Dead Man's Bones (8 page)

There was an irony here, some observers would have said, for the grand new theater stood in sad contrast to the run-down mansion in which the Obermann sisters lived. They had stopped entertaining decades before, and apparently had no pride of place. The house needed paint and repair, and the gardens were a weedy jungle. Once the most beautiful house in town, the old place was now a derelict relic.

But most people were too busy to notice the sad state of the Obermann mansion. While the renovations were going on, the play’s script was rewritten and Jean Davenport, the director, began the casting. Sets and costumes were discussed and designed, and rehearsals got underway.

All this was not without its problems, of course. Most of them were created by Miss Jane herself, who proved, as Marian had foreseen, the very devil to work with. Of course, nobody expected that the old lady would take the revision of her precious script lying down, and she didn’t disappoint. Carleton Becker, who was in charge of the rewrite, told me, in a tone of quiet desperation, that he couldn’t wait for the play to be over and done with.

“And if that doesn’t happen soon,” he’d said dramatically, “I promise you I am going to kill her.” He raised his fists. “With my bare hands.”

But Miss Jane’s meddling went far beyond the script. In the end, she managed to alienate everybody, from Marian and Carleton and Jean to the roofer and the plumbers and the people who installed the theater seats. Because she was constantly getting in everybody’s face, the construction took far longer and cost much more than planned, and dozens of tempers were frayed to the breaking point. As Marian put it, they were finding it harder and harder to pretend that they were having fun.

“If this drags on much longer,” she said through clenched teeth, “I am personally going to bash that old bird right square in her beaky nose.”

But at last the theater was ready and the play was as good as it was going to get. The dress rehearsal of
A Man for All Reasons
was scheduled for Thursday night, and the Denim and Diamonds Opening Night Gala for Friday, followed by the cast party, which Party Thyme had been hired to cater. The costumes and sets were finished, and the actors had been rehearsing for almost two months. The landscaping was done, too—except that Miss Jane didn’t like it, maybe because it made the overgrown garden around her house look like a tangle of weeds.

So what else was new?

I summoned a smile, knowing that I had to humor the old lady. “I certainly understand how you feel about the roses, Miss Jane. Actually, there’s plenty of room to add other plants.” I pointed to the top of the low berm. “We could put two rosebushes right there, and a couple more at the corners of the building. We might even add a rose arbor off to one side for a larger planting, if you like. The plants won’t be in bloom for Friday night, of course, but come spring, they’ll be gorgeous. Did your father have any particular favorites?”

“He liked Cecile Brunner and Duchess de Brabant.” Miss Jane spoke reluctantly, but her deep voice had lost some of its sarcastic edge.

“Those are both shrub roses, so we could use them at the top of the berm,” I said. “We might plant a Cecile Brunner climber at one corner of the theater. How about a Zepherine Drouhine at the other corner?”

“I’ll give it some thought,” the old lady said grudgingly. “How can I reach you?”

I fished a card out of my pocket and handed it to her. Maybe roses were the way to the lady’s heart. “That’s my shop number,” I said. “I can also have some little signs made up, identifying the roses as Doctor Obermann’s favorites.”

Her wide mouth curved into something that might have resembled a smile, although it might just as easily have been a grimace. “Very well, Ms. . . .” She glanced down at my card, as if it had been too much effort to remember my name, and she needed a prompt. She probably wouldn’t remember my face, either. “Ms. Bayless. You may expect to hear from me.”

“Actually, it’s Bayles,” I said quietly. “Rhymes with nails.”

Miss Florence tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “The sign, Jane,” she whispered. “You were going to ask Ruby about it.”

“I was just getting to that, Florence,” Miss Jane said irritably. She turned to look at the building. “The sign will be installed before opening night, I assume.” It wasn’t a question.

I shot an inquiring glance at Ruby, who said, quickly, “Oh, I’m sure it will. Would you like me to ask Marian Atkins to give you a call? She can fill you in on the details.”

“It’s a little late now, wouldn’t you say? I should have thought that Mrs. Atkins would have consulted with me about the sign before this.” Miss Jane’s face was stern and forbidding. “However, yes, she should call me. And when you speak to her, remind her to tell those who are attending the cast party on Friday night that there is to be no loud music or other revelry after eleven o’clock. Florence and I retire early, and do not wish to be disturbed.”

She gave me one more censorious glance and said, in a tone that showed that she classed me as a little lower than the gardener, “Put that hose away before someone trips over it.”

And that was it. Without another word, Miss Jane turned back toward the house, trailed by her acquiescent sister. When they had gone, Ruby let out her breath with an outraged snort.

“That old dragon! How the dickens did she manage to reach seventy-five without somebody bumping her off?”

“Beats me,” I said. “I’m glad I’m not playing her mama. I couldn’t do justice to the role. Has she given you any pointers?”

“Jane doesn’t give two hoots about the way I play her mother,” Ruby replied in a practical tone. “As far as she’s concerned, Mrs. Obermann’s sole function in life was only to make Doctor Obermann’s existence easier and happier. Jane idolized her father, you know. In fact, Duane Redmond was first cast in that role, but Jane nixed him. She didn’t think he had enough dignity and personal authority to play her father, she said. He didn’t look the part.”

“Oh, yeah?” I chuckled as I began coiling up the hose. “Bet that really frosted him.” Duane, who also owns Duane’s Dry Cleaners, is one of the mainstays of the community theater group and has garnered more male leads than any of the competition. Being bumped from a role for a lack of dignity and personal authority would send him into convulsions. If I knew Duane, he was probably gunning for Miss Jane.

“Oh, you bet,” Ruby said emphatically. “Duane thinks he’s God’s gift to the American stage. He ranted and raved and made a huge fuss, but Jane was unmoved. She decided that Max Baumeister should have the part.” She made a little face. “Seems that he was the family dentist until he retired last year.”

“I’m surprised that Jean allowed that to happen.” I dumped the hose in the wheelbarrow. “Nothing against Max Baumeister, of course, although he’s always struck me as . . . well, a little stiff.” His fellow actors called him “Field Marshal Max”—not to his face, of course—and he was mostly given roles where his one-dimensionality wasn’t a problem. Offstage, he was a nice enough guy, and a pretty good dentist, too. He’d done some work for me, just before his retirement. I collected my digging tools and put them in the wheelbarrow, too. “Isn’t casting the director’s job?”

Ruby laughed shortly. “Not in this case. We’re talking total control here, you know. Duane was doing all he could to make Herr Doctor a little more human. But Her High and Mightiness showed up at rehearsal one day and announced that Duane was out and Max was in. Duane was mad enough to chew nails, but it didn’t do him any good. Miss Jane got her way, as usual.”

I picked up the empty plastic pots and added them to the wheelbarrow, looking around to make sure I hadn’t left something behind to upset Miss Jane—although how she could criticize my landscaping when her garden looked like the Great Texas Wilderness was beyond me.

“I imagine Jean was unhappy, too,” I said.

Ruby rolled her eyes, intimating that
apoplectic
might have been a better word. “And Max is so stiff, he’s positively wooden. The poor guy has about as much depth and complexity as a piece of blank typing paper. But he reminds Miss Jane of her father—he’s stout, and his mustache and glasses give him that Teddy Roosevelt look. I guess that’s all she cares about.”

“Must make it kind of hard on you,” I said. “It’s no fun to be onstage with somebody like Max, in a play that wasn’t any great shakes to begin with.”

“You’re not kidding.” Ruby’s eyes glinted. “But in an odd way, all this has made my part rather more interesting—although not exactly what Miss Jane intended.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She laughed impishly. “Jean and I have come up with a new approach to the problem.” She smoothed the costume over her arm. “Come opening night, I think Miss Jane may be surprised.”

“Surprised?” I frowned. “But I thought she attended rehearsals. Whatever you’re doing, hasn’t she noticed?”

“Now that she’s satisfied with Max, she only comes once in a while. And when she comes . . .” She shrugged. “I just tone it down, play it straight.” To my quizzical look, she added, “It’s a little hard to explain. You’ll see what I mean on opening night.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied with a laugh. “Hey, listen, I’m finished up here, and I haven’t eaten yet. How about going over to Bean’s for some dinner with me?”

Ruby flashed me a quick, bright smile. “Oh, thanks, China, but I’m on my way over to Colin’s place. He’s going to help me rehearse some of my scenes, and he’s cooking. We’re having grilled salmon.”

“Now, that’s a real man for you,” I said, pretending to be envious. “He’s good-looking, he has his own business, and he’s a gourmet.” I gave her a teasing grin, and then said something I shouldn’t have. “I’ll bet he’s good in bed, too.” The minute the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Ruby would think I was prying, and tell me to go to hell.

But she didn’t. “Oh, absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “He’s the kind of lover every woman dreams about.” Her voice softened and her eyes grew blurry. “He makes me feel like a young girl again, China, all soft and romantic. For me, it was one of those wonderfully instantaneous things—love at first sight.”

“Don’t get carried away, Ruby,” I said cautiously, wishing she hadn’t been so quick to climb into the sack with him. I’ve done my share of that in my time, and have learned that sex never fails to complicate an already complicated situation. It’s a lot harder to get out of bed than it is to get in. “Nobody’s perfect. And love isn’t instant, you know. You don’t just add hot milk, stir, and serve.”

“Colin might not be perfect, but he’s close enough. If only he . . .” Her voice dropped, her shoulders slumped, and she looked away. “If only I could make him love me.”

I began to be alarmed. This was dangerous stuff. “Listen, Ruby, I know how you feel, believe me. But please don’t rush into anything.”

“How can I rush?” Ruby wailed plaintively. “It takes two to rush.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. From one love affair to the next (and there had been several), Ruby never quite remembered that for her, falling in love was like falling over a precipice, and with just about the same result. Smashed dreams, splintered hopes, and a broken heart. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to violate her privacy or get involved in her intimate life, but I could at least try to plant a question in her mind. “Maybe it’s not very smart to commit yourself before he—”

“I wish you wouldn’t try to tell me what’s smart and what isn’t, China Bayles!” Ruby flared angrily. “You’ve got McQuaid. I don’t have anybody. Not a soul!”

“That’s not true,” I objected. “You’ve got Amy and Shannon and me and Sheila and—”

“Amy and Shannon are kids, for Pete’s sake!” Ruby cried, flinging her hair back. “They’re my daughters! And you and Sheila are just friends, and both of you are always busy. I want a lover, China! I’ve been living alone for years, and I’m sick of it. I’m lonely down to the very bone. I need somebody to love.” Her voice quavered and tears filled her eyes. “And I need somebody to love me. Somebody like Colin, who doesn’t care whether I have one boob or two.” She gulped back a sob. “You’re not going to tell me there’s something wrong with that, I hope.”

Ah. So that was it. A while back, Ruby had breast cancer. She had elected to have a mastectomy and had said no to reconstructive surgery because she didn’t want an alien substance inserted into her body. Colin’s willingness to accept and admire her as she was, complete with one breast rather than the standard-issue pair, would be enormously important to her. He would be important to her, and nothing I could say would make one iota of difference.

I felt myself overwhelmed by compassion, mixed with both fear and hope. I had found McQuaid; I hoped that maybe this time, Ruby had found someone who would fill her needs, fulfill her desires. But something inside me was frantically waving a red flag, and I couldn’t help feeling afraid for her, too. I didn’t know Colin Fowler well enough to make judgments about him, but—

I stopped. Ruby was sweet and vulnerable and very dear to me. For better or worse, she had launched herself wholeheartedly into another passionate love affair. All I could do was cross my fingers, hope for the best, and hang on for the ride, which was guaranteed to be bumpy.

Without another word, I put my arms around her and held her very tight.