Free 13 - Knock'em Dead by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain Page B

He was just coming down the sidewalk in the opposite direction I was going.”
    “You didn’t see him come out of the alley separating the theaters?”
    “No.”
    “Well, how about that cup of tea?”
    “All right, although well have to make it quick. The director has called an extra rehearsal this evening.”
    “A problem with the show?”
    “No, just ironing out some wrinkles.”
    We’d reached the doors to the street when his beeper went off. He checked the number displayed on the tiny screen. “Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but well have to postpone the tea.”
    “That’s quite all right.”
    “We’ll catch up again.” “I hope it’s just for a pleasant cup of tea and a chat, not about murder.”
    “Hopefully.”
    “Detective Hayes.”
    “Yes.”
    “Your name is Hayes. Any relation to the great actress, Helen Hayes?”
    “As a matter of fact yes. Maybe that’s why they gave me this case. We’re third cousins twice removed.”
    “You didn’t elect to follow in her footsteps as an actor?”
    “Not for a living, but I do act in community theater. Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher, I have to run.”
    He left as members of the cast and crew came through the doors, including Pamela South, who’d been hired to replace Jenny Forrest.
    “How did the press conference go?” asked Charles Flowers, who played the detective in the play.
    “Fine,” I said, my fingers involuntarily going to the rip in my coat.
    “Hi, Jessica,” Hanna Shawn said. She played the daughter, Waldine, and was alleged to be one of Harry Schrumm’s girlfriends. She wore a white T-shirt with KNOCK ’EM DEAD emblazoned on it in red, a gift from Schrumm to every cast and crew member. Although she was older than the character I’d created, and might have been cast because of a personal relationship with Schrumm, she was a wonderful Waldine in my estimation.
    “Hi, Hanna. All set for another run-thmugh?”
    “No. I had other plans tonight. But the show comes first. It always comes first.”
    I wandered into the theater where the stage was being readied for the rehearsal.
    “Has anyone seen Linda?” I asked.
    No one had.
    “She said she’d be here tonight,” I added.
    “She’ll show up,” Cy Walpole said, sounding as though the thought wasn’t especially pleasing to him.
    “I saw her a half hour ago,” a member of the crew offered.
    “Great. I’ll go find her.”
    I climbed a short set of steps up to the stage, watched the activity for a few minutes, then went backstage, carefully navigating lighting paraphernalia strewn on the floor, and made my way to a narrow, poorly lit hallway off of which opened a series of tiny rooms and offices. I poked my head into Schrumm’s on-site office, then into the tech director’s space. Both were empty.
    At the end of the hall were the three largest rooms, one devoted to props and costumes, the other two serving as dressing and makeup rooms for the male and female members of the cast. Because Knock ’Em Dead was relatively contemporary, costumes in the classic sense were few; the story took place in the late 1940s, which meant only that characters wore clothing appropriate to that decade. The stage door leading to the alley separating the Drummond and Von Feurston Theaters was just beyond and around the comer from the costume and dressing rooms.
    “Linda?” I said. The only response was an echo of my own voice.
    I proceeded down the hall. “Linda?” I repeated, looking into an office shared by the costume and set designers. No answer.
    I took a few steps in the direction of the prop and dressing rooms, which brought me to a section of the hallway where the few bulbs in the ceiling had burned out, creating a dark, shadowy span of twenty feet. I stopped. What was that noise? Someone laughing? I looked up at the ceiling, then turned and peered down the length of the hall. I narrowed my eyes. What was I seeing? It couldn’t be. A man’s face, chalk white, with blood-red lips, seemed to hover in