The Hamlet Trap (10 page)

He looked distinctly uncomfortable now. “I know,” he said after a pause. “I don't know this detective all that well, but Gus Chisolm, who is our chief of police, is also a good friend of mine. They aren't letting him in on everything, but he hears things. He's reliable.”

“Good. And finally, is there a schedule somewhere of when they'll all be in the theater, when we can meet them?”

“I added a schedule to the things in the packet for you. I think there's a nine-o'clock call for readings. What that means I can't tell you,” he added dryly.

“So we get to learn how they put on a play,” Charlie said easily. He looked at Constance; she shook her head slightly and they were ready to leave the restaurant.

In their sitting room later, Charlie and Constance went through the packet of articles, reports, maps that Ralph had provided. It was very thorough. Ginnie was in good hands, Charlie decided. Dr. Braden had picked a good attorney. They read the many profiles of the theater people with interest and studied their photographs. Ro had been written about most, as was to be expected, since he practically had willed Harley's Theater into existence and prosperity.

Constance left to take a bath, yawning widely; she had little faith in newspaper feature articles, having seen her own words distorted too many times in the past. Charlie continued to read.

She returned in her gown and robe, frowning. She was pink from the hot bath; clinging to her forehead were tendrils of hair so pale that they were invisible until they flashed in the light. “If she's guilty,” she said, “I think Dr. Braden sees my role here as providing a case for mental illness. I don't like being used like that.”

“Hey, hold on a second. That's a great big leap. You left me too far behind.”

“He must have heard the rumor that she started the fire that killed his son. He was on the scene, remember? Now there's a killing spree going on and she might be implicated. She must be crazy. I testify eventually that she's incompetent, was incompetent at the time of the murders; she goes somewhere for a cure. Period. Used.”

Charlie grinned at her indignation. “So let's hang the rap on someone else.”

“You bet your sweet fanny,” she said. “Let's go to bed.”

His grin turned into a soft chuckle and he started to flick off lights.

THIRTEEN

Ladies and gentlemen,”
Gray said, “I want to outline the procedure for the coming week. Each morning at nine I'll read a play, in the order of openings. Starting tomorrow the cast will read in the afternoon. We'll begin with
The Climber
today, and tomorrow at one that cast will gather in this room and read. I don't want you to try to memorize your lines yet. This afternoon, tonight, simply read through the play a few times, think about your character a lot. We may be doing some improvisations, so be prepared.”

He looked at the people around the table, then picked up the play. Constance and Charlie had met him and most of the others in Ro's office that morning. Gray was pale and drawn, with dark hollows under his eyes. As haggard as he appeared, however, he looked robust and in perfect health compared to Ginnie. She was ghostly in her pallor and almost gaunt. Everyone was tense except Sunshine. Her eyes were glowing with excitement; it was her play they were going to read, she had whispered to Constance. At the table in rehearsal room A was the cast for the first play of the season. Gray was at the head of the table; at the other end was Eric Hendrickson, the stage manager. In a second tier of chairs were the costumer, the technician, the sound and lights people, others Constance and Charlie had not met. Ro stood by the door, then seated himself next to Ginnie, out of Gray's line of sight. Ginnie sketched as Gray read, paying little or no attention to her hands, turning pages silently, sketching very fast.

“She can draw in the dark,” Sunshine had whispered to Constance, who believed it.

Gray read very well. Quite often he stopped reading and talked about the actions, or the dialogue, the characters. His analysis was impressive. Constance watched the expressions on the faces of his attentive audience and knew that his was a godlike position.

When he finished there was applause; he looked surprised. Constance turned to Sunshine and said, “Congratulations. That's very good. You must feel proud.”

Sunshine nodded, her smile happy and wide. “I wanted to rewrite it again and he”—she nodded toward Ro—”said he'd wring my neck if I touched it again.”

“Are you going to be around all week?” Constance asked. “Perhaps we can talk to you.”

“Oh, I'll be here. They said I can watch everything to do with my play. I'm not usually allowed in the theater, you know? They said I was disruptive because Ginnie got mad at me for talking to her, you know?”

“When was that?”

“Oh, a long time ago. She kept moving around out front in the dark and I couldn't believe she was drawing in the dark, you know? I think she was in a trance and if I'd known that I wouldn't have spoken to her. You shouldn't when people are in a trance, you know?”

“You're probably right,” Constance said carefully. “When did they let you back in?”

“For auditions, but then he”—she looked toward Ro—”thought I made Ginnie leave that day and threw me out again. He”—this time her gaze stopped on Gray—”said I could come in for the readings and the rehearsals, but I'm not supposed to talk to any of them, you know? Do you want me to read your cards?”

“I'd like that,” Constance said. “I'll let you know when I have time, when it's convenient for you. See you later, Sunshine.”

Charlie was at the door motioning to her. “There's a meeting in Ro's office,” he said when she joined him. “The people with keys who were around when Peter Ellis was killed. Ro says his office is the logical place, probably the only place where no one can overhear.”

Ginnie and Gray were already out of the rehearsal room; the actors were gone. A clump of people remained at the table talking. She followed Charlie and the other men to Ro's office.

Charlie took control as soon as everyone was in the office. He would have made a good director, Constance thought with satisfaction. He had Ginnie and Gray on the couch, Ro in one of the easy chairs, Juanita in another one. Eric and William were in straight chairs, as was Constance. Charlie stood before the semicircle they made.

“I know you've all been through hell already,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you through it again. I don't have access to the police records, unfortunately. Now, does anyone else have a key to this building?”

“Spotty,” Ro said. “That's all. Kirby Schultz had one but he gave it back to me before he took off.”

“Good. Now, let's go through this logically. Someone could have been inside the building earlier and simply stayed after everyone else left.” William was shaking his head. “Mr. Tessler?”

“Duane Higgins was overseeing the workmen in the auditorium,” he said deliberately. “He checked them out. I did the same backstage.”

“I see. But in theory someone else could have slipped in during the day, hung around all evening. We can't prove a negative, you see. It could have happened. It's the sort of straw that defense attorneys cling to. That's one possibility.” He turned to Ginnie. “Did anyone know that you and Mr. Ellis were coming here that night?”

“No. We decided at dinner. I didn't even know it until then.”

Charlie nodded. “You see how that goes. If our anonymous stranger did hang around, what for? Not to waylay Mr. Ellis, since he couldn't have known he would show up. Not to steal something, surely, or he would have done it and gone by then. We can't prove that no one was here all that time, but neither do we have to act as if we believe in it. That means that someone with a key entered the theater that night, and if you're certain that only you few people have keys, that means it was one of you. Or the watchman. Did Spotty have a grudge against Mr. Ellis?”

Ginnie shook her head. “He had met him once or twice at the most.”

“If Mr. Ellis walked in on Spotty in the office, so what? Is there a safe in the office, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

“No. There's nothing of real value here. During the season there's money in a safe out in the auditorium office, but not off season.”

“So again, what if Mr. Ellis had come across Spotty in here? He worked here, belonged here.”

“That applies to all of us,” Ro said impatiently. “It wouldn't have been a surprise to find any one of us in here.”

“That's the point I was coming to,” Charlie said softly. “That's exactly my point. Now, what the police have against Miss Braden, Ginnie, is purely circumstantial evidence, or so I've been told. If we can place any other person in this office, that evidence will also be circumstantial unless we can also come up with a motive for murder. I know you've all told the police where you were that night, maybe many times. Will you go through it again, please? Mr. Cavanaugh, will you start?”

“This won't get you anywhere,” Ro said sharply. “If they'd been able to put anyone else in here, they would have.”

“Did they question you as a group?” Charlie's voice was bland. “Sometimes that shakes a memory; hearing someone else say something reminds you of something you hadn't thought of before.”

“They questioned us separately,” Ro said with great weariness. “I had dinner alone in a restaurant and at eight went to the high school to see a production. I always see their productions. At nine-fifteen or so I went to Jake's Place, a bar, with several other people, and I was there when the police came looking for me.”

“Did you see people at the high school who know you? Did you leave and return?”

Ro glanced at Eric, then Gray. “They were both there. Maybe a dozen other people that I talked to at one time or another that night. I started to leave when Gray did, but it was raining too hard and I didn't have a car or an umbrella or even a raincoat. He was out before I could catch him for a ride. I hung out there until the play ended and got a ride with Jerry Alistair.”

“Thank you,” Charlie said, and turned to Eric. “Mr. Hendrickson?

“I stayed at the high school until the play was over and then went straight home. I got there about nine-thirty. My wife was up. We watched television the rest of the evening.”

“Now see,” Charlie said, beaming at them. “Here's someone who could have been at the theater at the right time.”

Angrily Eric said, “I took a friend home that night. He's my next-door neighbor, a teacher at the school in the drama department.”

Charlie sighed and looked at Juanita.

“I was in Medford all evening. Dinner with friends, then a movie. I got home at one in the morning.”

William had been home with his wife and Sunshine, he said, when it was his turn. At eight-thirty Sunshine helped Shannon get ready for bed, then he drove Sunshine home. It was raining but he didn't know what time it was when he dropped her off. He stopped in a convenience store and bought a candy bar, then went home.

“You got out in the rain to buy a candy bar?”

“Yes. Sunshine made dinner that night and it was some godawful mess with rice and parsley and peanuts. I was hungry.”

“And you knew the person who waited on you, I suppose?” Charlie's voice was gloomy now.

“Stu Lavelle. He works here as a stagehand during the season.”

Charlie sighed again. “Mr. Wilmot?”

“I was at the high school until a few minutes before the play ended. I didn't want to get mixed up with the other cars all trying to leave the lot at the same time. I knew Laura would be waiting for me at the bar. She was there when I arrived. We went home.”

“Time?” Charlie asked without much hope.

“I picked her up a little after nine. I don't know exactly what time it was.”

Charlie looked at Ro and said softly, “You see how it is, Mr. Cavanaugh? On the basis of circumstantial evidence, they have enough to arrest your niece today.”

Ro was pale now. His voice was ragged when he spoke. “You did that to demonstrate something, didn't you? You win, Mr. Meiklejohn. What do you want?”

“Full cooperation from you and all your people here. I'll want to ask a lot of questions and it's going to take time. I don't want you to interfere when I use that time.”

Ro nodded. “Whatever it takes.” He looked at Ginnie. “It's going to be all right, honey. We're all going to help.”

“Aren't you going to ask me?” Ginnie demanded of Charlie.

“We'd like to talk to you at your house,” Charlie said. “After lunch, this afternoon.”

“That was a gamble,” Constance said in the car when they left the theater. “You were lucky.”

“I wanted to test the reliability of Ralph's contact, the chief of police. He said they all had alibis for one or both nights, and so far, he's right.”

“Not Gray,” she commented. “Unless someone else in the bar can confirm his time. And William's alibi isn't all that hot, either. Not unless he drew attention to the time in the store.”

“It seemed a good idea to let them all believe we swallowed it whole,” Charlie said cheerfully. He was driving along the river that ran through town. On the other side of the street was Lithia Park. The street they were on was lined with parking places, all empty. “This must be about it,” he said, and pulled into one of the parking places. “About a mile in. Let's walk a bit.”

It was a cool, overcast day with no wind. The river was raging grayish-white and nearly to the top of the banks, only about fifteen feet across, but loud. On a path across it several runners appeared, trotted easily into view and out of sight again without glancing at them. Charlie walked closer to the river and looked at the banks.

The earth was dark and soft-looking, laced with many rocks. Large rocks jutted out of the water, made ripples in it. Charlie found a small stick and tossed it into the water; it was swirled around and carried away quickly.

“The bank was a mess, according to the report,” he said. “About a mile from the entrance. Let's see if we can find the spot.” They walked slowly and stopped when they came to a roped-off area where the bank was eroded, badly scuffed. Silently they studied it.

The whole area had been trampled a lot, but the place on the bank was only about two and a half feet wide where the earth was gouged out, scraped-looking.

They were twenty feet from the nearest parking spot, a hundred feet from the nearest streetlight. It would be very dark here at night, Constance thought. She looked upriver at a bridge, downriver at another one farther away. Who would have seen anything here, heard anything? And it was only a mile from downtown.

“Someone must have had some pretty muddy shoes,” Charlie said absently. His own shoes were already muddy. He backed away from the bank. “Let's walk a minute.” There was a footpath between the parking area and the river; in some places trees or bushes hid it from the street. The bridge turned out to be for traffic. All the others they had seen had been foot bridges. They walked to the middle of the bridge and looked back at the roped-off area. Their car was not visible from here; none of the parking spots were. The river was very swift and shiny.

Constance was studying the spot they had just left, frowning slightly. Finally she said, “It just doesn't make any sense, does it? Laura came out here with someone, parked. They got out and walked to the bank. Why? You couldn't see anything at night. They fought and she ended up in the river. But why get out of the car at all? And if she was trying to get away from anyone, she would have gone the other way, not toward the river. And it couldn't have been much of a fight, the messed-up spot is too small. People who are fighting move around a little more than that, don't they?”

“Maybe she didn't go in at that spot at all.”

Constance looked at him and waited.

“Suppose you want it to look as if you fought on the riverbank. You'd know you had to make a bit of a mess, but remember it was dark and that spot is a good distance from a light. No one would turn on car lights in order to see. He did the best he could in the dark, I'd say.”