Read Stage Door: A Cue to a Kill (A Theatrical Cozy Mystery Short Read) Page 2

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  We were only three minutes late to start. Marlene limped on set and the show swirled into action. Ben stayed in his stage manager’s booth for the first fifteen minutes of the show, cueing a few sound effects and lighting changes. Within a few minutes, the entire cast was onstage and I was alone in the dim light behind the back wall of the set. I peered through one of the peep holes to make sure Marlene was doing OK. She’d already taken a seat on the sofa onstage. Thank goodness there was no tap-dancing in murder mysteries, I thought. After a while, I headed back downstairs to the green room to clear away the first aid kit, listening to the show’s progress through the speakers in the ceiling.

  It was always an odd feeling to be backstage when a show was in full swing just a few feet away. The usual chaos of the dressing room and make-up tables was silent, costumes hung on racks and cans of hairspray gazed at themselves endlessly in the mirrors. A sudden rumble of laughter from the audience echoed through the passdoor and from the speaker system. I smiled, listening to the cast brighten their lines as they responded to the light-heartedness of the audience. A full throated laugh from the crowd this early in the show was a good sign. It was going to be a great night, after all. I tidied up the tea and coffee area and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

  Heading back up the stairs, I stopped on the landing. Built into the wall of the landing was an old wooden window that had been painted over so many times I’d forgotten it was there. I stared at it for a few moments. Had Marlene been pushed?

  I knew this odd little stairwell was an addition to the original building. The Goose Meadow Bay Theater was a patchwork of additions – the store room on one side of the theater, the offices at the back, as well as this column of stairs on the other side. I had probably spent as much time in this theater as I had in my own home, but I couldn’t remember ever noticing this window before. It just showed how rarely the small stairs were used.

  I ran my hands around the wooden frame of the window. It was an old sash-type window, probably from the 1920s or earlier, and the glass and the frame had been painted the same color as the rest of the wall. I felt for the catch that should have been on top of the lower pane, but there was nothing there. In fact, it didn’t look like the window had been open in a hundred years.

  “What are you doing, darls?” Ben had obviously finished his cues. “Are we playing cards?”

  “Look at this,” I said. Ben trotted down the stairs and stood next to me.

  “That’s a window, love.” He gave me a worried look.

  I rolled my eyes. “Try to open it,” I challenged him.

  He peered at it. “D’uh. That’s not going to open. The catch is on the other side. This is the outside of the window.”

  I wrinkled up my forehead trying to picture the layout of the theater in my mind. “So what’s on the other side?” I asked. “Isn’t the outside world out there? It’s a window.”

  Ben turned and walked back up the stairs. “The office is on the other side. The photocopier room,” he said, losing interest. He was using his backstage voice and I had to hurry up the stairs behind him to hear him. “The office extension was built first and then they kind of filled in this stairwell area later. If you go into the office, the catch for that window is in there.” He settled back down at the table in the props room. “Except it probably doesn’t open because it’s been painted over in there too.”

  I thought about it. That made sense. Another burst of laughter erupted from the audience. Ben raised his eyebrows at me. “Good house tonight. They must have drunk a lot at the bar.” He grinned, then dashed out of the room. “We’ve got to stab Mauvins,” he whispered hoarsely. “I always forget this bit.”

  Ben tiptoed over to his booth to dial up a few lighting cues and I rushed down the opposite wing. Built into a secret panel in the set was a knife mechanism on an extendable arm. In the story, the mechanism could be operated by a person pressing a button near the bar, but of course, the audience didn’t know that yet. On stage, Mauvins moved to stand near the secret panel, Ben dimmed the lights, I moved the operable knife mechanism and Mauvins copped it in the back. When the lights came back on, Mauvins was lying face down on stage with a blade sticking out of his shoulders.

  Ben and I met up by the props room door and high fived each other as we always did.

  “Killed him dead,” I said cheerfully.

  “That’s my girl,” Ben agreed.

  A few moments later, Hamish and Leon dragged Bill/Mauvins offstage through the upstage entrance. Bill stood up as soon as they were clear of the audience and made his way balefully downstairs.

  “That’s the last time I get to kill you,” I said to him as he went past, hoping to cheer him up a bit. He didn’t even smile. “Grumpy old fart,” I muttered to Ben. We scooted over to the upstage entrance to watch the stupid little dance Hamish and Leon always did before they had to go back on again.

  “How’s it going?” I whispered.

  Hamish looked pumped. “Great! They’re a fantastic house.”

  Even Leon seemed to be putting a little something extra into his silly dance tonight. I grinned at them, quizzically. Last night, I reminded myself. Actors always go a little bit bonkers on the last night.

  The men heard their cue and dropped into character again. “Rhubarb, rhubarb,” Leon pontificated in a deep voice as he headed back into the light. Ben and I scooted quickly out of the sight-line, our eyes meeting incredulously. Did Leon really just say that? Hamish crossed his eyes at me in the last few seconds before he hit the stage, then the door closed and Ben and I were back in the pale blue light.

  “Idiots,” Ben grinned.

  The rest of the first act continued without needing anything further from Ben or me so we settled down next to the heater for some serious card playing. I had just smashed him for the third time when Tamara and Jenny made their exit from the stage, signaling that the end of the first act was only a few lines away.

  The women came into the props room grinning their heads off. I was a little surprised as the pair generally headed straight downstairs to get a coffee before the rest of the cast but clearly the last night exuberance Hamish and Leon had been feeling was catching. I smiled back at them.

  “How’s Marlene doing?” I asked them.

  Jenny waved a hand. “Oh, she’s fine. She’d not even limping.”

  I was relieved. Everything was going really well. Ben stared at us for a few seconds then rushed out to bring the curtain down on the first act. The girls and I ate his Skittles.