Read Online A Midsummer Night's Scream by Jill Churchill - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Churchill
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application that he’d only be there for the summer session. Gave credits for previous acting jobs that we can’t confirm yet. The application said he currently lived in a suburb of Los Angeles. I’ve got someone there asking the neighbors about him.“
“And—?“
“Not much of anything. It’s tacky furnished apartments, month-to-month rent, with all sorts of starving artists and actors who come and go nearly every week. Nobody so far admits to remembering him.“
“So he really is a mystery man.“
“What do you mean?“ Mel asked.
“Just that you know so little about his background. Have you contacted his family?“
“I’ve been trying repeatedly, but all I get is an answering machine that won’t take a message. As for knowing about his background, we’ll know everything eventually. It takes time, Jane.“ Mel paused. “I want your opinion on something.“
That surprised Jane. “Ask away,“ she said.
“What’s your view of Professor Imry? You’ve been around him longer than I have.“
Jane thought for a moment. “Okay. A vast mountain of arrogance on the surface, and a small core of tasteless, suspicious gelatin underneath.“
Mel laughed. “You should have been a writer.“
“I am,“ she said indignantly.
“That was a joke, Janey. I wouldn’t have put it that way, but you perfectly described my impression of him. He’s like most bullies—soft and scared inside. My cell phone is ringing. Have to go. Thanks for your insight.“
Jane was astonished. She’d given her opinions to and occasionally forced her suspicions on Mel before, but he’d seldom asked her to. Her remark was a good answer. She told herself to write it down before she forgot it, so she could use it again sometime in a book.
Having made a quick note to herself, she called Shelley to tell her that Mel said they could have the rehearsal that evening, even though the police were still looking for clues in the theater.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned.“
Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She’d wanted to fix that awful triangle she’d had to take out, thread by thread. Shelley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Shelley would rub it in.
When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.
“Such a tragedy,“ Tazz said. “He was so young.“
Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn’t look as if she were.
“I think we should say a prayer for him,“ Ms. Bunting said. “John, could you do that for us?“
John stood up facing the rest of them and said, “Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms.“ For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he’d memorized from some play he’d been in.
“Amen,“ John added.
All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.
Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, “We’re allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. Nobody may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the basement or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a ‘police presence’ here.“
He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.
“Now, let me introduce Denny’s substitute. This is Norman Engel. He’ll be playing the eldest
son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston.“ He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.
“See here, young man,“ Ms. Bunting said. “That’s offensive and unprofessional. We’ve told you this before. We’re Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we’re on stage.“
“Excuse me, Professor,“ Tazz said. “Isn’t this Norman person the one that
“And—?“
“Not much of anything. It’s tacky furnished apartments, month-to-month rent, with all sorts of starving artists and actors who come and go nearly every week. Nobody so far admits to remembering him.“
“So he really is a mystery man.“
“What do you mean?“ Mel asked.
“Just that you know so little about his background. Have you contacted his family?“
“I’ve been trying repeatedly, but all I get is an answering machine that won’t take a message. As for knowing about his background, we’ll know everything eventually. It takes time, Jane.“ Mel paused. “I want your opinion on something.“
That surprised Jane. “Ask away,“ she said.
“What’s your view of Professor Imry? You’ve been around him longer than I have.“
Jane thought for a moment. “Okay. A vast mountain of arrogance on the surface, and a small core of tasteless, suspicious gelatin underneath.“
Mel laughed. “You should have been a writer.“
“I am,“ she said indignantly.
“That was a joke, Janey. I wouldn’t have put it that way, but you perfectly described my impression of him. He’s like most bullies—soft and scared inside. My cell phone is ringing. Have to go. Thanks for your insight.“
Jane was astonished. She’d given her opinions to and occasionally forced her suspicions on Mel before, but he’d seldom asked her to. Her remark was a good answer. She told herself to write it down before she forgot it, so she could use it again sometime in a book.
Having made a quick note to herself, she called Shelley to tell her that Mel said they could have the rehearsal that evening, even though the police were still looking for clues in the theater.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned.“
Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She’d wanted to fix that awful triangle she’d had to take out, thread by thread. Shelley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Shelley would rub it in.
When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.
“Such a tragedy,“ Tazz said. “He was so young.“
Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn’t look as if she were.
“I think we should say a prayer for him,“ Ms. Bunting said. “John, could you do that for us?“
John stood up facing the rest of them and said, “Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms.“ For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he’d memorized from some play he’d been in.
“Amen,“ John added.
All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.
Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, “We’re allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. Nobody may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the basement or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a ‘police presence’ here.“
He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.
“Now, let me introduce Denny’s substitute. This is Norman Engel. He’ll be playing the eldest
son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston.“ He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.
“See here, young man,“ Ms. Bunting said. “That’s offensive and unprofessional. We’ve told you this before. We’re Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we’re on stage.“
“Excuse me, Professor,“ Tazz said. “Isn’t this Norman person the one that
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