Read Stage Door: A Cue to a Kill (A Theatrical Cozy Mystery Short Read) Page 3
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The first interval was washing up time for me. In the play, there was a four hour gap between the action of the first act and the action of the second act, and someone had to clean up all the drinks the characters had consumed in the first act. I grabbed my tray and turned on the work lights onstage. On the other side of the red velvet curtain I could hear the audience emptying out into the foyer to buy more drinks and stand around and attempt to solve the mystery. I collected up glassware.
Incredibly, no one had broken a glass so far. Equally strangely, all of the glasses were empty. Most nights, my first job was tipping flat ginger ale, or other mysterious concoctions, down the sink before I could wash up but tonight at least the cast had been thirsty and I was spared that task. The washing up took all of the interval and by the time it was done I could barely feel my fingers from the icy cold water.
Ben’s voice called the act two beginners to the stage and I piled my tray full of glasses to re-stock the bar. Just inside the door that was the upstage entrance on the back wall of the set was the closet door where Tamara’s character was to be hung in the second act. As I made my way through the entrance I noticed some of the cast were already onstage, goofing around behind the curtain as they usually did. I grinned at Jenny spinning herself around on one of the bar stools. Yep, the cast were in fine form.
A second later, Hamish came crashing through the closet door, Tamara’s noose around his neck, gasping and gargling and thrashing around like a fish out of water. One flailing arm caught the edge of my tray and my heart sped up so fast I saw the whole thing in slow motion. Thirteen whiskey glasses flew gracefully up into the air, the work lights catching on their cheap etched sides, glinting pale blue and yellow and demonstrating just how completely they were going to shatter once they hit the boards.
I made useless juggling motions with my hands as they rained down around me. I caught two. Hamish made a spectacular mid-air twist and caught one in the crook of his elbow and another in his hands but the rest splintered like icicles and scattered across the floor. The silver tray rolled around on its edge in ever tighter circles til it spun itself out near the bar.
I looked at Hamish with my pulse still racing in my ears. The rest of the cast stood like statues.
“Oopsies,” said Hamish, eventually.
Nick snorted with laughter and Jenny tiptoed through glass to take the remaining glasses out of my hands. “Now you can punch him,” she grinned.
I looked at the wreckage at my feet and turned on Hamish. “What the f-?“ I began.
Ben bounced through the door behind him and stopped dead when he saw the mess over the stage.
“Geez, Kath,” he exploded. “We just got clearance from front of house! What on earth are you doing?” I rounded on him, completely exasperated. “Don’t just stand there. Clean it up!”
I sucked in a long, slow breath. “You clean it up, Hamish,” I said, carefully. He grinned at me sheepishly and ducked backstage to find a broom. “I’ve got to find nine more glasses or you kids don’t have anything to drink in the second act.”
Nick and Jenny sprang into action. “We’ll help,” they said. “Go. Find glasses,” Nick added, deepening his voice and gesturing dramatically towards the props room like he was Sir Ian McKellan giving his Richard III. “Do not ask us perform without our warm, flat dry ginger ale. We are actors!”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Ben snorted. There was something going on here. I stalked delicately through the shattered glassware and picked up the tray. The cast watched me like I was a bomb about to explode.
“What?” I said.
Jenny snorted. “It was pretty funny,” she giggled. “Tom Stilton’s spirit is having a great night tonight.”
Ben’s snort extended into a definite snigger. I turned my glare on him. He swallowed his laugh and tried to pull his face into order. “Oh, it’s definitely the spirit,” he said, quickly. “The theater spirit.”
I shouldered past him and hurried back to the props room. The rumble from front of house indicated that the audience were already in their seats and waiting. I rummaged through the cupboards under the sink. There was a box labeled “Glassware” that I’d been through before the run started, picking out the whiskey glasses for the Bone Chiller performances. Inside I found three tall tumblers, two champagne flutes, some red wine glasses, some wide-topped martini glasses and a brandy snifter. They’d have to do. I gave them a quick rinse under the tap to wash the dust out and stacked them on the tray. I threw my tea towel over my shoulder. Nick would just have to dry them onstage.
“Coming through!” I yelled pointedly when I reached the entrance to the set.
The cast watched me solemnly as I placed the tray on the bar and deposited the tea towel on Nick’s shoulder. The broken glass had been cleaned up. Ben was in the booth. Nick fingered the dish cloth.
“What- ?” he began.
“Improvise.” I growled and left the stage. I flicked the work lights off and Ben lifted the curtain.