Ghosts, Wandering Here and There

by Flo Fitzpatrick

  Cyrus snoozed in one of the seats in the front row. As we entered, he got up, stretched, and waved at me. I joined him down front and was quickly enveloped in a huge hug. Billie saw us and trotted over.

  “Were your ears burning last night, Ms. Davlin?”

  “Pardon me?”

  Billie smiled. “We were discussing you and Rafe. Cyrus and I have been trying to figure out why you both look so familiar to us. Took us a pitcher of margaritas to finally figure it out. We saw you when you performed in Pippin a few years ago. You looked different then.”

  “I was wigged for that one. Brunette. I'm surprised you were able to recognize me at all.”

  “You were wonderful. Your solo dance as Fastrada was absolutely terrific.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not him, though.” Cyrus closed his eyes as if he could call to mind whatever tenuous memory kept eluding him.

  “Cyrus? What do you mean?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at me. He shook his head.

  “What about Rafe? Did either of you recall which show you'd seen him in?”

  Neither Cyrus nor Billie got the chance to answer. Lida Rose grabbed me by the hand, then pushed me toward the stage.

  “I hate to break up the love fest, but we need to get to work. Kiely, would you start a warm-up? I have to talk to Daisy for a few minutes.”

  I nodded, jumped onstage, gathered the cast together, and began our series of stretches. I glanced into the audience. Fran and Shirley had taken seats in a clump dead center of the theatre. Billie sat next to the piano with Lida Rose and Daisy. Cyrus and Nathaniel stood at the back of the theatre, and then joined their companions in the center of the audience.

  A flash of light drew my gaze to the balcony. Don Mueller's ghost was leaning on the railing. He was staring at the group of old cast members. The new group was onstage straining to touch heads to knees and feet to heads.

  His form was very vague and shadowy, but it was definitely Don. I couldn't see his expression from where I stood, but I suddenly felt chilled. Cyrus had fired that gun. And any one of the elderly actors calmly watching rehearsal might have deliberately switched blanks with live ammunition. Cold sweat trickled down my back.

  Don Mueller had been nothing but benign the few times I'd sensed his presence. If his murderer now sat in the audience, would he become a vengeful spirit seeking justice?

  Accident, Kiely. A tragic accident. That's all. Besides, we're missing at least six old cast members. It might have been one of them who'd switched bullets. Not any of this group.

  Rafe asked, peering far too closely into my face, “You're muttering to yourself, Kiely, are you all right?”

  I scowled. “I'm fine. I’m going over the steps I'm teaching.”

  “Since when are steps tragic accidents?”

  Before I could respond, another voice entered the conversation. “Since Hank and Ham Humble are attempting to do them.”

  Amber was giggling behind Rafe and me. We laughed. The Humble twins heard and converged on the poor girl with fingers outstretched in tickling mode. She took off running. Warm-up was at an end.

  Lida Rose waved at us.

  “Calm down, children. Act Two. Take it from the top. Blocking only, no songs. Places.”

  “Lida Rose?”

  “Kiely?”

  “May I make a request as the actress playing Delilah and not the choreographer?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Can we change my blocking where I'm under the bar? I don't mind being behind the bar or on top of the bar or next to the bar. I'm getting, well . . .”

  She nodded. “Highly claustrophobic.”

  “You got it.”

  Lida Rose shook her head. “How you ever managed to play the gorilla when we did Cabaret is beyond me. I don't recall watching you freak out behind the furry head every night.”

  This was getting embarrassing. Both old and new cast members were listening to our discussion and seemed to be enjoying hearing about Kiely's phobia.

  I sighed. “I didn't wear the full head. Remember? They created a special mask that kept most of my face open. Could we not go into this now? All I need to know is if I can change my blocking.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Try crouching next to the bar between the two gaming tables. Actually, that might work better, since the audience can see Delilah trying to get the rope untied.”

  “Thanks.”

  We worked solidly for the next two hours. The new blocking worked perfectly for me except that I was forced to look up into the balcony area. Which meant trying to see if Don was still there.

  He hadn't moved. Lida Rose caught me staring at the balcony longer than was necessary. She spun around to see what had drawn my attention. Then she slowly turned back and smiled at me. I wondered if she'd seen him too. It was apparent no one else had. No gasps, no squeals, no pointing, or fainting.

  I pulled my focus back to the scene at hand. We finished the blocking rehearsal. Lida Rose immediately called for a break. “Five minutes, tops!”

  I lowered myself into the orchestra pit to see if Jed had enough toys and water.

  “Kiely?”

  “Hi, Nathaniel.”

  His voice was too quiet for anyone else to hear.

  “You saw him, didn't you? I couldn't help but notice your attention wasn't completely focused on the stage.”

  I wanted to say no, and avoid sounding crazy, but this man had been Don Mueller's friend. I felt like I owed him reassurance.

  “Yes.”

  “Is this the first time Don, um, has made an appearance?”

  “No. At least, I'm pretty sure I've seen him before this.”

  He sat down in a seat closest to the pit. He looked calm, but sad.

  “Has he ever spoken?”

  I smiled. “Not to me. But he seems to like my dances. He's applauded for them. The man obviously has taste.”

  Nathaniel mused, “Funny. I've heard rumors for years that his spirit haunts this theatre. Never really believed it. Never really believed in ghosts. But today when I saw you staring into the balcony? Well. Guess one is never too old to change one's mind.”

  I couldn't help but glance over at Rafe. “Mind telling a few others that?”

  Nathaniel smiled, then Lida Rose's voice called out, “Break's over. It's time to dance.”

  I climbed out of the pit with Nathaniel's able assistance, then hoisted myself onto the stage and waited for the cast to gather.

  “Okay, troops. Nothing new right now. I want to review the ‘Gambler's We’ number, then give the guys a short break and work with the dancehall girls on the ‘Headin' up the Brazos’ dance.”

  We danced for the next hour. I didn't get another chance to check out the railing of the balcony. Nothing hinted of any non-living presence, though, so I assumed Don had called it quits as to watching rehearsals. At least for today.

  I made it a point to ignore Rafe Montez as much as I was able. That was not too difficult from the physical standpoint, since I had to spend most of my time patiently teaching the Humble boys the steps they'd learned the day before. Rafe, of course, caught the moves the minute I showed them. From an emotional standpoint, I was all too aware of his presence. Why the heck had Billie stated how Rafe was crazy about me? It was like the old lawyer's trick about getting a jury to think about what the attorney wanted them to. Tell them not to think about elephants, and guess what's the only thing on their minds?

  I glanced down at Billie smiling serenely at me from the audience. And felt pretty damned sure there was an elephant directly behind my right shoulder.

  Chapter 13

  I'd managed to get a good night's sleep, and decided to get to the theatre early. In the midst of inserting my key into the door of the theatre, I stopped. Unlocked again. Thelma Lou tended to arrive around six a.m. Maybe instead of coming in by way of the scene shop, she'd decided to use the classy entrance. Or perhaps one of the techies had done the same. Any one of a dozen people could be r
oaming the theatre at eight in the morning.

  I herded Jed through the doors and walked slowly toward the stage. I intended to dump my bag there before making coffee in the kitchen. But I felt twitchy. There was no reason for apprehension, yet Jed felt it, too. He galloped up the stage, then kept going into the wings toward the stairs leading to the prop room.

  “Jedidiah. Get back here. What's the matter, boy? Did some idiot from the light crew leave his burger and fries on the stairs? Jed! Come here.”

  He ignored me. I ran after him and found him crouched in front of the prop room door, which was securely shut. I couldn't see the remnants of anyone's lunch or dinner take-out anywhere, so I started to haul the dog away by his collar. And stepped neatly into the blood oozing out from underneath the prop

  room door. I shoved Jed to one side and told him to sit. Naturally he paid no attention. He took off down the stairs, howling.

  I tried to open the door. Stuck. I checked the lock. Open. But something was keeping the door shut from inside. I heard breathing behind me and turned in time to see Rafe coming up the stairs at a clip similar to my own.

  “Are you okay? Jed came tearing past like the hounds of hell were after him. Are you hurt?”

  “I'm fine. But I'm not sure I can say that about who's behind that door. Rafe? There's a lot of blood here. And I can't get this door to budge.”

  He put his arm around me and led me to the top of the stairs where Jed sat in the stance of a serious guard dog. “Take a deep breath. Okay. Let me think. There's another entrance into the prop room. From the balcony where the light booth is. I'll climb up the ladder to the booth and see if I can get in that way.”

  “I'm coming with you.”

  He shook his head. “No you're not. Who knows what's happened here? Why don't you go downstairs and call nine-one-one. Then Lida Rose.”

  “But if someone's hurt, I can help. I took first aid when I got certified in CPR. Red Cross of Manhattan and all. Nice building on the Upper West Side.”

  He took my shoulders gently and made me face him. “Kiely, somehow I don't think first aid is going to help. And, for what it's worth, I'm certified as well.”

  He escorted me and the dog back down to the theatre house proper, and then headed over to the ladder that connected directly into the light booth. I watched him for a second, then dug into my bag for my cell. I called 911 first, then called Lida Rose. The only voice I heard was that of her answering machine singing a few bars of “Lida Rose” before it told the caller to leave the message. I complied with the request.

  “L. R. Big problems at the theatre. Get over here. Now.”

  I hung up, and opened the door in the hallway leading to the stairs to the orchestra pit. I grabbed the dog and dragged him along, so he'd be out of the way of whatever was coming. Also, I’m not ashamed to admit I needed his cheerful doggie presence loping alongside me.

  I carefully opened the door into the orchestra pit, checking under my feet first to see if anything liquid and warm might be under them. Clean. I clicked on the light. The pit looked as it always did. The chairs for the musicians were stacked neatly along the wall. A few of Jed's toys I hadn't quite gotten to the day before were littered around the floor in various stages of “chewed.”

  I was in the middle of gathering two particularly destroyed tennis balls on ropes, when I heard a voice screaming, “Kiely!”

  It was Lida Rose. A frantic Lida Rose. She couldn't have gotten my message and driven over this fast. Either she'd been on her way, or was already here when I arrived and I simply hadn't seen her.

  “L.R! I'm here!”

  She leaned over the pit, which was still in the Down position. I turned the key from where I stood and raised the pit to the level of the audience floor.

  “Kiely, do you know what's happened?”

  “Yes and no. I found blood near the prop room. Rafe went to check since we couldn't get in from the main entrance.”

  “I know. He waved at me from the balcony a few seconds ago. For a second I thought it was the ghost again. I figured he was mistaking me for you.”

  I almost told her the day anyone, even someone long dead, mistakes a five-foot-ten-inch black-haired, beyond voluptuous woman wearing colors of neon pastels, for a five-foot-eight-inch redhead who's straight up and down and dressed in black, would be the day the ghosts took over every theatre in town.

  When I'd seen Rafe, he'd been dressed in the black tux and tails of the villain. I'd been so upset, I hadn't really noticed until Lida Rose brought up Don Mueller's ghost.

  That made me look up at the balcony again. A man was standing near the prop room wearing that black costume. This time it was Don. He pointed to the pit where I was standing. Then he faded away as the doors to the theatre burst open and two cops and two paramedics sped in.

  “What's the problem? Someone called and said they'd spotted a pool of blood in the prom room?”

  I sighed.

  “That's prop room.”

  The cop, a kid of maybe twenty-five, looked embarrassed. “I thought that sounded wrong. Our dispatcher has a tendency to get things a bit mixed up, although she's excellent with exact addresses and with calming people who think they've surprised burglars.”

  Lida Rose glared, then snarled at the policeman. “Thanks so much for that inane explanation, Officer, uh . . .” She peered at his name tag, “Carter.”

  His partner, a female of Amazon proportions who looked like she could have modeled for Vogue, took over the conversation.

  “Where is this prop room? Has anyone gone in?”

  Rafe shouted from the balcony. “Up here. I managed to get in through another way. It's serious. One of the cast members. Um, there's a huge cabinet blocking the doorway from the stairs, so you'll need to come up by way of the lighting booth until we can move it.”

  As one, the police, the paramedics, and Lida Rose headed in that direction. I stayed a few steps behind them and hoped they wouldn't notice I was there.

  Rafe had managed to shove the door open enough for people to squeeze through. I stood in the doorway between the prop room and the balcony, grabbed for the nearest person to support myself, and tried to ignore the tears flowing down my face.

  Jason Sharkey lay in the middle of the wreckage of the huge cabinet where for years the theatre had kept its medieval period props. A scimitar looked as if it had been placed across Jason's neck. Whether the blow itself had done all the damage, or it had been the subsequent bleeding, didn't really make a difference. Jason was quite dead.

  Rafe hurried over and put his arms around me. “Kiely, I told you to stay downstairs. You don't need to see this.”

  He was right. Jason's perfect blond hair looked like he'd gotten a henna rinse. His throat was indescribable. I'd been in theatre for over twenty years, starting with pre-school shows. I'd seen how makeup artists build latex wounds that are so realistic one has to touch them to believe they're really fake. I'd popped, then spit out blood capsules in scenes, and in fact had been prepared to chomp down on one in Act Three of Bad Business. But this was so obviously real and so obviously final. I shut my eyes and tried not to faint.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  I did. It didn't help.

  “Go downstairs.”

  I slowly backed out and headed for the balcony. They didn't need me in there. Lida Rose wasn't needed, either. Rafe stayed with the cops and the paramedics. They didn't move the cabinet back to the wall. “Can't disturb the crime scene” kept running through my mind.

  It hit me that this was indeed a crime scene. Was there any way that the cabinet could have toppled and spilled its lethal contents onto Jason without someone pushing it?

  “What the hell was Jason Sharkey doing in the prop room bleeding to death at eight in the morning?”

  Lida Rose shook her head as we sat in silence in the lighting booth. A third presence could be felt, but not seen. Don Mueller had joined us. It was the first comforting thought I'd had since I'd seen that b
lood this morning.

  Lida Rose blew her nose into a giant-sized tissue and absently wiped off her lipstick immediately after. “This is not good.”

  I looked at Lida Rose. She was as pale as Don Mueller.

  “L. R. You have a talent for understatement. Damn. Did you ever imagine something like this?”

  She shook her head. “Kiely, what am I going to do?”

  I hugged my friend. “You're going to wait to see what the police have to say. That's all you can do for a while. That and say a prayer for the man's soul.”

  We sat in silence for what seemed like hours. Rafe finally came in and told us the police had called in the forensics team and we should go on back down and wait for them in the lobby.

  “What about you?”

  He looked at me with one of those famous raised brows. “What about me?”

  “Don't the cops want you to vacate the premises with us? Or is it only women and children out of the way?”

  “I found the man. They want me to stay right up here and answer any and all questions the detectives will have when they get here. Kiely, are you okay?” He shook his head. “Stupid question. Of course you're not.”

  Lida Rose was already climbing down to the stage. I stayed a moment longer. “Rafe.”

  “Kiely. Go on downstairs and get a cup of coffee. With real sugar, not that fake stuff. You've had a shock.”

  He tried to smile. “I could use some coffee, too, and I'll bet the cops could. I know it sounds like it truly is women, kids, and dogs out of the way, but would you mind making a huge pot? It's going to be a long day.”

  He hugged me for a few moments. This was the second time I'd been comforted by a villain this morning.

  I half slid down the ladder and nearly crashed into Lida Rose, who was waiting at the bottom. She seemed unable to move.

  “Coffee. They want coffee. And we need it, too,” I blabbered.

  She wasn't listening. “What am I going to tell everyone when they get here for rehearsal? And that means everyone. Damn it, Kiely, our cast, the original cast, the techies, Daisy, the rest of the orchestra, even Brett Barrett. Do you know him? He was bringing a photographer. The News was going to give us some nice publicity for the anniversary. Oh, this will read well. I can see the headlines. Bad Business at Bad Business! Headless Hero Murdered! Shit. I thought I'd cause a bit of trouble playing up that stupid curse business when I talked to Brett yesterday. Only that was fun. This is not. Excuse me while I grab the first plane to New Zealand or somewhere.”