Free A Question of Murder by Jessica Fletcher

prompted, walking to her side.
    “I was supposed to fire the gun when the script calls for it,” she said, looking up at him.
    “You didn’t?” Georgie asked, coming to her other side.
    Laura swung her face toward Georgie.
    “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Ladd said, waving his hands as though to physically push them away. “All of you, back off. I’m the detective here. I’ll ask the questions.” He gave Chasseur and Georgie stern looks. They appeared to be annoyed, but stepped back.
    Ladd coughed before asking Laura, “Did you fire the gun when the script called for it?”
    “Yes, sir.” She started to cry, and Melinda wrapped her arms about her.
    “What’s the deceased’s name?”
    “Paul Brody,” Larry offered.
    “Paul’s the name of the character,” Chasseur said. “Is that his real name?”
    “Or stage name?” Georgie added.
    Ladd shot them an angry look. He turned to Larry and raised his eyebrows.
    “It’s his real name,” Larry said. “We use the actors’ real names for their roles whenever possible. It makes it more natural for them to respond to questions from the hotel guests. When the actors are offstage, they’re still required to stay in character. That’s part of the mystery experience. The guests ask the actors questions about the plotlines, and they answer as if they’re actually the person in the play. If someone calls out ‘Paul,’ he’s going to turn around. It’s his name after all.” Larry hesitated. “Or was.”
    Melinda added, “There are exceptions. Our two police officers use stage names, Carboroni and Dolt.”
    “I’d hope those aren’t their real names,” Ladd said through what passed for a laugh.
    Mark Egmon rejoined us on the stage. “We have a lot of people lingering outside the auditorium,” he told the detective. “They expect to be questioned and they’re getting restless. I also have a few who want to check out immediately. The play was too gruesome, they said. I’d appreciate some guidance on how to proceed.”
    Ladd rubbed his chin. “Okay,” he said. “You’ll have to tell everybody that no one can leave until they’ve been questioned.”
    “There’s more than a hundred guests, Detective,” Egmon said, his voice mirroring his dismay.
    “Can’t be helped,” said Ladd. His cell phone rang. “All right,” he said after listening to the caller. “All the exits are covered. The ME’s on her way—if she can make it through the snow.”
    One of the uniformed officers entered, and Ladd directed him to guard the body. “Don’t let anyone near him. Got it?”
    The officer patted his holster and positioned himself near the corpse, standing spread-legged as if ready to take on any and all attackers.
    “I’ll be back,” Ladd said, and left with Egmon, Chasseur, and Georgie trailing after him.
    I went to where Larry, Melinda, and Laura stood in a tight circle. Melinda had tried to retrieve Monroe’s jacket, but the officer waved her away. “Don’t mess with the scene,” he’d said.
    “What do you think, Jessica?”
    “About what, Larry?”
    “About getting through the rest of the weekend. We might as well pack up and get out of here.”
    “I don’t think that’s an option,” I said. “It’s a police matter now. You heard the detective. No one can leave until they’ve been questioned, and that will include you and the other members of the troupe.” Especially the troupe , I thought.
    “I know, I know,” he said. “I’m still in shock. I’m not thinking clearly. I only know I can’t believe any of my people had anything to do with this.”
    “I’m surprised at you, Larry,” Melinda said. “We’re actors. The show must go on. You can’t call it off. We’d have a lot of angry people—and not just cast members.”
    “If it gets out that Paul is really dead, people might be angrier that we’re going forward,” he said, chewing his lip. He looked at Laura. “What do you think?”
    She glanced at Paul’s