Stake & Eggs (26 page)

A red velvet curtain hung across the stage, creating an air of drama and mystery as
more people filed in, rattling paper programs and glancing about.

“Nothing like live theater,” said Toni, glancing around. “It’s always thrilling. You
never know when a hunk of scenery will topple over or somebody will miss their cue.”

“To say nothing of forgetting their lines,” said Suzanne, as she rifled through her
bag for some cinnamon-flavored mints, then popped one in her mouth.

“Jeez Louise,” said Toni, scanning her program. “Everybody and his brother has a bit
part in this thing. Lookit.” She tapped a finger against the cast list. “I never knew
Lester Drummond was into acting. And not just any role, either. He’s playing the ship’s
captain.”

“It’s tailor-made for him,” said Suzanne. “Playing another loser.”

“Huh,” said Toni, still studying her program. “Carmen’s in this, too. It’s like old
home week.”

“What role is she playing?” asked Suzanne.

Toni studied her program. “I think she plays the witchy rich woman who’s trying to
marry off her daughter.”

“Whoever did the casting,” said Suzanne, “was really quite perceptive.”

“Too bad Sam couldn’t make it tonight,” said Toni.

“He’s working a shift at the hospital.”

“Still,” said Toni, folding her program, “it’s nice to do girlfriend stuff.”

A moment later, the house lights dimmed.

“This is so exciting!” whispered Toni.

The red velvet curtains flew open to reveal the large wooden prow of the ill-fated
Titanic
, as it sat docked and ready for its maiden voyage. Then the characters appeared and
the story kicked into high gear.

For the next hour and a half, the entire audience was held rapt by impressive set
changes, lots of action, dialogue that was sharp and crisp, and haunting music that
seemed to foreshadow the end.

Suzanne kept thinking how wild it was to see Lester Drummond stride across the stage
with his commanding, muscular presence and deliver his lines with authority. How long
had he nursed these acting ambitions, she wondered, while he was serving as the head
of a prison?

Carmen Copeland was also a natural onstage and seemed to bask in the limelight of
her role. Her broad arm motions, haughty demeanor, and head tosses made her convincing
as a sort of villainess.

Carmen was one lady who never suffered from stage fright, Suzanne decided. She had
her acting down pat. In fact, her character seemed very much in keeping with Carmen’s
real-life persona!

Missy Langston was also cute and believable in her role, looking vulnerable and frightened
as the iceberg loomed and shards of real ice were sent spilling and clattering across
the stage.

And then, the heartbreaking ending rushed to a conclusion. Lifeboats—really two Lund
fishing boats—were yanked across the stage. Women wept, survivors screamed, and an
enormous cardboard cutout of the
Titanic
dipped its prow and seemed to disappear forever as stage lights slowly winked out.

When the final curtain fell and the house lights came up, the entire audience jumped
to its feet, applauding and cheering enthusiastically.

Toni was ecstatic. “I loved every minute! I mean, they really pulled it off!”

“Really quite amazing,” Suzanne agreed.

“And so authentic,” said Toni, “especially when the people were scrabbling around
in lifeboats and everything, biting each other’s heads off.” She gripped Suzanne’s
arm. “Why don’t we go backstage and congratulate everyone just like they do at those
big Broadway openings? Can we, huh? I’ve always wanted to do that!”

“And then we’ll have drinks at Sardi’s,” said Suzanne. “Sure. Why not?”

T
HEY
wove their way through throngs of people and eased into the warren of rooms behind
the stage. Painted scenery was stacked everywhere—flats depicting elegant staterooms,
steerage accommodations, a fancy dining room, and a ship’s corridor. Overhead, a network
of ropes and pulleys looked like an intricate spider’s web as more sets hung in the
darkness far above their heads.

The cast and crew were whooping it up in a large, mirrored dressing room. A crush
of well-wishers swirled around them, some bearing small bouquets of red roses wrapped
in crinkly paper.

“Fabulous job!” the director, a retired school teacher, was telling the cast.

“Yes, bravo to you all!” said the casting director, who was also Kindred’s postmaster.
“Your performance was a triumph!”

With several bottles of champagne already uncorked, people poured bubbly and passed
drinks around, clinking glasses, toasting, and hugging each other as they recalled
how smoothly the performance had gone and how receptive their audience had been.

“It wasn’t flawless,” Suzanne heard one actor say. “I flubbed a line in act two and
had to ad lib to cover it up.”

“We barely noticed!” exclaimed a gushing family member.

Just as Suzanne pushed into the room to look for Missy and Carmen, she overheard Lester
Drummond’s blustery voice from down the hall. His back was turned to her as he addressed
several of his fellow cast members.

“From the seat of power at the prison to the executive office at our bank,” Drummond
said, in what seemed to be a rush of adrenaline-fueled words. “Imagine that.”

“Just goes to show, Lester,” responded one of his listeners, a man who’d played his
second mate in the play. “You never know what’s around the next turn.”

“I always make my own luck,” Drummond bragged. “I play my cards right and leave nothing
to chance.”

Startled, Suzanne turned away, hoping Drummond wouldn’t catch sight of her. She sucked
in a breath and tried not to be overly obvious that she’d been eavesdropping.

She was thinking:
The play ended five minutes ago, and Drummond is already back to beating his drum
about that bank job.

Did this mean Ed Rapson had finally made up his mind and given Drummond the good news?
Or was this all conjecture on Drummond’s part? All brash ego and over-the-top chutzpah?

“What a blowhard,” Toni sneered. She’d caught an earful of Drummond’s braggadocio,
too.

“Maybe he really does have the job all sewn up,” Suzanne said in a low voice.

“I hope not,” said Toni. She gazed at Drummond with a look that was part fear and
part fascination, the kind of look one might accord a poisonous reptile.

Suzanne tugged at Toni’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. Go find Missy or something.”

They eased down a narrow corridor and into a room filled with racks of costumes.

“Hey, Missy!” Suzanne called, when she spotted her friend. Missy had just shrugged
out of a long jumper and cape.

“You came!” Missy squealed, as she rushed over to hug Suzanne and Toni.

“You were great,” Toni told her. “Brilliant. Far better than Carmen.”

“You think?” said Missy, pleased. “But, of course, I had a much smaller role.”

“Why is that?” asked Suzanne. “Because Toni’s right, you were terrific up there.”

“Probably because I’m working all the time,” said Missy. “When we were first cast
for the roles, I told Mr. Murray I didn’t have a lot of spare time for rehearsals.”

Every evening, when Suzanne drove past Alchemy, the lights were on. And she was pretty
sure it wasn’t Carmen who was logging those long hours. “Carmen’s keeping you busy,”
she said.

Missy nodded, and for the first time her blue eyes looked tired and her narrow shoulders
sagged. “You have no idea.”

“Maybe working at Alchemy isn’t the best job for you?” said Suzanne.

“No, it’s not,” said Missy, “but at the same time, I’m learning tons about fashion
and styling. And, of course, how to run a retail operation.”

“Maybe you’ll have your own boutique some day,” proposed Toni.

“Don’t I wish,” said Missy. “But until that magical moment…”

“Business as usual,” said Suzanne. She knew it wasn’t easy to step off the merry-go-round
and work for yourself. You had to develop a unique concept, write a business plan,
garner financing, and then make it all happen. No, it was darned near impossible.
And even if you did pull it off, you had to have an unshakeable vision.

“Hey,” said Missy, “I’m just glad you guys liked the play.”

“Liked it?” said Toni. “We loved it!”

S
UZANNE
and Toni hung around for another ten minutes, congratulating the various players.

“You want to say hi to Ham Wick over there?” asked Toni. “Tell him what a great cabin
steward he made?”

“Pass,” said Suzanne. Instead, they enjoyed another glass of champagne and made chitchat
with Laura Benchley, editor of the
Bugle,
and a couple other friends.

“This stuff is giving me the burps,” said Toni, smacking a hand against her chest.
“Too much carbonation.”

“We should take off anyway,” said Suzanne. The celebration was winding down. Without
their makeup, the actors just looked tired from their workout onstage and seemed ready
to head home.

“Okeydoke,” said Toni, as they stepped out into the hall and looked around.

“Maybe we should go out the back door,” Suzanne suggested. “Since we’re parked out
that way.”

“Sure,” said Toni, as they started down the corridor. “If we can get through. There’s
so many sets and props and things.”

They inched around a dining table that was lying on its side, and hooked a left. It
was darker back here and quieter, too.

“Spooky,” said Toni.

“Just the back of the theatre,” said Suzanne. “Nothing to worry about.”

But as they eased past a tea cart, they heard a strange creaking sound.

“What’s that?” asked Toni, looking nervous.

“Just the theater settling for the night,” said Suzanne. “It’s—”

Toni glanced up. “Ahhh!” she screamed. Grabbing Suzanne’s arm, she pulled her back
a step as she cried, “Watch out!”

There was an ear-splitting crack and a sudden rush of air from above.

“Holy bushwhackers!” cried Toni as a huge piece of scenery crashed down in front of
them, shaking the floor and missing them by mere inches.

Frozen in place and clutching each other for dear life, Suzanne and Toni stared in
wonderment at the hunk of fiberglass. It was crystal clear with jagged teeth all around—obviously
one of the pieces that had served as an iceberg in the play!

“Where did that come from?” asked Suzanne, tilting her head back and staring up into
the rigging.

“I don’t know,” said Toni, “but it almost clobbered us! We were almost killed by an
iceberg! Two more victims of the
Titanic
!”

Suzanne continued to stare—and listen. “Anybody up there?” she called.

“Maybe a wire just worked loose,” said Toni.

And maybe not, thought Suzanne. Maybe somebody who was in the play or had attended
the play had engineered this little disaster? Maybe someone had followed them back
here? Could have happened that way. After Busacker’s murder and the attack on Joey,
Suzanne was wildly suspicious about anything out of the ordinary.

Toni reached a hand out and touched the faux iceberg. “You don’t think somebody did
this on purpose, do you?”

“I’m not sure what to think,” said Suzanne. “But from now on, let’s be a whole lot
more careful.”

“Okay,” said Toni, bobbing her head wildly. “For sure.”

Carefully, quietly, they eased their way to the back door and headed for Suzanne’s
car.

A
S
they buckled into their seatbelts, Suzanne promised Toni a quick and safe ride home.
But as they cruised down Magnolia Lane, Toni’s favorite country-western station playing
“You’re Gonna Miss This” by Trace Adkins and the heater spewing warm air, they started
to relax.

And Toni was suddenly feeling mischievous. “Do you really believe Claudia Busacker
and George Draper are having an affair?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Suzanne, turning down the heater a bit. Between the raging heater
and the snow melting off their woolen mittens, her car was beginning to smell like
a wet dog.

“Do you think they’re together right now?” asked Toni. “You know, having a little
Friday-night delight?”

“No idea,” said Suzanne. She was suddenly thinking that Petra had the right idea:
don’t spread gossip and innuendo.

But Toni wouldn’t let it go. “Maybe we should drive by Claudia’s house.”

Suzanne’s hand jerked hard on the steering wheel. “Right now?”

“Sure,” said Toni. “What better way to set a rumor to rest?”

“It’s awfully late,” said Suzanne. But, truth be told, she was suddenly curious, too.

“It’s not like we’re gonna ring the doorbell and run away like a bunch of hobgoblins,”
said Toni. “We’ll just do a little quiet reconnaissance. See what we can see.”

“Well…I suppose,” said Suzanne. She slowed at the intersection of Milton and Fremont,
and turned left. Into the part of town where the larger, grander homes were situated.

Every town has a neighborhood like this, Suzanne thought to herself. A part where
those-that-have happily reside, and the have-nots stay away in a kind of unwritten
agreement. A neighborhood where bank presidents, company owners, and fat-cat politicos
lived and hobnobbed among themselves.

They drove past a block of rather stately mansions, then turned into the cul-de-sac
where Ben Busacker had lived. Where Claudia still lived.

“That’s it,” said Toni. “Right there.”

Suzanne let the car coast to a stop as they stared at a large white clapboard home
fronted with two sets of white columns. Even in winter it was showy and imperious-looking,
with a four-car garage and a snow-covered hedge that stretched around to the back
of the yard.

“Big place,” said Toni. She was acutely aware that she worked her butt off every day
and still lived in a one-bedroom apartment.

“Probably not paid for,” said Suzanne. “Claudia probably has very little equity in
that house. Most of it’s owned by the bank.”

“Yeah,” said Toni, “her husband’s bank.” She stared out the frosted car window and
said, “Well, we know somebody’s home.” Lights shone brightly from almost every window
on the first floor.