by Rayna Morgan
• • •
Within moments, the doctor standing on stage with Tom received an incoming call. When he passed the news to the Detective, Tom stared into space drawing in a long breath. Sadness clouded his features. He'd never get used to hearing the news someone's life had ended.
But it meant it was time for him to get to work. He turned back to the doctor. "That's it then. Give me a moment and I'll go out and tell people what's happened."
He broke away to call his squad at the homicide division. "We've got a suspicious death on our hands, looks like a case of poisoning. Send Jones to the hospital to follow up and send one of the team members over here to help me take statements."
He walked onto center stage. Squinting out into the audience, he delivered his message in the calm, steady voice which was his trademark for dealing with witnesses to a distressing event. "As you've heard, one of the cast members has collapsed." He paused, softening his voice. "We've been informed the actor, Barrett Mason, died on the way to the hospital."
Murmurs and gasps echoed through the room. Tom continued in a voice filled with authority. "I'm Lieutenant Tom Elliott, a Detective with the Buena Viaje Police Department. I was off-duty in the audience tonight. Obviously, the play will not continue. Before you leave the Theatre, we need to conduct a brief inquiry. Some of you may be asked to make a statement but don't worry; it's just routine. We'll try to have you all out of here within the hour."
Tom turned to the stage moving his gaze slowly from one cast member to another. "I'll speak with all of you now."
Julia Mason approached Tom. "Is this necessary?"
"I'm afraid it is in case there's an inquest based on the autopsy."
"Autopsy. What autopsy?"
"It's standard procedure. Death in unusual or suspicious circumstances has to be investigated."
"Alright, alright. But can we please get this over as quickly as possible?"
"Can you take me to a room where I can question the actors while an Officer speaks with the audience members?"
The temporary Stage Manager clapped his hands to get the attention of the actors. "Follow me please, everyone. The Green Room is being turned into an interrogation room." He pointed over Tom's shoulder, "She must be for you."
A shadow crossed Tom's eyes when he saw the investigator he had called for entering the main stage area. It was the newest member of his unit, posted to the Major Crimes and Homicide Division two weeks ago.
Noting his displeasure, she answered before he could ask. "Yes, sir. I was the only one available."
"Let's get started then. I need you to stay in the auditorium with the audience members and ask them some general questions: Did anything look suspicious to them? What was the last thing they saw the victim do on stage? Where were the other cast members in relation to the victim when he collapsed?"
He turned back to the audience, pointing to the woman standing next to him. "This is Officer …" Tom faltered.
"Fisher" she whispered.
"Officer Fisher. She'll ask you a few questions about what you saw here tonight, and then we'll send you on your way. I know how distressing this has been for everyone. Thank you for your cooperation."
• • •
In the Green Room, Chad Stewart was getting uppity with the Detective. He and Tom were yelling at each other when Julia entered.
"Stop it at once." Her tone of voice brought the entire room to complete silence. "My husband is dead. I don't know how he died or why, but the least all of you can do now is to show him some respect. This is no time for your eternal bickering. Answer whatever questions the police officer has and go home."
She turned to Tom. "I need to go to the hospital to see my husband and to make arrangements."
"I understand. Please make yourself available for questioning in the morning."
After the woman had left the room, Tom turned his attention to the actors. He locked eyes briefly with Maddy before beginning. "Can anyone tell me about the victim's movements tonight before the play?"
Chad continued his disruptive verbalizing. "Aren't you overreacting, Detective? Have you considered the possibility it may have been a heart attack?"
"Did Barrett have a heart condition?"
"Not that I know of, but I'm no doctor. I was hardly familiar with his medical history. I'm merely presenting an alternative to what you're suggesting."
Tom ignored Chad's comments, turning to the rest of the group. "Does anyone know if Barrett had health problems?"
Everyone shook their head.
"I can tell you he never missed a rehearsal," someone volunteered.
"Alright, I'll find out from the wife when I interview her," Tom said, scribbling a note on a pad he pulled from his pocket. "What about his state of mind? Did he seem distracted? Was anything troubling him?"
Art Patton spoke up, "Barrett was a true professional. He wouldn't let any offstage problems disparage his performance."
"What did he have to eat or drink before the performance?"
Chad was the first to respond. "It's Opening Night. He ate at the Pre-Opening Dinner put on for the cast and premium ticket-holders. He had the same menu we all did; a choice of one of three entrees. I was sitting at the table next to him. He ordered the lobster, same as me. I'm still standing so I'd suggest it wasn't what he ate for dinner."
"What about dessert? Did you all have dessert?"
"Barrett passed on dessert,” Chad responded, patting his tight abs. “He had a harder time watching his waistline than some of us."
"What alcoholic beverages did he drink?"
"Surely you wouldn't expect us to partake before a performance," Chad commented with the air of someone talking to a child. "However, he did drink on stage. Water disguised as a martini. We all do in the first act dinner scene."
"Who handled the fake martinis and the water?"
"Lieutenant." A small voice spoke up from the back of the room.
"Who is it? Speak up, please."
"Dianne Thomas, the Director's Assistant."
"Can you answer the question, Miss Thomas?"
"No, but I would suggest you've opened a very large can of worms. Almost the entire cast handled the drinks, and I prepared the pitcher."
He walked over to a blackboard used for scene depiction. "I would like each of you to come up one at a time and mark on the board with your initials exactly where you were on stage when Barrett collapsed."
As one of the actors stepped forward, Tom continued. "Was anything about tonight's performance different? When exactly did Mr. Mason get sick?"
Once again, Chad took the lead. "Barrett and I were in the wings waiting while the crew set up the props for our last scene. Barrett experienced a sudden onset of extreme stomach pain and complained of being thirsty. He ran downstairs. We were within minutes of our entrance. I couldn't locate him in the dressing room. I checked the bathroom to find out what the delay was. He was vomiting." His eyes flicked rapidly from side to side as if he were reliving the scene in his mind. "I could see something was terribly wrong, but he insisted he could go on. He was sweating profusely when we took our places. As you saw yourself, he collapsed moments later on stage."
Art Patton jumped in. "I ran over to see what had happened. Barrett looked ghastly. His skin had turned yellow. He was barely breathing. I called emergency services."
Chad stepped up, planting himself in front of Tom's face. "We've told you everything we know, Detective. Can we go now? It's been an extremely long night."
"Yes, but leave your contact information with the Officer," Tom agreed, finishing his notes. "The investigation will continue once we've heard from forensics."
Officer Fisher heard his instructions as she entered the room. "I'll take their information, Lieutenant. I've finished questioning the audience. Should we let them go now?"
"Yes, they can leave. And thank them for their cooperation," Tom added.
The Director's Assistant stepped forward. "Please let me go with you, O
fficer, to let the audience know we'll arrange for a refund or another performance. It's hard to know how to handle this exactly, but we need to be cognizant of the fact they had quite an unpleasant experience here tonight."
Pat looked at Tom for a nod of approval before falling in step behind Dianne. "Go ahead; tell them whatever you need to say."
• • •
Chad whined to the actors drifting silently out of the room. "You don't hear us getting any thanks for putting up with the brutal way we've been grilled."
"I could have hauled you all down to the station," Tom responded, fixing the insolent young man with cold eyes. "Don't push your luck with me, or you'll end up there yet."
"What reason could you possibly have for putting us in ball and chains?" Chad rubbed his buffered fingernails on his sweater, amusing himself at Tom's expense.
Tom responded matter-of-factly. "Barrett Mason's dead. You're all possible suspects in a homicide investigation. Anyone who impedes my investigation will be subject to having charges brought against them."
"C'mon, Chad." One of the other actors pulled on his sleeve encouraging him to leave the room. "Let's get out of here. You're only making things worse."
"That's the best advice you've received all night," Tom said, turning to look back at the board. "I suggest you follow it."
Chad started to speak, thought better of it, and stomped out of the room.
• • •
When Pat Fisher walked into the now empty room, Tom took the time to speak with her about the comment she made upon arriving at the scene. "You don't have to make excuses for being here."
"I know that, Lieutenant, but being head of the Division, you have your pick. I'm sure there are other detectives you're used to working with. I'm not so green I haven't learned how crucial it is for team members to have each other's back. You have no way of knowing yet what situations I'm capable of handling. I get that."
"I'm not worried about how you might perform under pressure. It's more an issue that until you know how I operate, it's hard for us to work in tandem. I'm sure you know the rules and procedures, but until you're familiar with how I do things and what I'm looking for in an interrogation, we won't be in sync."
"Try not to worry, Sir. I'm a quick study. I'll learn your ways fast enough."
"The first thing you need to learn to do is to knock off calling me sir. We're more casual here. My squad only calls me Lieutenant in public. My name is Tom."
Her smile came easily, the sign of someone comfortable in their own skin. "Okay, Tom."
She turned to leave, but he had something else to get off his chest: the other thing that bothered him about recruits. They were always out to prove something, especially to their superior. "Look, let's get off on the right foot with each other. You don't have to prove anything to me."
"I'm not worried about proving myself to you. The only person I try to prove anything to is me."
"Okay, I accept that." Their eyes met, but he broke off his stare. "You sure you haven't been around more than a couple of weeks? You look familiar."
"Everyone says my brother and I are spitting images. He's been at this precinct almost two years."
"You following your brother's career path?"
"Not really. Bill's perfectly happy being a beat cop. I want to be in homicide." She noted his frown and quickly explained. "Not that I didn't love being a patrol officer, but I'm excited for the chance to rotate into investigations."
"You understand it may take a couple of years to make Detective?"
"Yes sir, sorry, I mean Tom."
"Of course, you being a quick study and all …"
She blushed, looking down, and shifting her weight.
He hadn't meant to embarrass her. "So why are you so set on being in homicide?"
"Because of the kind of people we can put away and get off the streets. To help stop the killing of innocent people and prevent family members from having their lives changed forever by senseless acts of violence."
"That sounds like a personal mission."
"When I was growing up, my best friend was gunned down in the crossfire of a gang shooting."
"You must have lived in a pretty rough neighborhood."
"It didn't happen where I lived. I grew up in a decent middle-class area. It happened on our way to a basketball game. We had to drive through a bad neighborhood to get there. A hubcap flew off the bus. In the few minutes it took the driver to get out and find it …” She looked down. "A classic example of being in the wrong place at the wrong time but our lives were changed forever. My mom helped me get over the senselessness by telling me to make up my mind to have something constructive come of it. Getting gangs off the streets won't bring my friend back but, in my mind at least, it makes her death stand for something."
Tom admired her resolve. It made him feel more comfortable that she knew what she was getting into.
"Alright, let's get busy. What did you learn from the audience?"
"Not much. Everyone thought what they saw on stage was part of the play; no one observed anything unusual."
Tom raised a finger. "Let me get this call; it's from Jones at the hospital." He jotted notes during the brief conversation. Cutting the phone off, he filled her in. "Mason lapsed into a coma on the ride in the ambulance. He died shortly after they got him into the examination room."
"Did the doctor determine the cause of death?"
"A form of poison. From the symptoms the victim displayed, the doctor suspects a poisonous mushroom known as the Death Cap."
"I've heard of it. They grow under oak trees on the coast. There have been several fatalities in the last several years in the state. We had a couple of cases up north; only one was fatal."
"According to the doctor, symptoms may show up anywhere from twenty minutes after being eaten to a few days after ingestion. During that time, a toxin in the mushroom is at work injuring the liver cells." Tom looked at his notepad. "Patients develop severe abdominal pain, diarrhea, and vomiting. They become dehydrated from fluid loss, and the dehydration can cause kidney failure. Without proper, prompt treatment, the victim experiences rapid organ failure, coma, and death, which happened in Mason's case."
Pat's nose scrunched. "What a gruesome way to go."
"The problem is the Death Cap is easily mistaken for an edible mushroom so if someone intentionally used it to kill our victim, they'll use the excuse it was accidental. It'll be hard for us to prove otherwise. Using that form of murder weapon made it easy for the murderer, but it didn't make our job any easier. We're going to need more than a single link to the cause of death in this case."
"Any other clues the doctor provided?"
"It's probably not significant, but one odd thing he mentioned is many people who are poisoned claim the mushroom was the most delicious they've ever eaten." Tom closed his notepad and put it in his pocket. "I've never understood the joy of foraging for your mushrooms. If it's not something I can pick up at the grocery store, it's not something I'm going to cook."
"Some people consider it a hobby."
"Which can turn into a deadly past-time if you don't know what you're doing."
"So you think mushrooms were used deliberately to poison Mr. Mason?"
"It’s our job to find out."
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Tom walked into the Theatre Saturday morning, the air of death hung over the place. From the bustling, exciting center of energy it had been on Opening Night, it had turned into a lifeless, empty shell. The only movement was a man wearing a carpenter's belt of tools.
"Tearing the set down already?" Tom asked.
"That's right. The production has been canceled. Terrible thing that happened, but there's always a waiting list of people who want to use the building for a wedding or an event of some kind. The owner's lined one up for next weekend."
"Is she here? I have an appointment with her."
"Downstairs in her office. Second door on the right."
The
downstairs was as empty and ghost-like as the upstairs except for the voice Tom heard in the second office. When he stepped into the room, Julia waved him to sit down pointing to her cell phone and raising one finger.
"Sorry, Detective," she said after ending the call. "Making funeral arrangements."
Strands of her hair were falling out of the bun on top of her head. There were dark circles under her eyes, but her eyes were dry.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Ma'am."
"Call me Julia, please."
"I hate to invade your privacy at a time like this but the more I learn about the victim, the better my chances are of finding the truth about his death."
"I understand. Ask your questions. I want to get all this behind me as quickly as possible."
"How did you and your husband meet?"
"Barrett and I met at a Renaissance Faire, of all places. I'd just graduated from the local university. Barrett had attended an acting college, one of the less expensive ones, and had been picking up whatever acting jobs he could get in the time he'd been out of school.
I wasn't particularly drawn to the arts in college. My major was in English, but I was quite uncertain about what I wanted to do with it. After graduation, I was even uncertain about where I wanted to live. I had some ideas about moving away from the small town where I grew up but was without a definite goal or career objective. I envied some of my friends who either knew exactly what kind of job they wanted or were happily opting to get married as soon as possible and start a family. I wasn't interested in either a career or a family."
"What were you interested in?"
"Travel. I would have loved to take a couple of years off, to see what the rest of the world was all about. Of course, I lacked the financial means for that kind of undertaking.
I came from a family of four siblings. My mother was quite understanding when I graduated without a clue as to what to do next, but my father was anxious to get another one of us out on our own. Mother suggested I take some temporary jobs; give myself a chance to try different kinds of work. I lived at home during college because it was cheaper, but she knew I was anxious to get out on my own and into an apartment with my friends. She offered to help pay my share of the rent until I found a full-time job I would be happy doing."
