Final Act (19 page)

“How wonderful
for you
”, Eleanor said.

“Yes.  Mary
Jane
has asked us to take on two leading roles, a bag lady and
Madam
in her new play
,
Ladies of the Night
. 
It’s about
two women
who
meet up on the street and their friendship leads to an epiphany of sorts. 
I wo
n’t go into the details of the plot, but the two end up running a shelter for battered women.  Rather inspiring don’t you think?”

Eleanor looked dubious but nod
ded
her head.

“Anyway, Alexis and I need to understand these two women’s underlying motivations.  We
have been doing some of our own research
for the past couple of nights
cruising the night life areas of the city
, talking to some of the women who work the street.  But we need an acting coach and
wondered if you could recommend someone?”

“Susan”, Alexis said, “we haven’t given Mary
Jane
a
firm
commitment.  I thought we were going to discuss this more
before going hands on
in the city
?”

“Really, Alexis,” Susan said, “I’m sure Mary
Jane
doesn’t have that impression.”

“Well if she doesn’t, I’ll be only too happy to let her know.  I’m not sure the play is ready for production yet.  It leans towards the
melodramatic;
I think it
needs more work.”

“That’s not what you said to Mary
Jane
.”

“Of course it’s not what I said to her.  I leave that to the theatrical agents.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t realize you felt that way but I’m not surprised.  It’s that small town
valley
upbringing of yours
.
  Really,
as a Librarian, I expect you would be more d
iscerning.”

Alexis was about to rebut but changed her mind. 

“Now where was I?  Oh yes.  So Eleanor
,
given all your experience in the theatre, can you recommend a good acting coach?”

“My background is in set design, not in acting, however if the two of you are serious, I do have a couple of suggestions.  First,
ask
Mary
Jane
to circulate her play among the local agents
. 
I can recommend some very good ones who would give a qualified assessment of her work.  Second, I recommend you contact Natasha Leigh, an excellent drama coach, she’s busy but you might be lucky enough to find a spot in one of her classes.”

Not giving Susan the chance to reply, she looked at her
watch, made her excuses and exited with the speed of an
atheist
who had
walked into a room of Baptists.
   

“That went well, don’t you think?”

“It went down as well as an over done egg.  Really Susan, how could you have embarrassed me, yourself and Eleanor like that?  It’s time you curb
ed
that tongue of yours.”

“As soon as you get help to deal with that repressed personality of yours
, I’ll see to my tongue.
”

Ever the pragmatist, Alexis said, “
Okay, l
et’s calm down, this isn’t getting us anywhere.
  Why don’t we discuss it more this evening over pre-dinner drinks?”

“Splendid. 
I’m going to hit the stores
while you read
.
I want to wear something bold to this new avant-garde restaurant.
”

Chapter 8

Hanya
, having waited her turn to express her condolences to Catherine, moved towards the tables of food.  Not that she was hungry but she figured it was the best spot to observe others without being noticed.
And she wouldn’t have to insert herself into conversational groups, with this lavish spread, every guest was sure to hit the tables and then she would have her opportunity to drop her little bombshell.
 

Two long buffet tables
were full to the brim
, one with 5 on 5 Avocado Dip, Alaskan Cream Cheese Hot Pot, Asian Chicken Salad, spiral sliced Black
Forest Ham,
tiny,
triangular
sandwiches,
fresh vegetable and green salads, crystal bowls filled with
five
different
condiments,
and
trays of fresh fruit and cheeses
.
 
T
he
other
, which ultimately proved to be the most popular, displayed a variety of sweets
succulent enough to tempt a diabetic
.  There
were
cheese cake squares, carrot cake,
caramel
squares, brown sugar and peanut butter cake, Nanaimo bars, Butterscotch Berry Tart, caramelized Pear Tart, and Deep Dutch apple pie.

Uniformed
waiters
circled the room with trays of wine, sparkling water, larger, and spirits.  Two large silver urns of tea and coffee, tall containers of juice
and water
, bone china and fluted glassware stood on the large oak sideboard next to the tall, narrow, French casement windows for those who preferred a non-alcoholic drink.  It
too
was attracting a lot of visitors.

She
scanned the room
and
she wondered which one of the nodding, smiling, circulating mourners
had killed
both
Camira and Jeffrey
.
 
The killer was in this room, of that she was certain.

There’s Charlotte, drinking like she’s at
the
wedding in
Cana and heard the host was about to run out of wine.  What was it
Camira had said about her?  Issues, yeah that was it,
anger
and jealousy
issue
s
.  Fancied herself at the height of her powers when the sad truth of it, she was beginning to fade. 
Couldn’t say that about her appearance, howeve
r.

She continued her scan and her eyes rested on Henry Ward, and
Andrew Wilkins
, who
were
in deep conversation
, both of them looking a bit anxious. 
Strange
liaison, she thought,
but then again, maybe not. 
Camira had told her something about the two of them.  What was it?
It was shortly after she
had landed her role as Maggie.
The memory
, like
a
fickle butterfly
,
flitted through her mind, landing for mere seconds before disappearing again, leaving two words behind – conspiracy, jinxed.
She
sighed. Oh well, l
ike Grandma always said, leave
it steep, and
you’ll have your brew.
 

She
moved on and observed the two
attractive, middle-aged women.
 
T
hey have to be the ones Kate told me about.  I can’t think of anyone else who would fit the description of being in their mid-fifties,
o
ne reserved, the other not; one a red head and the other tall with a black/grey mix of sculpted hair.  Yes, it has to be them, let me think, what were their names, Susan, Alexander?
No, Alexis
, that was it.  Th
ey got mixed up in a case Kate
and Roger were investigation
and came close to ending up on slabs themselves
. 
A
n intriguing mix of people,
she thought they resembled
assort
ed
liquorice
with
all the different colours, shapes, sizes; no doubt some were soft and chewy, others tough,
and of course, mustn’t forget
the kind that leave an after taste.

Sh
e looked over at Kate, Roger, and Withers standing quietly in the corner sipping on their cups of tea
.
She
studied
Kate and
s
adness filled her heart. 
It’s got to be tough for her
, after all,
she has to consider me
a suspect.
What’s that
saying
?  A
lways look close
ly
at the person who discovers the body
, e
specially
one who had crawled up on the bed and lay down by the victim. 
Neatly ex
plains the presence of my DNA on
Camira
.

Hanya smiled at Kate, decided one pastry wouldn’t hurt and walked over to the
dessert
table
. 
She
managed to
pop a pastry i
nto her mouth before reaching out to shake
the proffered hand of
the solemn looking young United Church minister who had just buried Jeffrey. 
She told herself to make nice, after all,
she
too was
serious and solemn when she
first wore a collar.

Catherine, the widow, tried to sit up straighter in the wing chair which
was
placed a bit left to the centre of the room.  Her posture was loose, swaying each time a person bent to offer condolences.  The blackness of her dress and shoes contrasted dramatically with the whiteness of her face.  Not a hair on her head was out of place, it stood as stiff and lacquered as a
bowl of meringue. 
Her eyes were liquid, swimming
with the effects of the
drugs
; her body swaying back and forth in the armchair.

Alexis, like Hanya, surveying the room, drew closer to Susan.

“The room’s crowed”, Alexis said, “but given how well known he was, I’m surprised at the numbers. 
I t
hought
the funeral and reception
would be much larger.”

“
This is a private affair
, c
lose friends and family
.
  T
he public memorial is scheduled for sometime in November and believe me,
it’ll be a spectacle.
T
hose who love to be seen will be there, together will all the celebrity freaks, of course”
, Susan said.

“I hope
Catherine will be in better shape by then.”
 

“
It’s v
ery strange
behaviour for Catherine. 
She’s going to have one drug hangover once she returns to the land of the living. 
I’ve never known her to take
as
much as an aspirin
, but a murdered husband,
who’s to judge
.
Oh look, there’s Eleanor standing off to the side looking as murderous as Lizzie
,
minus the axe.  We should join her before she explodes.”

Eleanor, eyes fixed on Catherine, didn’t
notice
the two women approach.
 
What the hell is wrong with Catherine, drugged out of her
head?
Disgusting
, a
nd i
n front of her children
too
.
Surely she c
an’t be grieving over the bastard.  God, how many of my silk blouses served as hankies for
the
tears
she shed
over that man
.  Wail to me
then run
back to him.
What a fool I was to
waste my time in tea and sympathy these past years. 
I’d though
t the woman had more backbone. 
She
pulled her gaze away from the comatose Catherine
when she saw A
lexis and Catherine heading straight for her. 
Just w
hat
she needed,
the energizer bunny and
her flashlight. 

June Grayson
, hair, like a true stylist, all over the place,
had managed to break free from Charlotte and helped herself to another glass of white wine.  She shot a
g
lance at Withers but it was impossible to catch his eye
.  She was puzzled, didn’t think she had misread the sign of interest.  She put it down to the wishful thinking of the heart of a divorced woman where hope springs eternal.