Blood on the Boards

by Gault, William Campbell

  What had Pete Delahunt said? Little theater for little people.

  The one he meant to give them would not be a little theater. A small theater, but not a little one. And he had faith in Larry Puma.

  And he had faith in Norah Payne.

  He drove past the house they’d planned to buy. It wasn’t much of a house, long and narrow, but that would make a fine theater. There was a Point Realty Sign on the lawn: For Sale—Open. He parked.

  The house was set back from the road and well shielded by shrub walls on both sides. The front lawn could be converted into a parking lot; the position of the house on the lot would prevent any undue disturbance of either neighbor. And half a block away there was a community parking lot. Of course, parking wouldn’t be too much of a problem, anyway; this place was within walking distance of the shopping center.

  The kitchen was adequate, with a huge window facing on the rear yard. That could be paved, and the doughnuts served from a counter built into this window.

  The back yard was walled and large enough to hold an additional building that could store the props and scenery.

  All the rooms were in line; the partitions could be torn down and steel beams added where they were necessary.

  On the way out, Joe pulled the sign from the lawn. Maybe he was a sucker, but it was a labor he enjoyed and a communication medium he could understand.

  Back at his house, he phoned Krivick, but the sergeant wasn’t at the station. He left a message and went into the bathroom to turn the hot water on in the tub.

  He was jumpy and itchy; he relaxed in the tub for almost half an hour. Then he put on a terry-cloth robe and went into the den to relax on the davenport. He had the record player’s volume set at a minimum as he lay there, going back over everything he’d learned since that first afternoon he’d stopped at the bubbler for a drink.

  He’d overlooked the obvious; this had been one of those cute ones, those tricky ones, and he’d overlooked the obvious.

  Maybe because he’d wanted to. They were all his friends, one way or another. He was committed to their world now.

  Did he need to be? With his money and Norah’s taste, did he need to stay with these little people in their amateurs’ world? No, perhaps not, but he wanted to. This much the theater offered, something for everybody, communication at all levels.

  His doorbell rang, and he went to find Sergeant Krivick at the door.

  The sergeant said, “I phoned in and they said you’d called, and I was in the neighborhood. What’s new?”

  Joe told him where he’d been and then showed him what he’d bought at the novelty store.

  They were in the kitchen now, and Joe punched holes in a couple cans of beer. He brought one to the sergeant in the nook, and sat down across from him.

  “Where was this novelty store?” Krivick asked. Joe told him.

  Krivick rubbed moisture from the beer can with one finger. “Right near Sam’s Shoe Salon, eh?”

  “Practically next door. But that doesn’t implicate Larry Puma. If anything, it directs suspicion away from Larry Puma. But I’m glad I went over to see him.”

  Krivick nodded. “That was a stroke of luck. For me. How about Nels Nystrom? How far did you get with him?”

  “Nowhere. But I probably stirred him up. You could put a tail on him now.”

  “On him? Why not from this end?”

  “On him. And this end, too. How many men will they give you?”

  “All I ask for. This is big, Joe. This is real big now. I’m going to phone the station right now, and get a man on Nystrom. You’re pretty sure of him, Joe?”

  “As sure as I can be without proof. His reaction was right in the pattern. Want to eat here?”

  Krivick was already heading for the living-room. “I shouldn’t, but I will if you’re going to break out another steak.”

  Joe took a big steak from the refrigerator and a couple of eggs for himself. He had eaten lunch too late to be able to consume a steak.

  When Krivick came back, he asked, “Why the eggs?”

  “I ate lunch with Larry Puma late this afternoon. What do you think of him, Sergeant?”

  Krivick settled into one corner of the nook, his back against the wall. “He seems like a pretty solid citizen. But so have some ax murderers.”

  “Even some politicians,” Joe added. “Who are you putting on Nystrom?”

  “Jess Welch. Did Nystrom get bounced from the Department or did he quit?”

  “I’ve forgotten. If I remember right, there was some fuss about him at the time. I think he quit under a cloud, as they say.”

  Krivick frowned. “Strange that Dysart should hire him. He wasn’t trying to save money, was he?”

  Joe came over to the nook with his can of beer. “Don’t ask me. Ernie, don’t make any move until Nystrom does. It all adds, but how wrong we could be. And if we grabbed the wrong person, the real killer would be warned. And he’d know his only salvation would be flight. We want to be sure, Ernie. And I’ve a plan.”

  Krivick grinned at him. “Amateur dick, huh? Joe, I’ll ride with you anywhere.”

  “Thanks. As soon as Nystrom makes a move, then. He’s our finger. Could you tap his phone?”

  Krivick shook his head. “They’ve been on the Chief’s neck about that lately. We’ll have to hope a phone call won’t be enough for Nels.”

  Joe went back to the refrigerator and took out some frozen asparagus. “We live in hope.”

  “I could use another beer,” Krivick said. “What a day.”

  Joe brought him a can. There were traffic sounds outside, and the slamming of a garage door. For a moment he had a sense of being lost in time and then remembered the scene was almost a duplicate of last night’s.

  Krivick said, “You should charge me board. But we’re closer to a solution tonight, aren’t we?”

  “I hope, I hope. I don’t feel like cooking any potatoes, Ernie. Toast good enough with that steak? And some creamed asparagus?”

  “Buttered asparagus will do for me. You get a bang out of this little theater crap, Joe?”

  “I do. Do you get a bang out of that Boy Scout crap?”

  “That ain’t exactly crap. That serves a purpose. It makes me feel like a human being.”

  “So, every man to his poison, Ernie. Though I can see your point. The kids are our only hope, aren’t they?”

  “They’re one hope. The church is another, for me. You left the church, didn’t you, Joe?”

  “The church left me. I couldn’t swallow that double-talk.”

  Krivick chuckled. “Sure, you’re an intellectual now. You couldn’t pass the exam for lieutenant, but you know more than the priests who study all their lives.”

  “Lay off, Ernie. For God’s sakes, don’t you think I want to believe? And do you think believing is enough? If it is, I give you Senator McCarthy.”

  Krivick smiled. “A good point. Or Franco. But they’d be monsters no matter what their beliefs were.”

  Joe fried some bacon to go with his eggs and some mushrooms to go with Krivick’s steak, then sat down to eat with the sergeant.

  They didn’t talk much. At last Krivick said, “Thank God you went over to see Puma today, or I’d still be working in a fog.”

  “Maybe we still are,” Joe said. “We’d better hurry. They’ll need help with the chairs again.”

  Delahunt and Hamilton were hauling chairs when Joe and Krivick arrived. It was going to be another SRO performance.

  Joe left the rest of them before all the chairs were set up. He went out to the kitchen and filled the big enameled coffeepots. Then Jean Hamilton came in and began to arrange the doughnuts on the trays.

  She told Joe, “You’d better put on a smaller pot, too. Some of our stars will want a cup before they go on. Isn’t it horrible about Alan?”

  Joe nodded. “I’m buying that house, Jean, the one the Players always wanted. I’m going to convert it, too.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds,
and then came over to kiss him.

  From the doorway to the prop room, Walter said, “What goes on here? Or shouldn’t I know?”

  “Joe’s buying us a theater,” Jean said. “You can kiss him, too.”

  Walter said nothing, but it seemed to Joe there was some moisture in his eyes. Jean said, “You’d better hurry and get made up, Walter. It’s about that time.”

  Walter said, “I’ll thank you properly when my voice comes back, Joe. God bless you.”

  When he and Jean were alone again, Joe said, “I’m putting Larry Puma in charge of it. How will Walter feel about that?”

  “How could he? Larry’s the logical director. Is he going to give it full time?”

  “If he can live on peanuts.”

  “He can. He has, for years. It might even pay, Joe, though that’s probably wishful thinking.”

  Then Krivick came in from the auditorium. “The joint’s loaded almost. We even set up that old davenport out there. How about some of the benches from the park?”

  Joe told him, “Sit down and relax, Ernie.”

  Then Smith came in with his make-up on and Krivick stared at him in puzzlement. “What’s he, the villain?”

  Smith smiled at the sergeant, and looked at Joe. “Any coffee?”

  “In a second, Leonard. How are you feeling?” “Depressed. I hear you and Norah are— Well, congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  When Smith went out with his coffee, Krivick said, “Just kids, aren’t they? Kids, play acting. Working for merit badges. Would you make up your face like that and get up in front of a lot of people?”

  “I think I would.”

  “For free?” Krivick shook his head. “You would like hell.”

  Joe laughed and brought over a couple of cups of coffee to the big table. “I’ll send you a ticket when I make my debut, Ernie.”

  “You do that. What did he mean about Norah? Are you and the blonde engaged or something?”

  “Mmmm-hmmm. I wonder if Puma is coming tonight. I want to talk to him.”

  “So do I,” Krivick said. “I hope he’s got a good memory.”

  Larry came just before the end of the first act. He went out into the side patio with Krivick, while Joe and Jean poured the coffee from the big pots into the smaller serving pitchers.

  Then Pete Delahunt was there to help. And just before the counter got busy, Larry came back in with Krivick.

  The sergeant said, “See you tomorrow, Joe. And thanks again for the dinner.”

  Joe waved. Larry came over to handle the lemonade. He said, “Something’s going to break, is it?”

  “We don’t know,” Joe said. “It’s just a hunch I—we have.”

  “I see.” Larry’s voice was thoughtful. “You said something this afternoon about that first murder being ‘theatrical.’ Were you thinking of sound effects when you said that?”

  Joe nodded. “Good guess. Here the mob comes. Let’s go.”

  They sold fourteen dozen doughnuts at that intermission, and there was to be another at the end of the second act. Joe was sorry, now, that he hadn’t bought more. They ran out of coffee and finished the lemonade.’

  As the warning lights flashed, Larry said, “Quite a comment on the public’s artistic taste. All you need to put a show over is a murder in the neighborhood.”

  “Maybe some of them will come back,” Joe said. “At least, they know we’re here, now.”

  They sold the last dozen doughnuts at the end of the second act, and almost as much coffee as they had after the first act.

  Larry said, “Too bad we can’t take this money with us when we move.”

  “I thought the money belonged to the Players. We pay rent, don’t we?”

  “Only after ten o’clock. And the money is ours to use as long as we stay here. When we pull out, the money goes to the Park Board.”

  “No wonder you want your own theater. We’ll bake our own doughnuts, too.”

  Larry grinned. “And sell French postcards in the lobby. Don’t worry, Joe, we’ll make it pay one way or another, won’t we?”

  “We’ll sure as hell try. And don’t you think, with a setup like that, we’ll get some talent from around town?”

  “I hope so. We can certainly use it.”

  From the direction of the stove, Sharon said, “Isn’t there any coffee for the cast? There’s always supposed to be coffee for the cast.”

  Larry said coolly, “Complain to your agent. Customers first.”

  Joe said quietly, “I’ve boiling water. I can make you some instant coffee, Sharon.”

  She ignored him, staring at Larry. “Our shoe clerk is in a mood again, I see. Something bothering you, Larry?”

  He smiled broadly. “Not a thing. I’ve never been happier in my life. I’ve never had more reason to be happy.”

  Sharon’s glance went from Joe to Larry and back again. Then she turned and went back to the dressing-room.

  Larry said, “It’s unchristian, the way I hate that woman.”

  Joe said nothing. He thought of a fifteen-year-old girl bedded down with Lonnie Goetz and couldn’t find any room in his heart for hate.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE CAST WAS RECEIVING CONGRATULATIONS and Joe and Larry were cleaning up the kitchen when Norah came in. She said, “The Hamiltons want to go over to Ned’s for a sandwich. How about you, lover?” “I’ll go. You, Larry?”

  “Payday isn’t until tomorrow,” Larry said. “And I have thirty-six cents to my name.”

  “Norah’ll buy,” Joe said. “She’s marrying money. Who else is going?”

  “Leonard. And he wants to bring Sharon.”

  “Don’t you want him to?”

  She looked at him blankly. “Why shouldn’t I? What kind of remark was that?”

  “I didn’t want to spoil the party. If you’re going to vote against bringing Sharon, I’ll back you up. And so will Larry.”

  “And insult Leonard Smith?”

  Larry said lightly, “Stop fighting, you two. Let’s all be very polite to each other, just for tonight.”

  Norah glanced at Larry and back at Joe. “What did he mean? What’s so important about tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t say it. Ask him.”

  “I’m asking you, Joe. You learned something today, didn’t you? From the police? Or something your investigation turned up?”

  “Maybe. It’s nothing I want to talk about.”

  “Why not?” She looked at Larry. “I saw the sergeant take you outside. Are you involved, Larry?”

  “Could be. Relax, Norah. Let’s not have any mysteries, now.”

  She stood there rigidly, glaring at Larry. Joe came over to put an arm around her shoulders. “What’s the matter with you? You’re not the Police Department, honey. You haven’t any right to our information.”

  “I’m a human being and I have a right to know if there’s a murderer in our group. I have the right to be warned against a killer, haven’t I?”

  Joe said quietly, “If we were certain of the killer, you wouldn’t need to be warned. The killer would be in jail.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, let’s get this kitchen finished up and we’ll all go out for a sandwich and a drink or two. Larry’s right; let’s be civilized tonight.”

  “All right.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “You keep an eye on me, though, Mr. Policeman. I want protection.”

  Sharon came through the doorway then. “Did anyone see the scout from Paramount in the audience? I know there was one out there.”

  Larry smiled. “I saw him. He was leaving as I came, right before the end of the first act.”

  Norah said, “We should have had a stronger play. You were right about this one being weak, Sharon. Though Larry has done a beautiful job on it.”

  “He certainly did,” Sharon agreed. “Well, I’m not personally concerned.”

  Larry stared at her. “What was that first sentence? Did you admit I did a good job on the play?”

&nbs
p; She smiled at him. “I thought you did. Everyone else does, too. Friends, Larry?”

  He grinned. “I can try. And now the second sentence; why aren’t you personally concerned?”

  “Because I’ve just signed up with Monarch. For seven years. I’ll accept your congratulations with grace.” She waved airily. “I can afford to be a lady, now.”

  Nobody said anything for seconds. And then Norah said, “I think that’s grand, Sharon. And I’m sure the others do, too. We squabble, but you were always one of ours.”

  “That’s right,” Joe said. “Congratulations, Sharon.”

  Larry said nothing, staring out the window at the littered patio.

  “My agents just phoned me, five minutes ago,” Sharon said. “Are we going to Ned’s? The party’s on me.”

  “The next party will be on you,” Joe told her. “Tonight, I pay. We’re celebrating the birth of our new group, with our own theater—the Dysart Memorial Theater.”

  Larry turned from his contemplation of the patio. “For Bruce, Joe?”

  Joe shook his head. “For Alan.”

  “I’ll get Leonard,” Sharon said.

  “And I’ll help these boys with the rest of the cleaning,” Norah said. “Come on, boys.”

  They were stacking the sugar bowls when Larry said, “I didn’t mention it before, but I had an offer from Monarch, too, the other day. Ray Brennan’s a big stockholder there.”

  Norah locked the cabinet and turned to face him. “And you didn’t accept?”

  “I didn’t. I like this new idea out here, better. And besides, I’ve been poor all my life. I’m afraid I couldn’t stand prosperity.”

  Leonard Smith had walked to the clubhouse; he and Sharon went to Ned’s in Joe’s car. Walter and Jean drove over in Sharon’s and would ride back to the Palisades with Joe.

  In the back seat, Leonard and Sharon talked about Monarch Films, the one firm in the industry that consistently operated in the black, even through the current TV competition.

  In the front seat, Norah and Joe were quiet.

  Leonard said, “What’s the matter with you two? You haven’t been quarreling again, have you?”