Ghosts, Wandering Here and There

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  I looked out into the audience to see if Lida Rose had arrived. And saw a man dressed in the villain's costume staring at me. My breath caught. He looked awfully real from where I was standing.

  “The dance looks good.”

  I nearly fainted. The ghost was talking. Then I looked again and realized the ghost was also walking.

  Jed's tail started beating a rhythm that mimicked the pounding of my heart.

  “Jedidiah! Shouldn't you be howling or something? Aren't dogs supposed to be scared of ghosts?”

  “What ghosts?”

  The villain began marching down toward the orchestra pit. I screamed. I shut off the music and screamed again.

  Rafe Montez stared at me from the edge of the stage. I pursed my lips together. “Oh, hell, damnation and fury! It's only you.”

  “Thank you. Such a nice way you have of greeting a fellow actor. Really gives one a warm and fuzzy feeling.”

  I blushed. “I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean it the way it sounded. I was petrified. Well, maybe a bit excited, too. I thought the ghost of Don Mueller had decided to join me for a nice waltz onstage or something.”

  One of Rafe's black eyebrows lifted about an inch. I've always both admired and resented people who have perfected that wonderfully sarcastic gesture. I can never get a brow to lift and I believe this to mean the raisee possesses gifts of phenomenal talent and intellect I can never comprehend. This particular talented intellectual was staring at me as though I'd recently turned green and grown Vulcan-style ears.

  “Did you say the ghost of Don Mueller?”

  “I did. Hey, you ought to be worried. Here you are running around in his costume, taking over his part. He may decide he's envious and try and scare you out of the show.”

  I was kidding, but Rafe looked concerned.

  “You're weird, you know that?”

  I didn't appreciate the insult. Plus, I was miffed that he thought I was a kook. “Am not. What makes you say that?”

  “Because it sounds like you actually believe this character is haunting the theatre. No offense, Miss Davlin, but that's a large load of cow poop.”

  Okay. He was getting my Irish up. Davlins and Rileys. Both sets of ancestors.

  “Well, ‘scuse me, Mr. Zero Imagination. Not only am I convinced he's here, but I've seen him. Really.”

  Oops. Hadn't meant to let that slip out. His other eyebrow lifted. Damn. Ambidextrous raisable brows.

  “Care to share your ghostly tale? Or is it reserved for dark and stormy nights around a campfire?”

  I shot him what might be termed a hostile look. The man hadn't bothered to talk to me for the six days I'd been here. Now that he was making an effort, it was only to ridicule me.

  “Fine. Laugh at me. But I know yesterday I saw him in the costume shop moments before I left. Dressed in the same full villain's gear you're now wearing. And I swear on my dog's nose, it wasn't you, unless you can fade away like a Cheshire cat into a wall.”

  “I seem to remember you and Lida Rose going off in that direction yesterday. Did she happen to regale you with her little ghost stories before you saw this so-called apparition?”

  “Well, yes, and she did mention that she thought he might be ready to put in an appearance soon. But I didn't imagine seeing him. I'm not that suggestible.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  This was no way to start a friendship. Or anything else.

  “Believe what you like. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work before anyone else shows up.”

  “So you do. I'm sorry I disturbed you. The only reason I'm here early is to try on this costume our director seems determined to have me wear. I'll leave you alone.”

  He whirled away before I could apologize. Perhaps I had been a bit snippy. He turned around again. “The dances are good, Kiely. My mother was a dancer with New York City Ballet. I recognize talent when I see it.”

  I did blush then. “Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.”

  Rafe smiled and my heart started thumping rather on the order of Jed's tail. “No problem.”

  He headed off toward the costume shop. I was amazed I hadn't heard him earlier. The man rivaled my ghost in silence.

  I turned my attention back to my choreography. No one else entered the theatre for the next half hour. At least no one I was aware of.

  “Kiely. Guess what?”

  I looked up from the notebook where I'd been frantically writing out my own shorthand version of the steps I was creating. It was ten a.m. Lida Rose stood in front of me, flanked by Jason Sharkey, the Humble twins, Amber the ingénue, and my two female dancers, Lindsay Carmichael and Macy Mihalik.

  “What?”

  Lida Rose was literally jumping up and down in gleeful excitement. With her anatomy, I feared she'd knock herself in the chin and pass out. I grabbed her to stop the movement and asked, “What?”

  “They've accepted. Every one of them.”

  “Who? Every one of what? Madam Worthington, you are the most exasperating source of information I've ever known. Tell a person what you're talking about once in a while so they'll have an inkling as to whatever is in your head.”

  She looked not the least embarrassed. I am always telling her she is generally three conversations ahead of the rest of the world. She knows this. It doesn't bother her. She simply expects the rest of humanity to read her thoughts and catch up.

  “Kiely. Quit blathering and pay attention. I'm talking about the original surviving cast members of Bad Business on the Brazos. I had the publicity office send out invitations asking if they'd like to attend the grand reopening of the theatre as our special guests. They're coming. Those that are still alive, that is.”

  Rafe would doubtless be pleased to know a collection of ghosts were not about to invade the theatre.

  “Who all's accepted?”

  Jason stepped forward to answer, possibly because Lida Rose thrust the list into his hands. Her reading glasses were nowhere in sight, so he'd been elected as speaker.

  He cleared his throat and began to announce the names in tones similar to those of an anchorman reciting the local news. “Fran Watkins, the original Bathsheba Bombshell, who also happens to be one-half owner of East Ellum Theatre. Shirley Kincaid, the original Sultry Salome, who happens to be the other half. Let's see . . . Nathaniel Bollinger, the original Ace Royale. My counterpart, Lance Lamar, Mr. Cyrus Boone. What a name. Sounds like a regular old geezer, doesn't it? Probably doesn't have a tooth or a thought left. Actually, didn't he go nuts after that old actor died? The spook haunting the theatre?”

  Lida Rose glanced at me. I was too angry at Jason's insensitivity to notice.

  Several more of our cast had gathered 'round. Theo Stafford, the current Ace Royale, shot Jason a less-than-cordial look. “I wouldn't be quite so quick to put down the man who received more rave reviews for his performance in the New York’s Public Theatre's production of King Lear than you've been granted in your entire theatrical career. As for the tragedy years ago—can you imagine how awful it must have been for him? Killing someone, even as an accident? I'd've spent my next twenty years in a nice sanitarium.”

  Jason ignored him and continued to read. “Okay, there's one other name—Noemi Trujillo. Who doesn't seem to have a reason to be on this list. I can't find a character name given and there's a question mark by her name.”

  My head shot up. I knew that name. Noemi. Pretty. Thelma Lou said she was the woman who'd been in love with Don Mueller, then taken off and broken his heart.

  “Let me see that.”

  He handed me the list. There it was. I looked at Lida Rose. “Was she in the show? I thought Thelma Lou said she left a week or so before they opened Bad Business.”

  Lida Rose smiled at me. “They didn't list her in the old cast program. Thelma Lou's correct. The lady disappeared before opening night. The programs must have been printed after she'd gone.”

  “Noemi was supposed to play your character, Kiely. Delilah Delight. I he
ar they didn't replace her. They decided to go ahead minus one dancehall girl and gave her lines to Shirley Kincaid. Rumor has it she was engaged to Don Mueller. Noemi, that is. Not Shirley.” She stated, “I stuck her name on this list because I wanted to ask the other old cast members if they knew anything about her.”

  Macy was hanging over Jason's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind. “So who's nowhere?”

  Jason handed the list to me. “Kiely, you seem to know all about these people. Any idea who's missing?”

  I took the paper from him. “I don't know all about the cast. Thelma Lou told me mainly about Don Mueller. As for this list, I imagine since we're doing the same show, then whoever our counterparts were back then, and aren't listed here, are those missing. Definitely the rancher twins, Billy Joe Bob and Bobby Joe Bob Travis.”

  Lida Rose beamed at me. “Very succinct, Kiely. I understood that completely.”

  I quickly perused the names. “Okay. Aside from the Travis boys, we seem to be minus one ingénue, the villain sidekick Jackson Wild, and of course, the villain. Five of the original cast members are missing. Well, six if you count Noemi Trujillo. Are these others deceased?”

  Lida Rose nodded. “I think so. Of course, we know about Don Mueller. And all these people are at least in their seventies now, so I wouldn't be surprised if several of the others had passed on to the great melodrama in the sky at some point.”

  “I'm here.”

  We all turned. Daisy Haltom had arrived and was running down the left aisle of the theatre unintentionally banging into chairs and railings. The woman was a walking disaster.

  I glanced at Lida Rose, who was in the middle of proclaiming, “Who gives a rat's derriere?” at the accompanist, who was now fifteen minutes late for rehearsal. I poked her before she could finish muttering the question. We needed Daisy. She might be a pain in that rodent's behind but she was an excellent musician.

  Lida Rose clapped her hands together to command the attention of the cast. “Okay. Y'all had an unexpected break yesterday. I assume that being the good and responsible actors you are you took full advantage and went home and memorized your lines? Of course you did. At any rate, we've got a long day ahead, so plop your bags down and come sit in the first few rows for a vocal warm-up. Kiely? I need to see you for a minute.”

  The rest of the cast did as they were told and started singing the first notes of a scale.

  Lida Rose pulled me aside. I glared at her. “Yes, oh director mine? Is this a fast and minimal production meeting?”

  She immediately looked guilty. I've noticed in the week I've had him, that Jed gets that same expression on his face after he's eaten the tissues from my bathroom trash, and the chicken bones from anybody's garbage.

  “This is not a production meeting. You know what you're doing dance-wise. You always do. This is purely personal. I ran into Rafe minutes before I came into the theatre. He told me you'd seen Don Mueller. I'm so excited. Did he say anything to you?”

  Fortunately, she was whispering, but I glanced down into the rows where the cast was sitting, looking for any ears that might be perked.

  “Sshh! Why the hell did he tell you that?”

  “Because I asked him what you thought of his costume. He blurted out that you thought he was Don. Rafe wasn't telling tales, Kiely. Honest.”

  I felt a bit better. “There's nothing really exciting to relate. I saw your ghost in the costume shop. That is, I assume it was your ghost. Now that I think about it, it was probably a shadow.”

  My friend shook her head vigorously. “It was Don. This is too much fun. You know he really likes your dances. Thelma Lou and I peeked in here after Rafe told me you thought he was Don. She said he was watching you while you worked. He was bobbing his head up and down and smiling.”

  I stared at her. My best friend was a lunatic. I'd suspected it for years. Now I was sure. “You are out of your skull. Ya know that, Lida Rose Worthington Rizokowsky? Now, don't misunderstand. I might just believe that there are such things as ghosts. In fact, I think it's in the actor's handbook that performers must work in at least two haunted theatres on a yearly basis. I've also heard ghost theories stating the spirits are an essence of someone's presence remaining, some sort of shadow of energy. But to have you stand there and tell me that Don Mueller is acting like some choreographic critic keeping an eye on my work is beyond nutso.”

  She smiled. “You wait, Kiely. You'll see. Okay, I've kept you long enough. Go sing.”

  I hurried off the stage to join my cast mates. Rafe eyed me, left eyebrow up this time. I gave him a huge smile, opened my mouth wide, and joined the others. Jed added his own interpretation of the scale from the orchestra pit where I'd left him. He loves high notes. Our soprano, Amber, was already finding it difficult to sing her solo with Jed accompanying.

  We finished warming up, then sang through the five songs we'd learned so far, including “Gamblers We,” the number we'd been about to sing yesterday before Daisy's desertion. Lida Rose came down and listened, then waved at the accompanist to stop playing. “Let's start there. Everybody? Onstage, Act Two, Scene Two. Um, let's take it from the beginning where the poker game is getting heated.”

  For the next three hours we ran the scene until it met Lida Rose's high standards. The woman may come across as a scatterbrain, but she's a killer director. Very picky, very knowledgeable about what she wants, and very adept at getting it. Exhaustion was setting in when she finally called “Break.”

  We had an hour off for lunch. Lida Rose had heard from Christa Hernandez that El Diablo's was open again, so we'd decided to lend monetary and moral support and go en masse for real Tex-Mex.

  I grabbed Jed, who was now happily gnawing the chairs in the back row, and penned him in the kitchen where I figured he could do the least amount of damage. I gave him water and two more chew toys from my bag, then delivered a stern lecture about staying out of trouble. His eyes never left my face and his expression oozed pure adoration and angelic acceptance. I had no doubt the moment I left he would find a way to open one of the locked pantry doors and devour the un-popped popcorn from the sealed bags.

  Heck, with his talent, he'd probably find a way to pop them in the microwave—with extra butter.

  In that case I hoped he'd share with Don Mueller.

  Chapter 6

  The cast, minus Jason, Macy, Daisy, and our ingénue, Amber something (I had yet to learn her last name and doubted I ever would), was already seated at a huge round table at El Diablo's. Chips and salsa and water glasses had been set down, and the waitress was standing near Theo, waiting for the order. I hurried in and took the empty chair next to one of the twins—Ham, I think.

  That put me directly opposite Rafe, who nodded politely at me. “How's Jed?”

  “Fine. There might not be a kitchen when we get back, but he seemed happy. Actually, Thelma Lou came in as I was leaving and said she'd stay with him, so the theatre is safe for the moment. More important, how's Joe? Anyone know? Is Christa in today?”

  Lindsay Carmichael, a tall, gorgeous dancer with mocha skin, an incredible figure, and a constant twinkle in her brown eyes, lifted up a chip dripping with sauce and waved it at me. Tiny red dots flew around the table.

  “Christa hugged every one of us as soon as we burst through the door. Joe is apparently encased in a full body cast and will be enjoying the accommodations at the hospital for an undisclosed time. Probably until the insurance company says enough.”

  Rafe added, “We need to arrange a visit. Preferably get about ten members of Bad Business in at the same time. Joe loves crowds. It'll piss off the hospital staff, but be worth it for him.”

  I did like the way Rafe's mind worked. But I was curious.

  “How do you know Joe?”

  Rafe replied, “We're cousins. We're about the same age and we pretty much grew up together. I was sampling the cuisine at the Hernandez household long before Joe ever opened a restaurant. You think he's good? You should be there at Thanksgiving w
hen my uncle Jess is cooking. Deliciously sinful.” His tone changed. “Needless to say, though, I'm damned upset about his accident.”

  “What really happened? Anyone know?”

  “It appears Joe had finished locking up here and was heading for his car, which was parked across the street when some sonovabitch plowed into him. Naturally, there were no witnesses. It's not exactly booming in this neighborhood after midnight.”

  I surveyed El Diablo's. “I can't believe this happened so soon after he opened. It's really a fun place. I love those funky 'Early Juarez Tourist' velvet paintings on the walls. Joe does have a wonderful sense of humor.”

  Rafe laughed. “He told me he’s afraid folks think he truly believes those are serious pieces of art—”

  Lindsay interrupted before Rafe had a chance to continue. “Art, schmart. We're half through with lunch and I want info on my fellow Bad Businesses. So, is everyone a Texas native, except for Kiely?”

  I tried to emulate Rafe's one eyebrow technique but succeeded only in raising both. “Lindsay, my friend, I'll have you know I am a Texas native. Well, born in Virginia, but raised in Dallas from age nine on. Went to the Arts Magnet High School and everything. I only became a Yankee citizen ten years ago. Do you mean to tell me you can't hear that sweet l'il twang in my voice? I'll have to call my vocal coach in Manhattan and tell him what an amazing job he did.”

  She grinned at me. “I know. Lida Rose told me all about you when she said you were coming to choreograph. I only wanted to bug you a little, sauntering in from the big city to help out the home folks. Anybody else?”

  “I'm not native, Lindsay,” said Lida Rose. Here it came. Eugenia Grace and The Music Man. I winked at her and nodded. It was a great story. Never failed to delight an audience of theatrical trivia buffs.