let go of the curtain and was falling, which I didn’t believe, or that the curtain had torn from my weight and was falling with me, which I did believe. I stopped with a jerk, lost my grip, and fell backward on the stage.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself looking up at Raymond Griffith.
“That is one dangerous way to have yourself a good time,” he said. “I can tell you that. I didn’t let you down you’d have been creamy mushroom soup.”
I sat up and looked at him. He was bedecked in overalls and a clean shirt. A cardboard suitcase sat next to him.
“You are going somewhere?” I asked, trying to stand but shaking too much.
“Distant horizon,” he said. “Time I moved on. Forty years is enough to spend in one place, my mother used to say.”
“Why would your mother say that?” I asked.
“Maybe she said four years,” he answered with a shrug.
“I don’t want to be ungrateful, Raymond,” I said. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to stay till after tonight’s performance.”
“I’ve seen
“I’ll bet you have,” I said. “Ever see
Raymond’s idiot yokel mask dropped. “Sorry you saved me?”
“No,” he answered in a voice I’d never heard from him. “Sorry you ask too many questions.”
He picked up his suitcase, turned, and headed for the far wings.
“Hold it,” I called, rising on wobbly legs.
“Peters,” he said, “I’m not staying around to get myself killed or spend the remainder of my life behind steel bars. I’ve spent my life playing everything from minstrel shows to third-rate opera. It’s kept me alive, and that’s the way I want to stay. I signed on for this role, but the play’s getting too serious for me.”
“Cherokee, Texas,” I said.
“You’ve got all the pieces,” Raymond said.
I took a couple of unsteady steps toward him when the door at the back of the auditorium started to open. Instead of crossing the stage, I rolled behind the fallen curtain and duck-walked to the wings. I looked back to see Preston, Sunset, and a pair of uniformed cops moving down the aisle toward the stage, I got up, took off my shoes, and ran into the darkness.
Vera’s dressing room was close by. I went for it. The door was open. The lights were out. I left them that way and felt along the wall for the curtained-off closet to the right. I pushed back the curtain, went in, closed the curtain, and sat on the floor behind hanging clothes. I felt around on the floor and found a plaster head with a wig on it. I moved the head carefully, took off Charles’s frayed jacket, put it on the floor under my head, and with a groan curled into an aching ball.
I fell asleep. I don’t remember the dream very well. Koko was there. So was Winston Churchill. Raymond was dressed as a Japanese cowboy. That I remember. Then the sound of voices awoke me and then the light went on.
It wasn’t exactly bright in the closet, but I could see Raymond clearly. He sat in the corner about three feet away, looking at a spot just above my head, his suitcase in his lap. He was definitely dead. I could tell that even without the sword sticking out of his stomach.
“… so Osa Johnson said,” a woman’s voice came as I tried to quietly sit up, doing my best to ignore or overcome the pain. “She said, ‘I’ll bet the cannibal natives are wondering why we’re killing so many Japs. They know we can’t possibly eat all of them.’”
I made it to something resembling a sitting position.
“That’s very funny, Gwen,” Vera said.
“Actually,” answered Gwen, “I thought it was when I read it, but it just seems a bit stupid now.”
I could see the out lines of the two women against the cloth curtains draping the closet. Vera appeared to be sitting at her dressing table.
“It’s all right,” said Vera. “I appreciate your helping me. I … we’d better get ready. My first-act costume and wig are in the closet.”
I was propped in one corner, the dead Raymond in the other when Gwen threw back the curtain and pushed the clothes back to reveal us.
“You know what time it is?” I asked.
Gwen looked at us and gasped. Vera heard her, turned in her chair, saw me and the sword sticking out of Raymond, and screamed.
A knock at the dressing room door. Vera jumped from her chair, closed the closet curtain, and said, “Come in.”
The door opened and I heard Sunset’s voice.
“You all right?”
“I was rehearsing,” said Vera. She went up and down the scales to prove her point.
“You’re all right?” Sunset repeated.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ve got to get made up and dressed. Mr. Butler, could you stay and give Gwen a hand with my costume?”
“I’ll be outside,” said Sunset.
The door closed. Footsteps. The cloth curtain was pulled back and I looked up at Vera, Jeremy, and Gwen.
“I did not do it,” I said, nodding at Raymond. “I came in here to hide and fell asleep. When I woke up, there he was.”
Jeremy helped me up.
“I believe you,” said Vera. “Can we … I’d rather not look.…”
I stepped out of the closet and Gwen closed the curtain.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Just before six,” Gwen said, looking at her wristwatch. “Dress rehearsal is at eight.”
“We can’t leave him in there,” Vera said, pointing at the closet.
“Call the cops and I’ll be up for two murders, and spending the night with Detective Sunset, who would probably use my head for batting practice,” I said.
“I’m afraid you can’t get out of here, Toby,” Jeremy said.
I looked around the room. There wasn’t much to see.
“Dress rehearsal is at eight,” said Gwen again, looking at the closed curtain.
“Maestro Stokowski is not pleased with the compromise of using John Lundeen as Pinkerton,” said Jeremy.
“It looks as if Martin Passacaglia will be all right for opening night,” said Vera, taking Gwen’s hand. “If not, the Maestro found a tenor in Los Angeles who can be down here in a day.”
“Wouldn’t the new guy have to rehearse, block, whatever?” I asked.
“It helps,” said Vera, “but featured singers sometimes come in the afternoon of a performance, go through simple blocking, and then do it. It’s not the best way, but it’s done.”
“Looks like I’m done, too,” I said.
“No,” said Vera, touching my cheek. “I think I have an idea. Gwen, we need makeup, costumes, wigs, and men.”
“That’s always been my philosophy,” Gwen agreed.
Vera explained her plan. I’d heard better, but it wasn’t bad.
“Jeremy,” I said. “Gunther and Shelly are in Lundeen’s office. Can you get them down here?”
Jeremy nodded and moved to the door. Gwen went with him. I went back behind the curtains while they opened the door and went out. When I heard Vera lock it, I came out.
Vera’s hands were folded. She was looking at Raymond. I closed the curtains.
“That sword,” she said. “It’s the one I’m supposed to use in the last act to commit hari-kari.”
“They’ll have a backup,” I said, moving to her side and putting an arm around her.
“The police,” she said. “Maybe they’ll think I killed …”
