Read Online Ed McBain_87th Precinct 47 by Romance - Free Book Online Page A

do?”
    “I’m going home right this minute to make some calls. I know a few people downtown who’ll get on this
detective
of yours and see that he
does
something about this. Finish your coffee, I’ll drop you off on my way.”
    “That’s all right, go ahead. I thought I’d walk, anyway. It’s just a few blocks.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, go ahead.”
    “I worry about you, darling.”
    “No, don’t.”
    “I worry.”
    “Good scene,” Corbin whispered.
    Kendall said nothing.
    He watched as Cooper walked over to Helen Frears, who was playing the cashier, and settled his check, and then pushed his
     way through the imaginary revolving doors to the street outside. As he walked off into the wings, Josie sat finishing her
     coffee at the table.
    “Here’s
where the fade should start,” Kendall said, and made a note to cue the fade earlier. Josie finished her coffee, picked up
     a napkin, delicately wiped at her mouth, with it, milking the moment, rose, put on her coat, still milking it—God, she was
     so good—pushed her chair back under the table, walked to the cashier, settled her bill, and then pushed through the same imaginary
     revolving doors.
    The fade began.
    As Josie began crossing the stage, the restaurant behind her—the table and chairs first, and then the cashier’s stand—slowly
     went to black. Clutching her coat collar to her throat as if protecting herself against a fierce wind, she moved out boldly,
     the light continuing to vanish behind her with each step she took. And then, ominously, the light
ahead
of her began to grow dim as well, so that now she was moving into deeper and deeper shadows beyond which lay only blackness.
    Out of that blackness there suddenly appeared a tall man in a long black coat and slouch hat, Jerry Greenbaum himself, no
     jokes this time, Jerry Greenbaum playing it for real in a costume he had salvaged someplace and was wearing for the first
     time. Where in earlier rehearsals he had used a wooden stick to simulate the knife, now—and possibly inspired by the lighting—he
     was wielding a bona fide bread knife he’d picked up backstage someplace, holding it high above his head like Tony Perkins
     coming at Marty Balsam in
Psycho
, coming at Josie with the same stiff-legged long-skirted stride Perkins had used, enough to chill the blood from memory of
     the scene alone, if not exactly what Kendall himself had directed in
this
scene.
    The knife descended viciously, its blade glinting with pinpoint pricks of light as Josie turned to shield the fake thrust
     from the audience. The stabber ran off into the blackness. Josie fell to the stage, lay there motionless.
    And now the other actors materialized like mourners at an Irish wake, surrounding the stricken Actress, the Detective firing
     questions at each of them as if she were really dead, asking the Director what they had talked about at dinner, asking the
     Understudy whether they had argued recently, and finally turning to the Actress herself, who—surprise of all surprises!—wasn’t
     dead at all, but who rose from the stage now and fell back into a chair doubling as a hospital bed, and weakly answered the
     Detective’s questions along with the rest of them in a scene outstanding only for its sheer boredom and longevity.
    “Thank you, people, it’s beginning to come together,” Kendall said. “Take ten and I’ll give you my notes.”
    As the actors began moving off, Jerry popped onstage, still wearing the long coat and the wide-brimmed hat.
    “How was that, boss?” he shouted to the theater. “Scary enough?”
    “Very nice, Jerry,” Corbin said, and Kendall gave him a look.
    “Little Hitchcock there, huh?” Jerry said.
    “Very nice,” Corbin said again, and Kendall gave him another look.
    The two men sat silently for a moment.
    “She’s very good, isn’t she?” Corbin said at last.
    “Josie? Yes. She’s wonderful.”
    “Made it come alive for the first time,” Corbin