Wicked Stage

by Michelle Dayton

  On her phone, she brought up the control panel for the conference call. “Listen up, everybody. I’m modifying the call. Adam, I’m muting you so we can’t hear you and you can’t hear us. I’ll patch you back in if I need you.”

  With a click, Adam was muted and deaf to the heist. With the stage sounds filtered out, she could now hear excited breathing, the sounds of drawers being carefully slid open and closed. The men had been in the panic rooms for almost five minutes.

  Suddenly Frank’s voice. Loud. Frantic. “The door’s closing! Tony, move! Get—now!” And then a firm thud of steel against steel.

  “Team One, report. What happened?”

  “The panic room door closed,” Tony babbled. “Really fast. If Frank hadn’t been standing near the entry way and held it open for a second, we would have been trapped.”

  It had to be on some sort of timer, Jess realized. Maybe after five minutes, the door auto-closed. “Drew!” she whisper-shrieked. “The door! It’s going to shut!”

  A pause in which Jess counted her heartbeats. It felt like she’d just run a marathon.

  “I have some good news and some bad news,” Drew said carefully. Jess slid to the floor and put her head between her knees. His speech was too practiced, too perfect. The same affectation he used on their father when he’d come home with a failing grade on a test. She couldn’t breathe.

  “What’s going on, kid?” Tony asked.

  “The good news is that I found the Bulgarian Blue,” Drew said. “The bad news is that I’m trapped in here.”

  * * *

  Onstage, Adam was finding a new sympathy for the Tony Wendice character. Now there was a man who thought he’d planned the perfect crime. But things didn’t happen like they were supposed to, and Act III of the play was when it all came crumbling down on him.

  He understood why Jess had shut him out of the communications, and it was definitely the right thing to do. But he was going crazy up there under the hot lights not knowing what was going on.

  Jess had to be nearing hysteria with Drew in the mix. Not that she’d let it affect her performance in any way. His woman was a ninja under pressure. He could only hope her brother was made of the same material. Fuck, that kid had big balls to insert himself like that at the last moment. Adam half admired him and half wanted to beat him unconscious.

  At least this had been an easy scene to memorize. The Halliday and Inspector characters had more lines than he did. As Halliday launched into one of his longer paragraphs, Jess spoke in his ear.

  “Quick update. Drew found Blue but got locked in panic room. Tony and Frank driving down to let him out. We need to make sure they do before Webb goes home. Timing should work if the after-party goes long enough. Over and out.”

  Adam blinked and nearly stumbled over his next line of dialogue. Luckily, Wendice was supposed to be a little stumble-y over everything at this point, so it worked.

  He thought through what Jess had said. It was upsetting, if not exactly surprising, that Drew had messed up.

  Jess must be losing her mind. He was a little shocked that she hadn’t immediately taken off to go to the townhome to fetch Drew herself. He didn’t love the idea of Tony committing a second illegal entry in one night, but he was beyond grateful his uncle had persuaded Jess to stay put and let him do it.

  Ugh. For the thousandth time that night, he cursed Katrina. He was needed on the heist, not this stupid play. Tony and Jess’s rescue idea might work, but they were also too pumped full of adrenaline and emotion to think clearly. They were missing something obvious.

  * * *

  Everything’s going to be fine, Jess lectured herself. She left the staff bathroom and quietly re-entered the dark auditorium. She hadn’t been listening to the dialogue onstage, but the audience seem rapt. She quickly verified that her recording equipment was working correctly and that nothing had interrupted the live stream. To her relief, Adam’s face wasn’t easily identifiable on-screen either.

  She ran through the timing in her head again. Tony had promised to put the pedal to the metal. “We’ll get there in less than two hours,” he said. “Just keep Webb and the brat in your sights until you hear from us that we got Drew out.”

  She could do that. Hell, she and Adam could distract Webb and Katrina all night long. She’d freakin’ tap dance if it meant delaying their arrival at home. No problem.

  Her phone rang. Tony. She ran to the lobby to answer. “Are you making good time?”

  “Bad news, Jess.” His voice was shaky. “It’s snowy. We had an accident.”

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” She wanted to scream. Could this night get any worse?

  “Cuts and bruises,” he said. “We’re fine. But the car’s in a ditch and we can’t get it out. There’s actually lots of cars in ditches around here. Local cops and tows seem pretty overwhelmed.” He paused. “We’re going to be here for a while, honey. You need another plan.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam exited stage left. He had several minutes to just sit and breathe now while the Inspector and Halliday put two and two together on Wendice.

  Jess’s frantic voice filled his ear. “Tony and Frank had a fender bender on their way back because of the snow. They’re both OK, but they’re stuck. I need to go get Drew. I need—”

  “Jess,” he hissed. “Listen to me. Use your big brain, Blondie. No one needs to go get him. Think about it. The door simply shut and locked. No alarms went off. The police haven’t arrived. People use panic rooms to hide from intruders. Which means there’s a way to get out from the inside. Probably it’s the exact same way you get in from the outside. Tell Drew to look for an iris scanner. To use the photo and recording again.”

  He waited a beat. When Jess spoke again, she sounded both surprised and rueful. “I’m an idiot.”

  He grinned, wishing he could put his arms around her. “Not an idiot. Just a woman dealing with a hell of a night.”

  “I’ll call Drew,” she said. “Hold on.”

  Adam checked in on the stage. Soon Olive would be joining the men for the last long scene. He still had a few minutes.

  “Why can nothing ever be easy?” Jess moaned softly in his ear.

  He closed his eyes. “What?”

  “Drew left the photo of Webb on the floor outside of the panic room. He has the voice recording on his phone, but nothing to scan.” She sounded dazed, distracted, but he knew that was simply her modus operandi for when her mind was going a million miles an hour.

  “Can you email him a new photo to use?” He asked.

  “The sizing would be too risky and tricky,” she answered. “The scanner looks for an extremely clear representation of Webb’s iris and it has to be the approximate size of the eye when someone is standing there. I don’t know how Drew’s phone might auto-resize an image I send him.”

  Abruptly, she sniffed. “I know what to do.” She hung up.

  He clenched his teeth, balling his hands into fists and shaking them in the air. He hated it when she did that.

  * * *

  “I’m so sorry, Jess.” All of the bravado had left Drew’s voice. She supposed that’s what daydreaming about a life spent in prison did to a young man stuck in a cell-like room on his own.

  “Shut up,” she said impatiently. “When this is over, you will deliver me a ten-hour monologue on your own stupidity, but for now, just listen.

  “I’m afraid that if I email you a photo it either won’t be clear enough or sized appropriately,” she summarized. “But I think a live video could work.”

  She peeked into the auditorium. The play was in its last scene. Webb was still in his seat, but he’d be leaving when the applause started to join the cast on the stage. She had to be quick.

  “I’m going to FaceTime you,” she said. “When you see Web
b’s face on the screen, turn your phone and put it up in front of your face so that it scans his eye from the phone’s screen.”

  “That’s insane,” Drew protested. “What if he looks into the phone and sees me? Or the inside of his panic room?”

  “He won’t,” Jess said grimly. “He’s an egotistical actor, and I’m going to sell him on a money shot. I’ll tell him that his proud face watching the end of the play will be the last frame of the final webcast, or some other epic shit like that.

  “Have the recording ready to play after the scan is successful,” she reminded him.

  “Got it,” he assured her.

  She hung up and then FaceTimed his cell. His frightened face filled her screen. She’d never seen his dark eyes quite so huge. “I’m terrified,” he whispered.

  “I’ve got this,” she assured him, her confident poker face well in place. Thank God he couldn’t see her shaking hands or knees.

  * * *

  Adam stood at the edge of the stage, his Wendice shoulders slumped as he got his comeuppance. Everyone in the play now knew that he first tried to have his wife killed and then framed her for murder. Olive-as-Margot looked at him in askance, and the Inspector approached with handcuffs and determination.

  Applause rose from the crowd.

  Adam saw Jess approach Webb in the audience. She whispered something in his ear. Next thing Adam knew, Webb was giving an enthusiastic standing ovation. His eyes were wide and bright and staring at the stage with admiration.

  And Jess’s phone was six inches in front of his face.

  Breaking character, he smiled fiercely. A live iris scan to his own panic room. Drew wasn’t the only one in the family with huge balls.

  Members of the audience followed Webb’s lead, standing and whistling. Olive took his hand in preparation for a bow. “Christ, what a night,” she said in his ear. “We’re so late too. Do you think they know it’s after midnight already? I wonder if we’ll still do the balloon drop and Auld Lang Syne.”

  They bowed low for the audience twice, but Adam couldn’t even feel it. Why did Olive’s words make his pulse race?

  Out in the crowd, Jess took her camera away from Webb’s face. The director strode up the aisle to more applause. When he reached the stage, he would take the live mic from the orchestra leader’s outstretched hand, and do a quick speech on the importance of live theatre and its contribution to charity. Then the New Year’s celebrations would begin.

  “It’s after midnight...” That’s the phrase that kept repeating in his head. Why was that so significant?

  Jess stood and headed back toward the lobby. She probably wanted to make sure she could hear Drew say, “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”

  Then he knew why he was spinning on midnight. It wasn’t Sunday anymore and that was no longer the right voiceprint phrase.

  * * *

  Jess hurried away from Webb’s seat. She wanted to get out to the lobby in time to hear Drew speak the phrase and she wanted to hear that awful door open.

  “Thank you everybody for coming tonight,” a deep, sexy voice said over the PA system. She stopped short. Adam? Not Adam-as-Wendice, but Adam. What the hell was he doing?

  “I’ve never spent an early Monday morning with such a good-looking group of people,” Adam flirted.

  She half turned to the stage. He was standing at the very edge, smiling with his teeth for the crowd but staring at her like a blue-eyed panther.

  What on earth was this? Webb was supposed to be speaking. Why would Adam call more attention to himself?

  OH. GOD. MONDAY.

  She sprinted to the lobby, just in time to hear Drew say, “Here goes—”

  Webb’s voice: “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”

  “Stop!” she sobbed into the phone. “Monday. Macbeth! Monday. Macbeth!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took him way too long to find her. The minute the curtain had closed, Adam raced backstage to collect his few belongings. He took a half second to enjoy the sight of Olive conversing with Webb while pointing to her water bottle and Katrina before he ran out into the theatre. But the crowd hadn’t dispersed at all. They were still enjoying glasses of cheap sparkling wine and batting around the black, gold and silver balloons. They milled about, impeding his progress and blocking his view.

  She’d gotten his message. He knew it when their eyes met. He just didn’t know if she’d gotten it to Drew on time.

  She wasn’t anywhere in the auditorium. Or backstage. Or in the lobby.

  He was getting frantic when she finally emerged from the shitty staff bathroom off the lobby. She looked as terrible as he’d ever seen her. Her hair was messy and damp with sweat. Her fake glasses were smudged and askew. Her black blouse and pants had dust stains on them as though she’d been sitting on a dirty floor.

  She was carrying her large bag with all of her equipment. Good. Because they were leaving this hellhole right this minute. He crossed the lobby in two strides and pulled her out of the theatre into the cold night air. “What’s the story?”

  “He got out,” she said, with a ghost of a smile. She took off the fake glasses, blinked slowly up at him. “We finally had one lucky break. The security program must have some forgiveness; it must let you have one wrong try. Because he played the Twelfth Night one first. The door didn’t open, but the alarm didn’t go off either. When we played the Macbeth quote, it opened.”

  A tsunami of relief washed over him. Quickly followed by a tsunami of exhaustion. He closed his eyes. “So he’s safe?”

  “He is safe,” she confirmed. “On a train to Heathrow as we speak. Frank and Tony are out of the ditch as well. Drew is going to meet them briefly to give Tony the ring. They’ll all make their morning flights.”

  He yawned so wide his jaw cracked. “Tomorrow I’m going to be so angry at Tony for putting us through all of this that I won’t be able to sit still. But right now, I’m so relieved that everyone is OK and that this fucking thing is finally over... I can’t muster the energy.”

  Jess’s yawn matched his own. “I feel the exact same way about Drew.” She raised one arm up, let it fall. “In my life, I’ve never been so wrung out. My muscles are jelly. My mind is fuzzy.”

  He slung her heavy bag over one shoulder, took her hand and led her down a side street. He wanted her away from the crowds and the noise.

  He wanted her all to himself. He always would. Christ, he wished the night had gone better. If things had gone as planned, he was going to ask her a very particular question at midnight. The kind of question that went with champagne and celebrations.

  Not the kind of question that went with a night full of problems and near-misses.

  They walked in silence for a long time, enjoying the fresh air and light snow. When the streets finally thinned out, Jess looked up at him with clearer eyes. “Thanks. I needed that walk.”

  She chewed on her lip. “Are there any loose ends we need to take care of before we leave town?”

  Adam reviewed his mental checklist. “Tony’s apartment is cleared and cleaned. We’re checked out of our hotel. You did the live webcast with no issue, right?” She nodded. “Good. There’s no further obligation on the cast or crew for the play. There’s absolutely nothing keeping us here. We’ll head to the airport in an hour.”

  Jess did a slow twirl on the street. “You’ll be a suspect when Webb realizes the Blue is missing, won’t you? He’ll have his security vendors check logs. They’ll see site entries in both locations and they’ll know the correct code was entered at the front door. Webb will probably remember that you were on the porch at one point when he entered the code. The security company will see timestamps for the panic room door openings,
and Katrina will remember telling you about the biometric security. They’ll probably find the recording device in the tapestry—I was too flustered to ask Andrew to get it.”

  She looked stricken. “I can’t believe I didn’t think all this through before now.”

  He pushed her messy hair behind one ear and shook his head at her. “Of course I’ll be a suspect, Jess. But there will be hundreds of suspects. There were dozens of people in Webb’s townhome the night of the party. Including the caterers; he entered the code in front of them too, remember? Katrina’s probably blabbed about the panic room to tons of people. The whole country knows that Webb wasn’t at home tonight. The fact that I was onstage for most of the show helps me. But even if Nate Hale—or Margaret Fox, for that matter—becomes a suspect, those two people have already ceased to exist.”

  She nodded and sighed. “You’re right. I’m still in panic mode, I guess.”

  He couldn’t blame her. They’d almost blown this one—with horrible consequences. “I’ll talk to Tony. We won’t do anything with the Blue. Not for years. If the jewel doesn’t resurface that takes away a key avenue of investigation.”

  “He won’t mind?”

  Adam shook his head. He knew his uncle, and this hadn’t been about the money. Tony had just wanted one last chance at his white whale. “He wanted to win the game. He doesn’t care about the trophy.”

  Jess put her hands on her hips and looked up at him with a mock scowl. “Tony got us into this mess. Drew almost got us caught. How about a new rule? No more family members in heists.”

  He laughed and stuck out his hand. “Best idea I’ve heard in weeks. It’s a deal. We’ll spend time with our beloved and pesky families...but when it comes to jobs, it’s just you and me.”

  She shook his hand firmly. “Just you and me, gorgeous.”

  Jess kept his hand, dropping it to one side and pulling him down another random side street. “Let’s keep walking. I need more fresh air, more exercise.”