Final Curtain (21 page)

T
he Galaxy Theatre was nearly eighty years old. The dressing rooms had never been modernized. All but the star’s suite were the size of solitary confinement cells, and as dank as a basement laundry. Backstage, bare-bulb light fixtures hung from the ceilings on long black cords, and rodents outnumbered audiences two to one. The concrete walls had been haphazardly repainted over the years. This season’s colors were two tones: battleship gray and avocado green. But naturally, Polly Pepper’s dressing room was stunning.

During the Tuesday rehearsal, while the cast was onstage all day, Tim Velcroed a large gold-sequined star onto Polly’s door. While Placenta kept her eyes on Polly, Tim transformed the dressing room interior from what was Porta Potti nasty into a show-stopping glitz and glam environment for his mother’s relaxation between performances. The reenvisioned space would have won raves from HGTV’s Kenneth Brown, and once the rest of the
Mame
cast got over the shock and awe of seeing the potential for creating luxury out of little more than a walk-in closet, their envy was obvious. A new sense of camaraderie between Polly and the cast surfaced, if only so they could coax her into loaning Tim out for a helping hand in sprucing up their own dingy spaces.

After a grueling day of full-costume rehearsals and showing off her stylish digs, Polly welcomed Charlotte and Gerold as well as the show’s Vera Charles and Beauregard into her sparkling new inner sanctum. “It’s Lush Hour and we need a wee celebration for surviving this torturous day,” she said as Placenta began pouring champagne. When each held a flute, Polly turned to Tim and said, “A toast to my very own fairy who sprinkled his pixie dust over a crummy coal bin and transformed it into Buckingham Palace! Or at least the
Royal
coal bin!”

Marshall Nash, who played the role of Beauregard, looked at Polly and in his affected baritone said, “My dear, these days it’s a tad pejorative to call anyone a fairy.” He looked at Tim and winked, hoping that he was scoring points.

“Nonsense. Tim knows precisely what I mean, don’t you, sweetums?”

Tim chuckled and met Marshall’s twinkling eyes. “It’s a term of endearment. As long as my allowance check comes on the first day of every month, she can call me Gidget.”

Polly smiled and continued admiring Tim’s work and pointing out interesting details in the room. “My favorite son knows that I must have a proper place to receive Carol and Mary and Julie and Barbra and Bette and Sandy and Meryl, and all of my nearest and dearest.” Polly dropped names for the sheer pleasure of watching Charlotte try to contain her resentment. “But I don’t want to appear to be playing the queen,” she added, to downplay her display of ostentation. “Everyone knows that I’m as down-to-earth as the minions who order McNuggets and think they’re eating real fowl,” she said.

“And they are. Foul, I mean,” Tim quipped. Only Polly and Placenta instantly got his joke and laughed.

Polly then cleared her throat and looked at Gerold. “May I make one teensy observation about today’s rehearsal?”

“Could a bullet stop you?” Gerold said.

“Only if you’re my human shield,” Polly deadpanned. She took a fortifying slug of champers. “This has been gnawing away at me from the start. It’s about that darling boy who plays my grown-up nephew, Patrick, in the show.”

“Stewart Long,” Gerold said.

“Whatever. Where on earth did you find the poor thing? He couldn’t get a laugh with a ‘Knock-Knock’ joke. I recommend remedial comedy classes, if not Henny Young-man gene replacement therapy.”

Gerold scowled. “The kid auditioned, just like everybody else. Everyone who isn’t a marquee name, that is.”

Polly caught Charlotte smirking. “One more teensy suggestion?” Polly asked.

“No!” Gerold snapped.

“Hire Jamie Livingston to coach the boy. Jamie’s as talented as he is gorgeous and he’s played this role a gazillion times. As a matter of fact, I’m stunned that he wasn’t cast in my production.”

“Your production?”

“Jamie can help turn things around. We spoke during lunch break,” Polly lied, “and he agreed to come by tomorrow.”

Gerold slugged back the rest of his champagne and set his flute firmly down on the vanity makeup table. “Blast it, Polly! I’m the director! I make the decisions! The stage door guy, the one whose always asleep, whatshisname—George—has strict instructions not to let Jamie back in this theater!”

Polly was taken aback. “I’m just trying to make your already brilliant and cutting edge production better.
Mame
meets
Edward Scissorhands
in post-Katrina New Orleans will blow them away in New York. Who would mind a legend pointing out where she sees a need for a little theatrical magic?”

“I mind!” Gerold spat.

“Why can’t poor Jamie return to the scene of the crime, so to speak?”

In a cold tone that perfectly imitated Gerold, Charlotte spoke up and said, “There’s a good reason why Jamie didn’t get the role and why he’s not welcome in our theater.”

Polly caught Gerold giving Charlotte a withering look.

“What could be so terrible?” Polly asked. “Unless he killed Karen.”

Gerold turned ashen, but didn’t say a word.

Polly bluffed a conciliatory apology. “Silly me, of course you’re right. I should have remembered what Sharon said about Jamie and all that naughty stuff that went on in dressing room number seven.”

Charlotte held out her glass and asked Placenta for a refill, while the two actors playing Vera and Beauregard discreetly said it was time for them to leave for dinner engagements.

“Yeah, dinner,” Gerold said. “We’re late.” He looked at Mag. His body language made it clear that she should leave with him.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” Mag said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Gerold looked at Charlotte and huffed, “Lay off the champagne. Go home and memorize. I’m warning you not to go up on your lines again tomorrow. We’re almost to opening!”

Polly rose from her chair and tried to pretend that the abrupt change in the atmosphere had nothing to do with the answers she had tried to pry from Gerold or her bluff that she knew why Jamie was an outcast. She raised her glass to her departing guests. “Jamie will understand—considering the sordid circumstances.”

Gerold turned and gave Polly a long look that made her feel as though he was an airport security agent looking for her concealed Kalashnikov. Finally he turned and left the dressing room.

When Polly closed the door she smiled at her confreres. “It’s about time I lit a fire to smoke information out of them.”

Tim shrugged. “They didn’t really say anything.”

Polly put her hands on her hips. “It’s Jamie! No, I don’t think he’s the killer, but I do feel he definitely holds the key to solving this mystery.”

Tim looked at his mother and applauded. “Not too shabby,” he said. “Throwing Jamie’s name at them. It was completely out of left field and pretty darn uncomfortable. Um, but now you’ve got to get him to squeeze a legit story from his lying lips about his murder-day whereabouts.”

Polly suddenly looked troubled. “Ring him up. We need to have a chitty chat.”

Tim flipped open his cell phone and scrolled through his phone directory. He selected Jamie’s number and pushed the Send key. In a moment he handed the phone to his mother.

“Honey, it’s Polly,” she said into the phone. “Pepper, of course.” Polly rolled her eyes. “Listen, dear, we’re in the neighborhood and want to take you to dinner. The occasion?” She stopped to think for a moment, and then she quoted one of her famous lines from
Mame
. “As the lovely and talented Jerry Herman wrote, ‘It’s today!’ Oh, and by the by, be a living doll. When Gerold calls you, and I have a feeling that he will, don’t let on that we’re having this tête-à-tête
ce soir
. He’s acting funny today. But not in a ha-ha way. See you in a tick.”

As Placenta tossed empty champagne bottles into the trash bin, she said, “We’re in the neighborhood? See you in a tick? It’ll take an hour for you to get dressed, and another hour to get from Glendale to West Hollywood!”

Polly began to remove her dressing gown. “You worry too much. We’ll say that traffic was a bitch. Oh, and call Kevin at the Ivy and tell him that we’re gracing his restaurant.”

She looked at Mag. “Run along home to Daddy,” she said. “Ask him to read you a bedtime story. Think ‘Bluebeard.’”

Los Angeles may be the most superficial and blasé town on the planet, but when Polly’s Rolls-Royce glided up to the curb in front of the Ivy, diners on the patio turned their heads to see who would alight from the vehicle. As Polly walked up the stone steps with her troupe following three paces behind her, she could hear the usual whispers of recognition and “Don’t look nows” that still swirled around her when she was seen in public. Polly marched straight toward Kevin, her favorite waiter, and the man whom she not so secretly wanted to see Tim settle down with and start a family. Polly embraced Kevin and softly asked her usual greeting: “Anyone here I should be especially Polly Pepper to?”

As Kevin embraced Polly he whispered, “Connie Chung is in the loo. Ben and Jennifer are a few tables behind you over by the fichus. Clint is against the wall with his agent. You just missed Will and Jada. Tub-o Belushi has a reservation at nine, if you’re still here.”

Polly patted Kevin on the cheek and made a big public to-do about how thoughtful he was to remember her favorite champagne and to have a bottle chilling in an ice bucket next to her table. “So lovely as always!” she brayed. “The place would lack all sophistication without you, precious boy.” Turning to Tim, she said, “You two haven’t seen each other in ages!” She turned back to Kevin. “I insist that you come to the opening night cast party this Friday and become reacquainted. You don’t have to stay for the stinky show, but we’ll have fun afterward.” Then Polly turned to Jamie. “Have you two met?”

Kevin and Jamie simultaneously locked eyes and reached out to shake hands. After a moment that lasted too long, Polly unglued their hands. “Enough with the howdy-dos. Now you’re old chums.” She exchanged a perturbed look with Tim, who sniggered uncomfortably as he pulled a chair away from the table for his mother to accept. “You sit there,” Polly said to Placenta, pointing to the chair next to her. Tim, you’re there.” He sat opposite Placenta. “Which leaves you and me to stare into each other’s eyes all night,” she joked, seating Jamie opposite her. She looked up at Kevin again. “Let’s start with the usual.”

“A basket of calamari, coming right up,” Kevin said as he began to fill champagne flutes.

After sympathetic toasts of better days to come for Jamie, and homilies about the dead still being with us, only absent from our sight because of our limited senses, Polly turned the focus of the conversation to the show. She slathered her banter with thoughts about how it was thrilling to be performing one of her all-time favorite roles again, but that the less-than-stellar cast made her nervous about the potentially harsh critical reviews. She raised her glass to Jamie. “Cheers! To what might have been, had you been given the opportunity to play in my show.” She sighed and clinked the rim of her flute with his. “That’s showbiz.”

“That’s Gerold,” Jamie retorted.

“Ain’t it the truth. Karen—God bless her beautiful soul—would have been very proud to see how well you performed that role.”

Jamie set down his glass. “She didn’t want me in the show.”

A look crossed Polly’s face that told Jamie that she was surprised by his revelation. “Dear me, you don’t believe that. Surely you knew of her plan.” Polly didn’t know where her tongue was taking her.

“Plan?”

Polly sighed intolerantly. “You recently had a birthday, didn’t you?” she guessed.

“Um, yeah, the same day that Karen was killed,” Jamie said.

Polly couldn’t believe that she’d inadvertently nailed the bull’s-eye.

“And…?” Polly asked as if coaxing the obvious from Jamie. “Weren’t you both planning to have a quiet dinner together that night? Didn’t Karen tell you that she had something special to give you as a gift?”

Jamie shook his head. “No. Karen was so wrapped up in the show I don’t think she even remembered my birthday.”

“Didn’t remember?” Polly nearly shrieked. “Of course she remembered! Her big surprise was…um…she planned to present you with…a…er…” For a moment Polly was lost for words. “She bought you, or rather she wrapped up, the…um…the…”

“Contract,” Tim said, surprising himself with his easy lie.

After an awkward moment, Polly said, “Yes! The contract. For the role of Patrick Dennis!”

Jamie looked confused, as though he were in shock. Polly too was shocked by what had leaped past her lips.

As Kevin began refilling the champagne glasses, Jamie drifted back to reality and Tim and Placenta carefully watched Polly as she blindly reeled Jamie in to her confidence.

Jamie shook his head and said, “Karen claimed that she didn’t want to direct her boyfriend.”

“The better to surprise you,” Polly suggested.

“She said that she knew me well enough and that I’d flip out if she criticized my acting or singing. She claimed that she didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship by us working together.”