by Sarah Rubin
Jarvis didn’t know me very well if he thought that would keep me away.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Mom’s voice cut through the darkness of the theatre wings. She stood silhouetted by the stage lights. Kevin stood behind her, giving me an enormous thumbs up.
Jarvis let go of my arm and took a quick step back.
‘Mr Jarvis?’ My mom’s voice was as cold as hypothermia and twice as dangerous.
‘It’s OK, Mom,’ I said. ‘He was just asking me about the other night. To see if I remembered anything about the intruder.’
I’m not sure Mom completely believed me. Kevin had probably run to her screaming that I was being kidnapped. I walked over to her, trying to keep the wobble out of my legs.
‘I was just telling your daughter to be careful around the stage. And not to go looking for trouble.’
Mom snorted and the edges of the tension around us started to melt. ‘I’ve been telling her that since she could crawl. Come on, Alice.’
She put her arm around my shoulder and ushered me out of the wings and off the stage. Kevin followed close behind. I could feel Jarvis watching us walk away, but he didn’t make a move to follow.
‘Mom,’ I asked when we got out of earshot, ‘how did Mr Jarvis get the job as the Beryl’s caretaker?’
Mom frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted after a moment. ‘He was already here when Della and I arrived from New York. Linda must have hired him.’
I turned around as we left the theatre through the lobby doors. Jarvis stood on the stage, never taking his eyes off us.
Linda loved the new theatre display. She took one look, then started taking carefully composed pictures to update the website and began tweeting like crazy about the mystery of the Midnight Star.
‘I don’t get why Linda still keeps trying to sell tickets. Isn’t the show already sold out?’ I asked. I was sitting on the couch in the costume workshop while Mom furiously ran the newly repaired ballgown through her sewing machine. Kevin had gone home blissfully happy after spending the afternoon as Matthew Strange’s personal dogsbody.
‘It’s only sold out on opening night. If she hypes interest now, we could sell out for the whole run. Maybe they’ll even have an encore performance.’
Della came into the room and leant against the door. She looked at Mom hopefully.
‘I don’t think so, you’ve got school.’
Della sighed. ‘When are you going to give it up and home-school me?’
Mom clucked. ‘When you get a role that pays for a personal tutor, you can quit regular school.’ She pulled the dress off the sewing machine and shook it into shape. I’d never really thought about how impressive her designs were before now. To me they were just clothes, but now that I could see how the planes of the fabric intersected to create three-dimensional shapes I had a new appreciation for how complex they were.
‘Looks good, Mom,’ I said.
Mom held up the dress and ran her critical eyes from top to bottom. ‘It’ll have to do. I’m going to find Vivian. At least she’ll be happy. Now she doesn’t have to wear the ghost dress.’
Della watched Mom go with a little shiver, as if she was still considering if the ghost might be real. Then she turned her gaze on me. ‘Well?’
I groaned silently. Della wanted an update. The problem was, I didn’t have anything concrete to tell her. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out the mystery of the Beryl. In fact, instead of figuring out who was sabotaging the show, all I’d done was discover the problems probably weren’t about sabotage at all.
‘Do you know what’s going on yet?’
I shook my head.
Della sat down on the couch beside me. ‘Alice, this is serious. Tomorrow is dress rehearsal.’
‘I know, Della, I’m sorry. There’s just too many facts, and too many people. Every time I think I get close . . .’ I made a small motion like sand slipping through my fingers.
‘You’re supposed to be good at this, Alice. If someone wants to ruin the show, tomorrow is their last chance. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it.’ My sister glared at me, hard. ‘Don’t roll your eyes. All you’ve done is mess around with the lobby and Kevin. As soon as you proved it wasn’t a ghost, you didn’t care any more.’
‘Just because I didn’t assume it was a ghost doesn’t mean I’m not trying,’ I said.
Della flushed beautifully, turning exactly the right shade to let me know she was really quite angry.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly, holding up my hands. ‘Look, I’m on to something, OK? I just need time to put the pieces together.’
Della looked at her watch. ‘You’ve got twenty-four hours.’
If I wanted to be technical, it was closer to thirty hours, but I didn’t think Della was being specific. I stood up. ‘Tell Mom I went home early.’
I had some thinking to do.
I woke up with my face pressed into the crease of Franklin Oswald’s journal and the taste of soot in my mouth. The surface of my bed was littered with pages from the police and fire reports and a pen was sticking into my ribs.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my side with one hand and shivered. It must have been well below freezing outside, despite the bright blue sky. I swung my feet out of bed and padded across the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it would go.
The warm water slowly thawed my limbs. I’d stayed up late going over the case, but I hadn’t gotten very far. There were too many variables. I didn’t know if I was trying to solve for x or y and my mystery equation was a complete mess.
‘Morning, sweetie,’ Dad said as I came down the stairs. He handed me a steaming cup of coffee and slid a bowl of oatmeal across the counter as I took a seat. ‘What’s up, it looks like you had a rough night.’
‘It’s the Beryl,’ I said, taking a sip. The coffee was hot and sweet.
Dad took a bite of his oatmeal and waited.
I filled Dad in on my investigation. He almost snorted coffee out his nose when I described how Kevin had sweet-talked Benji into giving up Cragthorne.
‘I knew I liked that boy for a reason.’ Dad’s eyes glittered as he shifted into story mode. ‘So you actually have proof Cragthorne was behind the graffiti?’
I nodded.
‘So why aren’t you more excited? That’s a huge scoop.’
‘Because it doesn’t explain everything else that’s going on. I just keep going around in circles. I know Cragthorne was behind the graffiti, but that doesn’t prove he’s behind the problems inside the Beryl too. It just feels like, no matter what I do, I can’t find the equation that makes all the evidence fit.’
Dad frowned. He took my empty cup and bowl and put them in the sink.
‘Maybe the problem is you’re trying to solve one equation, when you should be trying to solve two.’
I frowned. If I took the graffiti out of the equation, the trouble at the Beryl could all be explained by someone secretly searching the set for the Midnight Star.
Dad clapped his hands together. ‘Now come on, I’m driving down to City Hall to look into all these injunctions that Cragthorne menace has been trying to file. I’ll give you a ride to the theatre.’
I grabbed my coat from beside the door. ‘Why are you looking into the injunctions?’
‘I can’t let a bully like Cragthorne destroy the Beryl. Not when both of my daughters have been working so hard to save it. Besides, between the injunctions that were denied and the graffiti, I think I might be able to find a chink in Mr Cragthorne’s armour after all.’
Dad held the front door and then followed me down the steps to the car. The cold made my back muscles clench and I was grateful for the ride. Dad whistled as he unlocked the car and slid into his seat.
‘I don’t get why you’re so excited,’ I said and fastened my seat belt. ‘It’ll be a petty vandalism charge at most. Hardly front-page news.’
‘True, but a small crime can open the door for a bigger investigation.
Your friend Benji might have paved the way for a huge prosecution.’ Dad sighed happily as he pulled into traffic, ignoring the horn blaring behind us. ‘And the headlines practically write themselves: GRAFFITI KID TAKES DOWN TYCOON! or REX CRAGTHORNE: SPRAY YOUR PRAYERS.’
Dad dropped me off across the street from the Beryl and fishtailed off in the direction of City Hall. He promised to let Linda know if he found anything she could use and asked me to give Della his love. I waved once, and then jogged across the street.
The Beryl was different.
It wasn’t anything I could see, but there was the gentle hum of energy, like the happy drone of a beehive or a team before a big game. The atmosphere of unease that had hung over the building for the past week seemed to have lifted as the cast and crew bustled around getting things ready for dress rehearsal.
Jarvis and Pete were outside, replacing light bulbs on the marquee at the entrance to the theatre. They had the front door propped open and I slipped inside in time to run into Linda. She didn’t even flinch; she had her phone pressed to her ear and a look of total satisfaction on her face.
‘Well, tell him I have proof, and if he tries anything else, I’ll know what to do with it.’ She held up her hand, signalling me to wait.
Someone had been through the lobby with a broom and a mop and several extra tables were strategically laid out to hold drinks and hors d’oeuvres for the opening night party. Crisp white tablecloths matched the bare walls and made the room look like a modern art museum.
Linda ended the call with a satisfied swipe of her finger.
‘I take it Benji’s information helped?’ I asked.
‘You have no idea. I am going to enjoy introducing Rex Cragthorne to our legal team.’ Her eyes went distant and I could almost see the carnage she was imagining. Then she shook herself and came back the present. ‘I’ve invited a small group of dedicated sponsors to attend the dress rehearsal. I should be back in time to greet them, but if you could let your mom know? They’ll be here at five.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ I agreed.
Linda nodded, a quick professional incline of her head. And then she skipped out the door like a school kid, ready to feed Rex Cragthorne to the sharks.
I hung my coat up in the cloakroom. Someone had moved the wooden coatrack out of the lobby. I guess it didn’t fit the minimalist design.
I pushed my way through the lobby doors and into the theatre. Frank stood in front of the stage, arms crossed. Matthew Strange, Della and Vivian all stood on the stage.
‘All right, and cue.’ Frank’s voice sounded weary, but there was an undercurrent of excitement to it. I shook my head. Theatre people lived for the thrill of being pushed to the edge and pulling the show together at the very last moment. If everything went smoothly, I think they’d be disappointed.
I watched for a few more minutes, then went to deliver Linda’s message to my mom.
When I walked into the costume workshop, Mom looked up with a guilty start and threw a large sheet over her dressmaker’s dummy. I caught a flash of electric-blue paisley cut close to the dress form. My outfit for opening night. I grimaced, hoping the deep-V neckline meant Mom hadn’t finished sewing yet. I didn’t complain, though. I’d already agreed to wear it. Mom would never let me back out now.
I spent the rest of the day helping where I was needed, double-checking props and costumes and laying programmes out for our honoured guests. Kevin showed up a little after lunch. He’d brought his Zero Tolerance DVD again, as well as a stack of shirts for Matthew Strange to sign.
The guests started arriving just before five.
Jarvis unlocked the front door at five o’clock sharp. A small group of people were already waiting outside and they hurried in to escape the cold. Jarvis stood there like a sentry, glaring at everyone. I almost expected him to start searching people’s bags. Most of them were press, wearing their credentials around their necks. I recognized Gail Summers, the entertainment reporter from Dad’s paper. Irinke and Ashley Barscay were there too. Irinke wore a dress of black sequins under her feathery coat and the replica of the Midnight Star around her neck.
Linda greeted Irinke like she was receiving the Queen, and paraded her in front of the press. Ashley lurked in the background.
‘What is he doing here?’ Kevin tugged on my arm and pointed towards the lobby door.
It was Benji.
I moved quickly. The last thing we needed was Benji making a scene in front of all those reporters. I grabbed the kid by the arm and marched him quickly out of sight.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I asked when we were alone. He wasn’t carrying a bag, but he was still wearing that puffy black coat. One pocket bulged suspiciously.
‘Hey,’ Benji said. ‘That lady in the suit invited me.’
‘Linda invited you?’
‘Yeah. I’m all out of movie tickets, so I thought I’d give it a try.’ He shrugged and looked around the theatre, sizing it up. He didn’t look impressed.
‘Oh, really,’ I said. ‘You didn’t come here to vandalize the building?’
Benji shook his head and did his best to look innocent.
‘Then what’s that?’ I poked a finger at Benji’s side and felt metal through his coat.
‘Hey!’ Benji said, stepping back. That’s my emergency can. I’m not going to use it, though, honest.’
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, the lobby door swung open and Linda led her VIP audience into the theatre. She motioned for me to come over and say hello.
‘Don’t let him out of your sight,’ I told Kevin. He nodded, cracked his knuckles and gave Benji his most winning smile. Benji grinned right back.
I spoke with Linda and her guests until the lights dimmed, then I took my seat next to Benji, blocking him in between me and Kevin. Benji hadn’t tried anything, yet, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The house lights dimmed and the low murmur of the audience died to silence. Benji put his feet up on the seat in front of him. The curtain rose and the play began.
As I watched the cast onstage, I was amazed what a difference lighting and costumes made. I’d only seen them rehearsing, and all the scenes I’d watched had been out of order. Now I felt like I was watching another world, not just a group of actors reading their lines.
I leant back in my chair and the thick red velvet scrunched beneath me. I had to admit, the show was pretty good. And from the eager silence of the audience, I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Vivian sat at her dressing table while Della helped arrange her hair. I blinked. It was the same scene Kevin and I had watched four days ago. Della and Vivian did their dance with the necklaces, Della offering pearls and Vivian demanding diamonds. I held my breath, but Matthew Strange made his cue this time, swinging his arm around like it had never been hurt. A small gasp of pleasure rippled through the audience at his appearance and I could see him biting the inside of his cheeks to keep the pleased smile off his face.
There was a sudden rasp, the sound of ripping fabric and the whoosh of something heavy whistling through the air. The bottom of my stomach dropped and my knees turned to jelly as a large brown blur crashed into the stage.
Sand sprayed everywhere.
My stomach lurched again. One of the sandbags had fallen, just like the one that had started the fire all the way back in 1927.
The audience erupted into sound. Reporters shouted questions and took pictures. The flashes were as dazzling as a lightning storm in the darkened room.
I raced down the aisle towards the stage, shouting for Kevin to stay with Benji. Vivian’s scream made a tornado siren sound like a toy whistle. I looked up at the new chandelier for a moment, worried it might shatter.
Onstage, Matthew stood staring dumbfounded at the sagging pile of hessian at his feet, his mouth working open and closed like a goldfish. The sandbag had clipped the edge of the upper platform and taken a chunk of the railing with it before landing at his feet. Della made a sharp motion to someone in
the wings and the curtain came rushing down.
I saw Linda climbing up on to the stage to address the crowd, but I didn’t stop to hear what she was going to say. I vaulted past her and slid under the curtain. If someone had dropped that bag on purpose, I was going to find out who.
I ignored the cast and streaked across the stage. It was the fastest route to the ladder that led up on to the catwalk.
Jarvis stepped out of the wings, blocking my path. ‘You should go back to your seat,’ he said, his voice stern.
‘You there, what’s your name. Jasper. You’re in charge of set safety, aren’t you?’ Matthew Strange strode across the stage. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
I sprinted into the wings the second Jarvis was distracted.
The ladder was bolted too close to the wall and I scuffed my knuckles as I climbed. Eighteen rungs later I pulled myself on to the catwalk, a narrow walkway that stretched across the stage hidden from the audience by the top frill of the curtains.
I hadn’t been fast enough. The catwalk was empty. If someone had dropped that sandbag on purpose, they were gone. Almost as if they’d vanished into thin air. I swallowed hard and shook the image of Kittie Grace’s angry glare out of my head.
Below me, Vivian had stopped screaming and crumpled to the floor, her dress fanning around her in a giant circle of blue. The faint was no act this time. I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t have looked down.
I pushed my way along the catwalk, holding tight to the railing and trying to will my knees to stop knocking. It was like being in the rigging of a giant boat. Ropes and pulleys criss-crossed through the Beryl’s wooden scaffolding, and sandbags hung from the ropes like oversized sacks of flour.
I moved slowly towards the middle of the catwalk, checking the sandbags I could reach. Sandbags worked on a pulley system to help the crew pull heavy set pieces up into the empty fly space above the stage. If a set piece was down, the sandbag went up. And when the set went up, the sandbag came down.
