For about a half hour, people mingled and ate,chatting excitedly about the play. Then the serving tables started being cleared, full wastebaskets were replaced with fresh ones, the desserts arrived, and one waiter was dispatched to collect dishes, napkins, and glasses from windowsills where they'd been left. Some of the guests passed on desserts and started going into the theater. The cast and crew had already withdrawn to the back of the theater. The only people left were Jane, Shelley, Ms. Chance and her special guests, and the catering staff. Even Mel had disappeared.
Twenty-four
They all sat through the dress rehearsal, except for Shelley, who stayed behind to see to it that the caterers cleaned up, and made sure the yummiest leftovers were put in her minivan.
The play had been promoted as a "whimsical 1930s-style mystery," but the only thing approaching humor, much less whimsy, were the remarks that the butler made to the audience. Everybody found them funny. Imry was furious, of course. The last thing he'd said to the cast was that Cecil, the butler, wasn't to improvise.
The costumes looked fabulous and even Jane felt compelled to tell Tazz what a great job she'd done. It was hard to find her. Tazz had deliberately stayed as far away from Jane and Shelley as she could. She hadn't even turned up for the party in the lobby.
Ms. Bunting was by far the best thing about the play. She played Edina Weston with wry dignity and energy, and was clearly the star. John Buntingactually seemed almost sober. He said all his lines without slurring a single word. He didn't have to put his hand on the back of the sofa or his elbow on the mantel to keep himself upright.
Jane knew Ms. Bunting had to have been responsible for this unusual behavior, and wondered how she'd kept him from drinking.
When the play ended, the small audience seemed surprised. There was some muttering. Jane overheard one of Ms. Chance's contributors saying, "This must be fixed, Evelyn. There's no resolution to the plot. Why did the butler murder the younger son?"
Ms. Chance said, "You should have read the script I sent you early on. There could have been a better ending if supporters of the theater had spoken up sooner."
"She can't wiggle out that easily," Jane whispered to Shelley. "She'll probably never get more funding for anything from him."
"Serves her right," Shelley whispered back. "She could have influenced Imry to fix it. She was the only person he had reason to be afraid of."
The curtain calls were interesting. When the characters, in reverse order of importance, came on the stage, Bill Denk, the butler, was cheered, and the clapping went on for a long time — especially considering he had so few lines.
But when Ms. Bunting, elegant and smiling, came on stage, there was a standing ovation.
Flowers were brought on stage for her. A dozen red roses.
"We should have sent her flowers," Jane said.
"I've already ordered them for the opening night tomorrow. I wonder who these are from?"
"I'd guess they're from her daughter as a special early surprise. At least I hope so," Jane said.
As they followed the limited audience to the lobby, they overheard other complaints about the unsatisfactory ending of the play. The wives of some of the crew had been present. The prop master had brought along his daughter and her small son, who had fallen sound asleep within the first half hour. The scene painters were allowed to be in the audience with their girlfriends.
Before going home, Jane and Shelley went backstage to tell Ms. Bunting how good she'd been.
In the background, they could all hear Ms. Chance berating Professor Imry. "You're going to have a long night, young man. You're going to have to rewrite that ending. The investors who pitched in to help the college fund this are in revolt. Either change the victim and perpetrator, or figure out an explanation for why the butler would kill the younger son. It makes no sense."
Jane, Shelley, and Ms. Bunting were all smiling at this rant.
Jane had to ask, "Who were the roses from?" "My daughter. She always does this. Giving
me something to enjoy before the actual performance, no matter where it is. She's wonderful."
"We have to go home now," Shelley said, still grinning. "My car is full of leftovers from the party, and I need to get them in the fridge soon."
"Will you be back tomorrow?" Ms. Bunting asked.
"Probably just for the last act," Jane said. "To see how it ends the next time."
They all laughed.
Mel hadn't watched the dress rehearsal except for the last scene. He'd been at his office tying up some loose ends on another case that had just cropped up that afternoon. It involved one of those stupid criminals who didn't leave the scene quickly enough.
A skinny, weedy young man had burgled a house and walked out the front door with all the family's silver in a burlap bag. There he was confronted by the burly owner of the house, who had a big loop of rope he was going to use to make a swing in the backyard for his kids. The guy tied the perp up with the rope while his wife called the police to fetch the burglar.
Mel got the call and told one of his assistants to go pick up the bungling burglar. Both of them had a good laugh over this.
He was still chuckling to himself when he arrived backstage after the last scene and heard Ms.
Chance threatening Professor Imry. He waited in the hall until she'd gone, then went into Imry's office.
"I have something important to tell you. You better sit back down," Mel said.
"Okay. I guess it's that you're going to arrest me for murdering Denny, which I did not do! That's the way my day's gone. Are prisoners allowed to take their laptops into a jail cell?"
Mel had to suppress a smile. Imry had been inadvertently funny, probably for the first time in his life.
"I'm not arresting you," he said. "But I do have bad news for you."
Imry ran his hands through his hair. "Hit me with it."
"Understand, Imry, this is absolutely confidential. I'm only telling you this because I feel you need to know — but you have to agree not to mention it to anyone, not even obliquely."
"Okay. I'll pretend we never spoke of this."
Mel told him what he'd come to warn Imry about, and Imry turned so white and pasty that Mel feared he was going to faint.
So Mel added, "But I have a suggestion for how to solve the problem you're going to have."
Shelley was desperately anxious,to get home before any of the food spoiled. She hauled in all the leftovers and put them on Jane's kitchen counter.
"You pick what you and your kids most want, then I choose something, then you take another turn."
"Shelley, that's insane. You paid for all of it. You take everything you want. Just leave us whatever is left. By the way, is tonight's catering service on your list to provide meals for Paul's dinners?"
"Absolutely. They were fabulous. It's sort of discouraging that out of the ten I tried out, only two made the grade. I was hoping that at least three or four would be acceptable."
"Poor Professor Imry," Jane said out of the blue. "Having to rewrite the whole last scene overnight."
"I don't see how you can feel so sorry for him." Shelley was outraged. "He was simply too arrogant about his work to do the ending right. Or maybe too lazy. Or incompetent. I'll bet you good money he's never opened the first page of a good mystery book."
"Shelley, I'm seeing this from a different view. If I'd messed up an ending and had to fix it overnight, I'd probably just go to bed and hope for the best."
"No, you wouldn't," Shelley said. "You'd fix it."
"I guess I would. Now let's sort out this food choice thing. My kids will eat anything. Except that none of us likes caviar. Does that help?"
* * *
Steven Imry was still fixing the script as dawn broke on Friday. Now there was no murder, just a threat of one. And the younger brother didn't die. He just ran off with Angeline. After which his older brother Todd, now played by Norman Engel, admitted he was relieved. Imry knew, deep in heart, that t
his wasn't the best ending. But hoped it would satisfy the horrible Ms. Chance, her investors, and the audience. It was at least upbeat.
Best of all, only two of the actors had to learn new lines before tonight. Norman and Jake Stanton, both of whom were fast studies.
He printed out several copies of the new ending of the script, and paced around until eight in the morning, when he called both the actors involved in the changed script to tell them to meet him at the theater at nine promptly. Meanwhile, he'd have to contact the rest of the cast to tell them about the changes, so they wouldn't be surprised at the last minute.
At least he hadn't been forced to fix the script in a jail cell.
Twenty-five
At a quarter after ten Friday morning, Ms. Bunting called Jane and said, "I hope I didn't interrupt your writing. I meant to call Shelley, but I've lost track of her telephone number."
"Here's her phone number," Jane said, rattling it off. "You didn't interrupt anything. I was just catching up on laundry. What's up?"
"I've finished my needlepoint project and called the shop to see if they'd finish it as a pillow."
"I think Shelley has finished hers as well. I'm not quite done with mine, though."
Ms. Bunting said, "When I talked to Martha, I asked her if she could show me this basket-weave stitch so I can start a new project. She said she'd be free at one o'clock to teach all three of us, if we wanted."
"That's wonderful. I want to go along as well. Can we give you a ride?"
"That was what I was about to hint at," Ms.
Bunting said with a laugh. "John is still wasting time hunting for his golf club, and I don't want to take a cab. My last ride in one was harrowing, to say the least."
"I'll give Shelley a call and tell her this. We'll pick you up in time to be at the needlepoint shop at one."
Shelley was delighted. "I have finished my sampler and want to have it framed and then pick out new thread colors for this basket-weave project."
Jane laughed. "You just want to fill up more of the pockets in your jewelry holder thing. So do I. We still have thirty more pockets to fill with pretty colors."
They picked up Ms. Bunting, who was waiting in front of the hotel. "This is so nice of you girls to haul me around."
"You merely inspired us to go spend money," Jane said.
"It could turn into an expensive hobby, couldn't it? But well worth it," Ms. Bunting said. "I've already completed one in two weeks, and the play runs another three. I'd be bored senseless if I didn't have something do with my hands all day."
When they arrived, all three of them bought new canvases and new threads in gorgeous colors. They also learned how to do basket weave.
Martha gave them each a scrap of leftover canvas and showed them how to do the stitch. "Remember, keep a loose hand. This is the most durable of the patterns, but it will go all diagonal if you do it too tight."
Ms. Bunting said, "You know, I was a little afraid at first that I couldn't do needlepoint this well. I have a touch of arthritis in my right hand. I was surprised to learn that the stitching was good for me. The pain went away after the first few days. It's been good for me in a number of ways."
"I'm so glad to hear that," Martha said. "I've heard the same from other people new to needlepoint. Sometimes it makes that big muscle in your thumb hurt a little for the first few days. But all three of you have mastered the right tension," she added, looking at the projects they'd brought along.
"Will you be able to turn mine into a pillow before the play is done?" Ms. Bunting asked.
Martha said, "I normally send it out to be done. But for you, I'll do it myself. Let's look over fabrics that you'd like for the back and the piping around the edges." She proceeded to rummage in one of her storage bins and spread out a dozen or so swatches.
"I like the Wedgwood blue," Ms. Bunting said. "Is it sturdy enough?"
"It's the perfect weight and heft. I have enough of it, and I can have the pillow ready for you early
next week." She paused a moment, then added, "Mrs. Nowack, you're doing that basket weave just a tiny bit tight."
Professor Steven Imry called Evelyn Chance at eleven-thirty Friday morning and told her how he'd changed the script, explaining that only two actors needed to know different lines in the final act and they'd already rehearsed it.
"I want to see it myself," Ms. Chance said.
"Then pick up a copy in my office at the theater. I'm going home to sleep this afternoon." He hung up.
She called back, furious, and there was no answer.
Mel called Jane and asked, "Are you two going to the opening night of the play this evening?"
"Probably not for all of it. We've already seen nearly every scene, except the one Evelyn Chance insisted that Imry change. We might show up at the end, though, just to see if it makes sense."
"I hope you will. And Jane, this is going to be an imposition, but would you and Shelley hang around for a bit after the play?"
"I suppose so. Why?"
"I can't tell you. But I'll need both of you there."
"Okay." Jane was perplexed but knew better than to argue.
She called Shelley and repeated the mysterious message.
"What on earth would he need us for?" "Maybe to give some sort of information about the murderer?"
Shelley said, "We don't know anything worthwhile. What little we do know is about Ms. Bunting, and she's certainly not a murderer. But if he wants us there for some obscure reason, I guess we should do as he asked. Have you told him about your agent yet?"
"I haven't had the chance. He's been too busy. I don't want to give my good news to a man too preoccupied to fully appreciate it."
"We might as well turn up for the whole play," Shelley said.
"Oh, please no, Shelley. I couldn't bear it."
"Okay, but I'm going to go to see how the college handles the intermission. They might have a caterer that I don't know about."
"I'll join you then as a taster," Jane said, "and sit through the last act to see if Imry's fixed it."
Jane dutifully showed up and was horrified to see how hard it was to park anywhere near the theater. There must have been a good turnout. She supposed that all the drama students were forced
to attend, as she had been when she was taking a similar course in college.
The catering at the intermission was, in Shelley's opinion, not good enough to even ask who they were. She told Jane that the wine was cheap, the canapés weren't very good quality, and the paper plates were flimsy. Jane, having accidentally lost her grip on her plate and dumped her too-dry tiny sandwich on the floor, agreed.
They could only find seats on the far side, two-thirds of the way from the stage. The sound wasn't very good where they sat, but they sneaked down and stood in the aisle to hear the resolution in the final fifteen minutes. It was okay. Not really good, but acceptable. When the actors came out for bows, only Ms. Bunting provoked a standing ovation.
Jane and Shelley knew a semi-secret way to get back behind the scenes by now without attracting the attention of anyone in the departing audience, though they discovered that quite a few other people also knew the way. The cast was still on stage. Ms. Chance and some of her benefactors were already backstage. So were some of the students of the drama school. A few of the crew members and their families showed up as well.
"We'll just stand around uhtil the crowd clears," Jane said. "Mel will find us when he needs us."
Eventually the crowd thinned. The actors returned to the dressing rooms to remove their costumes and makeup, some with haste because they had a free weekend to enjoy, since the next performance wasn't until Monday night.
Mel finally showed up. "We're having a meeting shortly in the workroom. Go wait in there, if you would," he told Jane and Shelley.
There were three people already there whom Jane and Shelley had never seen. One woman and two men. None of them showed any interest in Jane and Shelley nor each other.
&nb
sp; Jane and Shelley took seats at the foot of the table and didn't speak a word. Nor did the two men and the woman. Professor Imry was the first familiar person to show up. He took his usual seat at the head of the table. Five or six minutes later Ms. Bunting came into the room and sat next to Imry.
She said, "What is this about? I'm tired and want to go back to the hotel."
Imry looked past her as Mel and John Bunting entered the room.
John already had found a drink to bring along. "What's going on here?"
Mel closed the door behind him and said, "I'm
here to arrest you for the murder of Dennis Roth."
Bunting spilled his drink. "That's crazy! I did
no such thing." He glared at Mel and asked,
"Who are these strangers?" indicating the two men and the woman.
"The men are plainclothes police officers who are going to escort you to jail. The woman officer will stay with your wife."
Mel read Mr. Bunting his rights as one of the men handcuffed him.
"Take Mr. Bunting away, please."
Shelley and Jane turned to Ms. Bunting. She was pale, but almost as composed as always. "Did he really do it?" she asked Mel in a voice that barely wavered.
"I'm sorry to say he did," he replied.
The policewoman sat down next to Ms. Bunting and offered a tissue, which Ms. Bunting waved away.
"I asked Professor Imry to sit in to assure you that the play will continue," Mel said. "The young man who plays the old butler will take over your husband's role. Professor, please confirm this before you leave."
Imry did so, then left the room after apologizing profusely to Ms. Bunting.
"What is the evidence for this?" Ms. Bunting asked.
Mel pulled up a chair from the table and turned it around to face her. "There is a lot of evidence. Are you sure you want to know all of it?"
A Midsummer Night's Scream jj-15 Page 15
