Theater Nights Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  I crawled close enough for Neil to squint at my neck. “How did you ever find that in the bushes?”

  I took his arm and led him back toward the front of the building. “The light hit it at just the right angle.”

  “Wow, that was lucky. Have you seen Thelma and Edith? I want to go over the finale again.”

  We walked past the coat closet and I spied Aunt Ginny’s red hair peeking out from between a tan raincoat and a bright blue parka. “No, I haven’t, but I’m sure Edith and Thelma will be in right away for practice.”

  The red hair in the closet started to quiver.

  Neil let me drag him down the hall. He was apparently used to these ladies controlling him to some degree. “So how is Blanche?”

  He brightened. “She’s going to be fine. Just a broken collarbone. It will heal, but she’s out of the play, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s too bad.” I wonder if that sounded sincere enough?

  “Thank goodness Ginny’s ready. She’ll be fantastic.”

  “She’s been practicing her lines at home.”

  “She’s wonderful onstage with Royce, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Don’t you think they make a natural couple?”

  “Um, yeah. As far as I can see.”

  Neil patted my arm. “Me too. I hear they were a serious couple in their youth.”

  I nodded. “Before Royce started his career in New York.”

  We entered the theater to see that Blanche had resumed her role of making everyone miserable. She was wearing a complex sling over her neck and around the back of her champagne pantsuit and standing at center stage. “Where is that two-bit hack, Ginny? I know she is behind the attack on me yesterday. I’ll sue, Neil! Do you hear me!”

  Neil rushed down the aisle to Blanche’s side. “Honey, please calm yourself before you strain your injury.”

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down! This was finally my chance to be back in the spotlight. I know I was targeted by that spiteful crow. She’s always been jealous of my talent.”

  “Woo. That’ll be the day.” Aunt Ginny had snuck up behind me in the sixth row. Her red T-shirt said Sucks To Be You.

  I gave her a light glare. “Rooster, I presume.”

  She gave me a toothy grin.

  Blanche was so angry she was spitting. “You see how she’s been baiting me with her shirts . . . and her . . . smug looks?”

  I whispered to Aunt Ginny, “What looks have you been giving her?”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged. “Beats me. She’s delusional.”

  Neil put his hand gingerly on Blanche’s back. “Honey, please, let’s go sit down and rest. Do you need anything? Is it time for your pain meds?”

  Blanche angled her body stiffly until she was glowering at Neil. “I don’t need anything! But I’ll tell you this: Your little play will fail.”

  Aunt Ginny breathed out like a bull about to charge and I put a hand on her arm. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  Blanche tried to stab at Neil with her good arm, but she grabbed at her shoulder and moaned in pain. “If you don’t take Virginia Frankowski out of this play, bad things will happen. I’ll make sure of it. And you already know you don’t want to mess with me, Neil.”

  Blanche started the slow process of storming off the stage with a broken collarbone and Neil crept with her down the aisle. “Now, dear, don’t do something you’ll regret. Why don’t you let me take you to lunch?”

  Blanche shot another black look at Neil. “Not until you get rid of Frankowski.”

  Aunt Ginny scowled at Blanche as she limped past. Then I heard the bud in Aunt Ginny’s ear crackle. “Sexy Knickers to Rooster.” Aunt Ginny ignored her. “Sexy Knickers to Rooster.” I was about to nudge Aunt Ginny when Mrs. Davis sighed loudly. “Fine! Hokey-Pokey to Rooster.”

  Aunt Ginny grinned to herself. “Yeeees?”

  “Do you have eyes on Papa Bear?”

  I followed Aunt Ginny’s gaze to the back of the theater, where Blanche had left and Neil was flopped down in one of the theater seats rubbing his eyes with his fists. “I see him.”

  “Keep him occupied. We’re going in.”

  “Roger.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re helping those ladies spy on everyone. What happens if someone sees you?”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged. “We’re old. People expect us to be eccentric.”

  Royce came from backstage with his arms outstretched. “There’s my Ginger. How’s my best girl today?”

  Aunt Ginny giggled. “Well, I’m doing just fine, Royce. How’re you?”

  I quietly gave a little cock-a-doodle-do.

  Aunt Ginny nudged me and through gritted teeth said, “Go keep Neil distracted.”

  I smiled at Royce. “You look very handsome.”

  Royce rocked back on his heels. “Thank you . . . my lovely. And how good to see you again.”

  “Are you ready for rehearsal?”

  “I am ready as Freddy.”

  Aunt Ginny took Royce’s hand in hers. He gave her a big smile. “Hey! There’s my Ginger. How’s my best girl today?”

  Aunt Ginny cocked her head to the side and gave Royce a grin. “I’m fine.”

  I left Rooster and Royce to their flirting and joined Neil just as he was getting up. “How are you doing?”

  He gave me a tired smile. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  You and me both. “Can I ask you something?”

  He started to head out of the auditorium and I followed him.

  “Sure. Anything for you.”

  “What did Blanche mean by saying your play will fail?”

  Neil chewed his bottom lip. “Oh, that.”

  “It’s obvious something is going on. She threatened you in front of everyone.”

  “Well, you may as well know. It will all be in the meeting notes by next month. Blanche is on the board of the Senior Center committee. She was only willing to approve the play if she was given the lead.”

  So many things make more sense now.

  “She’s furious that she’s been sidelined because of an injury that, of course, she blames Ginny for causing.”

  “Which is preposterous.” I grabbed Neil’s arm and stopped him in the front foyer.

  Neil nodded. “Of course. But now she’s threatening to rescind the activities budget for the year.”

  “Can she do that?”

  Neil nodded. “She has the authority, and the other committee members are afraid of getting on her bad side. And honestly, so am I.”

  This hasn’t been her bad side? I had an image flash in my mind of winged demons in the fires of hell.

  Neil looked around to be sure no one could hear him. “The thing is, I’ve already invested the entire budget into this one play and it’s only February. We need to make a return or my seniors will have to do jigsaw puzzles and adult coloring books for the rest of the year. Not to mention I could lose my job.”

  “I was wondering, when do tickets go on sale?”

  “Oh, um.” Neil began to examine a sign-up sheet for a book club.

  Behind Neil, Mother Gibson kept her eyes on me as she tiptoed over to his office door and opened it. Mrs. Dodson and Mrs. Davis looked up from his desk, surprised. They appeared to be trying to get that drawer open.

  Neil reached out and put his hand on my arm. “I have to get my production notes from my desk. Will you excuse me.”

  Danger, Will Robinson!

  “Neil!”

  He froze.

  “Before you go . . .” What will hold him here? He’s a man . . . so . . . flattery. “I’ve noticed that you’re really talented onstage. You’re going to give a fantastic performance as the groom.” Even though the bride is in her late sixties. “In fact, you have a wonderful singing voice. Did you do theater in high school or college?” He’s smiling. This is good.

  Neil shoved his hands into the pockets of his tan Dockers and rocked back on his heels. “Well, I grew up in a
family where theater was encouraged. We often put on plays in the backyard for the grandparents. But then, they were always a very captive audience.”

  A bright flash went off from Neil’s office and I felt a grimace climb across my forehead. Really, sometimes my face has a mind of its own.

  Neil flinched. “Not captive. I mean generous. You know. They could leave whenever they wanted.” He chuckled.

  “Of course.” I laughed. “Grandparents . . . And high school? Did you ever try out?”

  Neil grinned. “I was Harold Hill in my senior production of The Music Man. They said I was very good. A natural con artist.”

  Huh . . . “How about that.”

  Mother Gibson poked her head out of the office and gave me a thumbs-up. She was followed by Mrs. Dodson, who was looking around furtively and skirting the wall, and Mrs. Davis, who was brandishing her cell phone and mouthing, “We got the goods.”

  The ladies forgot about Neil’s door and it shut with a loud kerplunk! Neil spun around and saw three guilty faces looking back at him. Mrs. Dodson was spread-eagle against the tan tiles of the wall.

  “Hello, ladies,” I said too loudly. “Did Aunt Ginny send you here to get me?”

  Mrs. Davis asked, “Who?”

  But Mother Gibson was a little quicker. She gave me a slow nod. “Yes. Yes, she did.” She put her hand out to me. “Come, child. Your aunt needs you.”

  I waved to Neil. “Have a good practice today.”

  Neil was still watching the group of us with a furrowed brow when we disappeared down the hallway and into the theater.

  “That was too close, ladies. You’ve got to be more careful.”

  Mrs. Davis held up her cell phone again. “Yeah, but we got it.”

  “Got what?”

  “Evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  Mrs. Dodson took the cell phone away from Mrs. Davis and swiped at the screen. “We found something in that locked drawer. See.” More swiping. “It was right here.”

  Mother Gibson let out a low rumble. “Giiiiirrrrrrl. What happened to that picture?”

  A very flustered Mrs. Davis grabbed the phone back. “I took it.”

  Mrs. Dodson handed the phone to me. “See if you can find it.”

  I went to their gallery and found several blurry photos of documents and showed them.

  Mrs. Davis blushed. “Well, they were rushing me.”

  Mrs. Dodson glared at her. “You were the one who said panoramic shots would be best.”

  I held up the phone. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  Mrs. Davis huffed and shoved her phone down in her strapless bra. “We found an insurance policy for a million dollars.”

  “A million dollars! For what?”

  Mother Gibson crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Well, it had Neil’s name on it.”

  The biddies looked at one another. Mrs. Dodson answered for them. “It looked very important, so we took pictures to show to you, but . . .”

  Mrs. Davis shook her head. “Poppy, you need to see it for yourself. I’m sure it’s evidence.”

  “How in the world am I going to do that?”

  Mrs. Davis shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll have to be sneaky about it.”

  “That’s a good tip. I’ll try that.” I gave her a pointed look.

  Mrs. Davis put her arm around my shoulders. “I saw Royce’s name on it.”

  Okay, keep talking, I’m listening.

  Before I could agree to do anything, Neil came back in the theater and called the room to attention.

  I whispered to the ladies, “I’ll see what I can do.” And we headed down to the stage, where Smitty and Georgina were doing a safety check to make sure nothing had been tampered with overnight. Georgina, who obviously attained her depth of experience inspecting construction sites by running society luncheons and fund-raisers, declared everything satisfactory. The seniors decided to take a chance and practice despite the expert opinion that was offered.

  Practice was good. Great even. I hit my light cues on time. Bebe was able to direct the dance sequence with no one getting hurt. Royce had some trouble with his lines, as per usual. He called Mr. Sheinberg Mercutio a few times. Then he thought he was supposed to be involved in a sword fight during the disco scene and had to be reminded of what play he was in again. But none of the lights fell off the crossbar, so all in all a greater success than most days.

  Practice concluded for the night and Aunt Ginny sidled up to me. “I’m exhausted. I can’t wait to get into a hot bath and go to bed.”

  Royce came up behind her and poked her in the ribs. She jumped and giggled. Then he kissed her hand. “How about we go to dinner tonight, Ginger?”

  Aunt Ginny batted her eyes. “Oh, Royce, that would be just divine.”

  I whispered in her direction, “What about going to bed?”

  She whispered back, “We’ll see how it goes.”

  Fiona marched up and grabbed Royce’s arm. “No way, Royce. You promised you’d come home with us. I’ve been slaving over a pot roast all day.”

  Iggy was slumped behind her. “No, you haven’t. The Crock-Pot’s been doing all the work.”

  Fiona stamped her foot. “That is beside the point. You were gone for sixty years!”

  Royce turned on her and snapped, “Well, you’re not going to make me a prisoner for the rest of my life because of it! I’m going out with Ginny and that’s final!”

  We were all kind of stunned that he’d stood up to her, Fiona most of all. Her lip started to tremble, and she ran from the room. Iggy flashed Royce a venomous glower and ran after Mummy Dearest.

  “Now.” Royce took Aunt Ginny’s hand. “Where were we, love?”

  Aunt Ginny giggled and leaned into Royce. “What time do you want to pick me up?”

  Royce grinned at me. “How about you make the reservation for the three of us and I’ll meet you two young ladies there?”

  I started to protest. “I don’t want to intrude on your night out.”

  Royce waved off my concern. “Nonsense. I plan on being in Ginny’s life from now on. I want to get to know you better.”

  Aunt Ginny gave me a look with stars in her eyes. How could I say no?

  Royce and Aunt Ginny giggled all the way down the aisle to the exit. I was collecting my things to follow behind them when I heard the most unpleasant sound behind me.

  “McAllister.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to wish it away. I couldn’t believe I had gone three whole weeks without a sighting or a blood sacrifice, but now here she was. I clicked my heels together three times. When I opened my eyes and turned, she was still there. I said “Abracapocus!” No change. “Pocus-cadabera!”

  “What are you doing? Are you having a stroke?”

  I sighed. “What can I do for you, Amber?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I can’t control these ladies any more than I can swim across the Atlantic Ocean. Besides, you’re the police officer. Why don’t you just tell them about the complaints?”

  Amber’s radio crackled on her hip and she turned the volume down. She was in uniform right up to her mirrored sunglasses that she pushed up to the blond bun wound tightly on top of her head, making her eyebrows unnaturally arched. Or maybe that superior ego was permanently etched on her face from her cheerleading days where she ruled Cape May High with perky manipulation.

  “For some reason, these ladies listen to you. I blame senility. I want you to convince them to stop looking into windows and taking things from area businesses in the name of investigating.”

  “I’ll try, but what have they done that’s been so bad, really?”

  Amber took out her black notebook and flipped a few pages. “The owner of Shear Delight Hairdresser said the ladies stole a receipt from her file box that she needs for her taxes.”

  “Okay, but in their defense, they thought it was evidence of a money-laundering sche
me.”

  Amber’s face remained impassive. I realized that if she tried to raise an eyebrow under current circumstances, her bun could pop like a tick. “Three ladies with white hair and dark sunglasses, one African American, one with a cane, and all three in orthotics, have reportedly harassed area businesses about ‘back-room deals’ and snooped around local offices looking for ‘smoking guns.’”

  “I think smoking guns here means more evidence of early ticket sales.”

  “Blanche Carrigan and Fiona Sharpe have both reported figures with white hair trampling their hydrangeas and spying into their front windows leaving the scent of Icy Hot behind. I can only assume it’s the same characters.”

  “Or it could just be some fans of the theater looking for an autograph.”

  “And Neil Rockford has reported that they damaged the lock to one of the drawers on his antique partner’s desk.”

  I swallowed hard. “How does he know it was them?”

  “It’s a strong suspicion. He’s refusing to press charges, but he filed a police report for the insurance claim.”

  “I’ll talk to them.”

  “What are they up to, McAllister? This has to be about more than money laundering through ten-dollar tickets for local musical theater.”

  I knew I couldn’t trust Amber to be impartial. She’d hated me since middle school, when she joined the popular crowd and I became an anchor on her social life. She’d had one vendetta aimed for me after another since I returned for our reunion and fate sprinkled my life with her bitter hostility.

  “I don’t have all day, McAllister. I have another case.”

  “It’s about the death of Duke McCready.”

  Amber gave a single nod. “The suicide?”

  “Duke McCready was their friend. They knew him really well and none of them believe his death was a suicide.”

  “You’re not playing detective again, are you? ’Cause I’m not going to like it if you’re involved.”

  “I was right here when we found the body.”

  “There was a note.”

  “Who rips a piece of paper haphazardly from a notebook, then formally types a message on it saying goodbye?”

  Amber shrugged and her bun bobbed slightly on her head. “People do lots of things when they’re depressed, McAllister. There’s no rhyme or reason.”