Break a Leg, Darlings

by Marian Babson

  The piercing scream stopped her in her tracks as she turned away. Evangeline and I froze, then leapt to our feet.

  There were shouts outside and a loud sickening thud. Then silence.

  We dashed to the exit, Cara only a short length ahead of us, and crowded into the little hallway at the top of the stairs. Some of the audience were still on the stairs, but had pushed themselves back against the wall, staring down in horror.

  'Sweetums –' Terence leaned over the banister, just two steps below us. 'Sweetums!' he cried brokenly.

  But Sweetums was far more broken than he was. She lay motionless at the foot of the stairs, her head at an odd angle. She did not appear to be breathing.

  Then, from somewhere in the distance beyond her, there was the distinct and unmistakable sound of a champagne cork popping.

  Before we left the penthouse, Evangeline must have plugged in the telephone again. It was ringing when we opened the door. I closed the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes; I could not face one more thing tonight.

  'I'll get it.' I heard Evangeline's footsteps cross the floor. 'Hello?'

  There was a long silence. Eventually, I opened my eyes to see Evangeline replacing the receiver.

  'Beau was right,' she said thoughtfully. 'We really must get this number changed.'

  'Was it... him again?'

  'Probably. I certainly hope there aren't two of them around. He informed me that we had less than twenty-four hours. If we don't do the "decent thing" by midnight, he's coming after us.'

  11

  'A sad loss ...' Evangeline was paying tribute over the telephone when I entered the living room later, much later, that morning. 'Yes, I made one film with her. Practically everyone in the business worked with her ... once.'

  I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes at her, reminding her that she was speaking to the media.

  'It was a memorable experience.' Evangeline covered quickly, in the special voice she used for interviews – which had given me my clue. 'She was so vital, so spontaneous, so –' She allowed her voice to break huskily. 'So alive. Thank heavens she left so many brilliant films behind her. It's hard to believe we'll never see her again.'

  I applauded silently as she replaced the phone.

  'And they'd better hammer a stake through her heart to make sure of that,' Evangeline said, heading for the kitchen.

  'Do you think we ought to leave the telephone plugged in?' I trailed after her, feeling somewhat jittery.

  'Why not? We've already had our ultimatum. We've got until midnight to do the decent thing.'

  'Whatever that is.'

  'Yes, that's the problem, isn't it? What do you suppose someone like that would consider "the decent thing"?'

  'The mind boggles.' I popped bread in the toaster while Evangeline absently attended to the coffee machine. It was the only time in the day when she pulled her weight in the kitchen, probably because she was never quite awake enough to notice she was doing it.

  The doorbell startled me as I was setting our places at the table. I froze, staring in the direction of the entrance hall as though a ghost were about to materialize there. 'It couldn't be –'

  'Of course not,' Evangeline said crossly. 'We have until midnight. Besides, that's the inside bell. Someone already in the building is ringing it.'

  She was right, it was an inside job. The hammering on the door began before I was halfway across the living room, reinforced by Beau's hearty baritone.

  'Evangeline! Trixie! You in there? You all right? Open the door!' There was a fresh burst of hammering.

  'All right, all right, keep your shirt on. I'm coming!' I bellowed back at him. 'You needn't break the door down,' I said, opening it.

  'I told you they were all right.' Juanita followed more placidly as Beau charged into the room. 'Why shouldn't they be?'

  'I just wanted to make sure.' Beau was on the defensive now. He looked at us half defiantly. 'Where the hell did you disappear to last night? I was going to wait for you after that policeman was finished with us, but he said you'd already left.'

  'We had an alibi,' Evangeline said smugly. 'We were talking to one of the singers. We never went near the stairs at all.'

  'Alibi?' Juanita lost her placidity. 'I do not like that word! Surely, what happened was an accident. Those stairs were dangerous.'

  'Not as bad as some I've seen,' I said cheerfully.

  'Yeah?' Beau glared at us. 'Well, this is the last time we go to a theatre with you two.'

  I could live with that and so could Evangeline. She turned on her heel and started back to the kitchen.

  'Come and have some coffee,' she called over her shoulder. 'You'll feel better.'

  'Nothing will make me feel better.' He slumped down at the kitchen table and began gnawing at the piece of toast I'd just buttered for myself. 'You didn't see Sweetums the way I did. She landed practically at my feet. If I'd taken one more step down, I'd have stepped on her. And the noise she made –' he dropped the toast; suddenly it held no attraction for him.

  'Just coffee, thank you.' If Juanita was troubled by intimations of mortality, she gave no sign of it.

  Evangeline slammed the cup down in front of her with, perhaps, more force than was necessary. Some of the liquid splashed over the side of the cup, flooding the saucer.

  'And a fresh saucer,' Juanita murmured serenely.

  'I think I could use some more toast.' Beau was recovering.

  'Yes, madam. Yes, sir. Will that be all? We short-order cooks just live to serve!'

  'I'll do the toast.' I rushed to the toaster, snapping at Evangeline out of the corner of my mouth, 'You did invite them, you know!'

  'What the hell's the matter with you?' Beau stared at her in amazement.

  'I am sorry.' Juanita was quicker on the uptake. 'We have been too long on board ship. It will take some time to readjust to a world in which everyone does not exist to do our bidding.'

  Evangeline snorted and turned away.

  'This is one helluva homecoming,' Beau brooded. 'First, no home to come back to, then Sweetums dying right at our feet like that. We shoulda stayed on the ship, or in Paris, even.'

  'Incredible!' Evangeline said.

  'You can say that again.' Beau grabbed eagerly for the fresh toast I brought over. 'I just can't believe that boy could get himself into such a financial fix.'

  'Not Jasper,' Evangeline said. 'Sweetums.'

  'Yes.' I knew what she meant. 'It is incredible to think of Sweetums Carew ending up dying a natural death – when she's been asking for murder all her life.'

  'Exactly!' Evangeline said.

  'Now wait a minute,' Beau said nervously. 'I don't like that look in your eye. An accident counts as a natural death. At least, at Sweetums's age and loaded with champagne and fooling around at the top of a flight of stairs, it does.'

  'Sweetums Carew was in the same age range as we are,' Juanita said. 'Whether she admitted it or not.' She did a little brooding herself.

  'Yeah, but we stayed sober,' Beau said.

  'I'm not sure that had anything to do with it.' Evangeline looked into the distance thoughtfully. 'Except that it made her an easier target for ... someone.'

  'Evangeline!' I knew that look. It was the one she wore in The Happy Couple series just before she outwitted the stupid policeman in charge of the case yet again. 'Don't you dare even think such a thing!'

  'I'm not the only one to suspect foul play. Why do you imagine Hoo-Ha kept asking everyone all those questions? And wasn't he disappointed' – Evangeline grinned – 'when he discovered we had an iron-clad alibi?'

  'I thought he was never going to let us go,' Beau said. 'He sure was anxious to pin something on somebody.'

  'Did she fall or was she pushed?' Juanita was getting that faraway look, too. 'Was there not a film of that title? Or was that the advertising line for it?'

  'No!' I was surrounded by them. I started for the living room just as the doorbell rang.

  'Now that is the outside
bell,' Evangeline called after me. 'Be careful.'

  'Why? What's the matter now?' Beau asked.

  I checked the TV monitor, recognized the face staring up at the camera above the front door, and automatically pressed the lock-release button before I realized who it was.

  'Oh, noooo!' I wailed. The situation had lacked only this.

  'What is it?' Evangeline dashed into the room. 'Who is it?'

  'Don't look now –' in fact, she couldn't, the face had disappeared from the tiny screen. He was already inside the building. I didn't want to tell her, but he was going to be at the door in another minute.

  'Don't look now,' I repeated feebly. 'But we've just inherited Terence!'

  At least, that got rid of Beau and Juanita. One look at Terence's woebegone face and they instantly remembered something terribly urgent they had to attend to back in Jasper's flat.

  'I hope you don't mind my coming here like this,' Terence said, 'but I had to see you. Talk to you. You were her friends –' He broke off, struggling for control.

  Evangeline and I carefully refrained from looking at each other.

  'Come and sit down and have a cup of coffee,' I said. Thank heaven we'd got all those new cups and saucers.

  'Thank you.' He took several deep breaths as he followed us into the kitchen, making it sound as though we had a heavy breather right behind us. I tried not to worry about his sanity. Anyone who could be a fan of Sweetums ...

  'I'm sorry the others left,' he said. 'I'll want to talk to them, too.'

  'I don't think they can tell you very much about Sweetums.' I was treading carefully in the face of his obvious grief. 'Neither can we. None of us have seen her for decades.'

  'Oh, I don't need to hear anything like that,' he said. 'I know all about Sweetums Carew.'

  I doubted that, but wasn't going to be the one to enlighten him further.

  'No.' He accepted his coffee and sipped at it absently. 'No, I want to enlist your aid in planning her memorial service.'

  'Memorial service?' Evangeline echoed faintly, sinking into a chair.

  'Yes. A Tribute. A Celebration of her Life. I thought I'd –' He broke off, looking at us anxiously. 'Unless you'd like to organize it yourselves?'

  Evangeline opened her mouth but, for once, nothing came out. She was struck speechless at the thought of organizing a celebration for the life of Sweetums Carew.

  'Oh, we'd much rather leave that to you,' I said quickly, before she could get her breath back. 'We wouldn't know where to start.'

  'With the church.' He relaxed. 'We – the Magnificent Stars of Yesteryear Fan Club – would book the church. Usually, it's St Paul's, Covent Garden – that's traditionally the actors' church. Or else St Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar Square – they do a lot of memorial services too. Do you know if Sweetums would have had a preference?'

  'Preference?' The mind boggled. I wasn't sure Sweetums would have recognized a church if she had fallen into one. 'No, I don't think so. I'm sure whichever you choose would have been all right with Sweetums.'

  Evangeline began emitting little strangled whoops. Fortunately, Terence took them for signs of distress.

  'Oh, I'm sorry,' he apologized. 'I didn't mean to upset you. It's probably much too soon to raise the subject, but one has to book the church so far in advance. I'm sorry, I didn't think. You knew her so well, even if it was such a long time ago. You were her friends. You must be absolutely devastated.'

  Evangeline had regained control of her vocal cords, but her shoulders were still shaking, so was her entire body. She covered her face with her hands just in time.

  'Perhaps we should talk about this later.' I stood up firmly. Hoping Terence would take his cue. 'I believe we are rather too upset to have a conversation about it right now.'

  'Yes ... yes, of course.' He stumbled to his feet. 'I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking ...'

  He was still apologizing as I closed the door behind him and went back to Evangeline, who was rolling about helplessly, tears streaming from her eyes.

  'You. Are. Disgraceful!' Involuntarily, a giggle escaped me. Then another. In a moment, we were both whooping. I had got rid of Terence just in time.

  'Devastated!' Evangeline dabbed at her eyes. 'Grief-stricken! Over Sweetums!'

  'We'd better get it all out of our systems now.' I began to recover. 'We daren't twitch a muscle at the service. All those people from the fan club will be watching us.'

  Suddenly, it wasn't funny at all any more.

  'Yes.' Evangeline dried her eyes, completely serious now. Perhaps it had been a touch of hysteria that needed release.

  Actually being present at the sudden death of one of our colleagues, however much we disliked her, was unsettling to say the least.

  'Oh, well.' Evangeline stood and began clearing the table. 'The show must go on.'

  I was glad she didn't add, Sweetums would have wanted it that way.

  Cold Dark Hearts at the Drawbridge wasn't bad. Unfortunately, it wasn't good, either. A long time ago, it would have had a modest run in a small Broadway theatre, earning back its operating nut and possibly making a small profit before going on the Straw Hat circuit and being released to amateur companies. But television had come along and scooped up all those sort of plays for fodder. It was kind of restful to see one again.

  'They're talking about a West End transfer for this,' Ledbetter said. 'If they put it into one of the small intimate theatres, it might do well.'

  The gang was all here. The minute we walked into the saloon bar downstairs, we had been hailed as old friends and buddies. Vic and Adam had come forward to greet us and invite us to join their party. Ledbetter looked up from his place in the corner with a beaming smile, which may have been for us or may have been because the others seemed to be showering him with money. He stuffed a large wad of bills into his pocket as he rose to greet us. Mark and Paul rushed to get chairs for us.

  'The Sylvesters aren't coming tonight?' Greg looked around. 'They're all right, I hope.'

  'They're fine,' I said. 'They just aren't as committed to the theatre as we are.'

  'Oh, good.' He did not sound especially happy about it.

  'Beau and Juanita are film stars first and last.' I tried to soften what appeared to be a blow to him. 'Evangeline and I started out in the legitimate theatre. Despite all our films, it will always be our first love.'

  Evangeline's snort made me aware that I was talking as though giving an interview – and also that 'legitimate' was hardly the word for the sort of performances we had been witnessing of late.

  Champagne was offered, but we declined. Somehow, Sweetums's highpitched giggle was too associated with that drink.

  'Brandy,' Evangeline said firmly. I agreed. Adam rushed off to get it.

  The Drawbridge didn't have a bell, it had a buzzer. It was still annoying. I was beginning to long for a quiet evening undominated by bells, buzzers and the need to climb narrow rickety stairs to hard uncomfortable seats.

  It was not until the momentary silence between the lights going down and the curtain rising that it occurred to me that no one had even mentioned Sweetums or referred to the night before. I didn't know whether to admire their tact or wonder if the whole episode had meant so little to their young lives that they had dismissed it already.

  For once, the show wasn't all that bad. Perhaps being surrounded by personable young men added to our enjoyment. It was very pleasant to remain in our seats at the interval while willing minions dashed downstairs to get us fresh drinks.

  Cold Dark Hearts even ended on an upbeat note, sending the audience out in a good mood. Perhaps it would do well in the West End. It was worth a try. However – an exchange of glances with Evangeline confirmed this – it had nothing to offer us. The playwright was not quite on our wavelength and unlikely to be in the foreseeable future.

  Our clique escorted us downstairs in style. Vic and Adam went ahead of us, Mark and Paul followed behind, while Ledbetter and Greg acted as outriders on the side unpro
tected by the banister. It might have been flattering had I not suspected that the thought of Sweetums and her fate was not so far from their minds, after all.

  'One for the road,' Vic suggested, a note of relief in his voice as we cleared the last step safely.

  'Perhaps one,' Evangeline agreed. We allowed them to lead us back to the table in the corner. Vic and Adam went off to buy the drinks, returning in record time.

  As everyone settled down around us with their drinks, I noticed Greg slipping a ten-pound note to Ledbetter.

  'Stake-holding again?' Evangeline hadn't missed it, either. 'Can anyone join your game? I wouldn't mind a little flutter myself.'

  'Oh, no!' Ledbetter started convulsively, shocked horror on his face. 'No, you don't want to join in this sweepstake. You wouldn't like it at all.'

  'No, you mustn't,' Vic agreed uncomfortably. 'It isn't in very good taste.' Suddenly embarrassment was palpable in the air.

  Evangeline quirked an eyebrow at me and I quirked one back at her. What could they be betting on? And how sweet of the dear boys to want to protect our innocence. Obviously they had never heard the stories of some of the wilder Hollywood parties where drunken moguls won bets by having dim-witted starlets measure out their manhood by balancing quarters along the length of their -

  'There they are!' The door burst open and a raving maniac erupted into the room, all but foaming at the mouth.

  'There they are, the dirty bitches!' He charged straight at us, heedless of the placating figure making soothing noises just behind him.

  Vic and Adam pushed back their chairs in alarm and stood ready to defend us. It was as well we had the table between us and the wild-eyed maniac.

  'They used to hang people like you where you came from!' he howled. They hung horse thieves!'

  'Dorsal! Dorsal! Take it easy!' Brendan plucked at his friend's elbow unheeded.

  'They knew how to treat horse thieves!' he thundered. 'Hang them! Hang them!'

  I wasn't sure how horses got into this, but I recognized the enthusiasm for hanging. 'You're the one who's been telephoning us.'