Chet Williamson: Reign

"Because he isn't anybody else, Mr. Hamilton. He's you. A duplicate. I'd say he was an identical twin that you never knew you had, or you didn't tell us about, except for one thing. I've got your fingerprints on file that we took after Tommy Werton's death. They're in my office. And not even identical twins have the same fingerprints."

"Mine… and his are the same?"

Munro nodded. "In every detail. That's an impossible thing. There's no way to explain that." He took a deep breath. "So I'm not going to try. There's a hell of a lot more here than meets the eye, but all I know is that I saw that man kill Mrs. Deems, and I heard him confess to killing the others, and that's good enough for me. These waters are too deep as it is. If you want to try and explain it to me, I'll listen. But if you don't, it all stops here. Nobody else is going to check his fingerprints against yours. And even if they do, the poor bastards'll be just as confused as I am."

Dennis Hamilton looked at Munro for a long time, then nodded. "Thank you for coming in. What happens next?"

Munro couldn't help but smile. He had had enough. "A hearing in a week or two. Just a formality. You won't be charged with anything, I'll see to that.”

“Thank you, Chief Munro."

"Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. Just between us, if that man had been brought to trial, I'd probably spend the rest of my days on this case. Frankly, I'd rather live in ignorance than in court."

~* ~

Although the management of the Kirkland Hotel closed off the lobby to reporters, they ringed the outside of the building, so that Dennis and Sid left the underground parking garage with Sid driving and Dennis crouching down to remain unseen.

When they arrived at the theatre, they parked in the outside lot and walked around the back to the stage door. Larry Peach was waiting for them, and took several photos, while they averted their eyes from the electronic flash.

"Shaving off the beard," he said. "That's good, but it didn't fool me. And ya didn't fool me at the hotel, either. I knew you'd come back here. There's something about this place, isn't there? You gotta come back. Now look, I know I been rough on you in the past, but how about a few words? Who was that guy you killed? And what about that woman, that Ann Deems? She was your girlfriend or what?"

"Open the camera," Dennis said.

Peach narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Open the camera and expose the film." The words were filled with such a tone of command that even Sid trembled, and took a step away from Dennis.

Peach laughed nervously. "Uh-uh. Remember the last time you played that macho game on me? Didn't work then, why should it work now?"

Dennis walked up to Peach until he was only a foot away. "I'm different now."

Peach tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but no moisture showed on either.

" Open it." The words were not loud, only impossible to disobey. Peach, afraid to look away from Dennis Hamilton's awful eyes, fumbled with the catch at the back of his camera until there was a click, the sound of a metal and plastic door opening.

"Now go away," Dennis Hamilton said. "I don't want to see you again." He walked on toward the door, and, in a moment, Sid followed, leaving Peach shaken, angry, and impotent on the sidewalk. Sid didn't look to see if Peach did as he had been ordered.

Dennis unlocked the stage door and they entered. The work lights were still on, and the final set was up. They walked around it onto the stage. The curtain had been raised again, and they looked out over the hundreds of seats.

"Do you think it feels empty?" Dennis asked.

"I never think any theatre feels empty." He looked at Dennis. The man's clean-shaven face seemed pale and vulnerable in the dim light. "Dennis, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Ann, and I'm sorry because… I didn't believe you."

"It was true, though. Everything I told you was true. He wasn't. .. a real person, Sid. I created him, God help me. Maybe by not admitting what was inside me, I gave birth to something far worse. Or maybe it was because I was too good at acting, and not good enough at feeling."

Dennis shook his head. "Ann," he said softly. "She helped me to feel. She gave herself so that I could feel, she loved me that much. She knew who was who all the time, knew that the only way I could feel again, feel enough, was to see her… hurt." He smiled a thin, sad smile. "And the bastard did just what she wanted him to. He thought seeing her die would make me lose everything, lose all hope, all reason to live. Then he could trade places with me again.

"But he underestimated me. And he underestimated her knowledge of me. When I saw her…” He broke off, squeezed his eyes shut, and Sid saw tears run from beneath the lids.

"How can I ever thank her? How can I make what she did matter?"

"By going on. By living your life the way she would have wanted you to. And you can. You've still got us with you – me, Curt, Marvella, John… Terri… we can start again. With Craddock."

Dennis looked at him. "Don't forget Evan."

Sid nodded. "Evan."

"After all, he's my son." He smiled while the tears shone on his cheeks. "That counts for something." He looked back out over the empty seats.

"But is it gone, Sid? The Emperor? When it died, it said 'Long live the king.' What did it mean? Is it gone?" He turned to his friend. "Or is it only waiting to come out again? Is it still inside me?"

"Maybe it is. I don't know," Sid said slowly, and a thought came to him. "Or maybe the only things inside you are the things that are inside all of us."

"I don't know which is worse to think about," Dennis said, looking out and up to where the rows stretched into darkness. "I don't know which is more terrible."

They stood there for a long time. "Come on," Sid said. "We can always come back. And we will." He looked around and shrugged. "It's a theatre, Dennis. Just a theatre and a stage. It's whatever we want it to be."

As they walked out, Sid's words reverberated in Dennis's mind. Whatever we want it to be.

It can only be what we put here, Dennis thought. The empty stage is ours to fill with what we want the audience to see. It's nothing on its own. Only a space we fill. A lifeless space we make come alive.

And he would make it live. For Ann, for all of them, he would bring the light, make it sing, make it live.

From Stage World 1990, Volume LXXIX:

CRADDOCK (Tony win.)

Cast: Steven Peters (Tony win.), Kelly Sears (Tony nom.), William Winslow, Craig DeLucca (Tony nom.), Sarah Wilson

Book and lyrics: Kevin McDonald (Tony nom.)

Music: Teresa Stafford (Tony win.)

Musical amp; vocal direction/orchestrations: Dexter Colangelo

Set design: Mack Redcay (Tony win.)

Lighting design: Thorne Wilson (Tony win.)

Costume design: Marvella Johnson amp; Terri Deems-Hamilton (Tony nom.)

Choreography: Ric Pettrucci (Tony nom.)

Direction: Dennis Hamilton (Tony win.)

Produced by The New American Musical Theatre Project

Broadway Opening: October 26, 1990, Lunt-Fontanne Theatre (still running) First

Performance: July 27, 1990, The Memorial Theatre, Kirkland, Pa.