Offed Stage Left

by Joanne Sydney Lessner

  “Ezra? Totally struck me as straight.”

  “Me, too. So did Geoff, for that matter, although I only spoke to him for a second. But my gaydar is pretty dependable.”

  “By the way, did you ever find out what Geoff said to Hugh?”

  “It was only a brief exchange of pleasantries, and I don’t think he’s seen Geoff since.” She replaced the pizza and selected a different brand. “Boyfriend or not, I suppose Ezra could be trying to tank the show before it tarnishes his reputation.”

  “But what about the other pranks?”

  Isobel tossed the second box in her cart and pushed on. “Ezra has full access to the theater, so that’s not a stretch. The only thing is now he’s stuck up here after his contract is over, when he could be on to the next thing.”

  “I’m sure Felicity will pay him.”

  “That’s not the point. Why would he have done all that stuff if the result meant he had to associate himself with this show longer than necessary?”

  “Because he thought the pranks would shut it down, not extend his job.”

  “He volunteered to stay. I heard him. He didn’t have to.” They turned the corner into the soda aisle, where she added two bottles of Adirondack seltzer to her cart. “Are you almost done?”

  He snatched a bag of lime Tostitos from a column of chips. “I don’t suppose you’re going to let me get these?”

  “Damn you. My kryptonite!” Isobel moaned. “Fine, throw ’em in. We need something to snack on when we play Celebrity.”

  “I wonder when we’ll know more about Arden,” Sunil mused.

  “Felicity was talking to someone on the phone about her when I got there.”

  “You have an uncanny knack for being well hidden in the right place at the right time.”

  “The door was ajar,” Isobel said innocently. “She seemed to be answering basic health questions about Arden. Didn’t get much.”

  They turned into the cereal aisle, where Sunil grabbed a box of Rice Krispies and Isobel selected Kashi Crunch.

  “It could have been natural causes if she had an underlying health condition of some kind. Or maybe she OD’d on beta-blockers,” he said.

  Isobel held up a box of fudge Pop-Tarts. “I wonder. I mean, we don’t know much about her personal life, except her pageant career.”

  “And there’s no reason to go digging. Not yet, anyway.” He pointed to the Pop-Tarts. “Hypocrite.”

  “A treat for Delphi. They’re her kryptonite.” She dropped the box in her cart.

  “Ice cream and then we’re out.” He leaned in suggestively. “You know you want it.”

  They returned to the frozen food section, and Isobel stopped short, causing Sunil to bump into her. Geoff and Talia were standing halfway down the aisle, engaged in heated conversation.

  Isobel abandoned her cart and pulled Sunil behind a tower display of two-liter Sprite on sale.

  Talia’s clear soprano carried down the aisle. “I’m not playing games anymore.”

  Isobel’s eyes widened, and Sunil put his finger to his lips.

  “All right, I’ll do it,” Geoff said in a tight voice.

  “Do you promise?” Talia asked.

  “Sealed with a kiss. Can’t do better than that,” Geoff said.

  “Then the answer is yes,” Talia said.

  Geoff didn’t respond, and a few moments later, Sunil peeked around the side of the Sprite tower.

  “Gone,” he said. “That was certainly unexpected.”

  “It sure was.” Isobel followed him to the ice cream compartment. “But it couldn’t be more obvious what they were talking about. She’s been doing his dirty work and she wants to stop. She’s a musician, so she could easily have marked up the parts.”

  “What did he promise? And what did she agree to?”

  “I don’t know.” Isobel grabbed his carton of Pralines and Cream and slammed it back in the freezer case.

  “Hey, you okayed the ice cream!” Sunil protested.

  “We’ve got to get out of here and go tell someone.”

  He stopped her cart with his foot. “Tell someone what? You have no evidence. They could have been talking about anything.”

  “Like what?”

  Sunil threw up his hands. “How should I know? But running around spreading hearsay is not going to do much for your reputation around the theater. Now give me my ice cream back.”

  She sighed and retrieved the ice cream. “You’re right. But we did learn one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sealed with a kiss? Obviously when Talia was telling us about Geoff, she left a few things out.”

  SEVENTEEN

  BY THE TIME ISOBEL and Sunil returned to the condo, put away their groceries, and got to the theater, Delphi had finished her music rehearsal and was waiting to block her scenes on the stage. Kelly met them at the back of the house, waving a packet of papers.

  “Ready to sign your first Equity contract?”

  “Ooh, I just got a chill down the back of my neck,” Isobel said with a shiver.

  “It was probably Robert Livingston’s ghost,” Sunil quipped.

  Kelly drew back, clutching the contract to her chest. “Did you see him?”

  “What? Who?”

  “The ghost.” Kelly’s eyes searched the air over Isobel’s left shoulder.

  “I was kidding.” Sunil laughed. “I’m making fun of Jethro.”

  “Don’t joke,” Kelly said sternly. “The ghost is real.”

  “Ignore the nonbeliever,” Isobel said, elbowing Sunil. “Have you seen it?”

  “Yeah.” Kelly nodded. “During the last show in the old theater, Baristas: The Musical. I was assistant stage manager, and I saw this glowing white blob on the monitor during the scene where Brianna is singing about how working at Starbucks is better than being a pole dancer. When I looked onstage, I saw him. It was hazy, more of an outline, but I definitely made out a tricorn hat and a cape.” Kelly’s normally firm voice began to tremble. “He had put himself on the end of the customer line. I called the cue early, because the button of the song is Brianna turning to help the last person, and the joke is there’s nobody there.”

  “Wow,” Isobel breathed. “We did a production of Ruddigore at Galaxy Playhouse in Vermont last summer, and I saw their ghost.”

  Sunil gave a skeptical cough, and Isobel stomped on his foot.

  “Anyway, here’s your contract.” Kelly handed Isobel the papers. “Read it over carefully, and let me know if you have any questions.” She moved away to confer with Ezra.

  Sunil looked over Isobel’s shoulder, and they read the contract in awed silence.

  “Wait for me!” Delphi came jogging up the aisle. “This is historic. Whatever else happens, you’ll always be the first of us to join the union.”

  “At the expense of someone else’s life,” Isobel said soberly.

  “One has nothing to do with the other,” Delphi said firmly. “I mean, it does, but not in the way you mean.”

  “At least now I can settle for a better class of rejection.” Isobel scrawled her signature on each of the four copies. “I hope this isn’t a mistake. Hugh thinks it is.”

  “Hugh, schmugh.” Delphi snickered. “I never realized how much I’ve wanted to say that.”

  “Speaking of which, how did your music rehearsal go?” Sunil asked.

  Delphi grimaced. “It was a painful reminder of why I don’t sing in public anymore. The duet is now a solo.”

  “I got you fudge Pop-Tarts,” Isobel said.

  “Balm for the soul.”

  “What are you planning to do about clothes?” Isobel asked.

  “I figure we can pop back to the city on our day off. Until then, I can borrow yours.”

  “You know my T-shirts are a lot blander than yours.”

  “I’ll cope.”

  “I wonder if they’ll move you into Arden’s room in the other condo.”

  “They’ll need some time to clear out her
things,” Sunil said. “And they may not rush to do that. Respect for the dead, you know.”

  “Who lives there?” Delphi asked.

  The door swung open and Chris sauntered in.

  “Chris, for one. And Ezra and Marissa.” Isobel waved Chris over with a smile. “You haven’t met Delphi, my roommate from New York. She was in the audience last night when everything went south, and she’s a fantastic actress, and she’s going to play Emma since I’m taking over as Jennie. Look, I just signed my first Equity contract!”

  Now it was Sunil’s turn to tread on her foot, which he did, more gently but still getting his point across. Isobel knew she was rattling and that boasting about her contract wasn’t the most sensitive thing to do under the circumstances, but whenever her mouth took off like that, she found it impossible to stem the flow.

  Fortunately, Chris had stopped paying attention and was eyeing Delphi, clearly pleased with what he saw.

  “Our lucky day,” Chris said, thrusting out a hand. “You’re brave, aren’t you?”

  Delphi tugged her T-shirt down, pulling it tighter. “Hard to pass up a chance to work with my friends.”

  “Even with all the shenanigans?” Chris said. “I’m sure they’ve told you what’s been going on. Things have been a little strange around here lately.”

  “So I gather. And here I am to make them stranger,” Delphi said.

  Kelly returned and held out her hand for Isobel’s contract. “Signed?”

  Isobel nodded and handed three of the copies to her. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “Wait until you’ve spent three years unemployed,” Hugh said, coming up behind her.

  Isobel whirled around, surprised and hurt, but Delphi came to her rescue.

  “Your job is to be supportive of Isobel’s decision,” she said disapprovingly.

  Hugh held up his hands in self-defense. “I’m trying to protect her from disappointment.”

  “I don’t need protection. What I need is rehearsal.” Isobel turned to Kelly. “Is there any way Chris and I could run our scenes when Delphi is done? I’m afraid last night was beginner’s luck.”

  “Yes. Ezra has added an hour for you two at the end. But Thomas wants to see you and Delphi in costumes first.” She smiled apologetically at Chris. “Sorry about that. You’re going to have a little time to kill, but Thomas needs to get started on alterations.”

  “No problem. I can chill in the café.”

  Chris flashed his handsome smile and left.

  Sunil stared after him moodily. “You could have made it at least a little hard for him.”

  Delphi rolled her eyes. “Would you stop?”

  “If I were smarter, I’d have stopped a long time ago,” he said.

  Isobel motioned Kelly a few steps away. “What happened to that script page I gave you with the note on it?”

  “Oh! I was going to show it to Felicity, but with everything else last night, it slipped my mind.”

  “But you still have it, right?”

  “It’s in the front pocket of my book. Though I don’t suppose it matters now.”

  “It matters now more than ever,” Isobel said. “If it turns out Arden’s death was unnatural, the note becomes evidence.”

  “Unnatural?” Kelly narrowed her eyes. “You have a suspicious mind.”

  “It said, ‘Die, bitch!’ I don’t think I’m reading more into it than what’s there, given what happened.”

  “I guess,” Kelly said uncertainly. “Let’s wait and see what we find out about Arden. I’ll hang onto it just in case.”

  Sunil and Delphi had disappeared, but Hugh was waiting for her.

  “Isobel.”

  “What.”

  He sighed and took her hands. She turned her head away.

  “I’m your number one fan, you know that,” he began.

  “You’re not acting like it,” she said.

  “Let’s not bicker and argue about who killed whom…”

  She kept her head averted, stone-faced.

  “Wow. This is serious if even Monty Python won’t make you laugh.”

  She looked squarely at him. “I don’t understand why you don’t want me to move forward in my career.”

  “I mean it, let’s not argue for real,” he said, chagrined. “What is it they say? Leap and the net will appear? I think you’re brave. You leaped. This will all work out. I’m proud of you.” He smoothed a wisp of hair that had come loose from her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear. “And I respect you even more for having the gumption to follow your heart and not listen to a fool like me.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I do. Truce?”

  “Truce.”

  Delphi and Sunil burst through the door, interrupting their kiss.

  “Way to ruin a moment, guys,” Hugh said.

  “We’ve been sleuthing,” Sunil said.

  “Oh? Where, exactly?” Isobel asked.

  “The box office,” Delphi said. “And guess what we found out?”

  “Last night’s audience demanded a refund en masse?”

  “Nope.” Delphi smiled broadly. “My seatmate Roman Fried has a ticket again for tonight.”

  “Not only that—he’s booked a seat for every performance this week,” Sunil added. “It’s as if—”

  “He’s expecting something to happen,” Delphi broke in.

  “And Arden collapsing last night wasn’t it,” Sunil finished.

  Hugh glanced nervously at Isobel. “What does Roman Fried know that we don’t?”

  “I have no idea. But I bet I know who does.” Isobel turned to Delphi. “I believe we’re wanted in costumes.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “OH MY GOD, YES!” Thomas held Delphi at arm’s length and drank in the sight of her. “You look like a Sargent. No, a Renoir!”

  “She hates hearing that,” Isobel said. “That’s why she has more piercings than a confused teenager.”

  “Some women take a lot of work to look good in period dress.” Thomas glanced over his shoulder. “You know what I’m saying?”

  “I know who you mean,” Isobel said.

  Thomas pursed his lips. “Saucer of cream for the kitty?”

  “That came out wrong,” Isobel protested. “I like Marissa. She’s just full-figured.”

  Thomas picked up Arden’s second-act dress. “There’s nothing wrong with Marissa’s figure. Victorian dress is particularly well suited to voluptuousness as long as it’s proportional. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Arden was the challenge. A stick with boobs. No matter what I put her in, she looked like the cover model from Sports Illustrated dressed up for Halloween.”

  Delphi smirked in Isobel’s direction. “Looks like you’re going to have to share your cream.”

  Thomas waved his hand up and down the length of Isobel’s body. “It’s going to take some doing to make her clothes work for you. It’s a four-incher.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have to take in her costumes four inches in every direction. You’re petite.” He whipped a tape measure around Isobel’s chest and made some quick notes. “You’ll keep your own first-act costume. The blue muslin is sweet on you, and Emma and Jennie are both upper class, so that’s fine. Besides, Arden’s first-act costume is still at the hospital. No idea when, if ever, we’ll see it again.”

  “And I’ll wear this?” Delphi said, gesturing down at the mint and cream dress draped elegantly on her body.

  “Yes. That was Talia’s townsperson costume. She’ll have to keep the Marjorie Moody gown on throughout, but we’ll throw on a shawl or a cape for the first act. I’ve got some other pieces I can use.” He knelt down behind Delphi and gathered up the excess fabric in the back. “This is a bit of a problem, though. I don’t have a bustle for you. I’ll have to stuff up some rolls and pin you. Won’t be the most comfortable thing, but it’ll do in a pinch. I might be able to borrow something from Capital Rep.”

  He unzipped Delphi, and she stepped out
of the dress. “It’ll all be altered and ready to go by tonight.”

  Isobel rubbed some yellow grosgrain ribbon between her fingers. “Did the people from the Donnelly Group show last night?”

  “They did not.”

  Isobel’s face fell. “That’s disappointing.”

  “But you know who was here?” Thomas asked, his eyes glinting.

  “Roman Fried from the Post,” Delphi said.

  Thomas jerked a thumb at Delphi. “I don’t like her. She ruins my punch lines.”

  “I know because I was seated next to him.”

  Thomas gave a knowing smile. “You were in Irv Donnelly’s seat.”

  Delphi and Isobel exchanged confused glances. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what it signifies, but I know that those two seats were originally meant for Irv and guest. And instead they were taken by Fried and…you.”

  Isobel frowned. “Do you think Donnelly is still going to come?”

  Thomas pulled a black cape off a hanger and swirled it around his shoulders. “Who knows? It depends why he canceled and what his interest level was to begin with.”

  “And I suppose it depends on what else Fried writes this week,” Isobel said.

  Thomas stopped mid-swirl. “What are you talking about?

  She affected a lofty smile. “He has tickets through the weekend.”

  “Reeeeally.” Thomas turned abruptly and draped the cape over Talia’s ball gown.

  “We’re wondering why he’d come back for more. Seems a bit masochistic,” Delphi said.

  “Indeed,” said Thomas, his voice muffled by the rack of costumes.

  “And also, who tipped him off in the first place,” Isobel said. “Any ideas?”

  Thomas emerged from the costumes, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Don’t you think this is but one more example of sabotage? Add it to the masking, the laxative, the orchestra parts… Obviously, somebody wishes ill on this production.”

  “Yes, but who?” Isobel asked.

  Thomas examined a pincushion shaped like a tomato. “There are candidates. The most obvious is Geoff Brown, of course.” He appealed to the ceiling. “Why are the cute ones always straight?”