Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (10 page)

Opening night, my mother ironed my costume for me before I left the house. No hat was included with my costume, but my hair, as designed by Pat, was impressive. It was pulled up into a big puff and anchored with a little knot in the middle, all achieved with the help of a can of hair spray and my enthusiastic sister.

“Charles Dana Gibson,” my father said as I laid my plain gray dress on the back seat. “That’s what your hair reminds me of.” He opened the front car door for me.

I frowned. “Who?” I didn’t want to look like anybody named Charles.

“He was an illustrator back in the 1890’s. My grandmother had some of his drawings framed at her house. The women in them all had hairdos like that.” He pointed to my head. “It looks very nice.”

I fingered a tendril at my neck. “Barbara copied Pat’s drawing pretty well. I feel kind of pretty, but it’s so tightly teased and it’s got so much hairspray in it that I don’t know how I’ll ever get it back to normal.”

We pulled into a parking space in front of the theatre. I gathered my things and got out, feeling more nervous by the second.

“Look for us in the front row tonight,” my father said as he began backing out. “We’re coming early to grab the best seats. Good luck!”

I waved, sighing. My father didn’t know that it was considered bad luck to wish somebody good luck in the theatre. And real actors didn’t stare into the audience. It broke the Fourth Wall, the imaginary one that the audience looked through to observe the action. I’d learned that from one of Terence’s lectures, of course.

“And there’ll be no peeking through the curtain to count the house,” he’d said firmly. “That only happens in cheesy Hollywood musicals. No hanging out in public areas in costume and makeup either.”

There were two large cardboard cartons in seats in the last row of the theatre as I entered the auditorium. “Look, they’re the
Last Leaf
programs!” I eagerly pulled out one and handed another to Danny, who had just come through the door.

“Where’s my name?” I scanned the list of names under Chorus. “It’s not there. How could they leave my name off the program?”

“Here.” Danny pointed. “You’re up there in the cast because you have some dialogue. You’re listed as Washerwoman. Congratulations.”

My first theatrical credit! I basked in the glow until I spotted something that confused me.

“‘George Spelvin’? Who’s that? It says here he plays Max, but that’s not true. It’s you.”

Danny laughed and dropped the program back into the carton. “Didn’t you know I had a twin brother, Amelia Earhart?” He headed down the aisle toward the stage.

“What are you talking about?” I called after him. I knew he was laughing at me, but didn’t understand why.

“Knock it off, DiNicco,” Chris said over his shoulder as he ambled up the aisle. He stopped in front of me. “Amelia, the name George Spelvin is a theatre tradition. It’s used when an actor plays two parts, or just when he wants to remain anonymous. Don’t let that two-bit tenor give you a hard time.” He continued on his way with the Almighty Clipboard under his arm.

I found a brisk controlled chaos in the dressing rooms. The air was redolent with talcum powder, hastily-ironed cotton fabric, and the waxy smell of makeup. People conducted lively conversations or hummed snatches of music. In a corner, Celia Hurley was re-reading her script, gesturing and muttering to herself.

Everyone seemed to know what they were supposed to do except me. I stood behind a chair for what seemed like ages, waiting my turn at a mirror until Lily tapped me on the shoulder.

“Come on. I’ve got an idea.”

Scurrying up the aisle of the empty theatre, we sneaked across the lobby and into the public restroom, where there were mirrors aplenty. “Just put your makeup on quick,” Lily cautioned.

“Quick-
ly
,” I corrected.

“Oh, shut up. And hurry up. Terence will kill us if we get caught here.”

There was a flush from one of the stalls and Dierdre emerged, completely made up. She didn’t comment on our unauthorized presence there, just gave us a baleful glance while she washed her hands. Lily and I hurriedly rubbed cream on our faces and topped that layer with our shared Tan Number Two Pan-cake makeup.

“Don’t forget your neck,” Dierdre advised and left, carrying her own vanity case.

We completed our make up, gathered our things, and headed into the hallway.

Gilly Dickensen was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. “I’m gonna tell,” he said in singsong.

I froze. “Don’t, please!”

“Okay, maybe if you get me a couple chocolate bars.” He gestured to the snack machine. “I’m out of change.”

“Here, you creep!” Lily reached in her change purse and threw a dollar bill and a handful of coins on the floor of the lobby, then turned back to me. “Come on!”

I hiked up my skirt and ran after her. Behind us I heard Gilly calling, “Hey, I was only kidding!”

We arrived in the dressing room panting just as Chris Gold stuck his head in the door and called, “They’ve opened the box office. You have thirty minutes, people.”

Since Lily and I were already dressed and made up, we had time to explore backstage. It was amazing what had been accomplished in such a short time. Elm and the other student stagehands had built an ingenious two-story brownstone, stage right, according to Terence’s specifications. The building itself was open to the audience rather like a doll house, and they could see the staircase and the people in both upstairs flats.

Scene changes were accomplished by simply turning off the stage lights on the various rooms and aiming them at the foreground, which represented the street where Lily and I did our most of our performing. The sidewalk café that the artist Max frequented was represented by a tiny table-and-chair set and an awning, downstage left. The background flat depicted small trees and signs advertising a barber, milliner and butcher, and in the distance, the Washington Square Arch, all painted in sepia tones, as in old-fashioned daguerreotypes.

The most dramatic part of the set was a huge ladder that was to be brought out towards the end of the play, next to a tall flat painted to resemble a brick wall. The dying vine was fastened to the wall with Velcro, so that portions could be pulled off discreetly between scenes to indicate its demise.

In the story, Max the artist uses the ladder to paint the leaf on the wall outside the girls’ window. At the very end, he does a dramatic, carefully-choreographed descent representing his death from exposure.

Especially interesting to us once again was the small wooden table behind the wings, manned by Chris, who was rubbing his forehead and squinting.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing; just a headache.” He pulled an aspirin bottle from his shirt pocket, shook out two and chewed them, without water.

“Ick. I don’t know how you can do that!” Lily said.

He shrugged as he replaced the bottle in his pocket. His hand shook.

“You do what you have to do. Are you girls all made up and dressed? Good.”

Since we had time, he patiently showed us the motley assortment of noisemakers, including coconut shells for the clip-clop of horse’s hooves and even a doorbell. “It’s a make-do system,” he admitted. “I can hear the dialogue, but I can’t see the action.” He patted the walkie-talkie. “Hey, do me a favor, would ya, girls? Run upstairs and tell that kid Gil not to cue the cricket sounds tonight. We can’t use ’em. The stupid machine broke.” He indicated a reel-to-reel tape player banished to the floor beneath the table.

“Sure, no crickets. Come on, Amelia.”

We were on official business, but we still tried to avoid visual contact with potential audience members as we made our way to the balcony stairs.

Gilly was hunched in the front row of the empty balcony, his back to us, with a script in his lap, looking through a pair of binoculars. When Lily tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped as though he’d been struck. When he saw us, he scowled.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry about that stuff downstairs. I’ll give you your money back later. But you gotta get out of here now,” he said in a stage whisper. There were audience members making their way to their seats just below us.

“But Chris said—” I began.

“I don’t care what Chris says, you don’t belong up here! Go away!”

“But—” Lily protested.

He sputtered desperately, still whispering, “Quit bugging me! I don’t have time to mess with you! Get out!” He turned his back on us and resumed staring through the binoculars.

I made one last effort. “Don’t you want to know—”

His back still turned, he clapped his hands over his ears.

Lily looked at me and shrugged. “Ah, well,” she said airily as we descended the stairs. “We tried.”

We returned to the dressing room where the final zippings, pinnings and powderings were being completed. A sharp knock on the doorframe caused everybody to freeze.

It was Terence, resplendent in dark suit and elegant tie. “Are ya day-sent?” he joked in a faux Irish brogue. He looked around at all of us approvingly. “That ya are! Break a leg, everybody!”

Chris leaned his head in and also knocked sharply on the doorframe. “Overture in one minute, ladies. Places!”

My heart began to pound as I grabbed my basket, tiptoed to my designated spot on the darkened stage and listened to the instrumental trio play snatches of the show’s many songs. There were only the three instruments, piano, drums and flute, but they skillfully captured the poignancy of the music. The overture ended and the audience applauded the musicians.

This is it.
I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath.
It’s starting!

All at once, the main curtain parted with a rattling sound, the stage lights blinked on and we began our musical stroll through Greenwich Village.

When the music paused and the dialogue between Johnsie and the Lover began, we milled about in the background as instructed, murmuring “rhubarb” to each other with enthusiasm. Lily and I engaged in a brief pantomimed exchange accompanied by gestures involving the basket I carried. I was supposed to be giving her washing tips as music played in the background.

To my surprise, the fact that there was an audience of several hundred people watching us didn’t unnerve me as much as I’d expected. It was exhilarating and every bit as magical as I had imagined.

Between my scenes I stood in the wings, watching the carefully choreographed yet unseen activities of the stage crew. Elm had been given curtain-pulling duty. I watched his muscular arms with admiration as he yanked the ropes.

Lily and I helped bring props onstage between scenes. While we bustled around behind the heavy red velvet traveler curtain, dressing the stage with the minutiae of a street vendor’s cart, the two sweethearts were out in front, taking a romantic stroll that was to culminate in the song “I’m Doing This for You” and the departure of the unfaithful Lover.

“Hey, pick that up!” Lily whispered sternly.

An artificial apple had fallen on the floor. I restored it to position, and we were finished. As we backed off the scene, we heard a disturbance in Chris Gold’s corner behind the cyclorama.

It sounded like a small animal snarling. A group of us hurried silently to the spot, where we saw Chris, trying to communicate via walkie-talkie with Gilly Dickensen in the balcony. “The crickets!” the receiver was saying in a frantic whisper. “Cue the crickets!” Swear words alternated between the chant, “Thecricketsthecricketsthcrickets . . . ”

Lily and I looked at each other in horror.

Chris continued to press the send button, but to no avail. Exasperated, he turned off the walkie-talkie and scowled up at us. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“I’m so sorry!” I whispered back.

Lily raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “We tried. We really did. He wouldn’t listen.”

“I hope your headache’s better,” I put in sympathetically.

Chris scowled. “Scene Three’s coming up. Get busy!”

Lily and I fled just in time to avoid running into Terence, who bent over the table to hear Chris’ explanation for the backstage disturbance. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two men exchange a look, then both snorted with muffled laughter, which they quickly hid behind their hands.

Aside from the cricket incident, the play went smoothly until the last scene. Terence was obviously delighted, grinning, darting in and out of the wings, helping move scenery, patting shoulders encouragingly, nodding in agreement at an appropriate reaction from the audience.

After Dierdre came off the stage following her big vocal solo, he hugged her. He remembered the bit players too.

“Very good,” he murmured to me briefly as I came offstage behind Dierdre. “That was excellent reacting.” He winked at me in the dim backstage light.

The show really was magic. I floated on the cloud of music and color, watching enraptured from the wings when I wasn’t in the action. By now I knew every note, every word of this play. The final scene arrived all too soon.

We were watching from the wings when Danny-as-Max mounted the ladder and began to pantomime the painting of the last leaf on the wall. Lighting played a role here by shifting and changing color to indicate the passage of time as Max’s singing became more and more labored, fainter and fainter, until at last he slumped, dying, and began his carefully choreographed half-fall, half-descent from the ladder.

Tears gathered in my eyes.
It’s beautiful!

Once he reached the bottom of the ladder, a strolling policeman would discover him and the Greenwich Villagers would gather around the inert body.

Here he comes,
I thought.

With each bar of the swelling music, Max descended a little bit more. All at once, there was a cracking sound and a gasp from the wings as a central rung tore loose, causing Danny to tumble much faster than intended. He landed on the floor of the stage with a terrible thud and remained motionless.

Mike Bailey, playing the policeman, rushed onstage in an earlier-than-planned entrance and knelt by Danny’s still form. Frowning, he bent low, putting his face next to Danny’s. Then, he resumed his proper line, a mournful announcement.

“This man is dead.”

It was with paradoxical relief that we came onstage, shaking our heads in sadness, well aware that Mike had consulted with the inert Danny and that everything was all right.

“A tragedy, that’s what it is. A real shame,” I piped up at just the right time. My only line, but I was thrilled and relieved to be saying it.

As we sang the last few notes of “I’m Doing This for You,” the curtain closed slowly, but not before we heard a roar of applause from the auditorium.

Emerging from the wings, Chris clapped his hands once. “Settle down. Everything’s okay. Places for curtain call, everybody.” He extended his hand to Danny and pulled him to his feet, apparently none the worse for his fall.

We townspeople held hands in a line and, as the curtain opened again, advanced to the apron, gave a short bow, then backed up, making way for the secondary players, and, finally, Janey and Danny.

The reaction was gratifying. Elm had to open the curtains four times before the clapping died down and people in the auditorium began shuffling around and heading for the exit.

Once the curtains closed for good, a small crowd gathered around the ladder, examining the broken rung. I was among them.

“It’s splintered,” Elm said, running his finger over the broken section, “I wonder how—”

Terence and Chris interrupted, herding us offstage. “That’s enough, everybody. These accidents happen. We’ll get it fixed right away.”

~~~

“I always thought it was Neil Claussen. He must have done something to the ladder. I remember seeing him hanging around there right before the performance.”

“Really? How can you be sure, Gil? That’s pretty circumstantial. And it was a long time ago.”

“Honey, you witnessed their fight. They obviously hated each other. DiNicco ruined the guy’s career or something.”

“I’m not so sure. Chris Gold didn’t like Danny much either, did you know that?”

~~~

Lily and were among the first to arrive back in the women’s dressing room. It was almost empty. and to my relief there was no fishy smell.

“Well, what did you think? Aren’t you glad I made you try out?” Lily wiped her wrist across her perspiring forehead, causing her eyebrow to smudge. “Was it wonderful, or what?”

“Yes,” I admitted with a sigh. “It was great!”

I glanced at myself one of the mirrors. I looked about twenty years old. Cool!

Lily reached for the jar of cream, scooped out a generous portion, and started smearing it on her face. “Told you so!”

There it was. She really did love saying it.

More members of the cast burst into the room, all talking at once. I stood uncertainly, wondering how I could get changed with all these men here. I turned quickly and bumped into a solid figure.

“I’m sorry, Danny. Are you all right?”

“Oh, sure.” He stepped back and rubbed his neck with a towel. “By the way, you did a fine job, Amelia Earhart.”

I looked up into his deep, dark eyes. He was still wearing the aging Max makeup, with long wrinkles penciled down his cheeks and his hair streaked with spray-on silver, but all I saw was the dashing, handsome leading man I’d met on the first day.

He’d used my pet name! All time stood still.

“Thank you,” I breathed and continued looking up at him, rapt. “So did you!”

Wait, is that a knot on his forehead, turning purple? Maybe he was really hurt, after all. Poor baby! I could put ice on it and nurse him back to health.

“You sure did!” my dad’s voice chimed in, and my romantic mirage faded in an instant. “It was wonderful, Peanut! We’re so proud of you!”

My mother and sister smiled at the various milling cast members.

Peanut?
I was mortified. My father shook hands with Danny, who shortly disappeared into the crowd.

The room was filling up with my family members, and it was going to be almost impossible to herd them out of this place before they did something further to embarrass me.

Terence stood on a chair and called for attention. “Well done, everyone!” All business, he continued, “All you cast members on the building crew, meet me in my office as soon as you get cleaned up. Don’t forget, we start rehearsing for
The Merry
Marinade
tomorrow morning. All you
Last Leaf
people, check the call board for when to get here tomorrow afternoon. We’ll be preparing for our field trip. As for tonight, celebrate your fine job for just a little while, then get some rest. You’ll need it.”

He looked around the crowd. “We appreciate all this wonderful enthusiasm, but our people have to change their clothes, and this is our ladies’ dressing room, so if you don’t mind, please wait for your friends out in the lobby.” The various audience members cheerily complied and the dressing room door closed.

When my turn came behind the changing screen, I got back into my street clothes and carefully hung up my costume on a rolling rack placed there for this purpose. I noticed with dismay that the collar of my dress had makeup smudges, but took some comfort in noticing that the other costumes hanging there had the same thing. It was an occupational hazard.

Lily was right behind me. “What was going on with that ladder tonight?” she asked as she hung up her costume.

“I don’t know. Part of it broke all of a sudden and I saw Danny fall.” I lowered my voice. “Do you think somebody could really be after him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Just don’t forget what I said about violin cases.”

I finished buckling my sandal, gathered my things and joined her at the door. “As you probably saw, my folks are here. Want a ride home?”

“Nope,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m riding home with my
parents
.”

She threw a longing glance up the steps at the knot of cast members making plans to celebrate at Clancy’s Tavern. Neil was in the center of them.

“Ah, well, whatever,” she muttered as she left.

When I emerged from below the stage, Barbara was laughing and nodding at our father. “Amelia,” he said, reaching out his hand and patting my cheek, “Mother and I are going on home. We’ll expect you girls within the hour.”

Barbara watched them go, then came over to me with a smug look on her face. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Thank you?”

“I got them to let you walk home with me.”

“I guess. Thanks. But the damage has already been done. I am officially established as the baby of the company.”

She helped me gather up my things. “And that’s bad, how?”

I jerked my head toward Celia and Elm who walked hand in hand ahead of us.

“Oh.” She nodded sagely. “Male attention. I see. But you’re too young to be dating, baby sister.”

“Don’t baby sister me! Virtually everybody in my class is dating!” Okay, maybe it was a slight exaggeration. Maybe half or a third.

Barbara didn’t reply. We walked in companionable silence for half a block. A thought occurred to me. I opened my mouth.

“What I meant—”

“Shh,” Barbara said, grabbing my elbow. “We’ve got company.”

A shadowy male figure stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of us and stood in our way. Was he carrying a violin case? For a split second, I considered dropping my burdens and running.

“I’m not speaking to you right now,” the shadow said.

“Could’a fooled me,” Barbara murmured under her breath. “Hi, Gilly,” she said a little louder. “Why aren’t you speaking to us?”

“I know what he’s talking about.” I stepped forward. “Gilly, I’m really sorry about the cricket thing. We tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen to us!”

He seemed to slump a little. “You didn’t insist. You could have insisted. You should have.”

Barbara put a hand on my elbow. “I see you guys have something to discuss. I’ll just go on ahead.”

She indicated our house, only half a block away. With her back to Gilly, she gave me a broad wink, turned, and started jogging up the sidewalk.

When I spoke of male attention, this isn’t what I meant! I wanted to shout at her. Instead, I decided to sympathize with the guy.

“Did you get in trouble?” I fell into step beside him.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “I lucked out with Terence. He and Chris just thought it was funny. He said not to lose my cool on the walkie-talkie anymore.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yes, it was.”

Coins jingled in his pockets. He pulled out a dollar bill and some change.

“Look, would you give this back to Lily McIndrick? I really was kidding about the candy bar thing.”

We’d reached my front yard. I put out my palm and received the money.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Well . . . see ya.”

He turned and sauntered away. The sole of one of his sneakers flapped a little at the back. There was something kind of sad about Gilly.

“Bye.” I watched him stroll back down the street.

I dropped the money in my makeup box. Reluctant to go inside, I took a seat on the porch steps and looked wistfully up into the sky.

There was an almost-full moon shining down. Romance was in the air. Everybody else had paired off. Why not me?

In the new Broadway musical
Ivanhoe
, I remembered from my original cast album, Rowena looks up at the moon and sings to her future love. Maybe my own future love was out there, looking up at the sky at this very same moment. I hummed to myself wistfully:

My knight in shining armor, he sees the same bright moon . . .

The front door opened. “Peanut! The mosquitoes will carry you off! Get in here! We’re making ice cream sundaes!”

I jumped up and ran inside. For now, my Knight could wait. There was an ice cream sundae in my future, and I intended to have chocolate syrup and chopped walnuts on it.

~~~

“Oh!” I said suddenly.

“Amelia? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. There was a catch in my throat.

“No. I was just remembering that night after you left. I was sitting on the porch and staring up at the moon and dreaming about my Knight in Shining Armor. I even sang a little bit.”

I hummed the melody under my breath. 

Tears began to pour down my cheeks.

Gil gave me a skeptical look. “Your what? Come on, honey.”

I slapped his chest. “Gil! You were him all along, and I didn’t even know it!”

I laughed and hiccoughed. Then I sobbed a little more. It was just so sweet!

“Oh, boy.” He handed me his handkerchief.

I blew my nose. “Never mind; it’s a young girl thing.”

He shook his head. “Amelia, I thought you were a little weird then, but you’re even weirder now. Come here.”

He extended his arms and I snuggled into them.