“So, Jeffrey, who’s going to save your butt once you’re in New York?”
Muscle twitching in the side of his face, Jeffrey ignored his remark but softened his tone.
“Okay. Down to business. I spoke with Andrew. Told him I wouldn’t be recommending him for the chair.”
“How did he take the news?”
“He was upset but he won’t cause any trouble, not if he knows what’s good for his career. Board of Directors are in agreement. Congratulations, Henry. You got what you wanted.”
Henry looked in the mirror and raised the mug.
But you didn’t get what you wanted, did you, Jeffrey? Spasms, arched backbone, spittle and foam pouring out of your mouth, wasn’t what you were looking for.
Henry laughed and drank the rest of the whiskey in a single gulp. No sense in dredging up the shouted insults, vindictive, spit drivelling rot of the rest of their conversation. He popped a peppermint candy, brushed imaginary dust from his tailored suit, closed the door quietly and walked slowly down the hallway towards centre stage.
He met Andrew and Eleanor at the doorway into the large common room. They didn’t exchange greetings but stood silently together listening to the snatches of conversation drifting into the hallway.
In all the years I’ve known him, I never suspected Jeffrey suffered from seizures.
Don’t be daft; the man was poisoned.
Who’s going to assume the Director’s mantle?
Why Andrew, of course, who else?
Poor Catherine, I’m glad she was spared the sight of her husband’s death.
Too bad, she wasn’t spared his infidelity.
Died in agony, you say? It was his body I heard thrashing round on the floor. I thought something let loose on the stage set, given all the mechanical screw ups over the past few weeks.
Henry took a deep breath, nodded to Andrew and Eleanor; the three entered the room and positioned themselves behind the drinks table. Gradually all conversation ceased as more and more heads turned towards them. Henry cleared his throat and waited for complete silence before addressing them.
“We’ve all experienced a terrible shock tonight and, as difficult as it might be, we need to keep a clear head. I ask each and every one of you to keep Jeffrey’s family - Catherine and their children - in your thoughts and prayers. The police have requested we do not leave the theatre before they’ve had the opportunity to speak to us. I would suggest you ease up on the drinks before that happens.”
The sound of a muttered ‘sanctimonious shit’ drifted up from the back of the room to the drinks table. Henry smirked, Andrew smiled, and Eleanor turned her head.
Another slurred voice was heard. “What’s going to happen to the next scheduled play, Henry? Are we going to be laid off? Should we start looking around for something else?”
“I can’t answer those questions. I have no idea; I will meet with the Board of Director’s as soon as possible. Now, good people, I suggest you get rid of the makeup and back into your street clothes.” He looked at his watch. “I have to meet with the police. Try to stay calm and for God’s sake, no dramatics.”
“Theatre without drama –impossible - why it’d be like a bathroom without a toothbrush”, Charlotte said.
Henry and Eleanor made deaf and left the room. Andrew addressed the group.
“The first ones to get rid of makeup and costumes are the first ones to leave for the comfort of their own homes and beds.” He smiled and bid them a good night.
“Keeps a level head that one does”, Charlotte said. “We’d be lucky to have him in the Director’s chair.”
***
On the other side of the curtain, Alexis and Susan sat together in middle row seats, centre aisle. The middle aged women had been friends for the last seven years and how the friendship managed to blossom was a mystery. The friendship began when Alexis, a Librarian in the city’s main branch retired and moved to a small town where she was able to buy a small bungalow. Susan, a wealthy city socialite, relocated to the same small town when her husband died unexpectedly of an aneurism. Escaping the claustrophobic care and concern of family and friends, she invited her sister-in-law to move into the family home, relocated, bought and restored a Victorian mansion in the small town.
The two friends met at a fund raiser for the town’s library. Susan had listened to Alexis’ halting speech of the importance of small town libraries. She decided to befriend the retired, unassuming, shy Librarian. The two forged a strong relationship, travelled once a year together to Europe, made frequent trips to the city condo Susan bought to shop and attend the theatre. They joined the town’s bridge club where Susan dragged a reluctant Alexis into the mystery of the poison pen letters the women had begun to receive. The two women actually succeeded in uncovering the culprit. It gave Susan an undying thirst for all things mysterious. Alexis regretted her involvement and put the whole incident out of her mind.
Alexis looked at her watch. Thirty minutes since the producer first stepped on stage and informed them there had been a backstage accident. His next appearance was a bit more alarming. The police were on the scene and had requested everyone remain in the theatre until further notice. At this latest news, theatre patrons’ cell phones sprouted faster than weeds in a garden.
The Producer had waited until the buzz subsided before informing them the box office would be starting to issue refunds in the next five minutes and the bar would be opening at the same time. A mass exodus to the lobby coincided with the closing of the curtain.
Alexis was debating whether to seek out the facilities when the jab to her ribs hit.
“For God’s sake, Susan, an excuse me or something would get my attention.”
“Sorry, Alexis. Look over at the top step, to your left, beside the curtain.”
She glanced over and saw a tall, familiar looking
