“Please help me,” Wainwright whimpered, catching Evelyn’s attention once more.
“You! You need to die!” He wheeled back to the producer and drew back the hand with the dagger in it, preparing to strike.
Percy dropped the flashlight, sprang the ten feet or so forward, and grabbed Evelyn’s arm on its forward thrust. Within inches of the producer’s hunched-over back, Percy fought to break the young man’s hold on the dagger. The thrashing about caused the catwalk to vibrate, making it hard for sure footing. Wainwright threw his arms over his head, but did nothing else to protect himself.
As Percy grappled with the stage manager, she thought, Can this catwalk hold four people at one time? Scratch that. Five. Pop should be on the other side near Elsie by now.
Evelyn broke free of her grip, pivoted, and kicked her in the stomach. She fell back on the grating, her hand landing on the small flashlight. Grabbing it, she leapt up again, and faced her assailant.
“I see it’s time to take care of you, you fat bitch,” said Evelyn, advancing on her in the shadows. He waved the dagger menacingly.
“That’s Miss fat bitch to you, buster. And let’s see who takes care of who,” replied Percy, pulling the Mauser out from behind her with her free hand. She pointed the light on the pistol and then at the stage manager. He momentarily froze.
Sounds of a struggle on the other side of the catwalk diverted Percy’s attention. The catwalk went from vibration to shuddering, throwing everyone off-balance. Percy assumed a wide stance, and focused on the stage manager, who looked more insane with each passing heartbeat.
“I’ve got the girl,” Pop yelled from the other side of the walk.
The shuffling became noisier, momentarily distracting Percy and Evelyn, but not Wainwright. The producer leapt up and pushed at Evelyn in his effort to get by. The movements of the catwalk became even more intense with his pounding footsteps. He ran to the end of the catwalk and practically jumped onto the rungs, heading down.
Percy turned her attention back to the fight on the far end, involving her father and Elsie, and made a move in that direction. Just as Percy was about to call out, she heard a yelp from her father and the sound of a body falling over the rail, coupled with a short cry.
“Pop! Pop,” Percy shouted. The push of Pop’s falling body caused the catwalk to gyrate up and down, as well as side to side. She heard a metallic screeching but ignored it, screaming for her father.
Evelyn lunged at her with the dagger. Percy swung at his face with the butt of her gun and connected, not once but twice. He fell to the grating and lay still. Percy aimed the Mauser in the direction she’d last seen Elsie, but the girl seemed to have vanished. Had she fallen, too? No, no. it was just one person. Pop.
Oh, my God! Pop!
Percy snatched the dagger from the grating and hurried to the spot from where she heard her father fall. It was hard to move quickly on the vibrating catwalk and she continued to scream his name every step of the way. Panic filled her being as never before.
“Persephone,” came her father’s faint cry from somewhere below the catwalk, interrupting her horrifying thoughts.
“Pop, Pop!” Hope surged within her. “Where are you?”
“I’m here. I fell on the wooden horse. I think I broke my leg.” His voice filled with pain, he let out a groan.
Percy leaned over as far as she dared, searching with her flashlight. Fifteen feet down her father straddled the life-size, inanimate beast, his arms wrapped around the neck. One of Pop’s legs was in an awkward position.
“Hang on, Pop. I’ll get you down!”
As she made a move for the side of the catwalk, a stagehand’s voice shouted up, “What the hell is going on up there? Get off my catwalk. It ain’t safe.”
“You,” Percy bellowed back. “Lower the ropes for the wooden horse, but do it carefully. There’s an injured man hanging on it.”
“What?” The voice from below was filled with incredulity. “What the hell is --?”
“Just do it!” Percy screamed. “And be careful. Pop’s hurt.”
“Okay, okay.”
After a moment’s silence, the screeching sound of rarely used winches being turned reverberated throughout the theatre.
“Hang on, Pop,” Percy shouted. “You’ll be down in no time.”
“I’m hanging.”
Keeping one eye on the unmoving Evelyn, Percy watched her father being lowered until he disappeared from her sight into the darkness below.
“You still there, Pop?” Percy yelled. “What’s going on?”
“I got him.” The stagehand’s voice rose from the darkness beneath. “I’m getting him off the horse now.”
Shortly after, there was the murmur of voices. She caught a word or two, enough to know Pop was safe. The faint sounds of police sirens wafted up to her.
“Call an ambulance for Pop then throw on all the lights in the joint,” Percy ordered. “Especially if you got some up here.”
“Okay, okay. One thing at a time. Don’t have any lights up there. Nobody’s supposed to be up there but me,” the stagehand grumbled.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Percy went back to Evelyn Cohen, and prodded him with the toe of her shoe. She shone her light on his inert body. His face was bloodied from the butt of her gun, swelling near the jaw line. Satisfied he was still unconscious; she put the safety back on and returned the pistol to her waistband. She threw the dagger at the back brick wall, where she knew no one was and nothing would be damaged, except possibly the wretched weapon.
It struck the far bricks with a clatter and fell to the depths below, landing with a small clink. The sirens became louder. More than one police car approached.
The police will be here any minute. I’ll have to tell them Elsie is still on the loose, armed, and possibly dangerous.
Percy removed the leather belt from around her waist and knelt down. “There’s a few good things to being fat,” she said aloud, as she pulled Evelyn’s arms behind him. “I carry plenty of restraining material right on me.” Percy wrapped the belt around his hands, put one end through the buckle, and pulled. Feeling it was tight enough, she tied the thin leather into a tight knot. She pushed his body so his arms were against the railing and wove the remainder of the belt in and out of the meshing, once again, pulling it tight. She double-knotted the belt.
That should hold him if he wakes up before the cops get here.
Below her a flood of lights came on, dimly illuminating even where she was. Percy stood and looked around her, realizing for the first time her headache was gone.
Good to know a combination of aspirin and an adrenalin rush will get rid of a headache, but I don’t need another day like this.
The catwalk had calmed down and was easier to traverse. She headed for the opposite side of the theatre, keeping an eye out for Elsie. The girl was nowhere to be seen but that didn’t mean she wasn’t around, ready to pounce with the other dagger.
If I never see a dagger again in my life, it’ll be too soon for me.
As she got to the rungs, prepared to go down to the stage level, she noticed the hidden, short door to the storeroom ajar.
What have we here?
Wanting to get to her father’s side as quickly as possible, Percy was tempered with the knowledge that if Elsie was hiding inside the storeroom, the girl could be dangerous. Thoughts of the kerosene-filled lamp came to Percy’s mind.
I wouldn’t put it past her to start a fire and try to burn the theatre down with us in it.
She removed the Mauser from her waistband, checked the magazine clip, and released the manual safety again. Crouching down with the pistol in one hand and the flashlight in the other, Percy pushed the door open and crawled inside.
The second dagger lay on the floor glittering like a piece of jewelry in the beam of her light. On the alert, Percy took a moment to pick it up and shove it in her pocket.
In the death-like quiet, Percy moved the flashlight methodically f
rom place to place. Somewhat familiar with the room, she was no longer taken aback when she saw the intimidating Statue of Liberty glaring down at her. The light finally rested on Elsie sitting on the floor in a corner. Back against the wall, the girl had her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, head resting on her knees. Her Alice in Wonderland hair cascaded down to the floor, making the whole scenario macabre and surreal. On the inside of one of the girl’s calves was an angry, infected gash, a drooping sock no longer shielding it from sight.
“You should put Mercurochrome on that scratch,” Percy said, standing and aiming the Mauser at her.
Elsie slowly raised her head and tried to look past the beam of light shining in her face. “Is he dead? Did you kill my brother?” Her British accent returned in this unguarded moment but her voice was dull, as if it made little difference to her one way or the other.
“No, but he’s going to need a good dentist. You’d better get up and come with me.”
Elsie shook her head. “It isn’t fair.”
“What isn’t fair? That four people have died who had nothing to do with your problems? That my father probably broke his leg a minute ago?” The hand that held the pistol shook with anger.
“I didn’t want to come to American.” Elsie ignored Percy’s questions. “But we had no reason to stay in England. Evelyn felt if we came here, we could track him down, punish him for what he did to our parents.”
“So you got jobs in his production, as an assistant stage manager and assistant wardrobe supervisor. I’m sure you know quite a bit about the running of a production, coming from a theatrical family such as yours.”
“Not really.” Elsie’s voice was dreamlike, ethereal almost. “But one can learn. My father kept us as far away from the theatre as he could. He didn’t think it was good enough for us. Ironic, isn’t it? It wasn’t until he died that some of his associates took pity on us and offered us jobs in small theatres around England. They knew we lost everything. We couldn’t afford to stay in school any longer, between Dexter Wainwright stealing my mother’s ideas for the musical and my father having jeopardized everything with his position in the war. He was a Nazi sympathizer, you know, but that didn’t mean Wainwright should have poisoned him.”
“You’re sure he did?”
“I’m not sure of anything, anymore. Evelyn said he poisoned father, so he must have done.” She put her head down again on her knees. “I’m so tired.”
“I’ll bet.” She watched as Elsie lay down and curled up on the floor, her foot hitting a pill bottle. The bottle rolled a few feet toward Percy. The detective bend down, picked it up, and read the label.
“Seconal. That’s a barbiturate.” She shook the bottle. “Empty. How much of this did you take?” She went over to the girl and spoke in a louder voice. “Hey, Elsie, how much of this bottle did you take?”
“Enough,” was the soft reply. “Enough.”
Chapter Thirty-five
“Hey, Pop, how are you doing?” Percy poked her head inside the closed curtains of Pop’s bed in the ward. Six beds to a room, and you were lucky at that. The main ward held thirty-two.
Percy expected to find Pop alone. Instead, a woman with curly platinum blonde hair and a slim figure bent over him, giving him a kiss on the face.
“Gee, I hope I’m not interrupting something. Actually, I hope I am.” Percy threw back the curtain and stepping inside. The woman stood up, turned around, and looked at Percy with a grin on her face.
“S…Sera?” Percy stuttered. The woman was her kid sister, her usual long red hair now a shorter, white hot blonde. Despite being siblings, Percy and Sera looked as different as two women could, putting aside the fifteen-year difference in their ages. One topped five-foot eleven inches in height, the other five-foot two. Sera’s frame was slender, while Percy was a well-cushioned gal. What they had in common until that day, was the paternal carrot red hair inherited, according to their deceased Uncle Gil, from their much heralded Norse ancestor, Eric the Red.
“Hi-de-ho, Percy!” Sera said. She patted at the blonde curly locks of her do with a proud hand. “Don’t you just dig it? Am I a hep kitten, or what?”
Percy found herself speechless but managed a smile. After all, she adored her kid sister, if not all of the harebrained schemes Sera came up with from time to time.
“Serendipity has dyed her hair,” Pop said unnecessarily. “Something about Betty Grable.
Sera strutted up and down the confines of the small curtained area, displaying not only the latest in hairdos but a newly purchased frock, tag still dangling from under one arm. Flared at the hemline when she twirled, the dress ended just below the knees, and hugged her hips, waist and bust, ‘not too much, but just enough’ as Vogue would say. Small white flowers pattered on a teal background, emphasizing turquoise colored eyes that flashed with vitality.
Percy sported a tailored, wide-lapel, forest green pants suit, softened by a cream colored blouse. It was her Sunday best, but nothing was too good for the day she wrapped up her first case. She had actually brushed and styled her hair. Worn loose, soft curls trailed down the sides of her neck and back. She felt good about how she looked; a rare occurrence. Her own eyes, more pure green than her sister’s, radiated their own vitality and more. A sharp confidence.
“And it only cost six dollars and fifty-seven cents, including tip,” Sera bragged about her new hairstyle.
“You paid for that?” Percy caught herself. “I mean, what did you pay for that dress? You might want to cut off the tag, Sera, before you wear it out of here.”
Sera stopped twirling and in a panic, began to search the dress on her body. “Oh, no! Daniel’s waiting outside to take me to the movies! Where’s the tag, Percy? Help me.”
Percy stepped forward, lifted Sera’s right arm, grabbed the tag and gave a yank. It came off in her hand along with the string.
Sera snatched at it. “Thanks. I got it on sale at Macy’s, half price!”
“I keep telling her that her hair looks like cotton candy I once had at the County Fair.” Pop grabbed one of the handles above his bed to pull himself up into a more comfortable position. “But nobody’s listening to me.”
He wore his favorite striped pajamas from home, Mother having cut open and sacrificed one leg to accommodate the thigh to ankle cast. Encased in the thick plaster, his right leg stuck straight out and hung from above on a pulley system not unlike the one at the Royal. Five swollen pink toes moved independently as he struggled to get comfortable.
“Here, Pop.” Percy went to the other side of the bed. She puffed up his pillows and stacked them to support his back. “Better?”
”Yes,” he growled, obviously still upset over his youngest daughter’s choice in hair color. “I don’t see what’s wrong with leaving Mother Nature alone, Serendipity. You don’t see your sister changing her hair --”
“Oooooh, Pop,” Percy drawled in a low voice. “Leave me out of this.”
“Now see here, Pop.” Sera announcement was made grandly. “I’m a grownup woman and I make my own money. I can do what I --”
“In that case, you can start paying rent.” Her father crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Just like your sister does.”
A shocked look crossed Sera’s face. Her jaw dropped open and she gasped noisily.
“Don’t want to get pulled into this.” Percy muttered to no one in particular.
“I don’t make that much money down at the munitions factory,” Sera protested. “And you know I’m saving it to go to beauty school.” She turned to her older sister. “Tell him, Percy. You know I’m right. Tell him.”
“Isn’t anybody going to leave me out of this?” Percy directed her comment to a lone plant sitting on the windowsill.
“Nobody has to tell me anything, young lady.” Pop’s voice rose above his two daughters. “I am your father and the head of the household. If I say --”
“Hey,” a caustic voice yelled over the curtains. “You want to kee
p it down to a dull roar in there? Some of us are trying to sleep!”
“Sorry.” All three Cole’s spoke in unison then looked at one another, and broke out in embarrassed laughter. Sera came to the head of the bed and looked down at her father, her demeanor changing from belligerence to submissiveness.
“Gee, Pop, I’m not trying to make a grandstand play about this but, come on, paying rent.” Sera whined at the end.
“I think two dollars a week is fair, Serendipity, for room and board. That’s including three square meals a day.” Pop’s tone was firm.
“You mean, you’re charging me more for Mother’s cooking? I never thought of them as square. How about if I don’t eat at home and we…” Sera broke off when she saw the looks on both their faces. “I guess not.” Sera let out a groan.
“It’s like you say, Serendipity.” Pop straightened his covers in an authoritative way. “If you’re old enough to start dying your hair, you’re old enough to contribute to the household. Now you run along to wherever it is you’re going. But don’t you be coming home too late. Mother has enough to contend with.”
“I’m going to the movies with Daniel. Casablanca. It’s so romantic.” She let out a deep sigh. “I’ve already seen it four times. Just once, I’d like Humphrey Bogart to get on the plane with Ingrid Bergman at the end. Later, gator.” She grabbed her black wool jacket, pushed aside the curtain, and flounced out. Percy and Pop watched her departing figure.
Pop looked at Percy. “She gets that from your mother’s side of the family.”
“I don’t know, Pop. We both got our red hair from Uncle Gil. I even got his height. So it could be your side.” Percy looked at her father and blew him a quick kiss. “How’s your leg, Pop? Honest now.”
He reached for the stirrup-like straps again, pulled up, and adjusted himself. “I’m a mite uncomfortable, Persephone, I admit it.”
Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse Page 17
