Theater Nights Are Murder
Page 21
“I don’t see why not. As long as it’s not during breakfast. When did you have in mind?”
We worked out the details and she gave me a couple of windows to offer them. Then I told her I’d have to come take the tour myself one day. I’d always wanted to see inside.
Sawyer set her phone down and mouthed to me, No Bennet and Darcy advertising firm.
Aw, Jane Austen will be so disappointed. Then I remembered that Ernie had told me he was staying at the Queen Victoria. “You know, Carol, I think a friend of mine is staying with you: Ernie Frick. I think he just got into town a couple of days ago.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Frick. He’s very nice. Always smiling.”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“But Mr. Frick has been here much longer than a couple of days. He checked in almost three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks ago? Oh, I must have misunderstood him. I thought he had just arrived Friday afternoon.”
“Not unless there is more than one Ernie Frick. Your friend is booked for the whole month.”
“Have his cousins come to visit him yet? They’re big guys, you can’t miss them. Winky and Finn?”
“Not that I’ve seen. But I’m only here part time.”
I thanked Carol for her help and a thought struck me. “Have you ever heard about any of the B&Bs leaving bad reviews for other B&Bs online?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I’m not aware of that happening, but business can be very competitive.”
I thanked her and we agreed to be a resource for each other in case we ever had an emergency, although I think that would probably happen to me long before she would need anything, and I hung up the phone.
Sawyer gave me a questioning look. “So?”
“Ernie Frick has been here for almost a month. Three weeks longer than he said.”
“Holy moly. What’s he been doing here all this time?”
“That’s a good question. And why would he lie about it?”
“Well, he lied about Bennet and Darcy too, so he’s hiding something.”
I heard the front door open and the bell chime in the kitchen. The biddies were back and they sounded excited about something. That could only mean trouble.
“Do not tell Aunt Ginny or the biddies what we found out. I could see them kidnapping Ernie and interrogating him with a flashlight. Amber has it in her head that I’m responsible for all their behavior all of a sudden.”
The biddies came around the corner, their eyes sharp and excited. Sawyer and I gave them sweet smiles. “Hello, ladies. What have you been up to?”
“Poppy, we have a great idea.”
Oh dear lord. “Oh?”
“We are going to break into the Senior Center after midnight to get that insurance policy Neil had in his drawer.”
An image of four little old ladies in sensible shoes playing gin rummy in a jail cell floated into my mind.
Sawyer looked at the ceiling and started to hum.
The ladies were looking at me with glee, like they were expecting praise. I had to think fast. “You know what?”
They shook their heads.
“I have a more pressing assignment for you.”
Their eyes got wider and they leaned in expectantly.
“But you have to keep it hush-hush. If word gets out that we’re looking for something, it could be a problem for us.”
Mrs. Dodson tapped her cane. “Okay, well, quit dawdling. What is it?”
“I need you to do some digging into Ernie Frick and his agency. He told me those two gorillas were in advertising and Sawyer can’t find their agency online.”
The ladies were all grinning now and standing a little taller. Mrs. Davis practically gushed, “What do you want us to do?”
“Aunt Ginny, do you have your old theater magazines?”
Aunt Ginny blushed. “I may have one or two around here, somewhere.”
Mrs. Dodson gave Aunt Ginny a look and Mother Gibson laughed out loud.
“Great. I need you all to comb through whatever Aunt Ginny has to see if you can find any references to Ernie’s business, his clients, any arrest records, and anyone named Winky or Finn. You may need to search on the internet too. We need to figure out what kind of person Ernie is and who else he represents. Are they happy with him? Got it?”
The ladies agreed and followed Aunt Ginny to collect their research materials.
Sawyer grinned. “That should keep them busy for a while.”
My reveling in cleverness was cut short when I got an email from one of my April guests canceling their reservation. The reason they cited was “Too many bad reviews have left us feeling nervous about our stay. We’ve decided to stay somewhere with a higher rating.”
While Sawyer read the email, I lay my head on the table. I wasn’t upset. I was too numb and confused to be upset. So, I just lay there feeling doomed.
Sawyer put my phone down and drummed her fingernails on the kitchen table. “Let’s call Kim. She may know someone who can help.”
Kim was one of our oldest friends, who had an eclectic personality that included half a shaved head, full-color tattoo sleeves, and a pet iguana named Betsy. “Why would Kim know someone?”
“Because she worked for the Tropicana years ago, setting up the nightclub acts. Maybe she knows someone in public relations we could talk to about how to fix this.”
“It’s worth a shot.” I dialed Kim’s cell.
“Laughing Gull Winery, Kim speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Poppy.”
“Hey, girl. What’s up?”
“I’m having a PR nightmare and Sawyer said you used to set up nightclub acts for the Tropicana and might know someone.”
“If by ‘set up’ you mean made a spreadsheet after the talent manager secured the booking, then yes.” Then she spoke to someone nearby, “This is free if you join the wine club today.”
I whispered to Sawyer, “She only kept the records.”
Sawyer’s face fell. “Oh.”
Kim came back on. “But I do know people. What kind of problem are you having? I could call Margaret and ask her for a referral.”
I filled Kim in on the outbreak of fraudulent reviews. While I was talking, the biddies began to emerge from Aunt Ginny’s lair. They were dragging clear plastic bins full of back issues of theater magazines, Playbills, and newspaper clippings. Mother Gibson gave me a shocked look and rolled her eyes at the amount of stuff that was coming out of Aunt Ginny’s storage. Aunt Ginny declined to make eye contact.
Kim had to ring up a customer, but when she came back, she said, “Girl, that’s messed up. Don’t people have anything better to do than trash each other online? That’s twelve dollars.”
Mrs. Dodson dragged a storage bin out backward and stopped in front of me to catch her breath. “Where can we set up our command center?”
I flicked my eyes to Sawyer, who had to swallow a laugh.
“Why don’t you start in the sunroom? I’ll bring in a folding table and some chairs.”
Mrs. Dodson nodded and motioned for the other biddies to cart everything to the back of the house.
“I’m sorry, Kim. What were you saying?”
“That’s okay. I can hear the clatter in the background. Let me call my old booking manager at the Trop and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to leave you a positive review on Yelp?”
“No. I don’t want to do anything shady.” At least not yet. “But you could leave Gia a good review if you’d like. You’ve been in there.”
“Yeah, lots of times. I’ll do that.”
I hung up feeling a little more optimistic. I started to tell Sawyer what Kim had said, but I was waylaid by Mrs. Davis.
“We’re going to need legal pads, pens, strong coffee, magnifying glasses, Post-it notes, and that pecan shortbread we tasked you with a couple of days ago that you haven’t made yet.”
Sawyer snickered. “What have you done?”
“It’s too late now, they’ve gone Woodward and Bernstein all over the sunroom.”
“I just hope they find something useful.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I left for rehearsal before Aunt Ginny and her crew could be pried away from their Broadway gossip columns. They shooed me off and sent me away. I was informed to “stall” if they didn’t arrive in time. I thought their expectations of me might be a little on the high side.
Georgina had cornered Neil in his office and had a script in his face, trying to convince him that the stage directions were better her way. Royce and Ernie were in the craft room on the other side of the foyer, sitting at one of the tables. I went in to eavesdrop while trying to look like I wasn’t eavesdropping. I stood at the vending machine trying to decide between buying a pretend Coke or buying a pretend Sprite. No way was I going to pretend to buy an old-lady nutritional shake, even if this was all a ruse.
Ernie was plying Royce with something from his ever-present silver flask and telling him all the reasons why now was the perfect time for a comeback.
“I’m not sure I can get away, Ernie, old man.”
“Of course you can, Royce baby. Just think about the star treatment waiting for you backstage. Evian water and top-shelf scotch in your dressing room, a daily fresh muffin basket and those little packs of chocolate macadamia nuts you like. You know I’ll take care of you. What my stars want, my stars get.”
“Fee will never let me go.”
“She has her son. He looks like a very capable young man.”
I forgot that I was supposed to be covert and accidentally snorted out loud. Ernie and Royce stopped talking and I felt them watching me. I took a dollar out of my wallet and fed it into the machine. Nothing to see here. Just getting some water.
I could see Ernie’s reflection in the vending machine glass. He was motioning for Royce to follow him out of the craft room for privacy. I punched in the number for spring water and kept my eyes on their retreat.
My purchase hit the exit chute with a loud thunk. I reached in to retrieve my spring water and pulled out a vanilla old-lady shake. Oh, come on! I can’t even get Aunt Ginny to drink these.
I tossed it in my tote bag and trudged down the hall to the theater. I didn’t see Royce and Ernie anywhere.
Fiona was sitting in her usual spot in the second row on the right—which I think was stage left? I don’t know. Blanche had cornered Royce’s sister and was trying to force an alliance. Fiona was scanning the room, desperate for an escape. She even called out to me to save her. “Poppy, oh good. All ready for the lights tonight?”
“I think so. With a good team effort.”
Blanche screwed up her face when she saw me. “I hope your aunt fails miserably.”
“That’s the spirit.” I said it more for me than for Blanche, but she turned pink and sucked in all the air that was around us.
Fiona must have realized she was in the strike zone and immediately tried to change the subject. “Have you seen Royce?”
“He was in the craft room with his agent.”
“Oh no. What were they doing?”
“Just talking, as far as I could tell. And drinking scotch, I think.”
Fiona squirmed in her seat. “I knew it. That man won’t stop until he entices my brother back to New York. Royce is not supposed to be drinking alcohol with the medicine he’s on.”
I thought about the three glasses of wine Royce had at dinner the other night and decided not to mention them. “What medicine is he on?” I asked.
Fiona looked uncomfortable. “I can’t really talk about it.”
Blanche sat back with a smug look on her face. “That’s an old agent trick. Ernie is keeping his client pliable so he’s easier to manipulate. They do it all the time. It’s one of the reasons I left acting. Agents only want to use you.”
“You’re one to talk.”
We had forgotten about Iggy, as I suspect happens a lot. He sits so quietly until Fiona yells at him to change something that you learn not to look at him. But now we noticed he was watching us from the piano bench and the look in his eye was not a friendly one.
“You’ve been trying to seduce Royce since he got home. We know what you’re up to and it won’t work. He won’t marry you. You’re not getting his money.”
Blanche threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good one. You think I’m after Royce’s money. Honey, I have my own money. If anyone has their hooks into your uncle, it’s Mummy Dearest.” Fiona started to sputter, but Blanche talked right over her. “Well, I have news for you both. It won’t work. You can try to make Uncle Royce believe you’re a nice little family, but he already told me he’s leaving all his money to the Cape May Community Theater. You won’t see a dime.”
Iggy sprung up like a rocket with his hands clenched into fists. He looked like he planned to tear Blanche a new one, but he stormed out of the theater, which was weird in itself because I had never seen him apart from Fiona. I kept waiting for him to jerk backward and yelp like he had on a shock collar and had ventured too far from the safe zone.
Blanche laughed again and then noticed Royce walking with Ernie. She abandoned us to latch on to Royce before anyone else had a chance.
Fiona was so visibly upset that I regretted my uncharitable thoughts about her and Iggy earlier and tried to comfort her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. Are you okay?”
She snuffled and nodded. “I don’t know why anyone would think we are after Royce’s money. My husband left me very well off. I have my own money.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Okay, everyone, let’s get rehearsal started. I feel good about tonight.” Neil came down the aisle excited and raring to go and I didn’t see the biddies anywhere.
“Um, Neil.” Everyone’s eyes turned to me and I felt like an idiot. How I hated talking in front of a group of people. “Do you think we could do some vocal exercises before we begin?”
Mr. Sheinberg waved his hand in my direction. “We don’t need no exercises. What’s to exercise? Just say the words and get on with it.”
Mr. Ricardo agreed. “I am rather interested in getting things going. I have a hot date after rehearsal tonight.”
The senior playing Sophie said, “With what, a TV dinner and HBO? You got nothing.”
Neil looked like he was starting to get antsy that he would lose their focus, which was easy to do, and said, “Let’s just get tonight started, shall we?”
I went to my cage and put on my headset. I set my dials to my first light cue, then took out my phone to call Aunt Ginny. Sophie was sending her letters to her potential dads, and Aunt Ginny was going to voice mail. Great. Thank God this isn’t opening night.
Neil came over my headset, “Poppy, where are Ginny and the other ladies?”
“Uh . . . aren’t they here? I thought I saw them in the craft room.”
“I need them down here. Thelma and Edith go on in a minute.”
I tried to talk some sense into my jitters. What are you so nervous about? It’s not your fault if the practice is delayed. Calm the heck down.
Just as “Honey, Honey” was wrapping up, four out-of-breath biddies popped into the cage from the side curtain. “We have it!”
Mother Gibson was holding up an old copy of Backstage Biz Magazine in victory.
I took the magazine and changed my light dial. “What is it?”
Aunt Ginny, Mrs. Davis, and Mrs. Dodson shook with excitement.
“Hold on, Poppy Blossom.”
“That’s our cue.”
“Be right back.”
They ran off to do their scene and left me with Mother Gibson, who grinned like a cat finally let out of its cage.
“Honey, that there is the smoking gun. It’s a regular column called “Despicable Agents” from the back of the magazi
ne.”
I read the article and my eyes caught the words “Frick Agency” and “bankrupt.”
“When was this?” I asked.
Mrs. Dodson was on stage, mouthing, Don’t start without us!
Mother Gibson acted like she hadn’t seen it. “’Bout four years ago. It says Ernie’s clients have been leaving him in droves.”
“Does the article say why?”
Aunt Ginny was saying her lines, but she was backing up closer and closer to the cage. When she got close enough, she turned her head and hissed, “Hold on till we get back!” The music intro played for the “Money, Money, Money” number and she had to go back to her mark while the rest of the company joined her onstage for the dance number.
Mother Gibson didn’t get to be in the spotlight very often, so she ignored their warning looks. “Misappropriation of funds. Child, it seems that Ernie wasn’t giving his clients their fair share of the box office take. He was keeping more than his ten percent.”
“Is Royce his last remaining client? Did you happen to see who else Ernie represents?”
Mrs. Davis ran to the cage, out of breath. “There is a list,” she gasped. “Of Ernie’s clients on his website.” She gasped again. She did a box step back to the stage and gave a shimmy to the music.
Mother Gibson pulled out another piece of paper from a folder and handed it to me.
Mrs. Dodson was dancing over with her cane. When she got close enough, she threw her hip to the side. “But when you look up each actor.” She did a pivot step and threw her other hip to the side. “Their personal websites list different agents.”
Mother Gibson shook her head and laughed to herself. “Honey, he’s hurting. His clients have all left him and lawsuits are pending.”
I examined the paper and saw that several of Ernie’s clients were bringing a class action suit against him. When I looked up, Aunt Ginny was standing at the cage with her arms crossed and her eyes near slits.
“I thought we agreed we would all tell Poppy together.”
I realized the music had stopped and I quickly adjusted the lights for the dock scene. Royce was making his way across the catwalk to make his entrance on the yacht. I wonder if he overheard us talking about his agent?