Free Dead Man's Bones by Susan Wittig Albert

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