by Alexie Aaron
Mia put a hand on her aunt’s arm. “How horrible for you.”
“You know, Mia, I think the reason I can’t move on is because of the damn curse. I should have perished with Guillaume, went to where he was headed.”
“You can’t be sure you would have been welcomed,” Mia said evenly.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. But I did have to live. You see, I carried our daughter inside of me.”
“Sabine?”
“Yes, little Sabine. She was a needy little infant. I was in no shape to care for her so I had Gerald take her away and find a happy home for her. He later brought her back to me when she had grown. She has no idea. She is aware of the bond, but I never told her, and she is too kind to ask.”
“I did wonder when I met her. She and I are very much alike,” Mia said.
“Oh, but you are different. You’re tougher. It’s the Amanda in you. Sabine is fragile, Guillaume’s daughter more than mine. I find it tragic that she’s throwing away her life nursing Brian who too has a wasting illness. Fate’s a bitch and demands her payment.”
“How can I help you?”
Bev winced and tried to pull away. “Don’t hover. It will pass. This investigation has been a great diversion. Let’s get back to it. I can’t wait to meet Neal Fleshman. Your guys really are a strange bunch of nerds.”
“Yes, they are, and they aren’t ‘my’ guys. Just one of them is.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re wrong there,” Bev said getting up. She walked over and fingered some of the costumes hanging there. “Oh, to be young again and have the nerve to wear this kind of stuff.”
“Gee, Auntie, I’ve seen you in worse,” Mia teased and ducked as Bev tossed a spangled shoe at her.
Chapter Sixteen
Murphy moved to the balcony on Ted’s suggestion. He played it casual and sat in the section not presently occupied by a ghost. He caught some amused looks from the two women. The man on the far side was too engrossed in the rehearsal on the stage to pay him any attention.
Amber returned wearing another costume. This time she didn’t have the leotard underneath. She wore a floor length, blue sequin dress with white gloves. Her hair was slicked back, and she carried a prop cigarette on an eighteen inch holder. Her shoes matched the dress.
“Am I blue...” she crooned as she moved seductively across the stage.
Murphy pushed his hat back on his head and listened.
“Now he’s gone, and we’re through, am I blue…”
The music changed, and with it so did Amber. “Are you blue, sitting there watching me, are you blue?” she asked the audience. “Now I ask myself, how can I be blue?” She turned her back to the audience, reached between her legs and yanked her dress off, exposing her bare back and a frilly pair of panties. “When…” she turned her head and pivoted towards the audience. “I have you!” Amber pointed out into the audience with one gloved hand, the other held a blue sequined fan over her bare bosom. The music degraded to a traditional bump and grind, and Amber strutted around the stage, strategically moving the fan as she moved, never letting her upper flesh be exposed to the audience.
Murphy stared at the semi-naked Amber and then at the ladies in the audience. They were all a twitter. The man across the aisle was on his feet clapping.
“And I was worried about you watching porn on cable,” Mia whispered from behind him.
Murphy jumped. Mia had caught him completely by surprise.
“Am I blue…” she said as she took off one of her leather gloves and dropped it into his lap. It fell through him and lay on the seat bottom.
“Bad, Mia,” he managed. “I’m working.”
“I can see that,” she said. “No little blue pills for you.”
Stephen took off his hat and jammed it in his lap.
“Come on, let’s go and talk to the ladies. Ah, Murph, you may want to holster that thing,” she teased and moved quietly towards the dual apparitions. “Hello, I’m Mia, and you are?” she asked, extending a bare hand to the nearest woman.
“Betsy Johnson, and this is my friend Honey Bayer.”
Mia smiled warmly. “I gather that you’re dancers?”
“Yes! We’ve come to audition with Big Earl. He said to watch the show and meet him below stage after.”
Mia refrained from giving her opinion on what that audition would consist of. “Good luck, ladies, I hope you get the parts.”
“Did you hear that? She called us ladies,” Honey said.
“She dresses kind of funny. Do you think she’s a …”
Mia couldn’t hear Betsy as she dropped her voice to a whisper, but she got the idea. Murphy tipped his hat as he passed the women, making his way to the gentleman that Mia was approaching.
“Good evening, sir. I’m, Mia. Are you enjoying the show?”
The man patted his pockets and came up with the torn stub of a ticket. He placed it in Mia’s hand.
She concentrated hard to be able to hold on to it long enough to read the date. She smiled and handed it back to him.
“Are you a comic?” he asked her.
“I am dressed pretty strange,” Mia admitted. “Do you mind me asking you some questions?”
The man looked down at the stage.
“Just until Amber comes back out.”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Do you know you’re dead?”
His eyes widened. He looked very uncomfortable. Murphy moved behind him to catch him if he fainted. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I was crossing the street. Next thing I knew, I was here.”
“Have you seen many shows?”
“I’ve seen them all.”
“Are you happy here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can I have your name? So I can leave it at the door so you can come whenever you like.”
“Harold, Harold Vandenberg.”
Mia took out her notebook and jotted down his name. She heard the music start and said quickly, “I’ll leave you to your entertainment, Harold.” She walked out into the aisle and stopped to watch Amber’s next number.
But it wasn’t Amber, it was a different woman. Murphy touched her arm and whispered, “She’s like me.”
The woman wore a costume that had so many plastic cherries on it that it must have weighed a ton. She had on a straw hat which was also adorned with cherries.
Amber walked out onto the stage and right through the cherry woman. She stood and waited for the introduction to finish.
“Get down there and follow Miss Cherry O’Kelly when she leaves the stage,” Mia instructed Murphy.
Amber was dressed in a French maid’s costume, her ample breasts spilling over the low neckline of the gown.
Cherry began to sing, “Can you bake a cherry pie…”
Amber belted out, “Oui, Oui, it’s only just me…”
The two women’s voices blended together. Amber’s alto voice complimenting the soprano of Cherry’s. If the tempo of the two songs were the same, Mia could have sworn the two singers were listening to each other.
She turned to the man and asked, “Do you see two women there or just one?”
He raised two fingers, not taking his eyes from the stage.
Mia saw Murphy lurking in the wings and decided to interview the two audience ladies again, but when she turned they were gone. “K,” she said to herself. “Time to move on.” Mia climbed the stairs and opened the door to the stairs that would lead her to the control booth. She tapped lightly on the door. It was opened by an older man. Juan Carlos sat watching Amber with a smile and waved Mia over.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said, sitting down in the offered chair.
The older man shut the door, walked over and sat down at the control panel and began typing in some commands.
“I noticed you were talking to the air in the balcony.”
“Actually, there were a few harmless spectators
there.”
“What did they think of Amber?”
Mia’s mouth twitched. “They loved her, as did my associate, Murphy.”
“What did you think of her performance?”
“Spellbinding. I had no idea she was this good, Mr. Carlos.”
“I did. When I first saw Amber, she was striding down a runway, topless with a headdress just as tall as she was on top of her head. She was graceful but had a hard time blending in. She was fired.”
“Amber does stand out,” Mia said. “So I take it she didn’t make the chorus line?”
“No. The next time I saw her she was dealing blackjack. She was very good. I liked her voice. I asked her if she could sing. She said to shut up and mind my cards. I had a good hand showing. She was fired.”
Mia put her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter.
“I asked her to audition for my review. I thought she’d make a good addition to the cast. She arrived with a piano player in tow and sang something from Cats. I and Marc were blown away by her pipes and, yes, by her other attributes. He was determined to hire an A list performer, but I convinced him that to go with an unknown would be better.”
“I think you made a good choice,” Mia said. “Can I ask you a question about the docile ghosts here?”
Juan nodded.
“If they pose no threat to your employees or to your future audience, do they have to leave?”
Juan put his hand under his chin a moment and rubbed the underside with his thumb. “I understand most theaters have a ghost or two in residence.”
“In my experience, yes. To be clear, my aim is to move them on to their reward. Unfortunately, at least one of them thinks watching Amber perform is heaven.”
“Then they share something with me,” Juan said. “No, they don’t have to leave, but the moment they step out of line, you can make them leave.”
“I know a guy that knows a guy that can take care of it for you.”
“I think we are of one mind, Mia.”
“Thank you. Now I can concentrate on the monster below the stage, headless Harriett and Cherry O’Kelly.” Mia wanted to add the poodles, but she thought that was pushing Juan’s ability to believe a bit too far.
Cherry sang her heart out. This time the theater was filled with memories, and she received three curtain calls. She smiled and walked off the stage.
Murphy followed her to the supply closet. Cherry shut the door, and he waited outside, being the gentleman that he was.
Amber stooped and picked up her feather duster. She stopped and sniffed the air. “Do I smell roses?”
“Perhaps it’s rosewater,” Mia said, climbing the stairs onto the stage. “That’s what most women could afford in those days or so Audrey tells me.”
“She seems to be working out,” Amber observed. “Beth wasn’t a slouch either when it came to research, but Audrey has more joie de vivre.”
Mia nodded. “Plus she doesn’t hate me.”
“That helps. Beth hated me. I just think she hates the competition. Don’t take it personally. Although it looks like you stole her man.”
“Ted wasn’t her man.”
“Well, he didn’t think so, but in her mind, you seduced the fella. I look at Ted and see Ted. What do you see in him? Seriously, what do you see in that guy?”
“He makes me laugh,” Mia said, imitating Jessica Rabbit.
Amber’s face lit up. “Do you know I was going to do Jessica but couldn’t get the company that owns her copyright to agree. Said I’d taint the product. Imagine. I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.”
Mia clapped her hands. You’d make a great Jessica. Except, I think you have done very well with the blue theme.
Amber flashed Mia a full-toothed smile. “You picked up on that did you? Every great burlesque dancer had a gimmick.”
“In your research did you come across Cherry O’ Kelly?”
“Can you bake a cherry pie, Cherry?”
“That’d be her.”
“Just a few write-ups. She started her career in St. Louis. It ended here in the fire.”
“So there was a fire. I suspected but hadn’t got any confirmation yet.”
“Early days,” Amber said defending Audrey. “Come to my dressing room, I’ll show you the story. Marc left his scrapbook in there.”
“Marc had a scrapbook of burlesque performers?”
“Honey, Marc thinks he’s the reincarnation of Gypsy Rose Lee!”
Mia looked at her oddly. “He’s what?”
“He was born the day she died. April 26, 1970.”
“To each their own,” Mia said.
Amber just shrugged.
Mia filed the information away under G for good to know.
Murphy nodded to Mia as she waved to him before entering Amber’s dressing room. He could hear Cherry move about inside. He thought about where he was standing and what his mother would think about the situation. She would be hauling him into Pastor’s woodshed for a good talking to. Here he was backstage outside the dressing room of a lady of questionable morals. She seemed like a sweet young thing from the audience. There was a sadness about her. He sensed it.
As if she had heard his thoughts, he heard her cry. They were gut wrenching sobs. He crossed his fingers, she was dressed and moved through the wall.
Cherry looked up and grabbed a handkerchief and began to dab her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud. Can I help you?”
“I’m supposed to be looking after you.”
Cherry’s lips formed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, then we better be properly introduced. I’m Cherry O’ Kelly, and you are?”
“Stephen Murphy, miss.”
“Another Irishman. Seems this place has more of us than the isle we came from did. I’m not from around here. My folks farm down St. Louie way.”
“Cold Creek near Big Bear Lake.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“Been to St. Louis recently,” Murphy said and changed the subject. “Why are you crying?”
“Why does a girl cry? Lost youth, heartbreak, broke a nail?”
Murphy stared at her, not knowing what to say next.
“Now I made you sad. Come on, pull up a chair and entertain me while I finish getting ready.” She vacated her stool and moved behind a screen in the corner. “I’m supposed to meet Big Earl for a bite to eat over at Benny’s Kitchen in a half hour, and I don’t have anything decent to wear.”
Murphy looked around what was once her dressing room. He saw through the boxes of supplies and paint cans, spying a gray dress lying on top of some fancy stripper clothes. He picked it up and handed it to her over the screen. “This looks decent.”
“It’s ugly enough, but I’m not that worried. How’s this?” Cherry walked around the screen wearing a light ivory dress. “It’s a bit plain, but this should help.” She grabbed a bunch of cherries and pinned them to the bodice. “A little color, a little me.” She started crying again.
Murphy moved towards her to offer her a shoulder, but she was gone. The room resumed being a storage cupboard, and the only thing left of Cherry O’Kelly was a whiff of her rosewater perfume.
Mia was waiting for him in the hall. She cocked an eyebrow. “So she invited you in?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Sad lady.”
“I thought I heard crying,” Mia said as she shifted the considerable weight of the scrapbook she was holding to the other arm. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee, and we’ll talk about Miss O’Kelly.”
Murphy followed her outside. The security lights cut through the dark summer’s evening. Dozens of moths beat themselves against the plastic covers.
“Some genius put up the screened tent,” she said, unzipping the door and sliding into the space before the mosquitos and biting flies could follow her.
“The genius would be me,” Ted said as he hopped out of the back of the truck. He had a bag full of burgers and two large colas that he was balan
cing as he navigated the door. “Mike bought us these. You and I are on night shift. The rest have left for supper and the motel. Hey, Murph, I haven’t forgotten you.” Ted put down the food, pulled out a cube, turned it on and set it on the ground.
Murphy placed his axe in the groove at the top and absorbed all the power the battery had in it.
Ted pulled out the iPad he had tucked in the waistband of his jeans from behind him and set it on the table before sitting down beside Mia.
“I figure the hoi polloi will clear out soon. The night security manager will be by to let us know when the place is secured. Mike just wants us to watch and note what we see from the cameras tonight. That and work on the to do list Burt left.”
Mia leaned over and kissed her fiancé before she opened the fast food bag. “Nice and greasy,” she commented as she drew out the plump paper packages. She set one down in front of each of them. “The fries look crispy.” She picked one up and bit into it. “Hot, they’re still hot!” she said, waving a hand in front of her mouth.
Ted handed her the soda, and she gulped it down.
“You could have spit it out.”
“Ladies don’t spit.”
“My lady does,” he said tenderly. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
“My tongue?” Mia asked.
“Oh yes and anything else…”
“Whoa cowboy, you better put that on hold. Don’t want to start something we can’t comfortably finish.”
“Serve yourself. I see the romance has gone out of our relationship,” he lied.
Mia shook her head, looked over at Murphy and rolled her eyes.
Ted propped up the iPad against the bag and began eating. He reached an arm out and put it around Mia. The two of them leaned against the other, consuming the greasy food and watching the video feeds on the small screen. They saw Amber waiting in the lobby and rushing towards Juan Carlos when he walked into frame. The night manager let them out and locked the doors. They watched as he moved through the theater on the cameras as he passed them. He stuck his head out the door and called over to inform them that all was quiet. He handed them one of his walkie-talkies. “It’s set to the office frequency. I’m going to be in the front office if you need anything.”
