Much Ado About Murder

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  The dress, which was actually a skirt and matching bodice, was fitted on a mannequin, covered in a dust sheet. Aaron gently lifted the protective covering off the garment, and the two stood back and surveyed it. It was made of a sturdy cotton in a dark-green pattern of checks with a plain collar. The lined bodice included a row of tiny buttons down the front. The full skirt, which had not yet been hemmed, featured squares of a larger plaid, which had been appliquéd to form a diamond pattern, about eighteen inches from the floor. “That worked out well,” said Charlotte, pointing at it. “Now what are we going to do about crinolines? How big will the skirt be?” she made a circular, puffy motion by swinging her hands around her hips.

  “I’ll talk to Audrey and see how big she wants it. My suggestion will be big enough to add a bit of volume, but not so big as to restrict movement.”

  “That’s right. We’re not doing The King and I.” Charlotte checked her watch. “They’re due in a few minutes.”

  “I learned a lot, actually, by sitting in on rehearsals and listening to what the actors had to say about their characters,” said Aaron. “I didn’t realize that actors focus on what their character is doing in the moment, while the director worries about the big picture. I hadn’t thought of a play in that light before. And what I picked up from watching Audrey in rehearsal is how sharp her Beatrice character is. Definitely ahead of her time but still mindful of her position in Leonato’s household. So I thought about what kind of clothes she would wear. She would wear something traditional, but maybe just a little edgy, so I tried to design a dress that should move well with her. That’s the most important part, besides the silhouette, of course.”

  As he finished speaking, a flurry of activity at the door announced the arrival of Audrey and her sister.

  “Only us!” Maxine called out.

  “Come in,” said Charlotte. “Aaron’s finished your main costume, Audrey. We’ll dress it up with a shawl and bonnet for the outdoor scenes, and once we see how it fits, we’ll whip up a fairly similar one for the wedding scene. If you’d like to go ’round behind the screen and try it on, we’ll get started. You’ll find a petticoat there for you.”

  Aaron removed the skirt and bodice from the mannequin and placed them gently in Maxine’s outstretched arms. She and Audrey disappeared behind the screen. Aaron crossed his arms, glanced at Charlotte, and walked slowly back and forth until Audrey emerged from behind the screen, followed by a scowling Maxine. Audrey walked to the full-length mirror and, turning this way and that as she plumped up the skirt and tugged at the bodice, examined her image.

  Charlotte retreated to her office chair as Aaron stepped forward to lead the costume fitting. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

  “It needs more fullness,” said Maxine, fussing around Audrey. “More poofiness.”

  “It’s a period day dress, remember, not a ball gown,” said Charlotte. “We can add some volume, but not too much.”

  “She has to move quickly around the other characters,” Aaron added. “Audrey, walk around for a bit and get the feel of it. And then we can talk about shoes.”

  Audrey walked up and down, practiced a few turns, experimented with a few sweeping hand gestures to test how the dress felt along the back and shoulders, and returned to Aaron. “It feels fine,” she said.

  “And what about the color?” asked Maxine. “She’ll look very dull and drab. This looks like something a governess would wear. It would be fine if she was playing Jane Eyre, but she’s playing bright, lively Beatrice. What’s that girl playing Hero wearing? Something youthful and pretty, I’ll bet. We want all eyes on Audrey, and they won’t be in that frumpy dress.” She folded her arms and glared at Charlotte. “And that row of buttons down the front! It looks ridiculous!”

  “If you’re as unhappy with the costume as you seem to be, Maxine, we’ll need to discuss this with the director. We made this costume with his approval. This is how he envisions Beatrice,” Charlotte said, “and presumably, we received our direction after he and Audrey had fully explored the character.”

  A pink line began to form on Maxine’s neck and gradually flushed upward until her face was glowing.

  “And about the director,” Maxine said, “and this absurd Civil War thing. I thought after Edmund killed himself that that idea would be dropped. It’s preposterous that anyone would think of doing such a daft thing.”

  Audrey shot her a look Charlotte couldn’t quite read. “Maxine,” Charlotte said in a calm, soothing voice, “the Civil War train has left the station. The costume looks fine, but if you like, we can add a bit of lace on the collar to dress it up. When Aaron’s finished with the detailing, it will work very well.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure,” said Maxine, raising her voice. She turned to Audrey. “It doesn’t suit you, and I don’t think it does you justice.”

  “I really don’t care what you think,” Audrey muttered.

  “Well, you bloody well should!” Maxine exploded. “You should care very much what I think!”

  Chapter 21

  “Wow,” said Aaron when the sisters had departed. “What do we do now?” He removed his tape measure from around his neck and rolled it up.

  “We keep calm and carry on,” Charlotte replied. “We’ve got more fittings coming up and we’re going to get on with them. And by the way, you did a terrific job on that costume, so don’t take what Maxine said personally. You did exactly what you were asked to do, and you did it professionally and skillfully.” She frowned. “I must say, Maxine was really wound up, wasn’t she? I wonder what that was really about.”

  “She thought the dress didn’t suit her sister?”

  “I got the feeling there was more to it. There’s a tension there.”

  Aaron carried the disputed garment back to its mannequin and arranged it carefully, brushing his hand down the row of navy-blue buttons down the front. “I was a bit hurt she didn’t like the buttons,” he said. “I thought they were a nice decorative detail. I put a lot of thought into them.” The buttons were not used to actually open and close the garment; strips of Velcro sewn on a band behind them allowed for easy opening of the bodice to facilitate a quick costume change, and having the fastening at the front rather than the back meant the actress could handle costume changes herself rather than having to rely on a dresser. “Audrey left before I could measure the hem length. She’ll have to come back for a second fitting.”

  “Hopefully she can leave Maxine at home next time. We don’t need her negativity.” Charlotte checked her workbook for the list of fittings scheduled for the day. “The rest of the morning is free and then lots of fittings this afternoon, including Mattie.”

  Aaron wheeled the mannequin out of the way, positioned it against the wall, and draped the sheet over it. “That’s because they’re all at rehearsal this morning. It’s the wedding scene. Mattie’s wedding dress is almost finished, and I’ve got time to work on it now so it’s ready for her fitting this afternoon.”

  “Okay, you do that. I’m going to sit in on the rehearsal.”

  Theater rehearsal rooms are almost always closed to outsiders. They’re meant to be safe places where actors can try on a role and wear it for an hour or a day, experiment, do anything and everything to find the heart and voice of a role, make mistakes, and indulge in whimsy and nonsense until they understand where their character has come from and what he seeks and why he wants it. They do this by playing off other actors, and gradually, as they work out the mechanics of the play and the technical aspects, it comes together as the words are lifted off their pages and take on a life of their own.

  Charlotte paused outside the rehearsal room and cracked open the door an inch or two. Hearing Wade speaking to the cast, she slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She moved along the wall, maneuvered her way around a bicycle, and stood between it and the piano, listening.

  “As we’ve discussed before, gender politics is central to this play,” said Wade, “and in
no place is that more evident than in the aborted wedding scene. When Claudio thinks Hero has been unfaithful to him, he humiliates and rejects her and then refuses to marry her. And as if that weren’t bad enough for Hero, her own father, Leonato, sides with Claudio and wishes his daughter dead for the shame she has brought to the house.”

  While he paused to let the effect of his words sink in, Charlotte looked at Mattie, who was playing Hero. Her eyes were shining, and she was hanging on Wade’s every word. Charlotte could almost see the wheels spinning as Mattie processed what this could mean to the way she played this scene. Charlotte’s attention moved on to Audrey, who was studying her fingernails. After losing interest in them, she gazed at the clock above the door, and when her eyes met Charlotte’s, she gave her an ingratiating smile. Charlotte realized that she wasn’t paying attention because Wade wasn’t talking about her.

  “And how this wedding scene is played will affect how the audience will view the ending of the play, when, her innocence having been proved, Hero agrees to marry Claudio, despite his earlier treatment of her. What does this mean? Does the audience think the couple will live happily ever after? Will a modern audience, and modern women particularly, accept the marriage? Or will they think she should reject him?”

  He looked around the cast. “Well, let’s play it out, shall we, and see what happens. Let’s have Hero and Claudio, here”—he motioned to the two actors—“and Leonato and the friar over here, and the rest of you bring chairs behind them as if you were in the chapel.” He leaned over and exchanged a few words with the actor playing Claudio. “Right. Places, everyone. Now remember, Claudio has been tricked into thinking he saw Hero being unfaithful to him, and everybody has gathered in the church for the ceremony where he and Hero are expected to marry. And let’s begin.”

  The scene begins with a light exchange and continues as Claudio interrupts the friar, who is conducting the service, to ask Hero’s father if he gives his daughter freely in marriage. When Leonato replies he does, Claudio responds, “There, Leonato, take her back again.”

  And with that, the actor playing Claudio grabbed Mattie by her upper arm and flung her away from him. Mattie, not expecting to be thrown so roughly, cried out as the actor playing Leonato reached out for her.

  “Keep going!” shouted Wade. The emotion intensified, and Mattie, caught up in the moment, gave a chilling performance, filled with fear and confusion, punctuated by real tears. When it was over, the cast stood up and applauded. Audrey, Charlotte noticed, was just that little bit slower to rise, her smile seemed forced and insincere for all her acting skills, and her applause seemed halfhearted, as if she were performing an unpleasant task that was expected of her.

  “Well done,” said Wade. “I think we’re ready to move out of this cloistered rehearsal room and onto the stage. What do you think? Are you up for it?”

  Cast members nodded eagerly in agreement. “Good for you,” Wade said. “Normally we’d spend at least four weeks in a rehearsal room, and we haven’t had anything like that, so to move this quickly is exceptional. You’ve all done a wonderful job. Let’s leave it there for this morning. Some of you have your first costume fittings this afternoon, and I know you’ll enjoy that. Let’s go for lunch and we can talk there. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

  The cast filed out and Charlotte stayed behind to pick up the water bottles they’d left behind. She found a copy of the script and a red sweater draped on a chair, but she left them where they were, assuming that sooner or later they’d be missed and their owners would return looking for them.

  She sat in one of the plastic chairs and thought about the scene she’d just watched. Mattie had given an astonishing performance and had really seemed to lose herself in this character. Charlotte wondered if Wade had been coaching her. Would Mattie have been able to achieve something like that under Edmund’s direction?

  And the way the cast was responding to Wade, it was as if Edmund’s short time here had never happened. From a crushing disappointment at not getting the appointment that had originally gone to Edmund, to now be leading the cast into what could very well turn into a hit, Wade had certainly made his mark.

  Charlotte stood up and, after taking one last look around the room, closed the door behind her, dropped the water bottles into a recycling bin, and left the hotel by the back door. On the short walk to her bungalow, her thoughts returned to Mattie and Wade. Both had benefitted from Edmund’s death. Wade had got the directing job he wanted, and Mattie had found herself rid of a man in the position to cause her embarrassment now and possibly scandal later in her career. But had either benefitted enough to want him dead?

  And what about Barnes, who adored Audrey? Had he seen or heard Edmund mistreating Audrey in some way that had prompted him to lash out at Edmund? Had he gone to see him, argued with him, somehow got hold of the gun, and used it to kill Edmund?

  And then there was Nancy, who feared a Civil War–themed production could hurt the hotel’s reputation and, if bookings dropped, could even mean she was laid off again.

  Who had the most to lose? Charlotte thought. Or, to put it another way, who had the most to gain from Edmund’s death?

  Chapter 22

  After walking Rupert and eating a quick bowl of soup, Charlotte returned to her workroom, where Aaron was setting up for the afternoon fittings. Without any coaching from Charlotte, he’d come up with the idea of creating a mourning dress for Hero’s waiting-gentlewoman, explaining to Charlotte that since the play was set after a war, there would have been casualties, and having a minor character dressed in black would reinforce that message. Charlotte had been impressed that he’d thought of that.

  So when she opened the workroom door, two dresses in stark contrast awaited her. One black, one white. She examined them. The black one was made of a dull cotton, had no trim, and was plain and functional. The white garment, however—Hero’s wedding dress—was a frothy feast for the eyes. The bodice ended in a tightly fitted waist, and the bell-shaped skirt flared into several rows of organza flounces. Underneath was a stiff petticoat.

  “This costume might have to accommodate some rough stage action,” Charlotte said when Aaron showed it to her. “Claudio got a bit physical with Hero in the rehearsal today, so you have to make sure it’s not too tight, especially across the back. It would be awful if it tore.” Aaron winced. “It would be difficult to repair in a hurry. If we had more time, and in a perfect world, we’d have a backup.”

  One by one, the cast members filed in for their fittings. Some took longer than others, as Aaron and Charlotte discussed the garments with each actor. Charlotte was amused that Aaron had adopted a contemplative stance from the cohost of a popular clothing-design reality show, standing with his left hand clasping his right elbow and resting his chin on his right fist while he frowned and pondered the actor in front of him. Notes were made and pinned to each costume indicating the necessary adjustments, and the garments were hung on a separate rack ready for Aaron’s attention in the morning.

  At 4:00 PM, on time and accompanied by Wade Radcliffe, Mattie entered the costume department. “I just want to make sure the dress will hold up in the scene,” Wade said. “As you saw, we’re going to play it with robustness.”

  “It was impressive. I explained the situation to Aaron.” She pulled out a chair, gestured to Wade to sit, and the fitting was under way. Twenty minutes later, the dress was declared a success, Wade left, and Mattie, once more wearing street clothes, was ready to leave. Charlotte glanced at Aaron, who was fussing over the dress.

  “All finished for the day, are you, Mattie?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes, I am. You?”

  “Oh, I think I could be, if it’s okay with Aaron.” Aaron nodded his approval and went back to his dress. “Right, then, see you in the morning.”

  Charlotte and Mattie walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” said Mattie. “Would you like to go for a walk?”


  “I like walking,” said Charlotte, “but I don’t see any point to it unless I’ve got Rupert. We’ll stop off and collect him, if that’s all right with you.” A few minutes later, with Rupert scurrying ahead of them, they entered the acre or so of parkland that bordered the hotel. It was familiar to Rupert, and he ran ahead to check out favorite smells.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” Charlotte said as they watched the puffy fur on his back legs, “about Edmund.” Mattie let out a little groan. “When you and he . . . well, did you get the feeling that he was practiced at that sort of thing . . . that you weren’t the first?”

  “Seducing a young actress, you mean?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And afterward, how did he leave it? Did he ask you not to tell anyone?”

  Mattie thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think he did. I think he knew that I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone, because it would make me look as stupid as I felt.” After a moment, she added, “I hadn’t thought about that before, but now that you mention it, it was the other way ’round. It was more like I was afraid he would tell someone. And he sensed that was how I felt. I can’t remember his exact words, but he said something to let me know he had something he could hold over me.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Well, as you can imagine, I felt threatened. It was really unpleasant. I felt dirty—violated even, to be honest.” Mattie shuddered. “Now can we please talk about something else? What did you think of the wedding scene rehearsal?”

  “It was wonderful. You really infused it with a lot of emotion. I got the sense that you’ve been discussing your part with Wade.”

  “It was you, really, who showed me what the part could be, and then I talked to him. I’ve learned so much from him. Much more than I ever would have learned from Edmund. All he cared about was himself and what this play could mean for his career.”