Inside, we found the usual reception area of a theater – places for people to buy tickets, souvenirs, and the entrance to the theater proper. A young woman greeted us. About twenty-ish, she had short mousy brown hair, a warm smile, and a soft voice. I recognized her from the funeral. Kim told her we had an appointment with Adelaide Mercer and the young woman nodded.
Coming out of the ticket booth, she said, “Right this way. Adelaide is waiting for you.”
She led us through a side door and we walked down a long, narrow hallway. An open area on our right was loaded with lights and equipment. As we entered the next area, there were several doors, one of which was open. The young woman walked straight to the door.
“Adelaide, your guests are here.”
“Thank you, dear.”
With that, she turned and left. Adelaide Mercer looked like the picture on her website, right down to the long ash blonde hair. She stood straight to greet us and even maintained good posture when she sat down. It gave her a regal air. Kim and I introduced ourselves.
“Ms. Mercer, thank you so much for meeting with us. We know this is a difficult time what with Mr. Thompson’s death.”
“Yes, it has been a difficult time. What can I do to help you?”
Kim smiled and explained, “We’re trying to understand the community theater you’ve established here and, of course, Will Thompson’s role.”
Without any change in facial expression, but a lilt to her voice, Adelaide provided a more animated version of the history we’d heard from Dr. Gorganz.
The tenor of Adelaide’s voice changed when Kim asked, “After all your hard work and your obvious passion for the theater, why did you step down?”
“It was a difficult decision. I didn’t and still don’t have the financial backing to keep the theater going. Will convinced me we needed to establish a corporation, that there were liability issues I didn’t understand, and the theater needed a strong, business-smart person to take charge.”
She maintained her pleasant visage, but a touch of bitterness was evident in her tone. I seethed inside at her condescending attitude, nonetheless I managed to keep my cool.
“What was your relationship with Will back then?”
Her facial expression still didn’t change much and I wondered if she’d had some work done or Botox. Her voice dropped again and random tears trailed down her cheeks.
She whispered, “We were close, if you get what I mean. I know it was wrong, but he was such a vibrant man.”
She reached for tissues and wiped away the tears. I was impressed with her composure and also with her makeup. Not a streak in sight.
“Ms. Mercer, what was your relationship with him most recently? You still have a dressing room here.”
I waved my hand to take in the small room we sat in. I continued, “Are you still involved in the theater, in the production of A Christmas Carol?”
“I’m still involved but only on the periphery or in a minor part now and then. But no, not in this one. I hold a seat on the Board and assist with casting decisions. The dressing room is more in honor than function. At times, I work with the other members of the theater when they’ve been upset by Will – to calm them down.” The last part she hissed through clenched teeth.
“As for Will, I realized my foolishness. He would never leave Honey.” She exhaled loudly and added, “Besides he preferred younger blood.” Her eyes darkened with the statement.
Kim looked at me with raised eyebrows. I shook my head slightly without comment. I hoped it wasn’t Melodie as that would cement the prosecution’s case for Isaac’s motive. Adelaide still sat straight, but her hands clenched and unclenched.
When Adelaide didn’t continue, I asked with some trepidation, “A particular younger woman?”
“Laura Patrissi for one. That woman is a witch and a very poor actor. But he dumped her, too. His latest fling,” she indicated with a flip of her hand, “was his secretary at his day job. She had aspirations of getting a lead in a future show. She was working on him to do South Pacific next and let her have the lead as Nellie. Believe me, she is not Mary Martin or Mitzi Gaynor. Not even with lip sync for the songs.” Adelaide snorted.
“One more question, Ms. Mercer. Now that Will – Mr. Thompson – is gone, who will take over as Chair and Director? Will his family continue to support the theater?”
She stopped clenching her hands. “The Board has asked me to take over as Chair, and Jule Gorganz will take over as Director. He’ll do a good job. He knows theater, it’s his passion. As for the funding, we’ll have to work something out when the current lease runs out. The show must go on, you know, so for now, we are getting ready for A Christmas Carol.”
“And who will play the role of Ebenezer, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She hesitated and declared, “Isaac if possible. The only other person might be Jule if he could be convinced to get on stage again. I have faith Isaac will be found innocent. Circumstantial evidence won’t hold up. I hope the police realize the error of their ways quickly. I don’t believe he killed Will.”
“Who do you think killed him?”
“Why I have no idea but not Isaac. He has a good head on his shoulders, a level-headed young man with a good future. Does it really matter who killed him? He’ll still be dead.”
I was surprised at her response, but decided not to discuss closure and justice as the reasons it might matter. “Ms. Mercer, aren’t you worried there may be a murderer among the members of the community theater?”
“No one associated with the theater would do such a thing. We are all civilized people here.”
I looked at Kim and she asked, “Ms. Mercer, we understand Mr. Thompson often worked here at the theater after everyone else left and even between shows. Do you know what he did those nights?”
“Hrmmmph. I know some of those nights I was here with him. I can only assume the Patrissi witch kept him company at times too. Who knows, maybe the secretary was getting ‘acting lessons’ as well.” She used her fingers to put quotations around the ‘acting lessons’ part.
She hesitated and then continued, “I showed up once and he was on stage, in costume, and playing the part of Hamlet. Even though Will didn’t have a lot of artistic talent, he aspired to major roles in classic tragedy. He shared with me that night he was auditioning for the part, and never mentioned it again.”
“If he aspired to do tragedy, why direct musicals?”
“They’re more popular and you have to give your public what they want.”
“You mentioned Jule Gorganz and acting. Is there some reason he might not get back on the stage? Did Mr. Thompson have anything to do with his not being in the play?”
“Oh, no. He didn’t like Will but I always wondered if that was because of me. Jule and I met many years ago and he had a part in some of the earlier community shows. Enough about Jule. Despite his talent, for some reason, he prefers to work with younger and aspiring actors like Isaac.”
We had no more questions and she had nothing else to offer. We thanked her for her time. She suggested a tour of the theater and we agreed. What once had been a warehouse had morphed into a theater quite nicely in some respects.
From the inside it was more impressive than on first sight. She explained the lighting and equipment with a flourish. The stage, however, wasn’t very high and the seating reminded me of bleachers but with chairs that at least looked comfortable.
She took us up on stage as she explained, “The maximum capacity for the size is about 300 I think. Each section has only 75 seats and most times there’s plenty…”
I heard a cracking sound and all three of us looked up. Kim gasped and we all dove for the front of the stage as an overhead beam crashed to the floor. I looked to Kim and we both went to Adelaide’s side. She was startled but not hurt. Her eyes showed no emotion as she looked from the beam to the supporting structures above.
“The beam is used for special lights or draping. It should have been
secured on both sides to the scaffolding. I don’t understand how it could come undone like that.”
Kim and I exchanged glances and helped her to her feet. “Who is responsible for checking the staging and such? Was that Will’s job too?”
“Oh, no, not directly anyway. I mean he helped to design the staging and decided which lights, drapes or other setting effects went where. It’s not like a catwalk. Nobody would be on the beam. A pulley system was used to move things on or off the beam. I don’t think it would ever occur to anyone the beam could come loose like that. I’m not sure who will fix it now. I’ll call Geoff. He’ll know.”
Her voice drifted off and she walked away like we weren’t even there. I shrugged and we found our way to the door and left. I wondered how coincidental it was that the beam “came loose” as we were on the stage. Then again how would anyone know we would be on the stage? I couldn’t help wondering if anyone had ever been injured on the stage.
CHAPTER 15
Our next appointment in Altavista was with Geoffrey Broderick at his office about a block from the theater. He was listed as a member of the Board and had been cast in several of the plays over several years, but not recently. He worked for the town of Altavista in the zoning commission office. The short walk from the theater provided a brief opportunity for Kim and I to digest what Adelaide had told us.
The receptionist took our names and directed us to his office. Mr. Broderick’s office was austere with only the bare minimum of furniture, beige walls, and no window. The ceiling lights were harsh and the glare bounced off the metal desk. His chair was padded, whereas the two chairs for visitors were straight-backed and hard, clearly intended to ensure short visits. Probably town-issued standard furniture. Nothing in his office lent it a personal touch.
Mr. Broderick’s clean shaven, round face and graying hair along with his slumped posture did not convey strength or a threat. If anything, his soft appearance was a sharp contrast to the rigid lines of his office. He didn’t stand when we entered his office. He sat behind his desk and stared at us. Kim provided the introductions and he nodded.
“What can I help you with? I already spoke to the detective.” His voice was deep, quiet, and measured.
“Can you tell us the history of the community theater and your role in it?” As Kim asked the question, I moved forward and took a seat. Kim followed suit.
Mr. Broderick described the progression to a corporation in clipped speech, but consistent with the history Dr. Gorganz and Adelaide had provided. Adelaide emerged once more as the driving force behind the community theater.
He embellished a bit with regard to his role and downplayed any role Dr. Gorganz may have had. It sounded rehearsed. He didn’t so much as mention Will Thompson until asked.
When he paused, Kim interjected, “What can you tell us about Mr. Thompson and his role, both early on and more recently?”
He stared at the wall for a few seconds, turned to Kim and answered, “Not much really. I always interacted with Adelaide. When he took over, I kept to myself or listened to her, not him.”
“If not Isaac, who do you think had a motive to kill him?”
Again, he stared away, his fists now tightly clenched. He carefully crafted each response.
“Anyone and everyone. He was generally disliked. I don’t even think his wife liked him. Adelaide adored him, but didn’t really like him anymore I don’t think.” He stared off again without adding anything.
“We just came from the theater. There was an accident with a beam. Did Adelaide call you about that? Anything like that happen before?”
“Yes, she called me. I’ll go take care of it. Not sure what difference it makes, but there were problems to begin with when the renovations were done with the pulley system and such. No one was injured and no problems since then. Something must have rotted or come loose.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.
“Mr. Thompson worked for the town, correct? Did your paths ever cross in his job capacity?” Even if I didn’t understand what Thompson did or what urban planning amounted to, I figured it was worth a shot.
“Yes he worked here. Office downstairs. Once or twice we were on the same project. If the project involved zoning, roads or traffic flow, or if those would be affected, we’d both review the project.”
“How did he get along with others in the town offices?” I glanced at Kim.
“I don’t know. Different floors, different support staff.” Anyone who has worked in a small town or small building knew the support staff would have talked to each other, particularly if there was a problem.
“Only a few more questions, Mr. Broderick. Did Mr. Thompson make it a habit of showing people his revolver?”
He took a deep breath this time. “Any new male in the theater had the pleasure of seeing the gun, knew it was there, that Thompson was in charge.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else and stopped.
“Do you know why he had a gun there? Mr. Thompson worked late at the theater often we’re told. Any idea what that was about?”
“Like I told you, once he took over, I kept to myself. Didn’t audition for any parts in his plays. I only attended Board Meetings and interacted with Adelaide.”
Kim faltered at his non-answer. I asked, “Is there anything else you think we should know about the theater? Or about Adelaide or Mr. Thompson?”
“Not all is as it seems.”
I rolled my hand to encourage him to elaborate. Instead he stood, signaling he was done. We thanked him and left. As we left the office, Kim rolled her eyes – my feeling exactly.
Our next stop was with Wendell Fleisch. My search of the Internet had come up empty on him other than a professional picture with his resume online. He worked with the planning commission so his office was on the same floor as Thompson’s. The receptionist directed us down the hall. As we approached his door, we could hear classical music. A man leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, and waved his hands as if he conducted the orchestra.
I cleared my throat and knocked. He jumped up and faced us. Fleisch was about my height, and stocky. The buttons on his dress shirt pulled so when he moved we glimpsed his chest. Thick black hair gray at the temples, bushy eyebrows, and a beard gave him a very primitive appearance.
“Mr. Fleisch, I’m Sheridan Hendley and this is Kim Penzzel. We have an appointment to talk with you about the community theater?”
He smiled, showing off his very white teeth and extended his hand to each of us. “No need to be formal. Just call me Al.” He waved us to chairs and we sat.
“Al? I thought your name was Wendell?”
“It is. That’s what the sign says. But my pals call me Al. And what red-blooded American man wouldn’t want to be pals with ladies as attractive as you.” He leered at us and my stomach turned. It seemed likely we’d found “alyourpal.”
“Well… Al… What can you tell us about Will Thompson and the community theater? You’re on the Board, correct?”
“You already know that. And you probably already know what a – a jerk for the best word in mixed company – Will was. As for history, Adelaide is the one to talk to about history.”
“Al, how did you get involved?”
He preened a bit before he answered. “I love music and theater. I figured it was a good place to meet people, especially pretty ladies. Are you ladies single? I don’t see wedding bands?”
“We’re both spoken for, but I believe Laura Patrissi is single.” My attempt to divert and bait worked.
His expression changed from a smile to a grimace and he jerked forward. “That… that woman is as agreeable as Will and she didn’t have the decency to respect his marriage. Disgusting the way she made plays for him and pawed him. Disgusting.”
“Were you cast in A Christmas Carol?”
“I only have interest in musicals. Now if Will was smart, he would have figured out a way to produce it as a musical. But he lacked creative juices among other attributes.”
Ki
m blurted out, “Who do you think had motive to murder Will?”
“Police seem to think it was that nice young man. Motive? He was despicable and negative. I’d say everyone had motive, even Laura since he shunned her.”
“Al, did you know Mr. Thompson kept a gun in his office?”
Al sneered. “His version of… never mind. Yes, he made it a point to let everyone know – so they would feel safe, he said. All part of his usual head game.”
We tried a few more times to get information from him. His responses were shallow and he kept throwing not so subtle hints at both of us. We thanked him for his time and escaped, after having to shake his hand again. Kim laughed as I pulled out my purse size antibacterial wipes, but she was happy to partake.
Back at the reception area, I asked we could speak with Mr. Thompson’s secretary for a few minutes. The receptionist’s eyes got wide and she stammered as she explained Ms. Dooley never came back to work after Thompson’s death. That seemed odd. It didn’t take much to get her full name, which I promptly texted to Brett.
Our one other appointment was with Gracie Meem. We had time to spare so stopped at a coffee shop to debrief and to shake off the awkwardness of our visit with Fleisch. The coffee was good and the cinnamon coffee cake hit the spot.
We both agreed Geoff was an odd duck. He’d definitely mastered the art of not answering questions or giving out any information. His responses were too pat, too focused. So much so, he might want to consider politics instead of city planning. Most importantly, both Geoff and Wendell or Al confirmed at least the men at the theater knew Thompson had a gun and where he kept it.
I suspected that Fleisch was “alyourpal” and the most positive aspect about him was he spared us the profanity. He came off as a real sleaze. Obviously no love lost between him and Laura Patrissi. I wondered if he’d come on to her and been rebuked. I made a note to check the Internet for “Al” Fleisch and Briana Dooley when I got a chance. Neither seemed to be an especially good suspect for Thompson’s murder, although Ms. Dooley’s disappearing act was suspicious in and of itself. Now if Dr. Patrissi was the victim, my money would be on Al.
Murder in the Theater (Cold Creek Book 4) Page 8
