Jill Churchill - A Midsummer Night's Scream

He called his office and told his assistant toarm himself with a badge and fetch the phone number for the victim's family and call him back.

When this was finally accomplished, he rang the number. There was only an answering machine with a woman's voice saying, "We're out of town on our second honeymoon," followed by a silly giggle. "Leave a message and we'll get back to you." But the next voice was artificial. "This mailbox is full. Try again later."

The only thing Jane and Shelley learned from the early evening news was that the theater was indeed the site of the murder, and that a young actor from the local college had died under mysterious circumstances. The police were still trying to find the victim's family to notify them before a name would be released.

Mike and Katie had gone to fetch a Chinese meal for both families. Shelley's daughter Denise was still at her swim class. Her son was playing a new Nintendo game with Jane's son Todd at the Nowack house. Both Jane and Shelley were glad none of them were watching the news.

"So it's an actor. A young one. That excludes John and Gloria Bunting, and the director," Shelley said. "Still, it could be Joani. It's trendy to call both sexes 'actor' these days."

"You don't approve of that?"

"I do approve. I'm just saying it's not necessar‑

ily a young man. But it could be that nice Bill Denk who plays the old butler, or Jake Stanton, who's the younger brother. Or maybe Denny Roth." Shelley said. "But it eliminates Professor Imry. He's not an actor."

"We know that," Jane said. "He's not much older than the students. The police might know his name but not necessarily that he wasn't one of the young actors."

"I suppose somebody could identify him, though. Whoever found him. Or her."

"It might have simply been someone from a janitorial service. Someone who wasn't ever around except when no one else was there, or just a botched robbery that went horribly wrong when the robber realized that somebody saw him."

Shelley shrugged. "I guess so. I wish Mel would call and fill you in a little bit. He knows, doesn't he, that we're tending to the catering?"

"I told him what we were doing. Or rather, that I was tagging along as a mere taster. But I only mentioned that it was a theater Paul had donated to the college. That's not all that specific. They must have some other buildings that previously served as at least rehearsal halls. Maybe we're wrong about where this body really is."

"That will be easy to find out. After dinner we'll drive by. If it's our theater, it will be surrounded by yellow tape saying CRIME SCENE-DO NOT CROSS; it will be obvious."

"You can do that if you want. But I don't want to be with you. Mel wouldn't like to see me snooping," Jane said.

"We could park a block or two away and just sneak a peek around a corner of some other building, couldn't we?"

"Shelley, get a grip. This is getting too elaborate. Mel will realize whether this is the theater where you're providing food. He's sure to ask us what we know about the cast and crew — when he's ready."

"Okay, okay. I give up. You're right. It's not any of our business unless Mel thinks it is. I'll have to tell Paul tonight, just in case the authorities need to know anything about the donation of the building."

"Where is Paul this time?"

"Doing a grand opening ceremony at a new restaurant in Dayton, Ohio."

"How many of his Greek fast-food restaurants are there now?"

"This is the forty-fifth. He always says it's the last one. He's starting to talk about retiring."

Jane laughed. "Don't let him do it, Shelley. You and I both know several women with husbands who retired early. They hang around the house driving their wives crazy."

"I know. They all say the same thing. Every time the wife picks up the car keys, the husband asks, 'Where are you going?' Or tries to tell her a

more efficient way to do the laundry, talking about how his mother always dried the sheets on a clothesline outside. They want to go along with you to the grocery store and the tailor. That would drive me wild."

She thought for a moment about this scenario and said, "I'm sure if Paul tried to retire, he'd find something else to do. Consulting with young entrepreneurs. Setting up a new business to try his hand at. Don't you think so?"

"I hope so for your sake," Jane said, patting Shelley's hand.

Eight

Mel called Jane just before eight o'clock the next morning. All she'd done since she'd heard the bad news was needlepointing. She couldn't bring herself to work on a murder mystery novel on a day when someone she probably knew, however slightly, had been killed. And the needlepointing didn't go as well as she hoped, either. She'd almost finished a big triangle when she realized the colors weren't right, and she would have to carefully pull all the threads out.

"Jane," Mel said, "this isn't for the public yet, but I'm calling on my home phone. Tell Shelley I've had a crew in overnight with flashlights, floodlights, little vacuum bags of hundreds of things that probably won't ever be relevant. Mostly candy wrappers and solidified chewing gum. We've gone over each inch of the main floor. They can resume the rehearsal tonight. We'll still be there, doing the basement, balconies, and the flies."

"Shelley will be glad to hear this. She can alert the caterers in time. Mel, who was the victim?" "Dennis Roth. Called Denny."

Jane sighed and said, "Thank goodness it wasn't Ms. Bunting or Tazz. I wasn't crazy about Denny, but it's sad when someone so young, with his whole life ahead of him, has it snatched away."

Mel said, "I understand that both you and Shelley have been sitting in on the rehearsals."

"Not the whole duration. We get there later than the rest of them, but before the caterers come. As soon as they've cleaned up and gone, so are we. Gone, I mean."

"Still, you've been there for — what? Half the time?"

"Pretty close to that. You can't imagine how boring it is. And how obnoxious most of them are."

"Denny in particular?"

"Not really. He was pushy and rude. But for sheer gall, the director, Professor Imry, is the worst."

"That's my impression, too. I've already interviewed him once. He turned up early yesterday afternoon."

"I was somewhat surprised, frankly, that he wasn't the victim," Jane admitfed.

"He'd have made a good one." Jane could hear the smile in his voice."What have you learned about Denny?"

"All too little. He only enrolled in the college summer session after it was announced that the play was being put on and the Buntings were starring. Which means nothing. Lots of the cast and crew signed up around the same time. Nobody we've talked to so far knows anything about Denny's background. The college registrar says he claimed on his 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."