"Okay. I'll pretend we never spoke of this."
Mel told him what he'd come to warn Imry about, and Imry turned so white and pasty that Mel feared he was going to faint.
So Mel added, "But I have a suggestion for how to solve the problem you're going to have."
Shelley was desperately anxious,to get home before any of the food spoiled. She hauled in all the leftovers and put them on Jane's kitchen counter.
"You pick what you and your kids most want, then I choose something, then you take another turn."
"Shelley, that's insane. You paid for all of it. You take everything you want. Just leave us whatever is left. By the way, is tonight's catering service on your list to provide meals for Paul's dinners?"
"Absolutely. They were fabulous. It's sort of discouraging that out of the ten I tried out, only two made the grade. I was hoping that at least three or four would be acceptable."
"Poor Professor Imry," Jane said out of the blue. "Having to rewrite the whole last scene overnight."
"I don't see how you can feel so sorry for him." Shelley was outraged. "He was simply too arrogant about his work to do the ending right. Or maybe too lazy. Or incompetent. I'll bet you good money he's never opened the first page of a good mystery book."
"Shelley, I'm seeing this from a different view. If I'd messed up an ending and had to fix it overnight, I'd probably just go to bed and hope for the best."
"No, you wouldn't," Shelley said. "You'd fix it."
"I guess I would. Now let's sort out this food choice thing. My kids will eat anything. Except that none of us likes caviar. Does that help?"
* * *
Steven Imry was still fixing the script as dawn broke on Friday. Now there was no murder, just a threat of one. And the younger brother didn't die. He just ran off with Angeline. After which his older brother Todd, now played by Norman Engel, admitted he was relieved. Imry knew, deep in heart, that this wasn't the best ending. But hoped it would satisfy the horrible Ms. Chance, her investors, and the audience. It was at least upbeat.
Best of all, only two of the actors had to learn new lines before tonight. Norman and Jake Stanton, both of whom were fast studies.
He printed out several copies of the new ending of the script, and paced around until eight in the morning, when he called both the actors involved in the changed script to tell them to meet him at the theater at nine promptly. Meanwhile, he'd have to contact the rest of the cast to tell them about the changes, so they wouldn't be surprised at the last minute.
At least he hadn't been forced to fix the script in a jail cell.
Twenty-five
At a quarter after ten Friday morning, Ms. Bunting called Jane and said, "I hope I didn't interrupt your writing. I meant to call Shelley, but I've lost track of her telephone number."
"Here's her phone number," Jane said, rattling it off. "You didn't interrupt anything. I was just catching up on laundry. What's up?"
"I've finished my needlepoint project and called the shop to see if they'd finish it as a pillow."
"I think Shelley has finished hers as well. I'm not quite done with mine, though."
Ms. Bunting said, "When I talked to Martha, I asked her if she could show me this basket-weave stitch so I can start a new project. She said she'd be free at one o'clock to teach all three of us, if we wanted."
"That's wonderful. I want to go along as well. Can we give you a ride?"
"That was what I was about to hint at," Ms.
Bunting said with a laugh. "John is still wasting time hunting for his golf club, and I don't want to take a cab. My last ride in one was harrowing, to say the least."
"I'll give Shelley a call and tell her this. We'll pick you up in time to be at the needlepoint shop at one."
Shelley was delighted. "I
have
finished my sampler and want to have it framed and then pick out new thread colors for this basket-weave project."
Jane laughed. "You just want to fill up more of the pockets in your jewelry holder thing. So do I. We still have thirty more pockets to fill with pretty colors."
They picked up Ms. Bunting, who was waiting in front of the hotel. "This is so nice of you girls to haul me around."
"You merely inspired us to go spend money," Jane said.
"It could turn into an expensive hobby, couldn't it? But well worth it," Ms. Bunting said. "I've already completed one in two weeks, and the play runs another three. I'd be bored senseless if I didn't have something do with my hands all day."
When they arrived, all three of them bought new canvases and new threads in gorgeous colors. They also learned how to do basket weave.
Martha gave them each a scrap of leftover canvas and showed them how to do the stitch. "Remember, keep a loose hand. This is the most durable of the patterns, but it will go all diagonal if you do it too tight."
Ms. Bunting said, "You know, I was a little afraid at first that I couldn't do needlepoint this well. I have a touch of arthritis in my right hand. I was surprised to learn that the stitching was good for me. The pain went away after the first few days. It's been good for me in a number of ways."
"I'm so glad to hear that," Martha said. "I've heard the same from other people new to needlepoint. Sometimes it makes that big muscle in your thumb hurt a little for the first few days. But all three of you have mastered the right tension," she added, looking at the projects they'd brought along.
"Will you be able to turn mine into a pillow before the play is done?" Ms. Bunting asked.
Martha said, "I normally send it out to be done. But for you, I'll do it myself. Let's look over fabrics that you'd like for the back and the piping around the edges." She proceeded to rummage in one of her storage bins and spread out a dozen or so swatches.
"I like the Wedgwood blue," Ms. Bunting said. "Is it sturdy enough?"
"It's the perfect weight and heft. I have enough of it, and I can have the pillow ready for you early
next week." She paused a moment, then added, "Mrs. Nowack, you're doing that basket weave just a tiny bit tight."
Professor Steven Imry called Evelyn Chance at eleven-thirty Friday morning and told her how he'd changed the script, explaining that only two actors needed to know different lines in the final act and they'd already rehearsed it.
"I want to see it myself," Ms. Chance said.
"Then pick up a copy in my office at the theater. I'm going home to sleep this afternoon." He hung up.
She called back, furious, and there was no answer.
Mel called Jane and asked, "Are you two going to the opening night of the play this evening?"
"Probably not for all of it. We've already seen nearly every scene, except the one Evelyn Chance insisted that Imry change. We might show up at the end, though, just to see if it makes sense."
"I hope you will. And Jane, this is going to be an imposition, but would you and Shelley hang around for a bit after the play?"
"I suppose so. Why?"
"I can't tell you. But I'll need both of you there."
"Okay." Jane was perplexed but knew better than to argue.
She called Shelley and repeated the mysterious message.
"What on earth would he need us for?" "Maybe to give some sort of information about the murderer?"
Shelley said, "We don't know anything worthwhile. What little we do know is about Ms. Bunting, and she's certainly not a murderer. But if he wants us there for some obscure reason, I guess we should do as he asked. Have you told him about your agent yet?"
"I haven't had the chance. He's been too busy. I don't want to give my good news to a man too preoccupied to fully appreciate it."
"We might as well turn up for the whole play," Shelley said.
"Oh, please no, Shelley. I couldn't bear it."
"Okay, but I'm going to go to see how the college handles the intermission. They might have a caterer that I don't know about."
"I'll join you then as a taster," Jane said, "and sit through the last act to see if Imry's fixed it."
Jane dutifully showed up and was horrified to see how hard it was to park anywhere near the theater. There must have been a good turnout. She supposed that all the drama students were forced
to attend, as she had been when she was taking a similar course in college.
The catering at the intermission was, in Shelley's opinion, not good enough to even ask who they were. She told Jane that the wine was cheap, the canapés weren't very good quality, and the paper plates were flimsy. Jane, having accidentally lost her grip on her plate and dumped her too-dry tiny sandwich on the floor, agreed.
They could only find seats on the far side, two-thirds of the way from the stage. The sound wasn't very good where they sat, but they sneaked down and stood in the aisle to hear the resolution in the final fifteen minutes. It was okay. Not really good, but acceptable. When the actors came out for bows, only Ms. Bunting provoked a standing ovation.
Jane and Shelley knew a semi-secret way to get back behind the scenes by now without attracting the attention of anyone in the departing audience, though they discovered that quite a few other people also knew the way. The cast was still on stage. Ms. Chance and some of her benefactors were already backstage. So were some of the students of the drama school. A few of the crew members and their families showed up as well.
"We'll just stand around uhtil the crowd clears," Jane said. "Mel will find us when he needs us."
Eventually the crowd thinned. The actors returned to the dressing rooms to remove their costumes and makeup, some with haste because they had a free weekend to enjoy, since the next performance wasn't until Monday night.
Mel finally showed up. "We're having a meeting shortly in the workroom. Go wait in there, if you would," he told Jane and Shelley.
There were three people already there whom Jane and Shelley had never seen. One woman and two men. None of them showed any interest in Jane and Shelley nor each other.
Jane and Shelley took seats at the foot of the table and didn't speak a word. Nor did the two men and the woman. Professor Imry was the first familiar person to show up. He took his usual seat at the head of the table. Five or six minutes later Ms. Bunting came into the room and sat next to Imry.
She said, "What is this about? I'm tired and want to go back to the hotel."
Imry looked past her as Mel and John Bunting entered the room.
John already had found a drink to bring along. "What's going on here?"
Mel closed the door behind him and said, "I'm
here to arrest you for the murder of Dennis Roth."
Bunting spilled his drink. "That's crazy! I did
no such thing." He glared at Mel and asked,
"Who are these strangers?" indicating the two men and the woman.
"The men are plainclothes police officers who are going to escort you to jail. The woman officer will stay with your wife."
Mel read Mr. Bunting his rights as one of the men handcuffed him.
"Take Mr. Bunting away, please."
Shelley and Jane turned to Ms. Bunting. She was pale, but almost as composed as always. "Did he really do it?" she asked Mel in a voice that barely wavered.
"I'm sorry to say he did," he replied.
The policewoman sat down next to Ms. Bunting and offered a tissue, which Ms. Bunting waved away.
"I asked Professor Imry to sit in to assure you that the play will continue," Mel said. "The young man who plays the old butler will take over your husband's role. Professor, please confirm this before you leave."
Imry did so, then left the room after apologizing profusely to Ms. Bunting.
"What is the evidence for this?" Ms. Bunting asked.
Mel pulled up a chair from the table and turned it around to face her. "There is a lot of evidence. Are you sure you want to know all of it?"
"Yes, I do," Ms. Bunting said:
"The missing golf club was found by a well-known Dumpster diver two blocks from your hotel and pawned. There was blood in the grooves on the flat head matching Dennis Roth's DNA."
Ms. Bunting closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Go on."
Twenty-six
I hardly know how to put this in the right order,"
Mel
admitted. "There are a number of confirmations. The Dumpster diver knew what day he found the club and pawned it the day after the janitor was struck. There was a bellman at your hotel the same day who saw your husband walk out with a golf club in his hand and return shortly later without it. The only reason he remembered this is because it was his last day before a short vacation, from which he returned today."
"Anything more?"
"Yes. Sven Turner, the college janitor who was attacked, has recovered his memory. Due only to his sister's determination," Mel said, looking at Jane for a moment. "He was in the audience tonight in a wheelchair in the aisle closest to the stage and clearly remembered that your husband's distinctive voice is,one of the two he overheard just before Denny was murdered."
He went on, glancing at his notes. "In addition,we've seized the recent records of the pharmacy his old friend owns. There's a prescription that was given your husband for the same sleeping pills that were found in Dennis Roth's blood system. The doctor's name was forged by your husband's friend. He's going to be in trouble, too."
Ms. Bunting was quiet for a few minutes, and finally said, "I'm forced to believe you, but I have no idea why John would have done this. He's not a moral man, I've known that for years. But murder? Why would he murder a perfectly innocent stranger?"