A Baked Ham (12 page)

I tugged on the handle, but at
first it resisted, and I wondered if someone had locked the dressing room door
after Peter had spotted that it was unlocked.

It was just stuck a little,
though.
 
It released suddenly, and if
Greg hadn’t been standing there to put a hand on my back, there was no doubt in
my mind that I would have taken a hard tumble, most likely ruining my fancy
cape in the process.

“Thanks for that,” I said.

“All part of the bodyguard
service,” he replied.

Taking a deep breath, I took one
step forward into the room that had so recently seen a murder.
 
I hadn’t given it much thought until Peter
had said something, but now I was downright spooked by the idea of going
inside.
 
Still, I’d spouted brave words
before when I’d told the two men that I didn’t mind doing it, so I had no other
choice but to press ahead.

I could swear that there was a
chill in the room that I could feel even through my cape as I walked across the
threshold.
 
“It’s really cold in here,
isn’t it?”

“That’s because they shut off the
heat,” Greg said.
 
“Is it safe to flip on
a light so I can open up a vent or two?”

“I’d really rather not.
 
Besides, we won’t be here that long.
 
Let’s press on.”
 
I pulled a small flashlight from my purse,
and it came in handy once the dressing room door closed on its own behind
us.
 
“Let’s get out of here as fast as we
can.”

“I can heartily go along with
that,” he said.
 

When I got to the door that led
out into the hallway, I opened it slightly.
 
There was a great deal of hustle and bustle going on backstage at the
moment, and I didn’t have a single doubt that I could slip in amongst them as
though I belonged.
 

I wasn’t so sure about my husband,
though.

“Are you sure you want to go with
me?” I asked Greg softly.

“I’m positive,” he said.

As far as I could tell, no one
was looking at the door to Benny’s former dressing room at that moment, so I
slipped through, with Greg close on my heels.
 

We were five steps inside when I
heard Greg gasp behind me.

“What are you doing back here,
Greg?”
 
It was the football coach
himself, a man not unfamiliar with our diner fare at The Charming Moose.
 
“It’s supposed to be actors and crew only.”

“Hey, Lou,” I heard Greg say as I
kept moving.
 
I hated leaving my husband
behind like that, but it didn’t make sense to turn myself in, too, especially
if the coach hadn’t seen me.
 
“Sorry about
that.
 
I must have gotten turned around.”

“If you’re looking for your wife,
I haven’t seen her back here,” Lou said.
 
“Is she in the play?
 
I didn’t see
her name on any of the lists I got.”

“No, we’re both just here as
theater lovers,” Greg said.
 
I came to a
fold in a curtain and ducked into it, hoping to make anyone looking in my
direction lose sight of me.
 
The cape
wasn’t an exact match to the curtain material, but it wasn’t that far off
either, and besides, that fold offered pretty ample space.

“Well, you’d better take your
seat.
 
I’m sure that she’s already there
wondering where you wandered off to.
 
Come on, let me give you a hand.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure I can find
it just fine on my own,” Greg said.

“Me, too, but the boys and I are
being paid pretty handsomely to keep folks out, and I don’t want to be the one
who lets them down.
 
You understand,
don’t you?”

“Perfectly,” he said.
 
I risked one glance out of my safe haven and
spotted Greg and Lou walking toward the exit together.
 
I hated that we’d been separated, but at
least now maybe I could do a little digging while Lou was otherwise occupied.

I headed for the next dressing
room in line and saw that someone had written Sandra Hall’s name on a piece of
tape and had stuck it there.
 
Fame was
fleeting, there was no doubt about that.
 
On either side of her door were photos of past actors and actresses all
holding their wing-handled Jaspers, and I wondered how they must feel having
them displayed so prominently like that.
 
They were proud most likely, even though the award was little known
outside of the Jasper Fork Community Theater Circuit.

Taking a chance, I knocked on the
door, and after a moment’s delay, I heard a woman inside say, “Enter,” so I
did.

It was time to interview one of
our main suspects, and I hoped that there was a chance I’d be able to catch her
off-guard.
 
Otherwise, I might soon find
myself ejected as well, and I didn’t know how I was going to begin to explain
that to Moose later that night.

As I stepped inside, I said,
“Five minutes,” though I had no idea if that were true or not.
 
It was an excuse to get in, and I hoped that
it would be accurate enough.

“Very good,” Sandra Hall said
with smug approval.
 
She was a pretty
woman; I could see that even under the overstated makeup she was wearing now,
and unless I missed my guess, she had a figure to match, though that was
disguised as well under a frumpy and faded frock that had seen better days, say
in the seventies.
 
“I’m glad to see that
I wasn’t forgotten this time.
 
Where were
you last night?
 
If I hadn’t stumbled out
on my own, I would have missed my first cue.”

“I didn’t make it in last night,”
I said.
 
“It’s a shame about your leading
man, isn’t it?”

“The man was a baked ham if ever
there was one,” Sandra said.
 
“Not that
Fred Hitchings is going to be any better.
 
I don’t know why I let Garret Wilkes talk me into this.”

“So, you and Benny didn’t get
along?” I asked.

“I just said that, didn’t I?
 
Now, isn’t there someone else you need to go
bother?
 
I’m preparing for my role.”

“I’m sure you are.
 
Did you and Benny prepare together last night
before the play, maybe in his dressing room?”

“What kind of question is
that?
 
Of course not.
 
I never stepped one toe into his dressing
room, and I wouldn’t allow him in mine, either.
 
Booth claimed to be a method actor, though I’m sure he wouldn’t know
what that meant if Strasberg himself explained it to him.”

I had no idea who or what a
Strasberg was, but I decided to keep that to myself.
 
Instead, I laughed knowingly, and Sandra
nodded her head slightly with approval.

“When was the last time you
did
see him?” I asked.

“Hours before the show
yesterday.
 
Garret Wilkes demanded that
we all meet one last time, and there was no way to get out of it, so I showed
up, albeit reluctantly.”
 
Sandra frowned
for a second, and then she asked me, “Who are you, exactly?”

“Me?
 
I’m nobody; just another wannabe,” I said,
hoping she’d let it go at that.

She wouldn’t.
 
“I know you.
 
You’re Victoria from The Charming Moose, aren’t you?”

Okay, it wasn’t a major disaster
that she recognized me.
 
After all, I hadn’t
asked her anything that outlandish.
 
“That’s just what I do to put bread on the table.
 
What I live for is acting.”
 
Wow, it sounded like a load of garbage even
as I said it, but Sandra seemed to buy it.

“Oh, I understand.”

I would have been fine if the
real stagehand had forgotten to alert Sandra again, but to my dismay, there was
a tap at the door, and it opened to show a brawny young man with a brand new
haircut standing there.
 
“Five minutes,
Ms. Hall,” the man said, and then he frowned when he noticed that I was there,
too.

“Yes, yes, I already heard.”

“How’s that possible?” the man
asked.
 
“That’s
my
job tonight.”

“Yesterday no one informed me of
the time, and tonight, two people do.
 
What kind of production is this, anyway?”
 
She raised her voice as she said the last bit
of it.
 
I just hoped that it wouldn’t
attract any undue attention.

Again, my hopes were thwarted.

Garret Wilkes, the
producer/director himself, popped his head in through the door.
 
“What seems to be the problem here?”

I tried to hide behind my cape,
but of course it didn’t work.
 
He
recognized me immediately.
 
“Victoria,
what are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” I said, hoping
that Sandra wouldn’t rat me out.
 
After
all, for all she knew, I could have been.
 

Just not by her.

“Be that as it may, I need to ask
you to leave.
 
How did you get in?”

“I waited around in back for
someone to show up and let me in.
 
I got
tired of waiting though, so I tried the door myself.
 
It was unlocked, so I just walked on in.”

He frowned at my story, but at
least I’d saved Peter and his friends their pay.
 
“Junior, please escort this woman back to her
seat.”
 
Garret studied my cape for a
moment, and then he asked, “You do have a seat, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” I said.
 
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
 
I was about to wish Sandra Hall good luck,
but then I remembered that was considered bad form in the theater.
 
“Break a leg,” I told her instead, finding it
odd to wish that on anyone.

I was sent back to my seat, and
Greg was grinning at me when I arrived with a husky young escort.

“So, they got you too, did
they?
 
Thanks for abandoning me like
that,” my husband said with a broad grin.
 
“Were you able to find anything out?”

The lights started to dim, so I
said, “Later,” and turned my attention to the play.

After ninety minutes, I was ready
to go home, soak in a hot tub, and try to forget every last bit of the debacle
I’d just seen.
 
Fred Hitchings had muffed
just about every line he had, and that had thrown Sandra’s timing off as
well.
 
She might have been fairly good
given the right supporting cast, but as it was, instead of elevating everyone
else’s performance, she managed to be dragged down to their level kicking and
screaming.

As the crowd offered its tepid
applause at the end of the play, Greg said, “Well, I’ll never get those six
hours of my life back.”

“What are you talking about?
 
It was just an hour and a half long,” I said.

“You’re kidding.
 
It felt like
days
.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I said with a
smile.
 
“Let’s go talk to Moose and then
head home.
 
I need a good long soak
tonight.”

“Sure, but you’re going to tell
me
what you found out first, aren’t
you?
 
After all, I’m the one who had to
sit through that mess.”

“Okay, but you’re just getting
the highlights.”

“I can live with that,” he said.

There wasn’t much to tell, but I
shared what I’d learned, and Greg seemed satisfied enough with it.

I just hated to tell Moose how
little I’d learned, but it couldn’t be helped.

We shared everything, no matter how
small, and this was about the least I’d ever gotten on my own.

Chapter 8

“Come on in.
 
We’ve been waiting forever for you,” Moose
told us as we walked into his house.
 

“If you think
that
was forever, you should have seen
the play,” Greg said.
 
“Hi, Martha.
 
How are you?”

“I’m fine.
 
Do you have any interest joining me in the
kitchen while these two compare notes?
 
You’re most welcome, unless you’d rather stay in the living room with
them.”