Theater Nights Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  I tried to laugh off Aunt Ginny’s nonsense. “What? No, she won’t.” Kill me now.

  Sawyer’s eyes tried to pop out of her head. “Ooh.”

  I glared at her, but she made kissy sounds, like she had the nerve not to be intimidated by me at all.

  “Where are your keys?” I asked Sawyer.

  She held them up. “Right here.”

  I grabbed them. “Good. I’ll drive the ladies while you go with Aunt Ginny.”

  The blood drained from Sawyer’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Aunt Ginny took Sawyer by the arm and dragged her toward the exit. “Come on, kiddo. It’s just a few blocks away. I know a shortcut, so we can beat everyone else there.”

  Sawyer tossed me a pleading look over her shoulder.

  I grinned and waved her keys.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long before we were all seated in the terracotta ristorante of Chef Oliva or, as Gia called her, Momma. Of course, the ladies teased me about Gia all the way over here, but Sawyer needed a stiff drink when she arrived, so I’d say their little bit of teasing was harmless.

  Momma was wearing a flour-sack dress and a faded, flower-printed apron, and she was as sweet as Lucky Luciano when he’d been crossed. She came out to greet our table of six and tried to set me on fire. She acted like she was lighting the candle, but I knew what she was up to.

  Five of us received a smile. I received a scowl and a dirty hand gesture. After complaining about me in Italian to the waiter, she went back to her stainless-steel lair of bubbling cauldrons and pasta torture devices.

  “So . . .” Our waiter took a step toward our table and gave me a timid smile. “The lady is gluten-free. Any other allergies I should know about?”

  I held my tongue. My list of problem foods was too long, and Momma wasn’t far enough away. “We’ll just keep it at gluten for now.”

  I ordered a chicken Caesar salad and we settled in to chat. Sawyer calmed down enough to stop gripping the linen tablecloth by the time the salads were delivered and was able to join us.

  Mother Gibson brought up what we’d all been waiting to talk about. “Edith, the look on Blanche’s face when you marched her onstage dripping with blue paint.”

  We all laughed so hard, it took several minutes for us to calm down and switch topics.

  Aunt Ginny passed around the bread basket. “I wouldn’t put it past Blanche to be behind that threat Royce received. She’s obviously trying to ruin the play. Stage prank my foot.”

  I passed the bread to Sawyer as fast as I could. “Why would Blanche try to sabotage the play? She’s the lead across from Royce. She has nothing to gain with it being canceled.”

  Aunt Ginny’s forehead furrowed. “Maybe she was trying to keep me too busy to spend time with Royce outside of practice. That harlot.”

  Mrs. Davis nodded along. “His sister seems very keen on him spending all his time at home.”

  Mrs. Dodson spoke in hushed tones. “There have been a lot of strange doings. What I want to know is . . . is someone trying to actually hurt Royce or just scare him away?”

  Sawyer came alive. “Whoa. You should have heard what Fiona was saying during rehearsal about Blanche’s first husband and his mysterious death.”

  Mrs. Davis had Sawyer elaborate, then added, “We’d always heard those rumors, but the police never found any evidence of wrongdoing.”

  Aunt Ginny made a face. “Meh. The police in this town wouldn’t know a crime scene if you wrote them a script for it.”

  Mother Gibson emptied a couple of Splendas into her iced tea. “I don’t know. Duke McCready seems like he knows what he’s doing. He sure is in great shape after all those years chasing bad guys around the shore. I wonder if he works out.”

  Mrs. Dodson rolled her eyes. “You’re only saying that because you have a crush on him.”

  Mother Gibson giggled. “Yeah, I do.”

  That made me smile and I tried to hide it from the ladies.

  Mrs. Davis caught me. “And what are you snickering about over there, Missy?”

  “What? Nothing.”

  Sawyer kicked me under the table and winked at me.

  Mrs. Davis had a teasing gleam in her eye. “Let me tell you something. No matter what age you are, falling in love feels the same. Doesn’t it, Ginny?”

  Aunt Ginny choked on her tea and spit some of it out. “Don’t pull me into this.”

  Mrs. Dodson poked Aunt Ginny with her fork. “Deny that you have butterflies every time you look at Royce.”

  Aunt Ginny blushed. “I feel like I’m seventeen again.” Then she giggled until she snorted.

  Sawyer’s mouth dropped open and I kicked her.

  Mother Gibson speared an olive from Mrs. Dodson’s plate. “See, you’re never too old for romance.”

  Thank God their pasta arrived to keep them busy for a while.

  * * *

  A little over an hour later, we were back at the Senior Center. Everyone was congregating down by the stage, waiting for the technical rehearsal to begin. The curtain was down and the lights were off. Ernie Frick was sitting in the front row on his cell phone until he saw Royce arrive with a cheeseburger from the fast-food place down the street.

  “Hey, there’s the star now.” Royce and Ernie clasped hands and chatted quietly.

  Everyone was chattering about the problems we’d had so far. Part of the backdrop needed to be repainted, again. The seniors were still having trouble with the dance numbers. Smitty would have to come back to repair the yacht.

  Mr. Ricardo jabbed Royce in the side. “It doesn’t help that you break into Shakespeare every time you forget your lines either!”

  Royce rocked back on his heels. “I do?”

  Most of the ladies made faces at one another but wouldn’t comment.

  Ernie chuckled. “Royce is one of a kind. That rare talent that made him the love of London’s West End. Shakespeare stays with you forever.”

  Fiona patted Royce’s arm. “That’s right, Boodaloo.” She glared at Mr. Ricardo. “Some people are just jealous.”

  Royce dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. “If you ask me, the problem is the schedule. We need to delay the opening to the fourteenth.”

  That made me laugh. “I’m surprised you believe that old theater superstition, Mr. Hansen.”

  Royce wagged a finger in my direction. “No Broadway theater would dare to open on Friday the thirteenth. You’d be inviting the jinx.” He looked around and saw the frightened faces staring back at him and gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, I never put too much stock into theater hoodoo. Plus, we’re so far off-Broadway here, I’m sure we’re perfectly safe.”

  He didn’t look convinced and everyone laughed uneasily.

  Blanche threw her cape over the first three seats on the second row. “Please. We’re doing Mamma Mia! It’s not exactly Phantom, is it? Besides, if you want a curse, you’ve got a living, breathing one right here in Ginny’s niece.”

  I had one hand on Aunt Ginny’s arm to hold her back. “What did I do?”

  “From what I’ve seen in the paper, everywhere you go, a body drops. They’ll have to start calling you Jessica Fletcher.”

  I wanted to let Aunt Ginny have a go at her. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Mr. Sheinberg cut me off.

  “What a buncha mishegas. Friday the thirteenth. Meh. Let’s get cracking. I want to be home tonight before they call the lotto.”

  Aunt Ginny glared at Blanche. “I agree. You’re all being ridiculous.”

  Mr. Sheinberg pulled the rope to lift the curtain and stopped halfway up.

  There, at center stage, under a baby-pink spotlight, was Duke McCready. His eyes were blank. His head twisted at an impossible angle. He had taken his final bow.

  The biddies gasped, and everyone took a giant step away from me, like I was somehow responsible for the curse.

  Aunt Ginny fanned herself. “Then again, maybe we should move the opening to t
he fourteenth.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fiona screamed, “Oh my God, he’s dead! He’s dead!” then passed out.

  Iggy ran to her side and patted her hand. “Mother! Mother! Are you okay?”

  Sawyer started to cry, and Mr. Ricardo patted her on the back.

  Piglet made his way toward the stage, wringing his hands. “Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This is no good.”

  “Are we sure he’s dead?” Ernie Frick asked. “Maybe he just nodded off.”

  Mrs. Dodson poked me in the side. “Poppy, go check.”

  “Why do I have to go check?”

  Mrs. Davis took some unsteady steps backward. “Because you have the most experience with checking dead bodies.”

  “I do not.” Oh wait, that’s probably true.

  My protest was falling on deaf ears. Blanche was silently rocking in her seat, gently crying. Aunt Ginny was holding on to Royce with her face buried in his chest. The Sheinbergs were huddled together, praying.

  Mother Gibson was noticeably pale. “Please, honey.”

  I went up on the stage and slowly crept over to Duke’s broken body. My heart was lodged in my throat. I didn’t have to check for a pulse to know he was dead. No one could survive a neck injury like that. His eyes were open, his skin was pale even in the pink glow of the spotlight, like all the blood had drained from his body even though there was only a pool of it under his head, presumably caused by the fall. But for the sake of the others, I leaned down and put my fingers where his artery would be. His neck was still warm. I touched the part of his wrist that was outside of the spotlight and it was exceptionally cooler but not cold. He hadn’t been dead long. Of course, he was alive an hour ago, when we broke for lunch.

  I looked into the crowd of expectant eyes and shook my head. Many of the seniors started to weep. Duke had been their friend. He was one of them. His grandson was coming for a visit next weekend.

  Mother Gibson cried out, “Who would do this? Why would someone want to kill Duke? He was a nice man.”

  I looked down at Duke and quickly blinked a tear away before it could fall. There was a slip of paper sticking out of his breast pocket. “Does anyone have a handkerchief or a scarf?”

  Mrs. Davis pulled a handkerchief out of her bustier and handed it up to me. I’m going to try not to think about where that’s been. I used the fabric to pull the paper from out of Duke’s pocket and opened it. It looked like it had been hastily ripped in half. My heart gripped in my chest as I read it.

  “What is it, Poppy?” Aunt Ginny called to me.

  The biddies all huddled up to the edge of the stage.

  “It seems to be a suicide note.”

  The crowd of seniors gasped and started murmuring to one another. “No way. Not Duke.”

  Piglet’s hands shook as he pulled out an iPhone. “Well, I’m ca–calling the police.” He didn’t get any argument from the rest of us.

  The two gorillas who had been hanging around in the front row fought each other to dislodge themselves out of their seats. They took one look onstage and shot out of the emergency exit.

  I wanted to point out that we probably shouldn’t let them leave what might be a crime scene, but my voice wouldn’t cooperate.

  Neil strode in from the back of the auditorium. “Okay, I know we’ve had a rough start to today’s practice, but I think we can make this afternoon a lot of fun.”

  Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna happen.

  Bebe appeared on stage from the back exit, by Royce’s dressing room. “Sweet corn puddin’, what is happening here?”

  “Duke is dead.” I looked up into the rafters and my eyes fell on a section of the railing that was broken through. “It looks like he fell from the catwalk and broke his neck.”

  Neil stopped short, then ran the length of the auditorium and leaped to the stage. “What happened? Did anybody see him fall?”

  Bebe looked at the catwalk, then at Duke. She crouched down beside him. “Aww. Poor man. What a horrible way to go.”

  I tried to reassure everyone. “It had to be very quick. I’m sure he didn’t suffer.”

  Bebe put one large hand on Neil’s shoulder and one on mine. “What can I do to help? Do you need me to find a place to hide the body?”

  A breeze blew through the room and was quickly followed by sirens in the distance.

  Bebe’s hands dropped back to her side. “I’ve got to go.” She gingerly stepped backstage and out of the exit toward the costume closet Royce used as a dressing room.

  Bebe wasn’t the only one who was suddenly very nervous. I tried to return the suicide note inside Duke’s front pocket, but it got hung up on a button and I had to jam it into his blazer instead.

  One of Cape May’s finest entered the little theater and came down to the stage. “Okay, everyone. I am Officer Birkwell. Officer Consuelos is securing the building and will be in momentarily.”

  I looked at Officer Birkwell, then Aunt Ginny. We both looked around Officer Birkwell and down the aisle, waiting for a certain little blond cop who had been the bane of my existence since I returned to Cape May and she’d arrested me for killing a cheerleader. As if.

  Officer Birkwell took the stage and briefly examined the scene. “Who’s in charge here?”

  Neil raised his hand. “I am. Neil Rockford.”

  “Can we have some more light please, Mr. Rockford?”

  Neil jumped toward the light booth. “Of course.” He turned the stage lights up to full power, and I had to shade my eyes until they adjusted.

  I’m sure the police deal with murder investigations every day. Maybe Officer Birkwell doesn’t even remember me or Aunt Ginny.

  “I want everyone to stay where they are.” He scanned the room. When he came to Aunt Ginny, he flinched and reached for his side arm. “Mother of God!”

  Oh. He does.

  Aunt Ginny gave him a lopsided grin. “Where’s Amber?”

  He looked around until he spotted me near the light booth and sighed. “Officer Fenton is on another assignment, but it appears that I owe her twenty dollars now. Ms. McAllister, why am I finding you so close to the deceased?”

  I took a step forward. “This is Duke McCready. We were rehearsing a play for the Senior Center. We broke for lunch, and when we returned we found him like this.”

  Officer Birkwell dropped to a squat. “Did anybody touch the body or interfere with the crime scene?”

  “Um.” I could feel a band of sweat start to form under my Spunks. “I took his pulse on his neck and his wrist . . .”

  Officer Birkwell turned his face to me and cocked an eyebrow.

  “They wanted to be sure.”

  I gave Piglet the eye and hoped he wouldn’t be a snitch about me taking out that note.

  Officer Birkwell considered the seniors for a moment, then nodded. “Why don’t you take a seat until I can get your statement?”

  Phew. I hopped down from the stage and joined Sawyer and Aunt Ginny in the front row while he got a list of everyone’s names from Neil.

  Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Dodson pulled me into a huddle. “What did the note say, Poppy?”

  I couldn’t keep the tremble out of my voice. “Something about he can’t go on. His lover broke up with him and he was depressed.”

  The ladies looked dubiously at one another.

  “That’s a load of pig snot,” Mrs. Dodson said. “Duke was a career cop. If fifty years on the force didn’t break him, retirement and a little lady trouble wasn’t going to do it.”

  Mother Gibson joined us. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Duke would never do something like this. He was so excited about his grandson’s visit this weekend.”

  Mrs. Davis looked at the stage. “Did the note look like it was Duke’s handwriting, or do you think someone forced him to write it?”

  “It was typed.”

  Seniors were filing in late from lunch. The cast and crew members took their seats and were quickly brought up to speed and put th
eir names on the list.

  Officer Birkwell was still questioning Neil. “Any idea why the deceased was up there?”

  “I can’t imagine. Royce is the only one with scenes that enter from the catwalk.”

  Royce started to cough and had to sit down. He dropped his head down between his knees.

  Officer Birkwell motioned around the theater. “Who else had access to this room who isn’t here now?”

  Neil’s hands shook. “Just, uh, the carpenter, Smitty. Uh, the choreographer, Bebe. There were two men who’ve been hanging around, but I don’t know their names.”

  “You just let anyone hang around the building?”

  “Well, it’s open to the community until nine, and they weren’t hurting anyone.”

  Aunt Ginny narrowed her eyes. “They sure shot out of here the minute trouble was afoot.”

  Mrs. Dodson tapped her cane. “Oh yes. They wanted to retreat before the law arrived. Very sketchy, if you ask me.”

  I hesitated to say anything, knowing the world of trouble I’d be in when I got home, but I tend to blurt things out when I’m nervous and I was sweating so much my Spunks were hydroplaning right now. “Royce stayed after to run lines today.”

  A collective gasp rolled through the seniors. My hair felt as though it were on fire between Aunt Ginny’s flaming scowl on one side and Fiona’s glare from hell on the other.

  “Royce would never!”

  “Poppy, how could you!”

  Mr. Ricardo came to my aid. “That’s right. Royce did stay here alone.”

  Royce was pale and shaky. “Is this a dagger I see before me . . . but no, I did not commit such a foul act as this.”

  Officer Birkwell’s eyelids went to half-mast. “Were you here all afternoon, sir?”

  “Aye. But I was in my dressing room running my lines. And then I went to get a cheeseburger.”

  “Was anyone with you?”

  Royce shook his head no.

  Ernie raised his hand. “I was with my client the entire time.”

  Royce looked confused but didn’t contradict his agent.

  Officer Birkwell was joined by Officer Consuelos, who donned plastic gloves and gingerly searched Duke’s clothing. He pulled out the note that I’d returned a few minutes earlier.