For about a half hour, people mingled and ate,chatting excitedly about the play. Then the serving tables started being cleared, full wastebaskets were replaced with fresh ones, the desserts arrived, and one waiter was dispatched to collect dishes, napkins, and glasses from windowsills where they'd been left. Some of the guests passed on desserts and started going into the theater. The cast and crew had already withdrawn to the back of the theater. The only people left were Jane, Shelley, Ms. Chance and her special guests, and the catering staff. Even Mel had disappeared.
Twenty-four
They all sat through the dress rehearsal, except for Shelley, who stayed behind to see to it that the caterers cleaned up, and made sure the yummiest leftovers were put in her minivan.
The play had been promoted as a 'whimsical 1930s-style mystery,' but the only thing approaching humor, much less whimsy, were the remarks that the butler made to the audience. Everybody found them funny. Imry was furious, of course. The last thing he'd said to the cast was that Cecil, the butler, wasn't to improvise.
The costumes looked fabulous and even Jane felt compelled to tell Tazz what a great job she'd done. It was hard to find her. Tazz had deliberately stayed as far away from Jane and Shelley as she could. She hadn't even turned up for the party in the lobby.
Ms. Bunting was by far the best thing about the play. She played Edina Weston with wry dignity and energy, and was clearly the star. John Buntingactually seemed almost sober. He said all his lines without slurring a single word. He didn't have to put his hand on the back of the sofa or his elbow on the mantel to keep himself upright.
Jane knew Ms. Bunting had to have been responsible for this unusual behavior, and wondered how she'd kept him from drinking.
When the play ended, the small audience seemed surprised. There was some muttering. Jane overheard one of Ms. Chance's contributors saying, 'This must be fixed, Evelyn. There's no resolution to the plot. Why did the butler murder the younger son?'
Ms. Chance said, 'You should have read the script I sent you early on. There could have been a better ending if supporters of the theater had spoken up sooner.'
'She can't wiggle out that easily,' Jane whispered to Shelley. 'She'll probably never get more funding for anything from him.'
'Serves her right,' Shelley whispered back. 'She could have influenced Imry to fix it. She was the only person he had reason to be afraid of.'
The curtain calls were interesting. When the characters, in reverse order of importance, came on the stage, Bill Denk, the butler, was cheered, and the clapping went on for a long time — especially considering he had so few lines.
But when Ms. Bunting, elegant and smiling, came on stage, there was a standing ovation.
Flowers were brought on stage for her. A dozen red roses.
'We should have sent her flowers,' Jane said.
'I've already ordered them for the opening night tomorrow. I wonder who these are from?'
'I'd guess they're from her daughter as a special early surprise. At least I hope so,' Jane said.
As they followed the limited audience to the lobby, they overheard other complaints about the unsatisfactory ending of the play. The wives of some of the crew had been present. The prop master had brought along his daughter and her small son, who had fallen sound asleep within the first half hour. The scene painters were allowed to be in the audience with their girlfriends.
Before going home, Jane and Shelley went backstage to tell Ms. Bunting how good she'd been.
In the background, they could all hear Ms. Chance berating Professor Imry. 'You're going to have a long night, young man. You're going to have to rewrite that ending. The investors who pitched in to help the college fund this are in revolt. Either change the victim and perpetrator, or figure out an explanation for why the butler would kill the younger son. It makes no sense.'
Jane, Shelley, and Ms. Bunting were all smiling at this rant.
Jane had to ask, 'Who were the roses from?' 'My daughter. She always does this. Giving
me something to enjoy before the actual performance, no matter where it is. She's wonderful.'
'We have to go home now,' Shelley said, still grinning. 'My car is full of leftovers from the party, and I need to get them in the fridge soon.'
'Will you be back tomorrow?' Ms. Bunting asked.
'Probably just for the last act,' Jane said. 'To see how it ends the next time.'
They all laughed.
Mel hadn't watched the dress rehearsal except for the last scene. He'd been at his office tying up some loose ends on another case that had just cropped up that afternoon. It involved one of those stupid criminals who didn't leave the scene quickly enough.
A skinny, weedy young man had burgled a house and walked out the front door with all the family's silver in a burlap bag. There he was confronted by the burly owner of the house, who had a big loop of rope he was going to use to make a swing in the backyard for his kids. The guy tied the perp up with the rope while his wife called the police to fetch the burglar.
Mel got the call and told one of his assistants to go pick up the bungling burglar. Both of them had a good laugh over this.
He was still chuckling to himself when he arrived backstage after the last scene and heard Ms.
Chance threatening Professor Imry. He waited in the hall until she'd gone, then went into Imry's office.
'I have something important to tell you. You better sit back down,' Mel said.
'Okay. I guess it's that you're going to arrest me for murdering Denny, which I did
Mel had to suppress a smile. Imry had been inadvertently funny, probably for the first time in his life.
'I'm not arresting you,' he said. 'But I do have bad news for you.'
Imry ran his hands through his hair. 'Hit me with it.'
'Understand, Imry, this is absolutely confidential. I'm only telling you this because I feel you need to know — but you have to agree not to mention it to anyone, not even obliquely.'
'Okay. I'll pretend we never spoke of this.'
Mel told him what he'd come to warn Imry about, and Imry turned so white and pasty that Mel feared he was going to faint.
So Mel added, 'But I have a suggestion for how to solve the problem you're going to have.'
Shelley was desperately anxious,to get home before any of the food spoiled. She hauled in all the leftovers and put them on Jane's kitchen counter.
'You pick what you and your kids most want, then I choose something, then you take another turn.'
'Shelley, that's insane. You paid for all of it. You take everything you want. Just leave us whatever is left. By the way, is tonight's catering service on your list to provide meals for Paul's dinners?'
'Absolutely. They were fabulous. It's sort of discouraging that out of the ten I tried out, only two made the grade. I was hoping that at least three or four would be acceptable.'
'Poor Professor Imry,' Jane said out of the blue. 'Having to rewrite the whole last scene overnight.'
'I don't see how you can feel so sorry for him.' Shelley was outraged. 'He was simply too arrogant about his work to do the ending right. Or maybe too lazy. Or incompetent. I'll bet you good money he's never opened the first page of a good mystery book.'
'Shelley, I'm seeing this from a different view. If I'd messed up an ending and had to fix it overnight, I'd probably just go to bed and hope for the best.'
'No, you wouldn't,' Shelley said. 'You'd fix it.'
'I guess I would. Now let's sort out this food choice thing. My kids will eat anything. Except that none of us
