Free The Role Players by Dorien Grey Page B

the time Max was ready to leave, almost everyone else had gone, and it was just shy of eleven o’clock.
    “So, what did you think?” he asked as we left the theater.
    “I loved it!” Jonathan volunteered
    “I was really impressed,” I said. “I don’t think Cam made a single mistake.”
    Max grinned. “He never does. I think he’s surprised just about everyone. He had tried out for the part when casting first started, but of course he didn’t stand a chance with Rod and Gene there. I think he and Brent were neck-and-neck for the second lead, and the only thing that tipped the scale in Brent’s favor was that he’d worked with the Whitman before, whereas Cam hadn’t.
    We were walking four abreast down the sidewalk, taking our time in the warm, clear night.
    “You were at the auditions?” I asked.
    “Yeah. They had them on a Saturday, and Tait had a couple of the crew there to sort of start getting a feel for the play and the possible cast. Chris and I both went. We sat in the back row so as not to throw anybody off.”
    “Funny,” Chris said, “but during a break I was talking with Cam, who I’d never met before. He really wanted Rod’s part. ‘I’d kill for that part,’ he said.” He shook his head. “Ironic that he’d end up getting the part because Rod was killed.”
    “That was an odd thing to say,” Jonathan observed.
    Max laughed. “I can’t think of an actor who hasn’t said that at one time or another.”
    “Oh,” Jonathan said, obviously relieved. “Sure.”
    “I wonder why Cam would settle for being an understudy if he had his eye on the lead?” I said.
    “I suppose because actors have to act, and there are more actors than there are parts available. The odds of an understudy taking over for the lead for more than a few performances are really low, but it does happen, obviously.”
    We arrived at Chris and Max’s building and climbed the stairs while Chris took out his keys to open the door.
    Max yawned. “Well, it did go pretty well tonight. We just might make it to opening.” He did a slow neck rotation and rolled his shoulders. “But right now, let’s get inside, relax a few minutes, and go to bed. Tomorrow is another day…I read that somewhere.”
    And, I thought, tomorrow starts my search for a possible killer.

CHAPTER 4
    Tuesday we took the bus to 59th Street, the base of Central Park, and walked for what seemed like miles along the paths and trails, ending up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we spent several hours and had lunch. We still didn’t see everything, of course, but they were having an exhibit of Henry Moore’s work, which Jonathan and Chris found intriguing. It was a pleasant day, but me being me, I began to feel guilty about having a good time when I’d been hired to work on a case. And as much as I was looking forward to seeing Cats that evening, part of me felt I should be at the Whitman tracking down or eliminating potential suspects.
    Rocks and hard places, one of my mind-voices observed.
    Jonathan was enjoying himself thoroughly, of course, but I could see him glancing at his watch, obviously getting a little antsy to go back and start getting ready for the evening, even though curtain time was still several hours away. And I could tell Chris and Max were mildly distracted by thoughts of the evening’s full dress rehearsal. So, by unspoken mutual agreement we left the museum at a little after three and returned to the apartment.
    There was a phone message for Chris from Arthur McHam, asking if he could come in early to help Doris get the costumes ready.
    “Shit!” Max said. “I was afraid this was going to happen!”
    “What about dinner?” Chris asked.
    I took the opportunity to step in. “I tell you what, why don’t Jonathan and I have dinner somewhere near the theater? That way we won’t be holding you back.”
    Jonathan beamed at the thought of the two of us alone in New York City, going to a real Broadway show and having