Castle Deadly, Castle Deep, page 5
I continued to tell him the truth in plain language until he started to understand: I was alone. The husband I had not loved had died three years earlier. I had come back, at Christmastime, because I had heard he was also widowed, and I had thought we might find comfort in each other.
Dorian looked astonished. “Kristine, did you really have some thought of me?”
By the end of our simple scene, we had agreed to reunite, and Krogstad’s bitterness had been transformed. “I’ve never been so happy!” he called to me as he left the stage.
I said my final lines in a brief soliloquy, and Derek clapped. “Great job, Kristine and Krogstad. Nora and Torvald, get in place by the door.”
I had a brief scene with the married couple before I left their house for good. I waited in the sitting room as Jack practically dragged Connie across the threshold. Torvald had had champagne, and he had sex on his mind. Nora, on the other hand, was planning to kill herself for Torvald’s sake. The tension grew with each exchange.
Torvald made a point of “showing” me his wife, Nora, telling me how beautiful she was and that she was “Mine, all mine.” I said I was glad to see Nora’s costume, and then I exited the stage and spied John Dashiell in the audience.
“Dash!” I yelled. Derek turned and spied Dash and waved briefly. Then he was a director again. “Take it to the lobby, lovebirds.”
I flew to Dash and kissed his cheek. He rose from his theater chair and the seat slapped up against the backrest. We looked guiltily toward Derek, and I led Dash into the lobby, which was shadowy and cool.
“Hello,” I said, and I pulled his head down to mine. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You, too. I saw you in that castle show when you played the piano, but I’ve never seen you onstage. You’re very good.”
“Well, thanks. To be honest, I don’t think Dorian and I have very good chemistry. The scene should be more moving than it is when we perform it. I wish I could do it with Paul; he’s Dorian’s understudy and I think he has a more sensitive take on the role.”
“Well, it looked good to me.” His eyes looked away from mine. “And I think you have pretty good chemistry.”
“Meh,” I said. “So how long do I have you? I’m done in this act. Should we be like teens and sit in the back row making out while the show finishes?”
He grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
I gave him another kiss and a tight hug, then led him back to the theater. We found seats in the last row. Derek had turned on minimal houselights, so we were essentially in darkness.
“After this, we do a special performance of the castle show. Can you come? It would be so fun if you were there.”
“I can come,” he said.
“Yay,” I whispered, pretending to clap my hands.
“I’ll probably have to leave right after that,” he murmured. “Wow. I don’t know if you should do that, Nora.” I was nibbling his earlobe and slipping my hands into his dark hair. “A guy could get carried away.”
But he turned and kissed me in earnest. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Why is Connie crying? Dr. Rank is happy.”
“He’s dying,” I said under my breath. “That’s what he meant when he said that his tests had given him a final answer. Nora understands this, but Torvald doesn’t, because he’s kind of drunk. There’s this great tension between the two who know and the one who doesn’t. Torvald insults Nora, saying she knows nothing about science. But he’s the one who looks like a buffoon.”
Dash watched for a while with genuine interest.
“You shouldn’t get spoilers,” I said. “I want you to come to opening night.”
He studied my face with his hazel eyes, which looked almost black in the shadows. “I’ll probably come to every performance, Nora.”
Something about his tone filled me with elation, but before I could comment, a shadow fell over us, and I looked up to see Dorian, who had slipped into the row in front of us and stood facing us, looking casual and comfortable as though we had called him over.
“Nora, Derek says he’ll need you to run the scene with Paul tomorrow.”
I stared blankly. “What scene?”
Dorian smiled at Dash as though to suggest that women were dense. “The one we just did. Paul is the understudy.”
“Yes,” I said patiently. “And Miranda is mine.”
Dorian shook his head. “Miranda’s out. She told Derek today. So you’ll be doing all six performances.”
A selfish little part of my heart was overjoyed to hear this, but I also felt concern. “What’s wrong? Is Miranda okay?”
Dorian shrugged. “She has another job. It was hard to juggle all three projects.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway, he also said that we need to change in about two minutes when we get back to the castle so we can be performance ready. So you’ll need to slide into your sexy dress pronto.”
Dash slid an arm around me but said nothing.
“Dorian, you’ve met my boyfriend, haven’t you?”
Dorian grinned. “Yeah—it’s Dutch, right?”
“Dash. Or John,” said John Dashiell in a tone that would have made most men think twice about giving him a hard time.
Dorian grinned again, but there was something malicious behind it. “Coming to the evening performance?” he asked Dash.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
They stared each other down for a moment, and I was the only one who seemed uncomfortable. “Anyway, Dorian, we were having a private conversation, so if you don’t mind—”
“Sure, I get it. See you around, lovebirds.”
He moved slowly out of the row and walked toward the stage with studied indifference to his surroundings.
“He’s a piece of work,” Dash said in a low voice.
“I don’t pay him much attention,” I said mildly. “Women don’t like egotistical men.”
Dash raised an eyebrow. “I disagree. But let’s get back to us.”
“Yes, let’s.” I looked at him meaningfully. “It’s only a couple more weeks, you know. Then two weekends of performances, and then I’ll never be in one of Derek’s Blue Curtain plays again.”
“Of course you will. You’re talented, and you love to act. I get that. But the timing has been—unfortunate. This summer, we said—”
“I know.”
On the stage, Torvald was saying, with a mixture of misery and surprise, “Then you must not love me anymore.”
Connie as Nora said, “No, Torvald, I don’t love you anymore.”
The grimness of the scene seemed to permeate our conversation.
I looked helplessly at Dash, who shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s just watch the play.”
We sat holding hands and watched the ending. Connie’s performance was powerful—in one sense she was still the light and airy Nora, but she was a sadder, wiser Nora, who had no idea what would become of her. She only knew she had to leave. I almost didn’t recognize my friend in the somber woman who sat across from Jack.
Then the play was over, and Derek was giving his notes, and then he was waving his hands. “All right, everyone, it’s castle time! Let’s head back for the fall show and celebration! Performance starts at seven,” he said.
Derek made quick work of cleaning up the stage and turning off the houselights while everyone else drifted out to their cars. There was much murmuring and bustling as people prepared for a party. Someone opened the outside door, and a blast of cold air floated into the theater, scented with woodsmoke and leaves.
“Time to go,” Dash said, standing up. He held out his hand. “Let’s see what this fall show is all about.”
I followed him, grateful for his willingness to work around my schedule but worried about that unhappy something that kept creeping into our conversations. I told myself that after the show, I would get him all to myself. Like the characters on the stage, we would have a direct talk and clear the air.
With that determined thought, I followed my tall, dark-haired boyfriend out of the theater and into the frigid night.
5
Darkness and Death
DASH DROVE ME back to the castle, along with Renata and Elspeth, who had asked for a ride. They chattered happily in Dash’s backseat, excited about the additional castle show.
“I’ll try not to mess up my clues tonight,” Elspeth said wryly. “I was distracted the other day because Dorian’s hem was coming down and I was wondering if I could sew it up while the Inspectors were in the sitting room. And then Renata’s chignon looked like it was going to topple. My costume mistress role overcame my actress role. I hope Derek doesn’t fire me.”
Renata snorted. “He couldn’t bear to lose you. You do the jobs of four people.”
“Well,” Elspeth said, happy to hear these words of affirmation, “I do think he appreciates me generally.”
“We all do,” Renata said, patting her hand.
Then she spoke in the regal voice that she was so good at. “Dash, I play Nora’s nursemaid in the town play, but also her only mother figure. So I should ask you about your intentions.”
Dash met her laughing gaze in the rearview mirror and said, “My intentions are honorable. For the most part.”
Renata and Elspeth giggled, and the castle road appeared. Dash swung into the narrow opening and proceeded up the long driveway. Dark trees loomed on either side of our car, their branches occasionally tapping against our window like spectral gray fingers.
The castle rose before us, luminous in the muted landscaping lights, its turrets thrusting into the pale clouds. The stars twinkled brightly above the silent trees, and Renata intoned, “Stars, hide your fires/Let not light see my black and deep desires!”
“Quoth the woman who’s been in two different productions of Macbeth,” I said, recalling that Renata had been in a gender-blind Macbeth and played his nemesis, Macduff.
“It does stay with you,” Renata said contentedly.
Elspeth perked up. “I would have loved to see your Macduff, Ren.” Then, wanting to include my boyfriend, she said, “I think Dash should join the Castle Troupe. He has the look of an actor about him.”
“But alas, not the talent,” Dash said. He pulled up to the entrance. “I’ll let you ladies off here and go park the car.”
Renata and Elspeth thanked him and stepped out of the car.
I touched his hand. “I have to do a superfast costume change, but I’ll see you in the drawing room.”
“Sure,” he agreed.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
I leaned across to kiss him, then jumped out of the car and ran with Renata and Elspeth to the elevator, which we took to the third floor.
“Five minutes,” Elspeth said. “Derek wants us there by seven.”
I darted into my room and paused to kiss each kitten, then fed them and donned my glamorous dress. I lifted the matching heels but decided it would be easier to run to the main floor in stocking feet, and I did so, moving silently down the grand stairs like an ancestral ghost.
When we finally assembled, Derek stepped forward and spoke to the group from the local drama club. This included Jack, Priscilla, Andrew, Millie, Barbara, and Ben, as well as a few people who weren’t in the main production. I noticed that my teenage friend, Jade, wasn’t there; I assumed that was because it was a school night.
“Welcome, Inspector,” Derek said. We always referred to all guests as one basic Inspector, a police officer who had come to investigate. Tonight’s “Inspector” was the drama club.
“I’m glad you could be with us this evening. We need to get to the bottom of my father’s murder, along with his stolen will. As you may have heard, we children have had trouble getting along since his death, which I’m sure you’ll agree is understandable. . . .”
Derek continued, and we siblings stepped forward one by one, asserting our claims on our father and his money. Derek had kept the lighting muted so that the costumes seemed to glimmer, as did the jewelry Elspeth had picked out for us.
I caught sight of Dash at the edge of the crowd, but I kept my eyes off of him, fearful that I would lose concentration if I looked at his face.
When the time came, I stepped forward to assert that my father had made another will and that he had hidden it in the catacombs. And then the great migration began: Derek and Dorian led the way, arguing and complaining in their loud entitled voices, demanding respect as the sons of the fictional dead man. The Inspectors were close behind them, fascinated and obviously having fun.
Later I recalled the surreal nature of our descent; I heard the rustling of costumes as the voices grew quiet, perhaps because people were concentrating on the stairs, poetically lit and therefore slightly treacherous. I was close behind Connie in her white silk; Miranda was behind me, and she wore a scent that somehow evoked the past and sadness. The first people reached the stone floor, and their voices echoed strangely as they started up their lines again. When I reached the bottom, Millie said, “I want to take a picture!” And we posed beneath one of the torches jutting out of the brick wall: Jack in his blue button-down shirt and tight blue jeans, looking handsome and excited; Priscilla, also in jeans and an orange sweater, her arm around Barbara, whose expression was a cross between amusement and aggravation. I had heard her complaining about the dim lighting and the chill of the lower level.
“It’s supposed to be cold,” said Andrew jovially. He was wearing brown slacks and a beige sweater vest; this made him look avuncular and vaguely like a math teacher. “It’s part of the scene.”
Barbara shrugged, and Ben grinned at her. He wore a blue polo and black corduroys. “It will be fun, Barb. And we’re all doing it together, which makes it more fun.”
Some other voices agreed—people I did not know and had not met.
I also recalled that at one point Priscilla yawned and stretched, and her sweater rose slightly, revealing a thin band of skin. For an instant, everyone seemed to freeze—every man in the group seemed to have fixed his gaze on her, as did the women for different reasons—and Priscilla seemed genuinely unaware of anyone’s attention.
“I’m bushed,” she admitted. “Let’s hope this wakes me up.”
We shuffled forward. Dorian and Derek, who had stopped talking while we posed for pictures, began arguing again, leading us along the catacombs, which I had visited with Derek in advance. Here were the familiar crumbling brick walls, the faux skeletons jutting out of them.
I was about to say my line, at which point the lights would mysteriously go out (Dorian was to flip a hidden switch when Derek pushed him against the wall), and then we had about ten seconds to build suspense and scare people before the lights went back on and we found Miranda’s “body” lying on the floor. Then the Inspectors were going to have to solve two murders right there in the catacombs.
I was behind Jack, who was blocking my view, and I was trying to get a glimpse around him, but the narrow hall was suddenly crowded with bodies. I waited for my cue and called, “Stop fighting, you two, or I won’t tell you where the will is hidden!”
I heard scuffling as Derek and Dorian fought, and Dorian was pushed against the wall. The lights went out, and the crowd gasped.
“What’s happening?” cried Renata’s voice.
“Mother, tell Gustavo to put the lights back on,” Connie demanded querulously.
I was still trapped behind a line of tall people, and then someone shoved me from behind, trying to see in the dark perhaps, and several of us fell at once, tripping over one another.
The lights flashed back on, and the crowd moved forward, drawn by a sight in the distance: Miranda’s body lying in a graceful silken heap. I was still trying to scramble upright; I had scraped my hands on the cobbled floor, and I examined them to see how badly I had scratched them. They were both covered in blood, and I stared in confusion. Had I fallen that hard? Where was the blood coming from? I stared harder at my hands, until my eyes were distracted by motion—something running in a rivulet across the stones in front of me: blood.
I turned to the tall man who still lay on the floor. “Are you okay?” I said. “I know we all took a tumble, but I hope you didn’t—”
I stopped, froze, then leaned in. Was it Jack? No, the shoulders were not quite as broad. It was Ben; his glasses had been knocked off in his fall, and his face looked young and vulnerable in the artificial light.
“Ben?” I whispered.
My gaze moved to his back, where his shirt was torn and stained a brownish red. If he had fallen forward, why was there blood on his back? Why was he not moving, not talking? These questions floated vaguely in my brain until my sluggish mind reached the inevitable conclusion.
“Dash,” I croaked. “Dash!”
The second one was a scream, and Dash was beside me in an instant; the rest of the room went silent.
It took Dash far less time than it had taken me to determine what had happened.
“Derek, can we get a signal down here? We need an ambulance.”
Derek was pale. “No. I’ll run up and call now.”
Derek ran back toward us, and Dash murmured something in his ear. Derek nodded, and then he ran.
Paul joined us and knelt beside Ben. “Is there a pulse?” he asked quietly.
“I—I—” Rational thought seemed to have left me.
The rest of the crowd edged closer. “What’s going on?” Millie asked.
Barbara yelled, “Is that Ben?”
“Is it Ben?” Priscilla repeated. “What’s happened to him? Did he fall?”
“Ben,” said Andrew, looking sick. “What happened? Does he have a pulse?”
Paul looked up soberly and shook his head. “Dash, help me roll him over and I’ll try chest compressions.”
