“That’s correct. But you don’t need to know what’s happening there.”
“So the first act has ended, you’ve made the changes to the lights, then what?”
“Like I told you yesterday, I remember seeing the prop girl come through. Then Malcolm and Florence came out. Once she had him situated, she left. So then I was sitting right here on this stool, waiting for Tony to give me the word on the house lights. We blink them twice, first at three minutes, and a second time at one minute before curtain. I bring the houselights down just as he pulls the curtain. And I was reading a piece from the Free Press, the sports section. Someone had abandoned it in the green room.”
“And then?”
“The lightning strike, it had to be close. Everything rattled up here. And then a few seconds later things went black.”
“And now the emergency exit lights should have come on, but they didn’t,” said Ray.
“Correct. There had been some kind of problem with the system last week. One of the units shorted out and started smoking. Grubbs has ordered replacements for the whole system. I can’t remember that they’ve ever been needed before. Isn’t that always the way?”
“Then what happened?”
“I took my trusty headlamp and cut the power to all the dimmers. I was told years ago that you don’t want a big dead load when the power is restored; it can blow the main fuses. And I switched on the work lights in anticipation of the electricity being restored. This is our standard procedure. It’s right here for anyone operating the board to follow.” Johnson pointed to a laminated sheet secured with thumbtacks above the dimmers. “And then I climbed down and went out to see if there was something I could reset outback, or if it was the power company’s problem.”
“Did you see any lights in the stage area, or any lights anywhere else, for that matter?”
“No, not that I can remember. But I was pretty focused on the board and getting out back. If I saw anything, it didn’t register.”
“Okay, let’s stop right here. We’re going to climb down. We want to time you so we can get an idea of how long the place was in complete darkness.”
Ray and Sue stood below the light booth, Sue holding the stopwatch. “Go through the process of powering down the dimmers and making the changes just as you did Saturday night. Then come down the ladder,” instructed Sue.
“Start timing now,” responded Johnson.
They could hear the snapping of the old switches, and then they watched Johnson cautiously come down the stepladder. They followed him across the backstage area to the door, down the hall, through the east exit, and around to the utility cabinet mounted on the back of the building.
“So I looked at these breakers here first. This is where I usually find the problem, but nothing seemed to be tripped. I thought that was strange, not what I expected. I’m trying to do it in the same way I did Saturday night so the time will be close. Then I looked at the main disconnect switch. It had been pulled. I pushed it back on and headed in.”
“Time?” asked Ray, looking at Sue.
“In the vicinity of two minutes.”
“Just continue, and we will follow along,” said Ray.
“Like I think I told you, I hurried back in. I wanted to get everything on so we could get the play started.”
As they followed Johnson into the building, Ray asked, “Did you see anyone along the way?”
“No one in the hallway, no one backstage. To be perfectly frank, I was seeing red. Well, you get my meaning. What kind of a prank was that, turning off the power. So I climbed up there and got everything turned on so we were ready to open the curtain. Then you and the others were onstage, and I was quickly herded into the green room.”
“Having to retire early,” said Ray, “that must have been difficult. I’m talking about the financial end.”
“It was a shock. The last kid was just out of college. The next few years I was really going to focus on saving for retirement. If I hadn’t moved my account over to Malcolm….” Johnson stopped suddenly.
“You told me yesterday you had never had any financial dealings with Mr. Wudbine.”
“Well, I meant I didn’t after the dotcom collapse.”
“What did you lose? Give me a percent.”
“About 65%.”
“And that was part of your retirement savings?”
“No. That was the whole thing. And then the SOB cancelled my account. He sent me a check with a list of names of other wealth management firms that worked with small investors. I wasn’t a small investor until Wudbine ran my retirement into the ground.”
“Why did you tell me something else yesterday?”
“I don’t want to be pulled into this investigation. I just want it to go away. I had nothing to do with his death. That’s the truth.”
“Is there any part of our conversation about what happened Saturday night that you want to change?” Ray looked at Johnson carefully. He could feel the anger and hatred.
“I told you exactly what happened. Is there anything else, Sheriff? I’ve got things to do.”
“That’s it for now, thank you.”
After Ray and Sue were outside, beyond hearing distance, she said, “Still an open wound there, the financial thing.”
“Yes,” agreed Ray. “I wonder if financial losses are at the bottom of this? How many others are still bitter and angry?”
28
Ray could see the tall figure of Ron Waltham waiting for him in the small clearing near the front of the library. Ron greeted him warmly, extending a hand, his smile exuding goodwill and bonhomie. After exchanging pleasantries, they settled into chairs on opposite sides of the table at which Ray had been conducting interviews.
“How did you end up with the role of vicar,” Ray asked. “Did you read for that part or was it something that Sterling Shevlin assigned?”
“Sterling told me he had just the part for me the first time I ran into him this summer. In fact, he greeted me that first time as Vicar,” answered Waltham, with an amiable smile, his blue eyes contrasting with his steel gray hair and rich tan. “You have to understand there’s a bit of a joke going on. Usually he greets me as ‘padre.’ I’m an ordained minister and serve in that role here at the colony. I left the ministry years ago, so it’s just sort of a summer thing I’ve been, well, I don’t want to say stuck with. But it’s something that’s sort of expected of me, especially since no one else wants the job.”
“So does Mr. Shevlin assign most of the parts in this manner?”
“You never know about old Sterling. Did I get the role because I was the right age and look like an English country vicar, or was he thinking about my role here at the colony? Sterling seems to operate on four or five levels at all times. I think he’s making connections and finding meaning. Not that he shares any of this with us, not often anyway. He’s an incredibly interesting man. You should get to know him if you have the opportunity.”
“You were saying that you were an ordained minister.”
“Yes. I was a philosophy major in college with an interest in comparative religions. By the time I was graduating, I didn’t know exactly what to do with that. So I did a master’s degree in theology, thinking perhaps that the ministry was my calling. I ended up as the youth minister in a suburban Detroit church. I could tell that that wasn’t a good fit, although I tried to make it work for about two years. Then I had an opportunity to become a chaplain in a large community hospital. That was a better fit. But it was also one of those experiences that change you a lot. Families in crisis, that’s what I was dealing with on a daily basis. Grief, sickness, or end of life situations are extremely stressful. As I was learning how to help families, I was slowly beginning to understand the complexities of these relationships. I started taking graduate courses related to family therapy, eventually ended up with a PhD in the area and then transitioned over to my own private practice. And that’s what I’ve been doing for almost 20 years. Except, of course, when I’m up here for two months, where I’m back doing a bit of what I did at the beginning of my career.”