by J. C. Eaton
Then I turned back to Chuck. “Um, about Cliff and Sue Ellen dating . . . this is really important. Um, er, well, you do know I work for Williams Investigations, so any little thing that might help us out would really be appreciated.”
Chuck looked around and didn’t say anything at first. I was about to plead with him again when he finally spoke.
“I don’t want anyone to overhear me. I’m not a gossip monger or anything.”
“I understand. But this is different.”
“I know. I realize that.”
Again, Chuck stood there as if he was back on stage waiting to be prompted. I decided not to rush him and waited it out. It was only seconds but it felt like forever until the guy actually opened up.
“I never saw Cliff and Sue Ellen together, other than during regular rehearsals when we were all in the auditorium. But, I did see Cliff and Miranda get into an ugly fight, and Miranda accused him of carrying on with Sue Ellen.”
“Go on. What happened?”
“When we first started rehearsing, all of us were seated in the auditorium. It wasn’t until later when the actors had to wait backstage. It was the end of the practice when Cliff asked Miranda to remain on stage to go over her part. All of the other actors had already left the theater. When I got to my car, I realized my keys must have dropped out of my pocket while I was sitting.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Then what?”
“When I walked back into the auditorium, the houselights were off, but I still found my way to where I had been sitting. Those little safety side lights stay on, you know.”
Yes. Yes. Who cares about the stinking little safety lights. Come on! “So, I take it you found your keys.”
“Well, yes. I had to bend down and look under a few seats in my row. And that’s when I heard them. At first I thought they were running lines. I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t totally familiar with the play at that point. But then, well . . . I knew it wasn’t lines, because Cliff was talking about a reconciliation and Miranda said that as long as he was, oh dear, I can’t really say this in mixed company.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
“Miranda said that as long as he was schtupping her understudy, reconciliation was the last thing she would agree to. Then Cliff said he wasn’t screwing anyone, and that when it came to screwing, she should know all about it. That’s when she slapped him. Really slapped him.”
It was as if I’d switched on the television to catch the latest episode of Telemundo. Hot, steamy, and riveting. “Wow! Er, well, that’s a shame. Was anyone else around to see that? The slap, I mean.”
“I don’t think anyone was in the auditorium, but some of the light crew might have still been on the catwalk, and there were definitely people backstage and on the side of the stage.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I could hear voices. They carry in this theater.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchenson, for sharing that. I’ll review it discreetly with my colleagues in our office.”
He nodded and slunk out of the theater. I hoped I hadn’t upset him even further because that would mean he’d never learn his lines. Meanwhile, my mother stood a good twelve or fifteen feet away, waiting for me.
She had just finished talking to Myrna, who headed out the nearest exit door. “Well? What did you find out? Tell me when we get outside. They’re still talking down in front.”
I glanced to my side and could see the crew sitting attentively as Richard went over the run-through notes.
“You won’t believe this, Mom. No one will.”
“Did you have anything to eat before you came here? It’s still early. Everything’s open. Why don’t we grab something at Bagels ’N More, and you can tell me what you found out.”
“Let me guess. The other ladies are going to be there, too. Right?”
“Only Shirley and Lucinda. So, what do you say?”
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
If it wasn’t for Bagels ’N More, I don’t know what my mother and her friends would do. The place just seemed to lend itself to prolonged conversation. I was the first one to arrive, so I got us a table adjacent to the front window. Shirley spotted me immediately and rushed over, Lucinda trailing her by a few paces.
“Hi, Phee! Your mother stopped to talk with Herb in the parking lot.”
“Here?”
“Oh no. The one at the Stardust Theater. Herb wouldn’t be coming here at night. This is more of a morning place for him.”
“That’s right,” Lucinda said. “Those old codgers stir up more tattletale than any of us women. Especially first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee.”
No sooner did Shirley and Lucinda sit down when my mother walked in and charged toward me.
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense. What did you find out from Chuck? Why can’t he remember his lines? Is it a guilty conscience? What?”
I started to open my mouth, but that was as far as I got.
My mother kept talking. This time to her friends. “Phee spoke with Chuck tonight. I was going to tell you, but there wasn’t time. Something odd about that man. Too quiet. Too nervous.”
“He may have a reason to be nervous,” I said.
I was about to let them in on what Chuck had told me when I caught my tongue. I had promised the guy I would be discreet, and there was nothing remotely discreet about offering up information to Shirley, Lucinda, and my mother. I might as well post it publically on Facebook. Then again, I felt the need to offer up something since my mother had this innate ability to see right through me. I stuck with a piece of information they already knew. Or thought they knew.
“Uh, remember when Myrna said Miranda slapped Cliff? It’s true. Chuck saw her do it. They didn’t know he was still in the building.”
“Lordy, Lordy. Myrna was right all along. Why did Miranda do that? What did Chuck say?”
“That he saw her slap the director.” I wasn’t about to get into the details. It would be all over the theater, not to mention Sun City West.
My mother motioned for the waitress with one hand and motioned for me to talk with the other. It was a talent I would never master. “There must be a reason,” she said. “What do you think it was?”
I shrugged and bit my lip. There was no way I was going to let my mother keep me on the defensive. “You know, Chuck’s very distraught over Miranda’s death. It could be what’s preventing him from learning his lines.”
My mother let out a sigh. “He hardly knew her. Or did he?”
“Only from the play. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll learn his lines in time for opening night.”
“I should certainly hope so. Sue Ellen learned hers in a heartbeat, as well as the blocking. And she didn’t have all that onstage rehearsal time like Chuck.”
Lucinda stopped staring at the menu for a moment and looked directly at my mother. “Well, Harriet, maybe some people are fast learners.”
I had a theory about Sue Ellen, and, thanks to what Chuck told me, I was beginning to believe she was responsible for Miranda’s murder. What I desperately needed to find out was if she was having an affair with Cliff. Sure, Marshall promised he’d talk to the guy, but I had another plan.
“Mom, can Myrna make me a copy of that program she found from the Peoria Players? I want to check out something. Maybe she can scan it and send it to my email.”
I’d barely finished my sentence when all three of them started laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Lordy, Phee,” Shirley said. “Myrna is the last person who would know how to scan anything. She had a panic attack when her son replaced her old printer with one that scans, faxes, and copies. So, what did she do? She went around to garage sales to find an old relic that only makes copies.”
I was absolutely speechless. Literally speechless. For at least three or four seconds.
“Okay, so maybe she can use her old relic, make me a copy,
and give it to my mother tomorrow at rehearsal. You are rehearsing tomorrow, aren’t you?”
My mom nodded and replied, “From eleven to one.”
“Great. How about you get in touch with Myrna, and I’ll stop by your house tomorrow after one?”
“Fine. But why do you need that program? What are you planning to do with it?”
“I want to see who else was in that play and find out if they know anything about a possible affair between Sue Ellen and Cliff. Those programs all show pictures of the players with little write-ups if I’m not mistaken. It shouldn’t be too hard to locate someone from that cast.”
“Probably a lot easier than locating that waitress. Where did she go?” My mother sat up in her seat and scoured the room.
“It’s a Friday night, Harriet,” Lucinda reminded my mother. “You know how busy this place gets.”
Just then, the waitress, who was a few tables away, caught my mother’s eye and rushed over. “Forgive me, ladies. It’s been a crazy night. I’ve got coffees for you and some bagel crisps on the house. Whew! I can finally take your orders.”
Thankfully, she remembered that my mom and her friends had to have separate checks and proceeded accordingly. I ordered the chicken and artichoke salad on a pumpernickel bagel. Everyone else opted for something that involved cream cheese.
When the waitress finally left, Shirley changed the subject from Sue Ellen to Miranda’s ghost. “What about investigating Miranda’s ghost? That was not a hologram the other night. Cecilia and I saw her rise up from the ground and hover behind that couch on the stage. Lordy, it took me hours to fall asleep, and then only when I found a red ribbon and tied it to the foot of my bed. It wards off evil spirits.”
Dear God. Here we go.
Instead of trying to placate her or argue there was no such thing as supernatural spirits, I tried another tactic. “Um, you said you saw Miranda behind the couch. Hovering. Then the lights got dim.”
“That’s right. Cecilia and I both saw her.”
“Let me ask you something. Where was she standing in relation to those trapdoors? I know there’s the one in front where Gordon fell, but what about the others?”
Shirley shuddered. “I wasn’t thinking about trapdoors when I saw that malevolent spirit looming in front of us.”
“You think someone did this to scare the likes out of unsuspecting women?” my mother asked. “What kind of a lunatic does that?”
“The kind who’s trying to create a diversion. Look, how about instead of me stopping by your house tomorrow to get a copy of that program, I pick it up at the theater. I can be there a few minutes before one, and I’ll find a way to check out the location of those trapdoors.”
“I have a better idea. I mean, sure, check the trapdoors, but I think we can find out for certain if there is a malevolent spirit floating around the theater.”
“Um, what did you have in mind?”
“We’ll use Streetman. Dogs are known to have extrasensory perception when it comes to things like that. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go home, get the dog, and take him into the theater. The cleaning crew will still be there.”
Shirley wiped some bagel crisp crumbs from the side of her lips and nodded. “Your mother’s right. Lordy, if Miranda’s evil spirit is lurking, Streetman will know it. You and your mother can check it out and let me know.”
I tried to keep my voice low. “Streetman wouldn’t know an evil spirit from a piece of day-old cheese. This is ridiculous. And even on a good day, all of you know how weird that dog is. Um, sorry, Mom.”
The look on my mother’s face told me I might have gone a bit too far. “The dog may have his issues, I’ll give you that, but when it comes to matters like this, I trust his instincts. I say we go home and get him.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“What?”
“That’s all the time I’m going to give you. I’ll agree to this little escapade, but I’m not making a night of it. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. The theater trapdoors. Remember? I like dealing with tangible things.”
“Will you be bringing Marshall tomorrow?”
“What? No. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Besides, he’s tracking down something else on the case.”
“Speaking of Marshall, did he say he can make it for Thanksgiving? And what about Nate?”
“Er, uh, well, I meant to ask them, but I didn’t get a chance. I’ll do it first thing Monday.”
Shirley stopped thinking about malevolent spirits for a moment and caught me completely off guard. “So . . . Nate and Marshall. Do you have your pick? That Marshall is certainly easy on the eyes, but your boss isn’t so bad either. Oh Lordy me! You’re blushing, Phee.”
I glared at my mother and then looked at Shirley. “I don’t know what my mother told everyone, but I have a strictly working relationship with my boss and his partner.”
Lucinda put her coffee cup down and whispered, “Maybe it’s time to rethink that.”
“Well,” my mother said. “Phee and I had best get going if we expect to get back into the theater with Streetman.”
“Call us tonight, Harriet,” Lucinda said. “I don’t care how late it is. I want to know what happened.”
And I want to know how this even started.
Chapter 21
Streetman was wriggling and whining in the giant canvas tote my mother had placed him in. And while the tote said LIFE’S A BEACH, I’m betting the dog knew what the third word should have been. She had the tote slung over her shoulder as we walked inside the theater. Sure enough, the doors were still unlocked, and the cleaning ladies were busy.
One of them was using a large dust mop to clean the corridors, and I imagined the other one was either in the auditorium or perhaps cleaning the restrooms.
My mother shouted to the one with the mop. “We’ll only be a few minutes. We have to finish up in the costume room.”
“What do we do now?” I asked.
My mother looked around and sighed. “It probably doesn’t matter. Let’s walk into the auditorium, take Streetman out of the tote bag, and see what he does.”
“If he does what I think he might do, I’m not cleaning it.”
My mother ignored my comment as if I’d never said it and proceeded down the hallway until we got to the main auditorium doors. “The dimmer lights are still on. Good. We can see where we’re going.”
We didn’t go far. Streetman walked up and down the aisles sniffing at the seats and whining.
“Does that mean anything?” I asked. “Why is he whining?”
“Darned if I know. But he does that once in a while. Whines for no reason. Well, not a reason I would know. Let’s keep walking around here.”
The dog kept looking up at my mother as if to say, “Can we get the heck out of here now?”
The stairwell to the catwalk was a few feet away, and my mother convinced me to carry Streetman in his tote partway up the stairs to see if he could sense anything. He didn’t. And the only thing I sensed was his weight. Dead weight. He decided to lie there, limp and heavy.
“Nothing supernatural up here,” I said. “Let’s go onstage and backstage and get this over with.”
Streetman pranced around the stage, rubbing himself against the furniture like a cat. On one occasion he sneezed and shook his head. On another he sniffed the rug that covered one of the trapdoors and tried to roll on it. As far as the other trapdoors were concerned, he ignored them. Not so much as a sniff. Then again, they didn’t have smelly rugs to roll on.
“I don’t think Miranda’s ghost is onstage,” I said.
My mother looked up as if she expected something to swoop down on us. “No, I suppose you’re right. Let’s go into the costume and dressing rooms. Shirley says ghosts are known to inhabit places where their spirit is at unrest.”
“And you think it’s the costume room? Why? Did Miranda have an issue with her costume?”
“Don’t be absurd. For all we know, there could be other
spirits inhabiting this place.”
“Oh brother.”
A few yards away, I heard the two cleaning ladies speaking to each other. Some sort of Slavic language, I thought.
My mother suddenly remembered that the dressing rooms and the costume room needed a key. “You know some Spanish. Ask the ladies if they can unlock the rooms for us.”
“First of all, I know menu items, and second of all, they don’t speak Spanish.”
“You won’t know unless you try. Go.”
The ladies didn’t speak Spanish. But they knew enough English to unlock the dressing rooms and the costume room for us. One of them pointed to her watch, and I nodded.
“We need to make this quick, Mom. They have to lock up and get out of here. If Streetman was going to sense a ghost, he would have done so by now.”
“Give him a chance.”
The dressing rooms were a bust. The dog walked in, whined, and walked out. At one point I thought he was going to leave his calling card, but it turned out he was just circling around to bite his tail.
“Pray to the gods Streetman doesn’t sense anything in the costume room, or Shirley will never take a step back into this building,” my mother said.
“From what we’ve seen so far, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”
Then, everything changed. Streetman growled the second he walked into the costume room. It was a soft, low growl, but a growl nonetheless.
“Uh-oh. This isn’t good,” I said. “What’s his problem? And please don’t tell me he senses a ghost.”
Shirley had arranged everyone’s costumes neatly on two long racks that spanned the length of the room. Off to the back was some closet space my mom said was stuffed full of boxes and loose clothing. “It’s a catchall. Shirley says once the play is over, she plans to organize it.”
The dog continued to growl.
“Well, he’s sensing something,” my mother said. “I’ve never seen him so agitated.”