"He didn't want to stick to the script."

Mel closed his notebook and said, "I'll be asking you more questions later."

When Mel confirmed that Imry's office had been gone over already, he went through the paperwork there and found the number for the registrar. He had to explain patiently that he was Detective VanDyne and that a student had been murdered. He needed the telephone number for his next of kin. He was told he had to come in in person and show his credentials.

"I'll send one of my officers. I need to be available here."

He called his office and told his a.s.sistant 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 Sh.e.l.ley 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 circ.u.mstances. 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. Sh.e.l.ley's daughter Denise was still at her swim cla.s.s. Her son was playing a new Nintendo game with Jane's son Todd at the Nowack house. Both Jane and Sh.e.l.ley 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," Sh.e.l.ley said. "Still, it could be Joani. It's trendy to call both s.e.xes 'actor' these days."

"You don't approve of that?"

"I do approve. I'm just saying it's not necessara 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." Sh.e.l.ley 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."

Sh.e.l.ley 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?"

"Sh.e.l.ley, 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, Sh.e.l.ley. 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 Sh.e.l.ley'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 Sh.e.l.ley 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 bas.e.m.e.nt, balconies, and the flies."

"Sh.e.l.ley 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed away."

Mel said, "I understand that both you and Sh.e.l.ley 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. n.o.body 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. n.o.body 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."

Jane thought for a moment. "Okay. A vast mountain of arrogance on the surface, and a small core of tasteless, suspicious gelatin underneath."

Mel laughed. "You should have been a writer."

"I am," she said indignantly.

"That was a joke, Janey. I wouldn't have put it that way, but you perfectly described my impression of him. He's like most bullies-soft and scared inside. My cell phone is ringing. Have to go. Thanks for your insight."

Jane was astonished. She'd given her opinions to and occasionally forced her suspicions on Mel before, but he'd seldom asked her to. Her remark was a good answer. She told herself to write it down before she forgot it, so she could use it again sometime in a book.

Having made a quick note to herself, she called Sh.e.l.ley to tell her that Mel said they could have the rehearsal that evening, even though the police were still looking for clues in the theater.

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned."

Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She'd wanted to fix that awful triangle she'd had to take out, thread by thread. Sh.e.l.ley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Sh.e.l.ley would rub it in.

When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.

"Such a tragedy," Tazz said. "He was so young."

Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn't look as if she were.

"I think we should say a prayer for him," Ms. Bunting said. "John, could you do that for us?"

John stood up facing the rest of them and said, "Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms." For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he'd memorized from some play he'd been in.

"Amen," John added.

All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.

Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, "We're allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. n.o.body may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the bas.e.m.e.nt or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a 'police presence' here."

He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.

"Now, let me introduce Denny's subst.i.tute. This is Norman Engel. He'll be playing the eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston." He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.

"See here, young man," Ms. Bunting said. "That's offensive and unprofessional. We've told you this before. We're Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we're on stage."

"Excuse me, Professor," Tazz said. "Isn't this Norman person the one that you said the day before yesterday was simply observing?"

"Yes."

"So you were going to fire Denny and replace him?"

A stunned silence followed this question. Jane nudged Sh.e.l.ley and whispered, "That's what I thought but didn't want to say at that last rehearsal."

Imry pretended, badly, that hadn't even heard the question. "Hadn't you better get on with your job? That's costuming. Not casting."

"I think I'm going to withdraw from providing the costumes," Tazz went on. "You can find them yourself." She picked up her belongings and started up the aisle.

"Wait. Wait!" Imry shouted.

"Wait for what?" Tazz replied. "An apology?" "Yes."

Another long silence fell. Everybody was gazing critically at the director. "Get on with it and make it good, young man," John Bunting said.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker." He said this so quietly n.o.body quite understood it. "Speak up!" John barked.