Authors: Dianne Yetman
Eleanor strode across the set, apologized for the interruption and pulled Henry aside.
Kate and Shirley
stood on the left wing of the stage.
Charlotte
stormed
across centre stage
to
Andrew
.
“
W
hat the hell is going on? Are the police going to haunt every production we’re in?”
“No idea
,
Charlotte.”
“We’ve got work to do. After all, we’re not doing a Cole Porter ditty.
Death of a Salesman
r
equires concentration and long hours of rehearsal. Our new director isn’t following in the footsteps of his predecessor. Jeffrey would have put the run to them.”
“Get used to it Charlotte. Henry isn’t Jeffrey
. He deserves our support.
Going from a producer to director is no easy stretch
.
”
She shot him a curious look.
“Maybe so, but I’m concerned about this production. Too many changes
, those
two new actors that are playing the boys – too inexperienced, if you ask me. When I started out, I didn’t overstep my talent, I let it evolve under the nurture of those more experienced than I. Why it took me ten long years before I felt competent enough for one of the Bard’s plays.”
Andrew
bit his tongue.
“No, there
are
too many changes
.
Furthermore,
I’m not sure
Eleanor
knows what she’s doing. After all, arranging furniture one minute and producing a show the next is quite a leap.”
“
Pull your reins in,
Charlotte. That’s hardly fair to Eleanor.
”
“
Andrew
, my dear
, you’re too kind. You were robbed, cheated. If you were in the Director’s chair, as anyone with any sense would agree, we would have order not this chaos
.
”
“
Watch what you’re saying
Charlotte
. It’s dangerous times we live in.
I know what it takes to put on a play and I know the little it takes to derail it. As
the
stage manager I’m keeping a close eye on every facet of this production
so, no need to panic, no need at all.”
“
Oh, never mind. M
aybe I’m being a bit too harsh;
Eleanor
does have all those Toni’s to her name, she may do okay. And Henry isn’t too bad, I just can’t get used to his approach – so mild mannered, so polite
,
he minces. It’s not sexy at all.”
Gag me
.
“That’s
it,
Charlotte. Chin up
attitude, it’s all about attitude
.
”
Charlotte
watched Kate and Shirley walk across the stage.
And it wasn’t only Charlotte who watched them approach.
Henry
and Eleanor, huddled together
, broke off their whispered conversation and
stood
staring as well.
Kate
st
epped forward,
apologized for interrupting their rehearsal but it was important
that they speak with them. She promised not to detain them
any longer than necessary
.
It took two hours before the two detectives packed up their gear and left the premises.
Worried looking cast members resumed the rehearsal.
Eleanor and Henry walked up the theatre aisle and sat in seats far removed from the
stage
and were soon deep in conversation.
“I know the time pressures
,
Eleanor. You don’t have to remind me.”
“A firmer hand
,
Henry
, t
hat’s all I’m saying. We’ve both got a lot riding on this production. People are watching. I don’t know what your ambitions are but
this is my chance and I don’t want anything screwing it up.”
“
You know, Eleanor, we got our chance as a result of Jeffrey’s murder, not because we necessarily deserved it.
”
“Don’t
be
silly.
The Board could have chosen anyone else but they chose us
.
So, let’s not waste time. I wasn’t happy with the second act, the scene between Willy and Howard isn’t right. Have you spoken to them yet?”
“No, I ...” Henry glanced up
at Andrew.
“
I don’t think we should talk here. We’ll continue this conversation later.”
Eleanor bit the
nail on her baby finger nail.
Chapter 1
1
At 7:00pm, Kate shut off her computer, locked the office door, left the precinct and made her way downtown to meet her friends for a beer and something to eat. Gordon wasn’t at the precinct when she and Shirley got back from the theatre. She’d brief him on the interview results tomorrow morning after she paid an early morning visit to Roger. She heard a rumour that he was fairly lucid these days. Not so when she dropped in on her way home last evening.
He looked so vulnerable
lying in the hospital bed in
a
drugged induced sleep. Randy, sitting on one side of the bed, Sara on the other. Neither speaking but sporting big smiles when she walked into the room. She joined them in their silent vigil, smiling at the racing car mobile attached to the overhead light directly over Roger’s bed, the colourful cars twirling gently with climate control breeze.
Sara, a doctor’s bells and whistles hanging off her white coat, stroked Roger’s hand. The book,
Porche 917, The Undercover Story
by Gordon Wingrove lay by his side. Obviously she had been reading from it before Randy had come into the room.
She sat for who knows how long before she found herself nodding off. The sound of a buzzer from the nurses’ station woke her. Saying goodnight to Randy and Sara, she left the hospital, stopped in the neighbourhood deli for takeout; she had walked home hoping to clear her head of anxious thoughts.
No brooding tonight. Meet with my friends, eat and drink and a good night’s sleep
is in order
.
Ten
minutes later she was sitting at the Dock waiting for her friends to arrive nursing a cold draft. She scanned the room. Quiet this evening.
She thought about the decaled briefcase and asked herself for the umpteenth time – w
hy
?
Don’t engage, listen to the music. She focused on the W.B. Yeats
’
love song:
Down by the Sally Gardens
It was down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grown on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree.
As soon as the song ended, she began to beating herself up again.
Bullying an innocent person - okay, maybe bully isn’t quite the word, too soft. Crap, I’m not going there. Where are they?
She took another sip of beer, a shorter, slower one
. There’s no way I’m going to add maudlin to my list of failings, fat chance of getting away with it once Abir and Sandra arrive anyway. Focus, focus – what’s the special tonight?
She swivelled around and read the chalked board. Irish stew, soda bread, and green salad.
Good food, now where are the friends? S
he watched the male waiters carrying trays of fish and chips, oysters, glasses of stout, red wine, salads, salmon, veggies dishes, escargots and steaming bowls of Irish stew high above their head to avoid collisions with beer drinking patrons, some who were stumbling towards the toilet sign, hoping, no doubt, there wouldn’t be a line up.
Black pants, white shirt, black bow ties and short, black jackets on tall, slim, good looking men held her attention
and she
wonder
ed
how The Dock’s job requirements read.
Only the sexy, good looking need
apply? Shrewd, savvy business owners, Paddy and Kathy, opened their establishment ten years ago
and had never had a bad night. Their customers
retained their loyalty to the establishment with all the religious zeal of the faithful.
The bar was
one of the beloved attractions. It was
designed and manufactured in Ireland - no expense spared - the materials and wood panelling being imported along with the furniture. There were a number of large screen TV’s that showed all the popular sports of the season; the satellite wired up to be able to show 3 different games at the same time – a great crowd pleaser. A large pool table was situated at the rear of the bar for those patrons who loved to drink, gamble, and play before or after their meal.
The outdoor terrace at the front of the premises was a popular place from April until the end of October. Regulars braved the cool nights rather than come inside. It was empty now. Frost had arrived.
Kate and friends however didn’t patronize the Dock in the dead of summer – too many tourists invaded the bar and there was no chance of getting their favourite table and or finishing the evening off with nightcaps and a game of pool.
She looked towards the entrance.
Finally, the
y’re here.
She signalled to Sean to bring the usual drinks
.
for her friends. How disgustingly happy they look, she
thought, as the two tall
women,
one
fair, one dark, made their way to the table.
In mere seconds, they were pulling out their chairs, flashing smiles of thanks at Sean for their drinks of Irish whiskey and Cranberry Juice. Kate finished her beer and ordered another, sans smile.
“How’s Hanya doing”, Sandra asked.
“Not as bad as she could be, she’ll be joining us soon I hope”, Kate said.
Abir leaned in close.
“Okay, spill the beans. Something’s brewing in that face of yours and it’s nothing to do with Hanya’s tragedy. A week night, off the cuff call to meet you at The Dock gives it away.”
Kate, unable to slow the speed of her words, told them her tale in five minutes flat.
“You did what?” Abir yelled.
“Calm down, Abir. She needs our support”
, Sandra said.
“
Lose the head doctor talk, Sandra. I know what I’m talking about. Kate is abrasive as a wire brush by times and is off the freaking rails.”
“There’s no need to talk as if I’m not here. I know I went off the rails. I’m confused, mortified, and thoroughly ashamed of myself.
Okay?”
Abir reached for her friend’s hand.
“The job is getting to you”, she said, “I work with the criminal element and I know what it’s like.”
“You scream stress, Kate. Anything else happen this week.”
She told them about her break up with David.
“Glad to hear it”, Abir said. “The man has a lot of redeeming qualities, no doubt, but he’s too
old for you, Kate. Think twelve
years ahead. Can you see the hanging jowls, sagging belly, bald head and liver spots - a bit harsh maybe, but nevertheless true and you, well you would be in your prime. Good decision.”
Kate looked at her friend and laughed.
“You’re the last person I would take romantic advice from Abir, but you can make me laugh.”
“Listen, Kate,
this is serious business.
I could speak to one of my colleagues – she is a gifted psychologist – she may be able to fit you in.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.
So Abir, how did the family visit to Boston go?
”
“Rain, it rained the whole week. I
oiled my feathers so much Greenpeace is after me.”