Untimely Death (7 page)

He turned to Charlotte. “And you were doing the fittings at that time? Ten twenty?”

She nodded. “The names are in the day book, and all the actors who were scheduled kept their appointments. They arrived on time, and nobody left early. Actors tend to like costume fittings, even watching someone else trying on a costume. Their parts start to come alive, and the whole theater illusion begins to take shape and come together for them.”

“That’s right,” agreed Simon, as he bestowed a warm smile on her.

Ray frowned and cleared his throat.

“So some of the actors were with Charlotte at the costume fitting, and some were at the rehearsal.”

“That’s right,” said Simon again.

“So does this account for everybody?”

“Not quite,” said Simon. “One or two weren’t needed for this rehearsal and weren’t at the costume fitting, either.”

Ray sighed. “It’s always complicated, isn’t it? Okay. Simon, if you could give me their names, please, I’ll pass them on to the BCI team. They’ll want to interview everyone we can’t exclude. Now, I’m going to have a word with these witnesses, one by one.”

Charlotte and Simon watched Ray move to the other side of the room. Simon looked at his water bottle, then
Charlotte. “There’s something I didn’t mention to the police officer,” he said softly.

Charlotte gave him a sharp look. “What’s that?”

“When it happened, Aaron wasn’t in full sight of everyone. I’d sent him out to get me a bottle of water, and it seemed to take him longer than I thought it should have. And when he got back, he was out of breath.”

Simon looked around Charlotte’s wardrobe room. “Where is he now, by the way?” he asked her.

“Who?”

“Aaron.”

“He’s gone to organize coffee for everyone and then tell his uncle what happened and arrange an interview room for the police,” said Charlotte. “Why?”

“I passed him in the hall. Head down, back arched. Looked, well, bothered.”

“Of course he’s bothered! Aren’t we all? Someone was just stabbed to death, and the killer is very likely amongst us.”

“Yes, Charlotte, I’m aware of that. I’m sorry. That didn’t come out quite right. Let’s just say he looked a little more bothered than the rest of them.” He gestured at the actors talking to Ray. “They look dazed and confused,
understandably, but Aaron looked more than that. He looked troubled. Scared, even.”

“You don’t think he had anything to do with this, do you?” She glared at him. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “You do!”

“Well, in my line of work, we specialize in body language, and frankly, what I saw of him didn’t look good.”

“Well, I hope the police don’t agree with you. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for his whereabouts at the time.”

“Do you think I should mention it to the police?”

Charlotte folded her arms and thought for a moment.

“Yes, I think you should. In the end, everything’s bound to come out, isn’t it? What’s that E. M. Forster line from
A Passage to India
? Something like, ‘You can do what you like but the outcome will be just the same’? I loved the way Alec Guinness said that in the movie.”

“Yes, you might be right. I don’t want to get Aaron in trouble, but at the same time, if I don’t mention it and the police find out, they might wonder why I didn’t say something.”

He took a sip of water. “I hope Aaron gets here soon with that coffee.” He glanced at Ray, who was closing his notebook. “It’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help wondering. Is there something between you and the police officer? He seemed a little, I don’t know, edgy, just then. A little bit possessive, maybe?”

Charlotte did not reply.

“Oh, dear. Sorry. Did I cross a line there?”

“It’s all right.” But the hard line of her shoulders, slight frown, and averted eyes told him the question was very much not all right.

While he was thinking of what to say next, trying to find the right words to turn the situation around, Aaron arrived, pushing a small cart laden with coffee and doughnuts. The actors surged toward it, but a moment later, the arrival of Harvey Jacobs silenced everyone. He looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time. He chose a spot in front of the cutting table and, with his hands behind his back, leaned against it.

“If I could just ask for your attention for a few minutes,” he began. “My nephew here,” he nodded in Aaron’s direction, “has just informed me about this terrible tragedy. I understand the police are here, and I expect every one of you will give them your full cooperation. They will get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, I want to reassure you that you are in no danger.”

“And how does he know that?” Simon muttered.

“He’s saying it to provide reassurance and let everyone know he’s in control,” Charlotte whispered. “It’s his idea of what a leader is supposed to do.”

Harvey invited the cast members to help themselves to coffee, as Ray joined Simon and Charlotte to tell them he was leaving to await the arrival of the state police.

*

The sound of several vehicles approaching the hotel got Brian Prentice’s attention. Curious, he got up from the table in the bungalow where he and his wife had been enjoying a late-morning cup of coffee and pulled back the curtain, revealing a dark blue car emblazoned with “New York State Trooper” on the side. It was followed by another police car and then two vans.

“Something must have happened in the hotel,” he said to his wife.

She looked up from her newspaper and took a sip of coffee. “Well, that’ll make a change.”

“No, really, there’s police cars everywhere. Oh, and now here comes an ambulance.” He watched its progress and then let out a little gasp. “Oh, dear. That’s not a good sign.”

“Mmm?” said his wife.

“I said that’s not a good sign. An ambulance has arrived but it’s not got its lights flashing or siren switched on. That leads me to think somebody is already past helping.”

“Oh,” said Lady Deborah. “I wonder who.” She thought for a moment. “Harvey, perhaps? He’s been looking a little peaky lately, I thought. And all that extra weight isn’t helping. It’ll be the stress of running his nonprofit establishment, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Really, Deborah. Must you?” Brian pulled his jacket off a hook by the door and slid his arms down the sleeves.
“But if it is Harvey, I wonder if my contract would still be valid.”

“Well, you’d best go and find out, hadn’t you?” She turned her newspaper to the arts section. “I wonder what’s playing on Broadway. Maybe we could treat ourselves to a little outing and see a real play. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Brian? Make a nice night out for you.”

Brian groaned and let the screen door slam behind him. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunching against the wind, he made his way to the hotel. The sounds of men’s voices somewhere off to his left drew him to the loading zone behind the stage, so he headed in that direction. At the entrance to the backstage area, Phil Davenport, who had been protecting the crime scene, held up his hand.

“Sorry, sir, you can’t go in there.”

“What’s going on? I saw the police cars and ambulance and want to find out what’s happening. Is somebody hurt?”

“And you are, sir?”

“I’m Brian Prentice. I’m the lead actor here.”

“Well, in that case, you might want to join the others. They’re in the wardrobe department, so I’m told. Back down the hall the way you came, past the rear entrance, and carry on. On your right. I’m not allowed to give out any information, but I’m sure your colleagues will be more than happy to fill you in.”

Brian turned on his heel and marched down the hall. As he reached the back door to the hotel, he spotted a tall man carrying a notebook and wearing a fedora and an imitation Burberry raincoat just inside the entrance. The man hesitated, as if unsure which way to go.

“There’s no point going down that way,” said Brian, gesturing toward the stage area. “I’ve just come from there. I spoke to a police officer, and no one is being admitted. Something’s happened but I don’t know what.” He held out his hand. “Brian Prentice.”

“Sir Brian!” said the man, clasping Brian’s hand in a limp, damp shake. “Delighted! Fletcher Macmillan, arts reporter.”

Brian did not bother to correct him.
Sir Brian!
Oh, how he liked the sound of that. If the fools who made those decisions had had their wits about them, he would have been knighted years ago. And why not him? It made more sense than some of the other fellows who’d had the honor of kneeling on the knighting stool whilst the Queen or Prince Charles tapped them on their shoulders with the ceremonial sword, rewarding them “for services to the arts” and bestowing on them not just a fancy title but all kinds of benefits as well, although Brian wasn’t quite sure what the additional benefits were. Anyway, men younger than he who hadn’t accomplished nearly as much, like rock and roll musicians, had had their day at Buckingham Palace, and he had not. Oh, yes, he could name names.

“Yes, there’s definitely something going on,” said Fletcher, returning Brian to the present. “We heard something on the police scanner.”

“I’ve just spoken to the police officer,” Brian repeated, “but he was unable or unwilling to provide me with information. He suggested I join the others in the wardrobe room, so I was going down there.”

“Well, now there’s a coincidence!” said Fletcher. “I was just headed there myself, so if you wouldn’t mind leading the way? I assume you do know the way.”

“Down here. And perhaps you could enlighten me as we go. It’s serious, I imagine, this situation.”

“You mean you don’t know?” said Fletcher.

“No. I’ve been learning lines in my bungalow all morning. Haven’t been near the place.”

“Our editor heard on the police radio that someone had been injured here. They weren’t too specific, but they never are over the radio.” And then he added, with no apparent sense of irony, “They never know who might be listening, so they keep everything on the down low.” As the two men approached the door to the wardrobe room, he continued. “I did try the front entrance, but couldn’t raise anyone, so thought I’d try my luck back here.”

Brian pushed the door to the wardrobe department open. Fletcher, peering over his shoulder at the various cast members, and realizing he was in a target-rich environment, remarked, “This seems to be where it’s all happening, for sure.”

Two or three actors were chatting quietly in the subdued atmosphere. Immediately as Fletcher and Brian entered, anxious, expectant eyes turned in their direction and the room fell silent.

“What’s going on?” asked Brian in his sonorous voice.

On the other side of the room, Simon raised an eyebrow, and Charlotte, seeing Brian, fingered the collar of her shirt and adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan.

“He’s your actor, Simon,” she said. “You’d better deal with him.” As Simon took his first steps toward Brian, she scurried past the actors into the adjoining room where the costumes were stored. She leaned against the wall and waited for her embarrassed heart to stop pounding.

Simon strode over to the pair and, after eyeing Fletcher up and down, addressed him. “Would you mind? I’d like a private word with Brian.” Fletcher shrugged and stepped away but remained within earshot.

“It’s very bad news, I’m afraid, Brian,” said Simon in a soft voice. “It’s Lauren. She was injured while we were rehearsing, and I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but she’s dead.”

Brian raised his hands to his face and covered his mouth. “Dead,” he breathed. “Oh, dear God, what happened? Was it an accident? Did she fall?”

“No, Brian, it wasn’t an accident. It looks like she was stabbed. The police are here, and they’ve opened a full-scale homicide investigation.”

“Homicide,” boomed Brian in a voice that filled the room. “Oh, our beautiful girl murdered. How could this have happened? Who has done this terrible deed?”

“We don’t know yet, but I’m sure the police will find the person responsible.”

“Miscreant! Assassin!” shouted Brian, raising a fist.

“Listen, you’ve got to calm down, Brian,” said Simon, placing what was meant to be a reassuring hand on Brian’s arm. “Get a hold of yourself. We don’t want to upset the young ones.”

“No, I suppose not,” agreed Brian, lowering his arm. The young ones smirked at one another, unsure exactly what they’d just seen, but having enjoyed it hugely.

“Have you ever seen such an over-the-top reaction?” giggled one.

“Never. It was fascinating. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was like old-school grand theater. Wish I’d caught it on my phone.”

“He certainly seemed shocked and surprised, didn’t he?”

“Did he? Or was that just a Shakespearean actor’s version of shock and surprise?”

“Who’s that guy with you, as if I couldn’t guess?” Simon asked Brian.

“Said he was an arts reporter.”

Simon now turned his attention to Fletcher Macmillan, who had been scribbling furiously. “I’m sorry, Mr. . . .”

“Macmillan. Fletcher Macmillan. I’m the arts reporter with the
Hudson Valley Echo
. You’re Simon Dyer, the director, aren’t you? Recognized you from the photographs. I wonder if you’d be kind enough to give me a few minutes of your time. This is going to be big news around here, I can tell you.”

“It’s not up to me to say anything to the press,” said Simon. “It’s the hotel owner and police you need to speak to, and I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you leave. This area is for the company.”

He took Macmillan by the arm and was preparing to escort him out when the door opened and Harvey Jacobs reentered.

“This could be your lucky day,” hissed Simon to Macmillan.

“I thought I’d just check back in,” Harvey Jacobs lowered his voice and spoke directly to Simon, “to see if there’ve been any developments.”

Simon shook his head. “No, Harvey. Nothing new. But there’s someone here who wants to ask you a few questions.” He introduced Fletcher Macmillan, who handed Jacobs his card.

“Let’s go to my office,” said Harvey, putting a friendly arm around Fletcher’s shoulder and steering him toward the door. “We can talk there. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t very much. You’ll get more information from the police, I’m sure. You’ve given us some wonderful reviews in the past, and you really must come see what
we’re putting on this season. We have a splendid run planned with top-notch performers.” His voice trailed off as the two disappeared down the hall and Simon closed the door behind them.

“The police have asked those who were in the theater this morning to wait here, Brian,” Simon said. “As that doesn’t include you, it might be best if you left now, before the state police arrive to begin the investigation.”

Brian mulled that over for a moment, and then, after taking a long, close look around the room, left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Simon made his way past the actors into the wardrobe storage area. “It’s okay. He’s gone. You can come out now. I don’t think he saw you.”

Charlotte emerged from behind a costume rack. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t face him right now. Not today. I’ve managed to avoid him so far, and I know I’ll have to deal with him, but just not yet. I suppose you think me very cowardly.”

“Feel like telling me?”

“It was a long time ago. We were . . .”

“Involved?”

“Yes, involved. And then he dumped me, saying he was going to marry Lady Deborah. I was so naïve. So stupid. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone else.” She glanced at him. “I was devastated. And felt like such a fool. An idiot. Still do, come to that.”

“He’s the fool, if you ask me. Giving you up for a joyless life with that . . . well, never mind. This isn’t the right time. Let’s go out and see how the kids are holding up.”