Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (9 page)

“I remember that now,” Gil admitted with a grin. “You were always Little Miss Mind the Rules. I got a kick out of making you mad.”

“And, may I say, you were good at it.”

Terence beamed at us as we all filed back into the theatre for rehearsal. Once we were assembled, he hopped easily onto the stage and scanned our faces.

“People, I just received an important phone call and I have great news! We’re going on the road!”

A murmur spread through the crowd. People looked at each other quizzically.

Elm DeWitt stood. “ ’Scuse me, but where are we going? I can’t be gone very long. I’ve got classes I can’t cut.”

Terence slapped his forehead. “Sorry, I should have made myself clearer. This is just a trial balloon, so to speak. We’re doing one performance,” he held up one finger, “just one, a matinee, Saturday after next at La Belle Colline Hotel in Lake Placid. If it goes as planned, they may want us to come back in the future. Does that sound better?”

Elm smiled, nodded and folded his long legs back into a sitting position.

“That’s a classy place,” Brenda Bernard whispered to Lily and me. “It’s where my aunt had her wedding reception. They have an indoor pool and everything.”

“Since the hotel doesn’t have a stage,” Terence continued as if he’d heard Brenda, “we’ll be performing in the largest room they do have, by the indoor pool.”

More murmurs, a few giggles.

Hearing Ben Patchke snort, Terrence looked over at him.
“I know how you guys are. Don’t even
think
about throwing anybody in the water. This is strictly business. It’s going to take extra work and some careful adjustments of the blocking, but remember, if we do well there, we’ll have repeat engagements. We’re a special treat for the hotel guests.”

“This will be so cool!” Lily murmured.

“We’ll be leaving at dawn, Saturday the twenty-sixth and coming back in the wee hours. No, we won’t spend the night. I’ve lined up two buses. The trip should take about three hours one way. As soon as we arrive, we’ll set up and rehearse, then have lunch, smooth out any rough spots, and give our performance at five o’clock in the afternoon. Got it? Mark your calendars, people, and make your plans.”

He consulted his clipboard. “In the meantime, choral rehearsal is in here with Irene.” He pointed to the piano, then moved his arm upward. “And I want the principals to run lines in the balcony. We’ve got to get it perfected now, gang, because we open one week from tomorrow!”

As I headed down the aisle to the seats near the orchestra pit, I saw Janey, clinging anxiously to Terence’s elbow. He leaned down.

“Don’t worry about a thing. Pat and I have it all worked out. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

Even if it was the ritziest hotel in the North Country, I could understand Janey’s anxiety. Lake Placid was a lot more public than our small town. They’d even held the Winter Olympics there—twice. I wondered what plan Terence and Pat had worked out.

The next few days flew by in a whirl of singing, pinning, ironing, and blocking, which I learned meant plotting out one’s position on the stage. I was learning a lot about the theatre.

“From the top, Irene,” Terence said as we stood in groups on the stage. “Da-da-da, da-dum, da-da-da. That’s right, you townspeople, start out by standing there, then move over there, bit by bit, two or three at a time. Don’t forget to sing! That’s right.”

He waved his hands as if conducting. “Greenwich Village
—
da-da-da, dum-de! Hold it!” He jumped up on the stage and grabbed me by the shoulders from behind. “Amelia, you’re turning your back on your audience too much. That’s called the closed position. We want to see your lovely face! Angle your body thusly, open left.” He turned me toward the auditorium. “Now move downstage left. It works well if you keep your shoulders parallel to the—good! You’ve got it now!” He hopped down into the orchestra pit once more and picked up the Almighty Clipboard.

“Now, people, when the music ends, I want lots and lots of rhubarb.”

He stuck the Mighty Clipboard under one arm and clapped loudly. “Okay, take it from, ‘Where have you been?’ ”

We gave him lots of rhubarb.

It was fascinating to watch him. He was surprisingly patient with minor tantrums and confusion. He kept the company in order and the rules obeyed, for the most part.

It was interesting and a little disheartening to observe the pairings that had formed in the group: Lily and Neil, Elm and Celia Hurley (though I was shocked, since she was at least three years older than he was), and Danny, still spending most of his time with an enraptured Dierdre, but occasionally gravitating towards Janey. I watched him with wistful eyes.

I’m sure that if Terence had been on hand at that rehearsal two days before the opening, the second dramatic episode with Danny DiNicco would never have taken place. Unfortunately, Chris Gold, big and amiable but lacking an air of personal authority, had been temporarily left in charge.

It was the end of Scene One and Danny, as the faithless Lover, was saying goodbye to Johnsie (Janey) in the form of a passionate kiss. The music swelled, the scene ended, and Chris called out, “And . . . curtain! Okay! Get to your places for the street scene!”

The curtains closed, then immediately opened, revealing Danny and Janey still enthusiastically kissing. In fact, they seemed to be totally oblivious to the rest of us.

“Um, cut!” Chris called out, clapping like Terence. Then, more sharply, he growled, “DiNicco! Break it up, DiNicco!”

Abruptly, the couple parted and each one moved to the opposite side of the stage.

“I’m all for method acting, but let’s not get carried away. You get me, folks?”

Chris was as angry as I’d ever seen him. I was pretty sure that he had his own crush on Janey.

As Lily and I tripped up the side steps to take our places in the wings, we heard Dierdre say loudly, “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you know who he is? Who his family is? He’s related to the Berninis! His uncle is a don! Do you have a
death
wish?”

Stage right, next to a flimsy stage storefront, Dierdre held a wide-eyed Janey by the elbow. Janey yanked her arm away and fled to the dressing rooms below as the entire cast along with the three-piece orchestra—piano, drums and flute—froze in place, filled with embarrassment and uncertainty.

“Dierdre, come out here, right now!” Chris bellowed.

Before he could continue, Danny walked calmly out onto the middle of the stage and said in his finest stage voice, “If I could have everyone’s attention for just a moment?” He glanced over at Chris for tacit permission, who granted it with a puzzled expression. Turning to address the rest of us, he continued, “I’m not sure where Dierdre gets her information, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with this issue, and it probably won’t be the last.”

He looked meaningfully over at Neil, who turned away frowning. Danny sighed and walked a few paces.

Dierdre came out on stage, glowering. She crossed her arms and cocked her head. Standing where I was, I could see her eyes were filled with tears.

“Yes, my uncle is Gino Bernini. And yes, he’s some kind of, um, mobster in New York. He’s my mother’s much older stepbrother, but I’ve never, ever even
met
the man. My family—and I mean my
immediate
family, mom, dad and me—have never had anything to do with him. My dad’s a pharmacist in Queens, my mom’s a housewife. We stay as far away from my mom’s family as possible.”

He looked around. “If anybody else has a problem with that, talk to me, and we’ll work it out.” He surveyed our faces, then made a calm and dignified exit, ignoring Dierdre completely.

Lily and I looked over at Neil, who had slumped into an auditorium seat and was scowling as he quietly rubbed his jaw. Nobody seemed to know what to do.

“Okay, everybody, get onstage for the Greenwich Village reprise!” Chris yelled. “And tell me if you don’t have enough time for the costume changes.”

After the rehearsal, I saw one or two people slap Danny on the back and heard another cast member invite him out for a beer. I think they wanted to make up for the embarrassment he’d suffered.

Neil was not among them.

Neither was Dierdre. The gossip network generally agreed that her motive for causing the scene was jealousy. While it had blown over for the most part, her outburst seemed to have accomplished the desired effect. I never spotted Janey and Danny being affectionate again, and her performance when they did share the stage was strangely furtive, as if she didn’t quite trust him. The emotional distance worked perfectly in the context of the story.

On the other hand, Dierdre hadn’t done herself any favors. I later observed her try to take Danny’s hand and saw her wounded expression as he pulled it from her grasp and walked away.

~~~

“That DiNicco was a real chick magnet,” Gil remarked. “I could never understand it.”

“Now you sound just like Gilly at seventeen.”

“We’re all seventeen inside.”

“True. But the word
chick
is no longer a part of your vocabulary, at least in these politically correct times.”

He grinned. “I think I’ll reinstate it.”

Under Lily’s tutelage, and with access to my parents’ charge account at the local drugstore, I was able to accumulate the suggested makeup items. When I arrived home with my bagful of cosmetic treasures, my mother had a surprise for me. She had emptied out the small metal box she used for buttons and glued a mirror in the lid.

“See, there’s your name on it, too, in permanent Magic Marker. Now you’re just like the professionals.”

My makeup case was gray with a handle on top, and I was proud to bring it to rehearsal until I entered the dressing room that evening and beheld the row of much larger and more spectacular tackle boxes that belonged to the Seasoned Broadway Professionals. I had already seen Irene’s box. It had two levels, but Celia Hurley’s, when opened, closely resembled an overcrowded theatre with multiple balconies. She let us examine it.

“Look at the little compartments,” I said, “Wow, there must be thirty different pencils there, all sorts of different colors.”

“What’s that thing?” Ben Patchke pointed to a small mechanical device.

I felt smug. “An eyelash curler. My mother has one.” I’d always been a little too scared to try it.

“Well, I’m keeping my tackle box for bait and hooks and stuff. This is my makeup kit, right here.” He held up a small plastic bag and walked away.

I looked at the mound of sponges in the bottom of the case. “Do you really use all these things? What’s ‘clown white,’ anyway?” I’d spotted the name on a container.

Celia smiled, “Yes, I really do, in one part or another. And to answer your other question, clown white is used for clowns, of course, but it’s also good for highlighting planes on your face you want to stand out, like cheekbones or noses.”

I was heading for the restroom when I saw Chris Gold step into the hall and grab Danny by the arm. They moved into a nook near the telephone booths.

“DiNicco, what did your dad say about calling in that prescription?”

Danny looked quizzically at the stage manager, who seemed to be trembling. “I didn’t ask him. He wouldn’t do it, Chris. He doesn’t even know you.”

“It’s just a little Prozac, man. Just maybe a week’s worth. I’ll pay you. It’d be no trouble for him at all. Druggists do it for each other all the time! Emergencies and stuff.” Chris’s whisper was getting louder. “Give me a break!”

“Leave me alone. I said no.” Danny jerked his arm away.

I scurried into the ladies’ room with Chris’s bitterly muttered curses ringing in my ears.

Dress rehearsal required that we be in costume. My own costume hadn’t turned out to be quite as glamorous as I had hoped. As Maud Kelly the washerwoman, I wore a drab brown collarless dress with a long apron and I carried a laundry basket. I’d twisted my hair into a little knot on top.

Pat looked us over. “I have an idea for your hair,” she said to me. She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and scratched a sketch on a scrap of paper. “Do you think you could do this tomorrow night? It’ll take a bit of teasing, but I think it would look prettier and more authentic.”

I nodded enthusiastically. At least part of me would be a little bit glamorous.

The dress rehearsal did not go smoothly.

First of all, there was Janey’s transformation. Nobody had seen her in the dressing room as we got ready. I scanned the cast while they gathered for the performance, looking for a blonde head.

“Places, people!”

My heart was racing as we stood in the wings, ready. Listening carefully to the cues in the music, I plunged on stage, adhering carefully to my appointed path, but almost froze in place when Janey/Johnsie floated across the stage to meet her lover. They were to pantomime an awkward romantic meeting, and they did, but what brought me up short was Janey’s appearance.

No longer was she a pale, diminutive and waif-like blonde. She was an auburn-haired beauty, with her hair piled high and long chestnut ringlets down the back, plus an impressive bosom that I was sure she had not grown overnight. She also wore strapped leather dancing shoes with heels that gave her at least three extra inches in height.

I wasn’t the only one surprised by the transformation. Several of the cast glanced at one another and darted their eyes about meaningfully. Even the consummate professional Danny stumbled a bit upon first seeing her, which only enhanced the hesitant nature of their meeting. But I could tell this transformation had thrown him off.

So this is the plan Terence and Pat came up with to keep Janey safe: Make her unrecognizable.

The cast all understood, though, that we had no time to dwell on anomalies. We kept going.

Two wobbly flats, four missed song cues, two tripped-and-fallen dancers, and one broken stage light later, we gathered in the auditorium for a post mortem. Terence tended to be optimistic.

“Well, I’ve seen worse dress rehearsals. We know where things went wrong—the building crew is going to anchor those flats better and Chris will replace the light tomorrow morning. Singing villagers, be sure to give the dancers enough room in that market scene. Irene is going to go over your rough spots with the musicians tomorrow morning, so those of you who messed up, be there.”

He gathered up his clipboard and sweater and turned toward the exit. “I know somebody is going to say it, so it might as well be me: Bad dress rehearsal, good performance, isn’t that how the saying goes? Don’t worry, everyone, it’ll be all right on the night. Now go take off your makeup—and Pat says, take good care of those costumes!”

The group, mumbling, yawning and stretching, stood and began to move to the dressing rooms. Lily and I were among the first to get there.

She wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that? Yuk!”

I sniffed. “Oh, yes! What is it? Something spoiled?”

“Maybe something died in here,” Ben Patchke suggested with a smirk.

“Let’s just get cleaned up so we can go,” I said, “That noisome smell makes me gag.”
Noisome
, offensive to the senses
. Yet another word I’d recently added to my vocabulary.

The room was filling up. I saw Danny walk over to his makeup tackle box. “Hey, I left this thing open. Who’s been messing with—” He pulled open the top and let out what I could only guess was an obscenity, because I’d never heard the word before.

Immediately, the odor became stronger. “It’s fish,” I murmured to Lily. “That’s what the smell is.”

Danny reached in the bottom of the tackle box and pulled out a parcel wrapped in newspaper. Slowly he unwrapped a small dead fish about eight inches long.

“Which one of you thought this was funny?” He turned in a circle and stared into our faces, his voice hoarse and his face was dripping with perspiration. “A dead fish? Is this supposed to be a joke?”

Nobody moved. A few of us exchanged puzzled and pitying glances.

All at once he turned back to the tackle box, deposited the fish inside and slammed it shut, mumbling, “That does it. I quit.”

I stepped forward. “But Danny, what—”

He shoved me aside as he headed for the door. The tackle box was under his arm. “I quit!” he repeated loudly, then disappeared at a run up the stairs.

I was shaking. I turned to Lily. “What just happened? I mean, it’s a terrible trick to play on somebody, but—”

“In the mob, it means death, or something like that,” Brenda Bernard said in a gasping whisper, “Didn’t you see
The Godfather
?”

“She wasn’t allowed,” Lily pointed out, further cementing my immaturity in the eyes of the group.

I nudged her with my sandaled foot. Okay, I kicked her a little.

Adele Foster’s eyes glinted. “Do you think there’s a contract out on him?” she asked Brenda.

Irene said sharply, “Cut it out. It’s just somebody’s idea of a rotten prank, and if Terence finds out who did it, his behind is out of here.”

I was worried. “But Danny quit! Does that mean the play is cancelled?”

Irene shook her head. “I’ve known Danny DiNicco a long time, and he’s not going to bail on this play over something like this. He was just upset.” She looked around the room. “Everybody steer clear of him for a while. He’ll be back, I know it.”

The next morning nothing at all was said about the prank. The only evidence that it had even happened was the fact that Danny’s tackle box stood empty in the dressing room. Obviously, it had been scrubbed out and the cosmetics discarded. Danny arrived on time and without fanfare, carrying a paper sack from the local drugstore.

We went over the problem spots in the music with Irene. While Danny was onstage confirming his blocking, I saw Lily lean nonchalantly over the drugstore bag and peek inside.

“He bought replacement makeup,” she whispered to me later. “Pancake and powder and face cream and some brown pencils. Stuff like that.”

I sighed. “Poor Danny. Do you think he’s really in danger?”

Lily shrugged. “If he is, we probably all are.” She shivered. “In that movie the other night, the gangsters carried their machine guns in violin cases. If you see anybody in a dark suit carrying something like that, duck down behind a seat and stay there. That’s what I’m going to do.”