"I was somewhat surprised, frankly, that he wasn't the victim," Jane admitfed.
"He'd have made a good one." Jane could hear the smile in his voice."What have you learned about Denny?"
"All too little. He only enrolled in the college summer session after it was announced that the play was being put on and the Buntings were starring. Which means nothing. Lots of the cast and crew signed up around the same time. Nobody we've talked to so far knows anything about Denny's background. The college registrar says he claimed on his application that he'd only be there for the summer session. Gave credits for previous acting jobs that we can't confirm yet. The application said he currently lived in a suburb of Los Angeles. I've got someone there asking the neighbors about him."
"And—?"
"Not much of anything. It's tacky furnished apartments, month-to-month rent, with all sorts of starving artists and actors who come and go nearly every week. Nobody so far admits to remembering him."
"So he really is a mystery man."
"What do you mean?" Mel asked.
"Just that you know so little about his background. Have you contacted his family?"
"I've been trying repeatedly, but all I get is an answering machine that won't take a message. As for knowing about his background, we'll know everything eventually. It takes time, Jane." Mel paused. "I want your opinion on something."
That surprised Jane. "Ask away," she said.
"What's your view of Professor Imry? You've been around him longer than I have."
Jane thought for a moment. "Okay. A vast mountain of arrogance on the surface, and a small core of tasteless, suspicious gelatin underneath."
Mel laughed. "You should have been a writer."
"I am," she said indignantly.
"That was a joke, Janey. I wouldn't have put it that way, but you perfectly described my impression of him. He's like most bullies — soft and scared inside. My cell phone is ringing. Have to go. Thanks for your insight."
Jane was astonished. She'd given her opinions to and occasionally forced her suspicions on Mel before, but he'd seldom asked her to. Her remark was a good answer. She told herself to write it down before she forgot it, so she could use it again sometime in a book.
Having made a quick note to herself, she called Shelley to tell her that Mel said they could have the rehearsal that evening, even though the police were still looking for clues in the theater.
"Thank you for letting me know. I'll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned."
Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She'd wanted to fix that awful triangle she'd had to take out, thread by thread. Shelley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Shelley would rub it in.
When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.
"Such a tragedy," Tazz said. "He was so young."
Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn't look as if she were.
"I think we should say a prayer for him," Ms. Bunting said. "John, could you do that for us?"
John stood up facing the rest of them and said, "Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms." For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he'd memorized from some play he'd been in.
"Amen," John added.
All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.
Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, "We're allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. Nobody may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the basement or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a 'police presence' here."
He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.
"Now, let me introduce Denny's substitute. This is Norman Engel. He'll be playing the eldest
son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston." He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.
"See here, young man," Ms. Bunting said. "That's offensive and unprofessional. We've told you this before. We're Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we're on stage."
"Excuse me, Professor," Tazz said. "Isn't this Norman person the one that you said the day before yesterday was simply observing?"
"Yes."
"So you were going to fire Denny and replace him?"
A stunned silence followed this question. Jane nudged Shelley and whispered, "That's what I thought but didn't want to say at that last rehearsal."
Imry pretended, badly, that hadn't even heard the question. "Hadn't you better get on with your job? That's costuming. Not casting."
"I think I'm going to withdraw from providing the costumes," Tazz went on. "You can find them yourself." She picked up her belongings and started up the aisle.
"Wait. Wait!" Imry shouted.
"Wait for what?" Tazz replied. "An apology?" "Yes."
Another long silence fell. Everybody was gazing critically at the director. "Get on with it and make it good, young man," John Bunting said.
"I'm sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker." He said this so quietly nobody quite understood it. "Speak up!" John barked.
"I'm sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker!" he shouted. "Now let's all get to work. That's what we're here for, in case you've forgotten."
Tazz had returned to her seat, and now rose again. The rest of them also left their seats and followed her. All but Imry and his pet, Norman. Bill Denk muttered, "Exit to stage right."
"I'll sue every single person who leaves! You're all in violation of your contracts."
When the rest of them were halfway up the aisle to the lobby, a woman standing in the doorway stopped them. "Hold on," she said. "I'll get this sorted out. Go sit back down."
She spoke with such authority that they obeyed, albeit reluctantly.
The unknown woman followed them and approached the stage. "I'm Evelyn Chance. Remember me, Steven Imry?"
The cast and crew had filed back to their seats to hear what she had to say.
Ms. Chance went on, "I'm the person who helped the college solicit the funds to put this play on. I'm the one who's going to sue you for every penny I raised for this pitiful script, and for paying Mr. and Ms. Bunting, putting them up in the hotel, their airfare, their food, and rental car.
I've also put in a lot of time promoting it, to my sorrow. Now, you will make a real apology, and mean it, to each and every one of us. Or we're all walking out and filing civil suits against you, you rude bastard. And keep in mind, too, that you are currently the most likely suspect for the murder of one of your actors. I've heard about him telling you off about your faulty grammar."
Imry all but collapsed, mumbling incoherently. "Stand up straight, Steven. Don't be such a wimp," Evelyn Chance said.
Imry stood, shaking with fury. Jane spotted Mel standing on the edge of the stage behind Imry, making notes.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But you have no right to say I'm a suspect. I've never even thrown a rock at a bird in my whole life."
"Huh?" Shelley muttered to Jane.
He went on. "In spite of all of you misjudging me, I do apologize. I'm under a lot of stress here. This whole production rests on my shoulders. Don't you understand that?"
Ms. Chance stood her ground and said coldly, "That's not even a feeble apology. It's simply an arrogant attempt to justify your bad temper. I saw how you behaved the day before yesterday. Now start over and do it right."