the phone, but said, “No. Buy a better book. I’ll call you again later. And don’t let Dad work too hard.”

  After she hung up, she lay there, thinking of Savage. The two of them had grated on each other from the first. She thought of the fights they’d had, most of them of her making. That book wasn’t all wrong, she thought ruefully. It is hard for me to ask for help—especially from Ben! She drifted off to sleep, but slept poorly.

  The next morning she dragged herself out of bed, late, skipped breakfast, and was barely ready when Tom came to get her. As they drove to church, he asked, “You look tired. Didn’t sleep much?”

  “No. I kept thinking of what it would have been like if that chandelier had fallen on someone. And I keep wondering if something like that will happen again.”

  “Yeah, me, too. All of us are. It’s strange, Danielle. Most of us don’t like Jonathan—but if something happened to him, the play couldn’t go on. If someone in the cast or crew is trying to get at Jonathan, doesn’t that mean he’ll be cutting off his own nose?”

  Dani said slowly, “When people hate enough, they don’t use much reason, Tom.”

  He said no more of the problem, and they got to the church just as the service was beginning. The singing was slightly heavy and ponderous,
but the sermon was not. The pastor, Reverend Edwards, was a tall, fair-haired man with a clear voice and a set of eyes that missed nothing. He preached on prayer, his text in James 5:16: “. . . The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” He accused Christians of cutting themselves off from the best things simply because they didn’t ask for them. “What is the right thing to pray for?” he demanded. “Whatever is needed! Not wanted, you understand, but that which is needed. If you need food, that is what you should pray for. If you need health, that is a proper need. If you women need a husband, ask for one.”

  “There—just ask for me,” Tom whispered, nudging Dani with his elbow. “It’s sound theology!”

  Dani shushed him, for the pastor was saying, “It’s right to pray for rain, and it’s right to pray for no rain. Verse seventeen says plainly, ‘Elias was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed earnestly that it might not rain.’ And you know what happened.” Reverend Edwards nodded firmly. “There was no rain for three and a half years!”

  After the service, Tom took her out to lunch. They ate lobsters, and Tom asked as he was cracking a huge claw, “Do you believe what the minister was saying, Danielle—about asking for what we need?”

  Danielle squeezed a triangle of lemon over a morsel of firm, white lobster meat, put the food in her mouth, and chewed it thoughtfully. “Yes, I do. The trouble is, of course, it seems not to work very well.”

  “Exactly what troubles me.” Tom nodded. “It didn’t even work with Jesus, did it? I mean, he prayed for the cup to pass from Him, and it didn’t. If it didn’t work with Jesus, how can we hope we can do any better?”

  They talked about prayer for the rest of the meal, not coming to any conclusions. As they were having a strawberry ice for dessert, Tom said, “Danielle, this is fun, isn’t it? I mean, I have to go to the stupid cocktail parties and watch people drink until their brains are yogurt. They think they’re saying clever things, but they aren’t. I get sick of the world of show business!”

  “Why don’t you get out of it, Tom?” Dani asked. “You’re an accountant. There are good jobs elsewhere.”

  “Well, I guess I’m afraid I can’t cut it, to be truthful,” Calvin explained moodily. “I hate my job with Jonathan—but it’s safe.”

  “Not enough, is it?” Dani objected quietly. “There’s got to be more than that to life—especially to a Christian. God’s not going to let you fail.”

  “No—” he answered with some hesitation. He looked at her with an eager light in his eyes. “If I had a girl like you, I could do it! What about it, Danielle?”

  “What about what, Tom?” Dani asked. “We’re friends, and I’d like to help you, but you don’t need a crutch. And that’s really what you want me for, isn’t it?” She laughed at the expression on his face. “I know what it’s like to want one, Tom. I spend a lot of my time steeling my self-trying to keep from asking for one. Come on, I’ve got to get back and do some work.”

  She made him take her back to the apartment, ordering, “No, you can’t come in. I’ve got letters to write, cleaning to do, and all kinds of stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow. And I think both of us ought to pray for Jonathan—for all of us. I think God has the two of us here to do something like that. Will you join with me?”

  Tom promised, and as she went about her work, she thought about him and about their conversation. It disturbed her, and she thought as she drifted off to sleep, He’s got to stand on his own two feet.

  The next day was a whirlwind. The entire cast gathered at one o’clock and had a final practice—and it was the worst performance Dani had seen. She had to prompt almost everyone several times—even Jonathan, who had a name for being the best study in drama!

  After the final curtain, Nero exclaimed shakily, “Well, the worst thing they can do is throw rotten eggs at us.” He shook his head in despair, his confidence gone. “Jonathan, we can’t go through with it! They’ll laugh us off the stage.”

  “We’ll do the play, Simon. And if they all get up and walk out, we’ll do it to the empty seats!” Jonathan shot back. “Come on, let’s take a break. Everyone back at six o’clock.”

  Dani started to leave, but he stopped her. “Danielle, I want to talk to you.”

  Lily had started to come to his side, but when he said that, she turned away. She ran blindly into Carmen, who whispered, “Ah, poor little thing! Now you know how it is, Lily. Maybe you and I should form a club—along with Amber, of course. We could call ourselves ‘the Ex-lovers of Jonathan Ainsley’!” Lily struck out at her, but Carmen avoided the blow, and laughed as the girl ran off the stage.

  “That’s the way to give it to her, Carmen.” Mickey Trask grinned, a tough light in his eyes. He shook his head, adding, “She’s got it coming.” He moved closer and put his arm around Carmen, saying, “You’re more my type, anyway. I never should have taken up with her.”

  “She should have been more careful with her accusations,” Carmen answered. “She lied about that necklace just to make me look guilty.”

  Trask watched her leave, then turned to Ringo, who was standing in the middle of the stage, staring up at the ceiling. “Trey put a metal cable on this one,” the big man told him. “It won’t fall on anyone anymore.” There was a gloomy light in his eyes, and he shrugged fatalistically. “If your number is up, then it’s up. There was a guy in prison, and word got out that he was going to get rubbed out. He had dough, so he hired six of the toughest cons in the joint to protect him. But he got it anyway. One of the six did it.” He moved away, and Mickey stood staring after him for a moment, then left and went directly to the bar, where he stayed until six o’clock.

  Dani had followed Jonathan out of the theater, and they got into his car—a black BMW. “I just want to get away from all this for an hour,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  He pulled out onto Broadway and as they passed through the theater district, he seemed preoccupied. He asked her about her own life, and she sensed that he needed a voice, so she spoke of how she’d become an accountant, then done a year’s work with a firm while she got her CPA. She told him how she’d gotten involved in working with the federal court, through accounting, then had gone to work for the assistant district attorney in Boston.

  She faltered, and he shot a glance at her. “What then?”

  “Well, I met a man. He was to be a missionary. I fell in love with him, and when he died—I decided to do what he couldn’t do. So I quit my work and went to school to study for the mission field.”

  “A lady preacher.” He nodded. “I read that in the story about Maxwell North. Pretty big jump—from being a missionary to a private eye.”

  Dani sighed. “It is that, Jonathan. It was my father’s agency. He had a heart attack, so I went home to help—and I’m still there.”

  “No more missionary zeal?”

  “Someday, maybe. Or maybe I was just feeling guilty. It was my fault that my fiance died in an accident.” She shook her head and exclaimed, “You must be bored stiff with my life story! I’m nothing special. You’re the celebrity. Let’s hear your story.”

  He smiled, and she noted with satisfaction that he had loosened up. “A hit at twenty-two, a bum at twenty-eight,” he said, trying for a light note.

  “Oh, don’t be silly! You’re no bum, Jonathan!”

  “No? What have I done since Climax? Nothing really—nothing that matters. But this play is good, Danielle! Oh, I know you don’t agree with the philosophy I’ve put into it—but you don’t have to agree with Lady Macbeth to admire the drama of her life!”

  “Why, certainly not—and the play is great,” Dani agreed. “It’ll put you right back on top of the theater world again!”

  He laughed and moved one hand from the wheel, taking hers. “You’re good for me, Danielle! I’m going to load you down with jewels!”

  She let him hold her hand, but asked mischievously, “‘Why, Mr. Rochester, you wouldn’t make a plaything of me, would you?’
” She laughed at his expression, then patted his hand. “I’ve seen you do that scene from Jane Eyre at least fifty times, Jonathan!”

  “Well, you are a lot like Jane Eyre,” he answered, smiling broadly. “Headstrong and determined to do nothing wrong! And I love you for it.”

  “Never mind all that,” she said quickly. “You’re feeling better.”

  “You know what a man needs, Danielle!”

  “Never mind that either!”

  They drove past the towering skyscrapers for an hour, stopped for a sandwich, then drove back to the theater. It was a little before six when he led her back onto the stage, but everyone was there. Dani never forgot how he talked to them, for he was masterful. It should have been Simon Nero’s job, as director, but he was incapable of it. Ainsley moved around the room, talking about the theater as only he could talk—the traditions, the struggles, the agony, and the heartache of their profession. He said something personal to each actor. Slowly the tension began to dissipate, and by the time he ended, Dani knew that he had performed a miracle.

  “Some of you hate me,” he concluded in a quiet voice. “No doubt I deserve it. But for the next few hours, I’m not important—and you’re not important. For we are part of a little body. Some members are small and not seen by the public, such as Trey. Others are more visible. But each member is a part of that body, and while the play is in motion, no single member is unimportant! I get the headlines, but where would I be if I went out there alone? If Pinkie walked off and left the lights? You may not believe this, but it’s true. When the play is taking place, I never think of myself as an individual—only as a part of the play, just as you are all part.”

  Silence had gripped his listeners, and he continued, “We all know there’s danger. A maniac is loose. I can’t help that. I can’t go hide in a hole and be small—and I don’t think any of you can! So—the play’s the thing!”

  “Amen!” Sir Adrian’s mellow voice broke the silence, and Lyle eagerly broke in, “Let’s do it!” A murmur of agreement ran along the group, and they went to their places.