We parked on a hydrant in front of the theater.
'You know any illegal immigrants?' I said.
Mei Ling hesitated, and looked once at Hawk, before she answered.
'Yes.'
'I'd like to meet one,' I said.
Again Mei Ling looked momentarily at Hawk.
'Of course,' she said.
I left her with Hawk and Vinnie and went into the theater. As I crossed the sidewalk I felt exposed, like some sort of quarry in an open field. The longer I stayed in Port City, the more I had that feeling. I was aware of the comforting weight of the Browning automatic on my right hip. The front windows of the theater were filled with posters advertising a season of Shakespeare's history plays.
I could follow most of those. I would even enjoy several of them.
Jocelyn wasn't at rehearsal. Lou Montana was clearly annoyed about that, and about me asking for her. Everyone else in Port City wanted to kill me; simple annoyance was a relief. I went to the lobby and called Jocelyn Colby's home at a pay phone. I got her machine.
'This is Jocelyn. I'm dying to talk to you, so leave your name and number and a brief message if you want to, and I'll call you right back as soon as I get home. Have a nice day.'
I hung up and went upstairs to Christopholous' office. I'd have a nice day later. He was in there reading a book on the Elizabethan age by E. M. W. Tillyard. He put the book, still open, facedown on his desk when I came in.
'You wouldn't happen to know where Jocelyn Colby is?' I said.
'Jocelyn? I assume she's in rehearsal.'
'Nope.'
'Did you ask Lou?'
'Yeah.'
'I suppose he was angry that you interrupted his rehearsal.'
'He was, but I've recovered from it,' I said.
'I imagine you have,' Christopholous said.
'I know I've asked you before, but you're sure there was no romantic connection between you and Jocelyn?'
Christopholous smiled wearily.
'I'm sure,' he said.
'We were friends. Jocelyn's very engaging.
She'd come in and have coffee with me sometimes and we'd talk.
But there was no romance.'
'Maybe on her part?'
'You flatter me,' Christopholous said.
'An overweight, aging Greek?'
I shrugged.
'Chacun a son gout,' I said.
'Do you happen to remember how Craig Sampson came to join the theater company?'
Christopholous blinked.
'Craig?' he said.
'The late Craig,' I said.
'I… I suppose he, ah, he simply applied and auditioned and was accepted.'
'Was he a gifted actor?' I said.
'Well, you saw him, what do you think?'
'Surely you jest,' I said.
'That play would swallow the Barrymores.'
'Yes, quite true. Craig was competent, I think, not gifted.'
'Anybody use any influence on his behalf?'
'Influence?'
'Influence.'
'This is not some political hack patronage operation,' Christopholous said.
