“Let me stop you for a bit. From your position in the…?”
“Light box.”
“What can you see? Was there anyone onstage when the lights went out?”
“With this set, I can pretty much see everything onstage. I can also see what’s happening on the off-stage wing on my side. The other side is hidden by the set. So I have to separate what I know about who needed to be there with what I can remember. The properties person would have come through to make sure everything was in place, and I think I saw her. And then there was Malcolm coming through, being attended to by Florence Carlotta, our makeup person. Malcolm had a ghastly wound on his forehead. It was huge, like something you’d see at a Halloween party. I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.”
“I’m not following,” said Ray.
“In this scene, Malcolm plays—not really plays, he’s just a prop—a body. We could have stuffed a suit and it would have worked as well. The character just fills a chair. I couldn’t figure out why he had that elaborate makeup on.”
“Then what?”
“They went over to the table where Protheroe’s body is found sprawled across the Vicar’s desk at the beginning of the scene. Malcolm sat down and Florence helped position him. It seemed to me that they were going to a lot of trouble for nothing. When she left, he just stayed in that position, like he was taking a nap.”
“And no one else was onstage or in the wings on your side when the lights when out?”
“Correct, that’s my memory.”
“Okay, the lights go out, then what do you do?”
“Like I was saying before, I waited for a little bit to see if the power was going to come back on, then I killed the power to the dimmers, climbed down the ladder, and headed outside to the electrical panels.”
“What were you using for light?”
“I’ve got one of those headlamps with the six or eight little bulbs. I keep it there just for this kind of emergency. This is not the first time we’ve been in darkness, the problem is more common than it should be. We’ve been overloading the system for years.”
“Did you see anyone on your way out, and what door did you use?”
“Strange, I didn’t see a soul. Guess they were all in the green room. I went out the east stage door. The electrical panels are in a utility cabinet on the back wall of that side of the building. When I got there the cabinet doors were open. They should have been closed. And then I noticed some of the lights downstream from the Assembly Hall were coming back on, but we were still in darkness. So I started looking around and saw that someone had turned off the main disconnect for the building. I pushed it on and went back inside. I wanted to get up to the booth and get the lights on so we could start the next scene.”
“Did you see anyone on your way?”
“I saw Grubby. He was heading toward the stage area.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Let me think. At that moment I was fairly agitated. It looked like a stupid act of vandalism had created a potentially dangerous situation. I may have said something. Obviously, that was not the time to discuss the matter. I climbed up to the booth and did a quick check of the lights and then noticed what was happening down on stage. I watched for a minute or so, and then started down. You arrived about that time.”
“What happened next?”
“I was herded into the green room and sat there and waited until you came to talk to us.”
“Tell me about the green room. What was happening there?”
“People were sitting in groups talking. When I walked in everyone was still in the dark,” he stopped briefly, “well, you know what I mean, in the dark as to what had happened. But I think they could tell something was very wrong. And then you came in and told us that Wudbine was dead. And when someone asked you if it was a stroke or heart attack, you didn’t equivocate. You said he was murdered.”
“And what happened when I left?”
“First there was stunned silence. Then I think people started thinking about what they should do, who would need support. Verity went to her daughter-in-law’s side, some other people as well. Then people seemed to cluster in small groups. There was some sobbing. Lots of hushed conversations. I think we were all bowled over by your announcement.”
“Did you see anyone out of place, anyone backstage or in the green room who shouldn’t have been there?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“What was your relationship with Malcolm Wudbine?”
Johnson looked off to some point beyond Ray, then back. “He was a real pain in the ass. Obnoxious and controlling. I learned years ago whenever possible to stay away from difficult people. This is a big area and our cottage is in a remote corner of the property, very private. The only time I saw Malcolm most summers was connected with the play, and I didn’t have any face-to-face dealings with the man. So while he was enormously vexatious to some people here, Malcolm was never more than a faint blip on my radar. And I worked to keep it that way.”
“You talked about electrical problems?”
“Yes, like I was telling you. All the equipment is old and should have been replaced decades ago. But it has been hard to make a case for stage lighting against the other needs of the colony. The whole infrastructure of Mission Point is crumbling. Everyone is sentimental about this place, but few are ready to put up some real cash. In fact, every time there’s been a major crisis—like our treatment plant dying and pouring raw sewage into the lake—Malcolm and his millions have come to the rescue. I think we all started to believe that we didn’t have to attend to these problems because at the end of the day Malcolm would come in and take care of them.”
“Motives for murder, do you know anyone who wanted Malcolm dead?”
“No. He was enormously unpleasant. But murder, that’s a whole different story.”
“And you’ve never had any personal or financial dealings with Wudbine?”
“Like I suggested, my motto is to avoid skunks. I always tried to stay upwind of Malcolm.”
15
Ray’s conversation with David Johnson was just winding down when he noticed Richard Grubbs standing outside the screen door peering in, looking agitated and weary. As Johnson walked away, Ray ushered Grubbs in.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“I thought you should know, Sheriff, there’s a panic going on. I mean, now that people are awake and drinking coffee, and…well…people are thinking of going home. What they’re saying is that there was one murder, there could be more. They want to get away from this place, take their families somewhere safe.”
Ray didn’t respond for a long moment, then said, “I can understand their fears. I think you need to be out there helping people vent their feelings. You might want to consider bringing in a crisis response team. That said, you probably have trained mental health workers in the colony. Pull them together and get their guidance.”
“People are demanding that I hire a security service and get streetlights installed immediately.” Grubbs’ face was flush, his hand trembling as he gesticulated his points.
“I was just chatting with you twenty or thirty minutes ago. How many people are we talking about?
“Well, a few, but they were very upset.”
“You need to be calm, Richard. Think about this crime. Does this look like a random event?”
“Well, no. Someone clearly wanted Malcolm dead. This murder was, what do you people say, premeditated. But why here, why onstage?”
“That’s a very interesting question. How often is Malcolm alone? How easy would it be to get to him?”
“Malcolm was seldom alone. He always had his people around him. The ‘people’ thing, that’s his phrase, not mine. He was always saying ‘I’ll have my people take care of it, or ‘I’ll have my people look into it.’ Phrases like
that.”
“Did he have a security detail?”
“Personal assistants, I think that’s what he called them. I never paid close attention. But now that I think of it, yes, they could have been security people. If rock stars and politicians all have security details, why shouldn’t Malcolm?” He paused for a moment, then pointed at his chest, “This old college professor, there’s this big world out there that I don’t understand.” He paused again, “Come to think of it, that new person, Alyson Mickels, his personal trainer and helicopter pilot, could be a security type. He bragged that Alyson was a former special ops officer. She’s quite attractive and clearly a jock.”
“Was she in the audience last night, or backstage, or when we went up to the Gull House?”
“No, I didn’t see her, and she’s hard to miss. Tall, very blond with long, thick hair like a Norse goddess. And the way she fills her clothes, I don’t think she means to be provocative, but boy.”
“There was another Wudbine in the cast.”
“Yes, his daughter-in-law, Jill. She had the part of Anne Protheroe.”
“Was his wife in the audience?”
“No. To my memory Brenda has never stepped foot in the Assembly Hall. She figured out the chemistry of this place the first summer Malcolm showed up with her. What you have to know is everyone was on Verity’s side when the big breakup took place. And to give you a little background, years before they split there were rumors of physical abuse and infidelity on Malcolm’s part.
“Brenda never became part of the colony. When she’s here in the summer, she doesn’t participate in any of our events. She just stays up there in that enormous house. I have heard that she has a group of women friends who come and visit. Rumor has it that she’s an alcoholic. I guess that’s one way you could endure living with Malcolm, but one should not speak ill of the dead.”
Ray listened to Grubbs closely. He wondered what was really going on in the man’s mind.
“Well, I better get back,” said Grubbs. “I imagine my office is probably filling up again. And your advice was good. I’ll get some people organized to help me deal with this.”
“Events like this generate enormous stress. Like I said, people need to vent their feelings and fears. If you can get that process going, I think you will see things start to calm down.”
After Grubbs hurried away, Ray thought about the cast and crew in the green room when he went in to talk to them. He was starting to put faces with names, starting to see relationships. He wandered outside, seeking the warmth of the sunshine.
“I was hoping to catch you between interviews,” said Sue Lawrence coming down the sand trail, a well-worn path bordered on each side by moss-covered stones. The path snaked through the second-growth hardwoods.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s not much more to do there, other than tear the place apart looking for the weapon. Brett and I went out to take a break, and he called my attention to the four dumpsters sitting at the base of the hill. We went down and took a look. And while we were there one of the residents drove up with a couple of garbage bags. Here’s the deal, that’s where everyone drops their garbage. It’s all got to be bagged. Pickups are on Monday and Friday.”
“I think I know where you’re going.”
“Do I need to get a search warrant?”
Ray took a long time to answer. “Let’s be on the safe side. And get some hazmat suits. I’ll come and help you when I’m done. That Brett, he’s too observant for his own good.”
16
Florence Carlotta arrived like a small tornado, breathless and animated, dragging two huffing Scottie dogs, rotund mops of black hair pulling in opposite directions at right angles to her intended course. A pair of vintage Birkenstocks, peaking from beneath a large floral skirt, provided the platform for Florence’s ample figure.
Ray started to bend to pet the Scotties.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Carlotta warned sternly. “Una doesn’t fancy men much. Araballa, she’s the younger one, doesn’t either, but she’s less of a biter. They have nailed the phone man, the UPS driver, the plumber, and the painter. I’m sure they would have gotten the butcher, the baker and candlestick maker, too, if they were still around. Equal opportunity biters who don’t discriminate.”
“Seems to me their targets are very gender specific,” observed Ray.
“Yes, that’s true, but it doesn’t necessarily represent the views of the management, as they say on TV. Nature over nurture, genes over environment. The girls have their own take on the world.
“I know I’m a half-an-hour early. Tony Grattan is supposed to be here, but I’ve traded time-slots with him. You see, I have to be on the road by noon. Want to be downstate before the southbound rush begins. I’m sure you don’t mind. Tony will be here in thirty minutes just like I was supposed to be. That man is totally dependable. A real gem.”
“I was trying to interview people in order….”
“Yes, you said that last night when you were setting up your schedule. But it hardly matters, does it? I mean, since we don’t really know when Malcolm was killed, at best it’s a guess who saw him last. Well, of course, in truth the killer was the last one to see him alive, but he or she was hardly going to admit their guilt so you could have your little arrangement in proper order. Too bad, isn’t it? We could get this whole untidy incident over with. So you have some questions for me?”
“Tell me about last night. What time did Malcolm arrive? What kind of makeup did you apply, and why did you walk him onstage?”
“Malcolm arrived late. I mean later than anyone else….”
“Let me interrupt you for a minute. When he came in, was he alone or was someone with him?”
“What do you mean, like with him?”
“Was he with other cast members, or one of his employees, or…?” Ray let the question hang.
“When I saw him he was alone. I mean, most of us came together or almost together. People had been at Verity’s. And Tony Grattan, being the good stage manager that he is, got us moving toward the Assembly Hall with enough time to get everyone costumed and in makeup. I mean, it’s a lot like herding cats, these people, especially after a few drinks, but that man has so much grace and skill. I could never figure out why he and Mrs. Grattan didn’t make it. Some people thought perhaps he was gay, or perhaps she was gay. I thought she was just a floozy, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. I mean, some people look so good when you are in college, but when you get out there, jobs, kids, that’s when the rubber slams the road. All those good looks don’t amount to much when there’s work to be done.
“So what I was telling you is that Malcolm came in alone. Most of the other people in the cast took care of themselves, put their make-up on, got into their costumes. Not Malcolm, he insisted upon being attended to. I mean, he’s used to that kind of thing, having people scurrying around. And other than getting into that vintage suit, there was no need for make-up. I mean, he was just going to put his head down on a desk and try to look dead. But he wanted makeup and wounds, bullet wounds. Like I said, he didn’t need them for the play, but he wanted them for the cast party. So I did that for him, two big wounds, an entry and an exit. It took awhile to get everything right. I had to glue them in place, and then I had to apply makeup to his forehead and neck to make everything match. Then he walked around the green room and asked everyone how he looked. Got lots of comments. That man always needed attention. I mean, not that most men don’t, but Malcolm was especially needy.”
“Okay, so once the makeup was on, and he had an opportunity to show it around, what happened?”
“Tony Grattan popped in to make sure people were ready for the next scene. At which point I got Malcolm queued up. As soon as the curtain was down on the first scene, I walked Malcolm onstage. Once he was seated, I helped him situate his head just so. He didn’t want to mes
s up his makeup. I mean, he wanted it perfect for the cast party. I told him I’d repair any damage, but he….”
“And when did the lights go off.”
“Well, I left him there. Told him sweet dreams and went back to the dressing room to see if anyone else needed help. I was floating around checking on people when it went dark. Right away people were using their phones for light. I found a chair and decided to stay put till the lights came back on. I mean, I wouldn’t want to break a hip or anything. This lighting thing is such a problem. David does his best to hold things together. Every year we hear the rewiring is high priority, and then there’s a major crisis and….”
“So to the best of your knowledge, Malcolm never left the chair after you walked him there.”
“Correct. He wasn’t planning to move till the scene was over.”
“Was there anyone else on stage or in the wings.”
“Not that I saw.”
“How about David Johnson?”
“I don’t recall. He might have been up in his crow’s nest.”
“Was there anyone around that shouldn’t have been there, someone who wasn’t an actor or crew member?”
“I don’t recall that. There’s often family around, I mean, like kids. Or sometimes a spouse pops in. But not on show night. Then it’s real business.”
“Wudbine, how long have you known him?”
Death in a Summer Colony Page 7
