The blue-and-white-striped curtains were closed, but in the muted light that filtered through, she could make out that the matching bedspread had been loosely pulled up. She flicked on the overhead light. She gazed around the room and saw no personal effects. Not a photo in a frame, a book on the bedside table, or a box of tissues. She checked the closet. Empty. She grasped the metal pull on the top drawer of the bureau and opened it, but she knew from the lightness of it as it slid toward her what she would see when it was open: nothing.
A mounting sense of confused disbelief mixed with betrayal flooded her. It was one thing to return home for a few days upon the death of a parent, but there had to be more to his not returning than his reluctance to leave his mother or he would have assumed he was coming back and would not have taken all his belongings with him.
Simon had known when he left for Colorado that he was leaving for good and had done the cowardly thing and just packed up and left without telling her. They’d collaborated over the past year on successful theatrical productions and had laid the foundation of what could have been a successful theater school. What was he up to? And why would he feel he had to do a runner?
She took note of the kitchen more closely as she and Rupert passed through on their way out. Like the rest of the bungalow, it was clean and neat. Dishes had been washed and put away and the counter cleared except for one thing: a key. Just the key, with no note. As a rush of anger surged through her veins, she locked the door to the bungalow, pocketed the key, and walked with Rupert back to the path that led to her bungalow and then on to the hotel.
Just as they reached the path, the door to the neighboring star bungalow opened and Audrey emerged, looking trim in a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved white pullover with a brightly patterned turquoise scarf draped around her neck. She waved at Charlotte and walked purposefully along the path toward her.
Her makeup had been applied with a light, skillful touch, and in the soft early morning light, she looked fresh and youthful. “Good morning,” Charlotte greeted her. “I hope you slept well.”
“Oh, yes, I did, thanks, but I can’t say the same for Maxine. The bed was heavenly. I was asleep almost as soon as you left. I’ve been up for a couple of hours already, catching up with the British news. Honestly, I don’t know how we traveled before the days of Wi-Fi.”
“I don’t know how we did anything.”
Audrey smiled and motioned to the hotel. “I’m not really one for a big breakfast. No full English for me, thanks. A bit of fruit is all I usually have, and sometimes a piece of toast with marmalade. I wondered if the hotel might do such a thing.”
“Of course they can do that for you. If you can give me a few minutes to feed Rupert and get changed, I’d be happy to walk over with you, and then after breakfast, I can give you a little backstage tour.”
“Oh, that sounds good. Shall we meet up, in say twenty—no, better make it thirty minutes? That should give you plenty of time. I’ll see how Maxine is doing and if she’s ready to join us. She’s been up since all hours working on e-mails.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”
*
Charlotte set out Rupert’s breakfast and then headed for the shower. When she returned ten minutes later to check on him, he was in his basket, following her movements through adoring, contented brown eyes.
“Good boy,” she said in that slightly higher-pitched voice dog owners use to speak to their beloved pets. “I’m just going to get dressed.” She disappeared again, and Rupert closed his eyes. He opened them a little when the phone on the table jingled a tinny little tune, but it soon stopped and he went to sleep.
Dressed for the day, Charlotte returned to the kitchen and gathered up her tote bag and phone. One missed call: Paula. She pressed the return call button, and a moment later, Paula was letting her know she’d been in touch with Wade Radcliffe, who was very much available and keen to help in any way he could, and could Audrey be available for a meeting this morning at eleven o’clock?
“I’m just off to have breakfast with her now,” Charlotte said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, but tell Wade we’ll see him at eleven. We can all meet up in my office and go together to the read-through room.”
After saying good-bye to Rupert, she found Audrey and Maxine waiting for her on the path to the hotel. They made polite small talk as they walked, with Charlotte briefly answering Audrey’s question on how she’d ended up in the Catskills.
“I’m sure there’s a wonderful story there,” Audrey said. “I did hear you had previously been with the RSC. We must have just missed each other.”
They had reached the back door of the hotel and Charlotte pulled it open. “The cafeteria is along here to the right,” she said. “This is for theater people and hotel staff. We don’t eat in the main dining room with the guests.”
Maxine’s eyebrows shot up as they entered the cafeteria and she took in the plastic tables and chairs. “Here?” she asked. “Audrey’s expected to take her meals here?” Charlotte nodded as she placed a tray on the rail that ran along in front of the service area, where trays of scrambled eggs, sausages, and bacon were set over pans of simmering water. A help-yourself display featured small bowls filled with fresh fruit and individual servings of cereal and small containers of yogurt.
“You can take what you like from here,” said Charlotte, gesturing to the fruit and yogurt, “but if you want something cooked for you, just tell them what you’d like and they’ll prepare it for you. As for payment, once you’re properly set up, you’ll be given an account number for the cafeteria and everything is charged to that, as part of the room and board clause in your contract. But for today, we’ll put everything on my account.”
“Yes, I see. Well, let’s have a go.” Audrey slid the tray along, and when she reached the server, she ordered, “One slice of brown toast, with marmalade, and a pot of tea, please.” Using a pair of tongs, the server placed a piece of toast on a bread-and-butter plate and handed it to Audrey. She then shifted her attention to Charlotte. “What can I get you?”
“I’m just having a coffee, thanks,” she said.
“I’ll just have a coffee too,” said Maxine. “I had breakfast earlier at the bungalow.”
Audrey hesitated over the yogurt, selected a serving of fruit, and when they arrived at the checkout, the cashier placed three empty mugs on their tray, and Charlotte gave her an account number.
They moved on to an assortment of condiments and utensils on a small bistro-style table. Charlotte pulled a knife and spoon from the cutlery baskets, and Audrey scanned the selection of jams and jellies, butter and margarine, all prepackaged in individual packets, and placed a couple on the tray. Charlotte and Maxine filled their mugs from the coffee dispenser machine, and Charlotte added a splash of cream to hers. Seeing Audrey hesitate, she showed her how to unwrap her tea bag, place it in the mug, and cover it with hot water from a giant silver-colored urn. They then made their way to a clean, empty table, and Charlotte lifted the items off the tray.
“There you go,” she said, setting Audrey’s fruit, tea, and toast in front of her.
Audrey eyed her mug of tea. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t possibly drink that.”
“I know what you mean, but it’s the way it’s done in the cafeteria. There are no teapots. Maybe you’ll get used to it. Or next time, you could bring your teapot and cup with you. Nobody would mind. In the meantime, would you like me to get you some coffee instead?”
“No, thank you. I’ll just have the toast.” Under Maxine’s watchful, sympathetic eye, she hacked the slice of toast in half, peeled back the top of the butter packet, spread a bit on the piece of toast, added a dollop of marmalade from another packet, and nibbled at the corner.
“Now then,” said Maxine, leaning on the table and wrapping her hands around her coffee mug, “why don’t you tell us what Audrey is expected to do today.”
“We’ve scheduled a meeting for her with th
e director at eleven.”
“Oh, he’s back then, is he?”
“Well, no, not exactly. We learned last night that, unfortunately, Simon Dyer won’t be coming back. He’s decided to stay out in Colorado. It’s a terrible inconvenience to everyone, so we’re asking another director—who is local, known to the theater, and can be ready to go quickly—to step in. His name is Wade Radcliffe, and he’s the one you’ll be meeting this morning.”
With a little moue of disgust, Audrey replaced the piece of toast on the plate. Charlotte wasn’t sure if she was reacting to the news about the director or if the marmalade hadn’t quite met her English expectations.
“Audrey is contracted to work with Simon Dyer, not some other fellow we don’t know,” said Maxine. “We researched Mr. Dyer’s credentials thoroughly before agreeing to work with him, so we will have to discuss this new development, and, of course, I’ll have to review the contractual obligations.”
“By all means, have a chat,” said Charlotte, “but in the meantime, it would be helpful if you’d just agree to attend the meeting at eleven. We’re so short on time to get this production up and running, and we do need everyone’s cooperation.”
“Of course I’ll be there.” Audrey smiled graciously.
“Thank you,” said Charlotte. “We appreciate that.” She looked from one to the other. “I guess we’ll leave it there for the moment. Now, Audrey, on the way over here, you asked me how I landed in the Catskills, and I’m curious to know the same about you. What made you agree to come out here?”
“Oh,” said Audrey, poking at an orange segment with her fork. “I had the time. I’ve been signed for a starring role as Queen Victoria in a BBC production, but it doesn’t start filming until late winter, so I had the time for another project and thought this one might be fun.” She leaned forward and said in a lower voice, “And I heard on the grapevine that a rather special honor might be coming my way in the New Year.”
Picking up on the slight emphasis on the words “New Year,” Charlotte leaned forward, mirroring Audrey’s body language, and gave her a conspiratorial smile.
“Oh, and what might that be, I wonder?”
“Oh, come now, Charlotte! You’ve been around long enough to know one doesn’t want to jinx one’s chances by speaking too soon. For example, it’s much better to let others suggest how perfect you’d be in a role and then humbly protest.” She cast her eyes around the almost empty cafeteria. “But since you ask, and I know it will go no further, I have it on good authority that I’m going to be made a dame of the British Empire in the New Year’s Honours list. But one is simply not permitted to breathe a word of it. I will be notified in early December, and then I have to keep it absolutely to myself until the official announcement on New Year’s Day. So it’s critically important that this role here in America goes well and generates lots of good press for the British papers to pick up. The New York Times and national television programs, I hope. You understand how important media are to one’s career. I hope to meet soon with the theater’s media relations person so we can get press kits organized and set up interviews and so on.”
“Audrey, I’m not sure how this theater company was represented to you, but I’m afraid we don’t really have a media relations person. But I’d be happy to introduce you to our local arts reporter, and I’m sure he’d be interested in doing a story.”
“It’s not ideal, but we could start with that, I suppose, although it’s a bit early.” Her lips formed a little pouty frown that Charlotte thought had been used many times to get her what she wanted.
Maxine having finished her coffee, and aware that Audrey was unlikely to eat or drink anything, Charlotte asked, “Well, what would you like to do now? Would you like a backstage tour?”
Audrey consulted her watch and glanced at Maxine. “I think I’ll go back to my bungalow and brew myself a proper cup of tea, in a pot, and then I’ll be back in time for the meeting with the director, and you can show me around if you think you must. I don’t imagine there’s all that much to see. I am familiar with theater dressing rooms, and in my experience, most backstage areas are pretty much the same. I can find my way around them perfectly well.”
“Of course you can. Well, I’ll be working in my office in the costume department this morning, so perhaps you can find your way there, and I’ll help you get orientated on the way to the meeting. Paula Van Dusen will meet us in my office so we can all go together.”
Chapter 4
Paula Van Dusen arrived just a few minutes before eleven, escorted by a tall, lean man with thinning gray hair who appeared to be in his early sixties. His rimless eyeglasses gave him a studious, stern look that contrasted with his blue jeans and white shirt. As Paula introduced Wade Radcliffe to Charlotte, he offered her an earnest smile. They shook hands, but before Charlotte could invite them to sit down, Audrey appeared in the doorway. Freshly styled blonde curls framed her perfectly made-up face. She entered the room with a graceful stride and smiled at everyone. Maxine sloped in after her, clutching her battered leather briefcase in both arms.
“We’re not late, I hope,” Maxine said. “As you can imagine, I’ve been frantically busy with e-mails and phone calls.”
“I saw you perform in England,” Wade said to Audrey when Paula introduced them. “You were absolutely marvelous.” Introductions complete, the five set off for the room down the hall used for script read-throughs.
Most of the space was taken up by a boardroom table that could comfortably seat twenty, but five drinking glasses and a pitcher of water at one end indicated where they should sit. They took their places and Paula opened the conversation.
“Well, Miss Ashley—”
“Oh, please, call me Audrey.”
“Audrey. And Maxine. Thank you for agreeing to meet with Wade on such short notice, and we apologize that our previous director has seen fit—that is, won’t be returning to us. However, we do need to get our fall season under way as smoothly as possible, and Wade has a lot of experience with large- and small-scale productions and has done Shakespeare many times, so he can do this for us, and we were delighted that he was available.”
Wade acknowledged her remarks with a light smile and a small tip of his head.
Audrey nodded every now and then to show she was listening to the director as he described his vision for the production of Much Ado About Nothing in general and Audrey’s role as Beatrice in particular. Charlotte made costuming notes as he laid out his concept for a production with a traditional Elizabethan look. Maxine remained silent but also took a few notes.
He carefully skirted the issue of Audrey’s age, using soft, flattering words intended to ingratiate himself with her. Audrey signaled she’d heard enough by sitting back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap, and turning expectantly to Maxine, who shook her head lightly.
“Well, Wade, unless you have any questions, or anything to add, I think that wraps everything up,” said Paula.
“I just want to say how much I’d love to work with Miss Ashley, and I’d be thrilled to take on this project.”
“Wonderful, Wade,” said Paula. “Thank you so much for coming in. We’ll just have a little chat amongst ourselves, and I’ll be in touch soon.” The four women remained seated as Wade showed himself out.
“Well, I thought that went well,” said Paula to Maxine. She turned to Audrey. “What did you think?”
“I’m sure he’s a brilliant director,” she said, “and whilst I was most impressed by his experience, unfortunately, I don’t think he’s quite right for me.” Charlotte groaned inwardly.
Maxine set her briefcase on the desk, unzipped it, and folded it open. After removing a purple file folder, she zipped the briefcase back up and set it on the floor beside her chair. Opening the file folder, she removed a stack of a dozen or so pages. “As I’m sure you’re aware,” she said with a pointed nod in Paula’s direction, “Audrey’s contract”—she placed her hand on the papers for emphasis—“
gives her director approval. If she chooses not to work with the new director you have chosen, that is her right.”
“But . . .” Paula started to protest.
“However, we do have a director in mind who would be perfect,” Maxine said smoothly. Paula tipped her head to one side as Maxine continued. “Yes, I’ve been speaking to someone in London this morning, and subject to a few conditions, he’s willing to come out and take over the project. And he’s the director Audrey wants to work with.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk to Paula. “Here’s his information and his agent’s details. You can send the paperwork to the agent.”
“Audrey,” said Charlotte, “might I just ask why you want this particular director? Have you worked with him before?”
“Oh, yes. Edmund directed me in a play last year in Manchester. Serious Charges, it was called. Hugely successful run. We just worked so well together, and we always said we’d love to work together again, given the chance. I know he’ll help me bring something special to this role that no one else could. I trust him. And this could be the perfect opportunity for him to get his name known in American theatrical circles. From here to Broadway! Who knows?”
She gave a delicate little shrug, accompanied by a coy smile that said more than she probably intended.
“And as he won’t arrive for several days at least, I thought I’d spend some time in New York City. There doesn’t seem to be much to do around here. Could the Rolls-Royce be ready at, say, two o’clock to drive us into Manhattan?” She stood up. “Thank you so much. You’ve been very kind.”
Signaling that the discussion was over, Maxine gathered up her papers. When they had gone, Audrey leaving a light trail of an expensive fragrance in her wake, Paula turned to Charlotte and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Can you see the steam coming out my ears?” she demanded. “The Rolls-Royce indeed. Barnes can drive them to Rhinecliff and they can take the Amtrak from there. They’re lucky we’re not putting them on the Trailways bus.”
Much Ado About Murder Page 3