The unknown woman followed them and approached the stage. "I'm Evelyn Chance. Remember me, Steven Imry?"
The cast and crew had filed back to their seats to hear what she had to say.
Ms. Chance went on, "I'm the person who helped the college solicit the funds to put this play on. I'm the one who's going to sue you for every penny I raised for this pitiful script, and for paying Mr. and Ms. Bunting, putting them up in the hotel, their airfare, their food, and rental car.
I've also put in a lot of time promoting it, to my sorrow. Now, you will make a real apology, and mean it, to each and every one of us. Or we're all walking out and filing civil suits against you, you rude bastard. And keep in mind, too, that you are currently the most likely suspect for the murder of one of your actors. I've heard about him telling you off about your faulty grammar."
Imry all but collapsed, mumbling incoherently. "Stand up straight, Steven. Don't be such a wimp," Evelyn Chance said.
Imry stood, shaking with fury. Jane spotted Mel standing on the edge of the stage behind Imry, making notes.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But you have no right to say I'm a suspect. I've never even thrown a rock at a bird in my whole life."
"Huh?" Shelley muttered to Jane.
He went on. "In spite of all of you misjudging me, I do apologize. I'm under a lot of stress here. This whole production rests on my shoulders. Don't you understand that?"
Ms. Chance stood her ground and said coldly, "That's not even a feeble apology. It's simply an arrogant attempt to justify your bad temper. I saw how you behaved the day before yesterday. Now start over and do it right."
Finally, after dithering, Imry started over and made a semi-real apology.
"I'm sincerely sorry if I offended anyone. As Isaid — no, never mind. I truly regret having been rude to anyone. The caterers, Ms. Nowack, and Ms. Jeffry. Ms. Tinker, Mr. and Ms. Bunting, Jake Stanton, Joani, Ms. Chance. Buddy Wilson, the head stagehand. Bill Denk, who plays the butler, and anyone I've left out by accident."
Then he turned and walked unsteadily up onto the stage and through the door to the workroom.
"I guess we'll have to stay," Tazz said. "Much as I regret it. I'd have liked to see him try to find the costumes by himself."
"And find caterers," Shelley added.
"And substitutes for us," John Bunting gloated.
Nine
When everyone had recovered from this scene, which was far more exciting and dramatic than anything in the script, the rehearsal went on. This time it was to work out where people stood or sat, or entered or left, in each scene. A sofa was represented by three chairs in a row, taken from the workroom. Three more of them represented armchairs. The placement of the doors was marked on the floors with chalk. Imry was subdued and relatively well behaved. When Bill Denk made another snide remark to the audience, Imry didn't even chide him.
Evelyn Chance was still sitting in the front row, and Imry kept giving her anxious glances.
Jane and Shelley took their needlepoint materials back to the workroom, after washing their hands as they'd been instructed. They left the door to the serving room open and the back door slightly ajar so they could hear when the catering truck arrived.
When they were seated in two of the remaining chairs in the workroom and had their canvases out, Shelley asked, "Do you think everyone who was threatening to walk out would have done so if Ms. Chance hadn't stopped us?"
"Wasn't she fabulous?" Jane replied. "I aspire to be that outspoken one day. Yes, I think they would have. All but Imry's replacement for Denny. Most of them are volunteers. Only Tazz and the Buntings stood to lose money. And there are probably others. I don't think you'd trust lighting to volunteers unless they were professional electricians and theater was a hobby."
"You're forgetting me, Jane," Shelley said. "I'd have been out on the deposits to the caterers. But if he'd continued to be so obnoxious, it would have been well worth it."
"Do you think he really learned anything about how to behave?"
"Not at all. He was just cornered and scared spitless."
"I wonder if Ms. Chance was right that he's the primary suspect for Denny's death? I'd guess that's what Mel thinks. Of course, I could be wrong about that. He never really said so," Jane qualified.
"Everything we know, which isn't much, seems to point to him," Shelley said. "My impression of him is that he's one of those bullies who knows deep in his heart that he's not as smart or
talented as those he's bullying, and furthermore, thinks they won't realize it."
"It was unfortunate for him that he had a replacement lined up for Denny," Jane said. "And stupid besides. Denny was unwise, and was being a show-off by humiliating Imry in front of everyone, but the honorable thing for Imry would have been to fire Denny before choosing a successor. And Imry should have realized that Denny was right that Imry really should brush up on his grammar or hire someone to vet the script.
"On the other hand," Jane went on, "Imry didn't seem to have the kind of courage it takes to actually kill someone."
"It doesn't always take courage, Jane. Probably the fear of continuing humiliation could be enough to push someone as insecure as Imry to do something violent in the heat of anger."
"You might be right."
"Was that the sound of a truck?" Shelley asked. "It was. I'll put your needlepoint things away for you."
That night's caterers were the most imaginative, Shelley later declared. Along with colorful, sturdy plastic plates, they also had provided fruits and vegetables, meaN and pastas, and sauces that were fresh and unusual. Broiled kiwi fruits with a mysterious tasty glaze. Tender scallops with lime sauce. Hot fingerling potatoes
crusted with salt and some spice nobody could quite identify. There was also a creamy cooled rice salad with quartered green grapes, sliced blood oranges, and Vidalia onion chunks served with the best sourdough bread Jane had ever tasted.
"This is a lot more than a mere snack," Tazz said, helping herself to generous portions of everything.
"You get what you pay for," Shelley whispered to Jane.
Even Steven Imry complimented the caterers. "Now, that sounded genuine," Shelley said to Jane in an undertone.
When the meal was over, and Shelley had watched the cleanup and filled in her forms, they said good night to the others.
"Want to stop at Starbucks for a cup of good coffee and a dessert?" Shelley asked.
"Why not? All I need to do at home is replace the nasty triangle I needlepointed earlier."
It was warm outside, but not as searingly hot as it had been earlier. They sat at a table where no one could overhear them.
"Did you notice that Mel was on the stage, out of sight of Imry, when Evelyn Chance took him on?" Jane asked.
"Yes, I did. He was making notes."
"Do you really think that Imry is capable of killing anyone?" Jane asked.
"I think so. But we really don't know anything about him, Jane. Where and how he was brought up. What he's like with friends — if he has friends. Our sole experience with him is when he thinks he's in charge of something dear to him. His awful script. The accolades he's anticipating from the audience and his college."
"Nor do we know much of anything else, and we'll never have the chance, or desire, to know him better," Jane said. "Probably Mel won't either. But Mel is the one entitled to ask hard questions and look into Imry's whole life. It will take a while, anyway, for the pathology report on the cause of death."
"Shouldn't that be easy? Look for a wound or test for poison?" Shelley asked.
"What if they find both? How would they decide what the primary cause was?"