by Sarah Rubin
‘Why did you bring those?’ I whispered.
‘I thought Della would want to see the girl who played her.’
‘Ahem.’ Della cleared her throat like a disappointed schoolteacher. ‘If you two are finished chatting, Vivian will be back any minute. And if she sees the dressing room like this . . .’
She let the words hang there, knowing we’d get the picture. Vivian would be hysterical. Della gave a curt nod and went back to wiping up the loose powder.
‘I’ll show her later,’ Kevin said. He stuck the photos on the dressing table and started picking glass out of the drawers.
It took us fifteen minutes to clean up the worst of the mess. It would have taken longer – the drawers had been open when the mirror broke and there was glass everywhere – but Kevin figured out how to pull them off their runners and dump the whole mess into the bin.
Della found a large white sheet folded at the back of the room and was about to drape it over the broken mirror, but she was too late.
The door opened half a second too soon and Vivian stepped, or rather swept, into the room. Matthew Strange followed close behind her, his right arm held close to his chest in a sling.
‘I can’t believe you don’t have ionized water here,’ he said. ‘It’s everywhere in Hollywood. Maybe because we’re more careful with our bodies out there. You should try it sometime. It will take care of that dullness in your complexion.’
Vivian froze. I could see the retort forming on her lips, but she caught sight of Della before it made it out.
‘Della darling, what are you doing?’
‘Vivian,’ Della said. I’m so sorry. Someone’s been in our dressing room. I just came back and found it like this.’
Vivian looked around, her pale face fading another two shades as she took in the damage.
Della stuck her chin out slightly, but kept her eyes and her voice level. She knew it looked bad, but she wasn’t going to back down or apologize for something she didn’t do. Della was tough like that.
‘Oh, Della darling, not the mirror. That’s such bad luck.’ Vivian held one hand to her chest and shook her head.
Matthew Strange stepped into the room and whistled. Della and Vivian both shot daggers at him. Whistling in a theatre is very bad luck. But Kevin didn’t notice. His eyes bulged and his mouth hung open wide enough so I could see his back teeth. He jostled me with his shoulder and nodded his head in Matthew Strange’s direction. I jabbed him with my elbow and nodded sharply for him to get it together.
Matthew didn’t notice Kevin gaping, or maybe he was used to being gaped at. He looked around the room and whistled again. ‘What a mess. Viv, you need to get a better rider.’
Vivian’s lips tightened into a thin line. ‘Matthew, darling, you may be used to getting every little thing your heart desires when you’re in Hollywood, but we on the legitimate stage know the meaning of sacrifice.’
Matthew looked completely startled in a what did I do kind of way. Vivian showed him her back, and a lot of it. The silence was palpable.
‘Matthew,’ I said, doing my best to sound bright and cheerful. ‘This is my friend Kevin Jordan. He’s a big fan.’
Kevin turned pink to the tips of his ears. ‘Hi,’ he said, and held out his hand and then drew it back quickly, looking at Matthew Strange’s sling and turning even redder.
‘Kevin!’ Matthew said in his best greet-the-fans voice. ‘You’re the quick thinker who immobilized my shoulder yesterday. The ER doc said you prevented a lot of damage. Good thing too, I’m filming another Agent Zero film this summer.’
Kevin beamed and the circumference of his eyes widened by a factor of two. ‘You’re doing another Agent Zero movie? I heard rumours, but I thought it was too good to be true. Do you really do all your own stunts?’
‘You bet! And thanks to you, I’ll be able to keep doing them. You saved the movie!’
Matthew Strange gave Kevin his famous megawatt smile and I thought my friend was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. I started to roll my eyes, and then stopped when I remembered how I’d acted when I met my favourite physicist Ed Witten after he gave a talk on String Theory.
‘So, Kevin, what are you doing at the Beryl?’
Kevin stammered, ‘I’m helping Alice clean out the storage room. For the lobby display. For the show. There’s lots of stuff in there. Maybe you want to come see—’
Vivian gave a strangled cry before Kevin could finish his sentence. Horror blooming all over her face.
‘It’s her,’ she said, pointing one long artistic finger at the photo on her dressing table. The woman with the china-doll face stared back at us. ‘It’s Kittie Grace!’
An electric hum filled the room, followed by a sharp hiss of static and the ping of filaments breaking as the lights in the dressing room went out.
Someone screamed in the darkness. I was pretty sure it was Vivian. Not even Della could have hit that note. A hand grabbed at my shoulder and pushed me into Della.
‘Alice,’ she hissed.
‘Sorry.’
Someone shoved me from the other side and I cleared my throat and spoke loudly into the darkness. ‘Will everyone just stand still? The lights will come back on in a minute.’
No one listened to me, though. How could they? Vivian was having a full-blown panic attack somewhere in the darkness.
‘She’s here,’ she wailed like a five-alarm siren. ‘She’s after me because I took her part. I’m sorry, Kittie.’
She started reciting the Wandering Minstrel’s speech from The Mikado, like a priest performing an exorcism. I wasn’t sure what good it would do, but maybe theatre ghosts were different to the ones you saw in movies.
The hand grabbed my shoulder again. It was Kevin, and this time he didn’t let go.
‘Do you think it’s the ghost?’ he said into my ear.
Della must have heard him because her nails started to dig into the palms of my hand.
‘Shhh,’ I said quickly. Vivian’s panic-fire didn’t need any more fuel. ‘Those workmen were just putting up the new chandelier. They probably wired something wrong and blew a fuse.’
I hoped they’d fix it soon. Della’s grip was like a vice. My fingers were starting to go numb, and Vivian wasn’t showing any signs of calming down – if anything she was getting worse. Her wails filled the small room like a physical presence. I shuddered slightly and then stopped myself. There’s no such thing as ghosts and the only thing to be really scared of was trying to move in a pitch-black room and walking into a wall.
Vivian kicked it up another octave and I cringed. Pretty soon glasses were going to start shattering.
‘Oh, wow. A real live theatre ghost. This is so authentic,’ Matthew Strange said, his voice filled with glee. No wonder Kevin liked him so much. They were two of a kind.
Vivian wailed louder. And louder. And then she ran out of air. Her screams trailed off and I heard a soft thump.
‘Viv?’ Matthew said. ‘Where’d you go?’
The light in the hall flickered back into life, flooding in through the open door and illuminating Matthew in silhouette. Vivian lay in a heap at his feet.
Matthew knelt beside her and shook her shoulder gently until her eyes fluttered open. ‘Viv, you need to stop getting so worked up. You’re going to hurt yourself. Life is for living. Enjoy the moment. Be in the now. In Hollywood they do a really good Zen tea. I’ll call my agent and get him to send you some.’
Vivian looked like she wanted to snap at him, but she didn’t. I motioned for Kevin to turn the photo over. I didn’t want Vivian seeing Kittie Grace’s face and kicking off all over again. Then I stepped over Della and hit the switch for the row of lights that lined what was left of the large dressing-room mirror.
Della’s face had gone pale and not just for effect. She was scared. I could feel my own face heating up. I took a deep breath and turned around.
‘You should take her out to get some fresh air,’ I said to Matthew, tilting my head at
Vivian’s shaking shoulders. He nodded at me and gave Kevin a thumbs up. Kevin grinned like a seven-year-old.
‘Did you see that?’ he said, elbowing me in the ribs.
I ignored him.
Della looked at me. The colour was coming back to her face now, but her eyes were still dark with worry. ‘Are you sure it isn’t really Kittie?’ she asked. ‘She died in the fire. Maybe she’s upset we’re reviving the show. Maybe she wants the Beryl to stay ruined. Maybe—’
‘No,’ I cut her off before she could go any further. Most of the time Della was pretty sensible; sure she could be a real diva, but it never got in the way of reality. But Vivian, she was another story, and her reaction had given even me the heebie-jeebies.
‘But—’
‘No,’ I said again.
Della stuck her lip out. ‘But the photo, and the lights, and all the things going wrong. Maybe she’s mad that we’re doing the show . . .’
‘No. You saw the footprint.’
I wanted to leave it at that, but Della didn’t look convinced. I sighed and sat her down on the metal folding chair in front of the mirror. I wished I’d gotten a picture of the print before it had blown away, just to remind Della we were definitely dealing with a person. Kevin stood behind her looking at the photograph.
‘The lights were just a coincidence,’ I said. ‘How old do you think the wiring in this place is?’ I shuddered.
‘There’s no such thing as coincidence.’ Della folded her arms and stuck out her chin. But if she was ready to argue her case, I knew she must be feeling better.
‘Yes there is. Coincidences happen all the time. They’re really common. The law of truly large numbers states that with a large enough sample size, any outrageous thing is likely to happen.’ I hit her with the final blow. ‘I can lend you a book on statistics that explains that,’ I said. ‘With lots and lots of numbers to back up the argument.’
Della rolled her eyes at me, a perfect arc, then she smiled.
‘Look, Della,’ I said. ‘Someone is trying to mess with the show. But it is definitely a person, not a ghost. And when I catch the person behind all this, I’ll prove it.’
Kevin and I dropped Della off in the costume workshop with Mom and took orders for lunch. Day-old subs from the 7–Eleven wasn’t exactly fine dining, but like Vivian said, one had to make sacrifices for the stage.
Della didn’t want to tell Mom that someone had been through her room, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide. At least, not after Vivian Rollins’s reaction. I’d be surprised if it didn’t make the first page of the arts section. I could already see Linda playing up the ghost angle to the press. People do love a ghost story.
I convinced Della to tell Mom the truth and left them talking it out.
‘Oh, man,’ Kevin said, shoving his hands into his pockets as we crossed the street. ‘I got to talk to Matthew Strange. And they’re making a new Agent Zero movie. This is the best day ever!’
I stepped wide to avoid a puddle and walked a little faster, ignoring him.
Kevin kept up easily. He puffed out a satisfied breath. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t forget you when I’m famous.’
I snorted.
When we reached the other side of the street, Kevin held the door to the 7–Eleven open for me and grinned. The warm air inside hit me like a wall.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear it.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Hear what?’
‘Your theory. If you don’t think it’s a ghost, what’s going on around here?’
He grinned at me like an angel. Anyone else would have thought he was some sort of choirboy, but I knew better.
‘No way,’ I said, and headed to the back of the shop where they kept the sandwiches. ‘I don’t have enough facts yet.’
‘Oh, come on, I thought we were partners. Isn’t this the part where you tell me everything we know so far and I say something unrelated that cracks the case wide open.’
‘You’ve been watching too many cop shows.’
‘OK, if you don’t want to tell me your theory. I’ll tell you mine.’ He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I groaned.
‘Your theory is a ghost, isn’t it?’
Kevin’s grin widened and I let my head fall back, staring up at the tiled ceiling.
‘Fine,’ I said after a moment. ‘I give up. You win.’
I ran through the case with Kevin, outlining the facts and what they might mean. It felt a little strange, like talking out loud in an empty house. But Kevin listened quietly and after a few minutes I almost forgot he was there.
Fact A: Props were missing and costumes broken.
Fact B: Someone had damaged the set – leading to an accident – and smashed the mirror in Della’s dressing room.
Fact C: If the show fails, the Beryl is ruined.
A + B + C = x
And it was looking a lot like x = sabotage.
‘Hmmm,’ Kevin said thoughtfully.
‘What?’ I asked, waiting for him to start teasing me about the ghost. But he surprised me.
‘Are you sure it’s about the Beryl?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe they aren’t trying to ruin the show,’ Kevin said. ‘Maybe it’s about Matthew Strange. He’s famous, so maybe someone is after him?’
I frowned. He had a point. Della hired me because she was worried about the Beryl, but not everyone cared about the theatre as much as she did. I should know. Matthew Strange, though, he’d been in blockbuster movies. He was the reason the Beryl’s caretaker Jarvis kept the theatre locked at all times. It wouldn’t explain everything, but it was still more likely than a ghost.
‘That’s actually not a bad theory,’ I said.
‘Don’t look so shocked.’
Someone cleared their throat very loudly and we both jumped. I’d been so busy thinking about the case, I’d forgotten where we were.
‘No loitering,’ the 7–Eleven clerk said in a sour voice.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
‘We’re getting sandwiches, sir.’ Kevin’s face was the picture of innocence. ‘It’s just . . . there are so many delicious choices.’
The clerk sucked on his teeth unhappily and then turned and disappeared back towards the counter.
‘Man, that guy gives me the willies,’ Kevin said, dropping the angel act.
I grabbed a roast beef sub for me, veggie for my mom and tuna salad for Della and hurried towards the counter.
‘So what’s our next move?’ Kevin asked, adding a meatball marinara to the top of the pile.
‘Our next move?’
‘Yes, our next move. We’re a team, remember? Besides, you need someone you can trust. An outsider,’ he said. ‘Because unless you think a ghost is behind all the problems, the culprit is one of them.’ He pointed across the street in the direction of the Beryl.
Kevin was right. I should have never let him spend so much time with my dad, he was getting way too sharp. I didn’t want to believe it, but the way Jarvis guarded the building the only person who could have prised up the safe, or smashed Della’s mirror, had to be someone with access to the Beryl. It had to be someone I knew.
I put the subs on the counter and ignored the suspicious look the clerk gave me when I handed him a twenty. He checked it with one of those counterfeit detector pens three times before giving me my change.
‘I’d like mine hot,’ Kevin told the clerk with an angelic grin.
The man took Kevin’s sandwich and actually backed towards the microwave so he could keep watching us. Kevin leant against the counter as we waited.
‘So,’ he prompted. ‘Our next move?’
I sighed. ‘I’m not sure. I need time to think. We need to figure out how the facts fit together. And we need to finish cleaning out the gas house for the lobby display.’
Somewhere on the other side for the counter, the microwave dinged.
‘Wait, we need to keep doing that? It’s so gross in there. Isn’t s
olving the mystery more important?’ Kevin practically batted his eyelashes at me.
‘Nope. Cleaning the gas house is our cover. Besides, Linda needs a display and I don’t want to let her down. And don’t even think about slinking off to make pie-eyes at Matthew Strange and leaving all the work to me. If you’re in for the case, you’re in for the cleaning.’
The clerk came back and handed Kevin his sandwich.
‘Thank you, sir, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’
‘I’m sure,’ the clerk sneered, and watched us like we were criminals until we left the shop.
‘We’re going to have to clean that before we go home,’ I said, pointing at the neon green staining the Beryl’s facade. Beware the Curse. Kevin stopped in the middle of the street and stared at me. ‘Wait, you’re going to clean up after that brat?’
I shrugged. ‘Someone’s got to do it.’
Kevin stared at me, open-mouthed. A car honked and I grabbed his arm, pulling him on to the pavement and up the Beryl’s steps.
‘Besides, it’s like you said. If we clean the wall, we’ll have another chance to catch him when he comes back in the morning.’
Kevin’s gape turned into a grin and he clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together like some sort of arch-villain.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Payback!’
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t care about revenge, although I did want my phone back. More importantly, Kevin had been right when he said the graffiti wasn’t normal. Now that the Beryl’s equation was starting to add up to sabotage, I had to wonder if there was more to the graffiti bandit than just some bored kid looking for trouble. I needed to catch him to get some answers.
The front door to the Beryl swung open so suddenly I almost dropped the sandwiches. Jarvis, the Beryl caretaker, glared out at us. He wore black from head to toe and crêpe-soled shoes. His hair was scraped back into a ponytail and his fingernails were dirty and cracked. And he guarded the doors to the Beryl like a dog with an extra-special bone.
‘Cast and crew meeting on the stage. They’re waiting for you.’ His voice was gruff, like he had better things to be doing than delivering messages.