Just in Time. Suzanne Trauth
you know a person…”
Ruby brought her face close to mine. “It’s not what you know about ’em. It’s what you don’t know.”
Yikes. Some history there. Ruby toddled off.
* * * *
The first act of Bye, Bye, Birdie was in progress. Lola and Dale were the starry-eyed couple Rosie and Albert, all cooing and cuddly, with Rosie lamenting Albert’s songwriting career and Albert promising to give up the music business. The ELT hotshot, we all called him “Romeo,” swaggered around the stage as the rock-and-roll superstar Conrad Birdie. He pretty much played himself. Janice, a lovely young girl from Creston High played the ingénue Kim, a member of Conrad’s fan club in Sweet Apple, Ohio. Vernon, the narrator from Eton Town, and Edna, the Etonville police department dispatcher, were Kim’s parents. Abby, manager of the Valley View Shooting Range, was Albert’s overbearing, aggravating mother—typecasting according to some. The actor playing Hugo was a tall athlete from Creston, cute but gawky…I figured basketball. He flirted with Janice, which annoyed Pauli, my teenage tech guru, who hung around the theater as the ELT photographer and had designs on Janice himself. He was crushing on her badly. Finally, there were the Etonville citizens in the chorus—Vernon’s wife Mildred, a church choir director; the stars-in-their-aging-eyes Banger sisters; and Imogen, the shampoo girl from Snippets, making her first appearance on the stage. Bill, who didn’t have an entrance until the end of Act Two, would be missing the run-through.
Things moved smoothly through the first half, the high school kids having fun with “The Telephone Hour,” sashaying in and around old-fashioned telephones on pedestals while Romeo strutted across the stage in way-too-tight gold lamé pants and greasy hair.
“I thought there were no costumes until later this week,” I whispered to Carol, who sat next to me. She was the owner of Snippets salon, the moderator of rumor central, and Pauli’s mother. Carol was my other BFF. She did hair and make-up for the theater.
Carol sighed. “We tried to keep those pants off Romeo, but he stuck out his crotch and said ‘Hand ’em over.’ Said he needed to do some method acting tonight. Chrystal gave in.”
He wiggled and jiggled the lower half of his body, his arms around the teenagers from Sweet Apple. Romeo was in his element…method acting, all right. “Hey, can you have Edna take Bill’s costume to the municipal building tomorrow? He doesn’t understand why he can’t wear his own uniform.”
Carol chuckled, her salt-and-pepper curly hair springing around her face. “That’s cute. I’ll tell Chrystal. Hey, have you made arrangements for your birthday?” She raised an expectant eyebrow. “It’ll be here before you know it.”
“Nothing definite yet.”
Conrad Birdie sang “One Last Kiss,” at the end of Act One. Carol dragged herself out of the theater seat. “I’ve got to get backstage to give notes on hair and make-up.”
“Can I pop into the shop in the morning? I need a trim,” I said. Carol was good about accommodating my last-minute appointments.
“Sure.” She scurried off.
The curtain fell on the last notes of the Act One finale, with the company reprising “A Normal, American Boy.” The theater lights rose along with the noise of the usual backstage hubbub. The crew set the scene for Act Two. Actors dashed around. Some of them wandered into the house, and Walter admonished Penny about taking charge of the production. She blew her whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Take fifteen for intermission. Performance conditions!”
Alex Milken, the musical director, and other members of the Creston Players, winced at the detonation of Penny’s whistle from their seats. I’d met Alex when he stopped by the Windjammer for a meal. He was a recent addition to the Players staff. Ruby stole out of the orchestra pit, bag in hand, and made a beeline backstage—no doubt for a rendezvous with the loading dock.
Dale intercepted Ruby. He drew her into an alcove on the left side of the stage. With the usual intermission turmoil in the house, no one paid attention to the two of them. He snatched Ruby’s arm and bent down, talking rapidly. She flung her head back, yanking herself away from him. Dale glanced around the theater, smoothed his hair, and said one final thing to her before she traipsed away. Some squabble. More than likely, Dale was giving Ruby a tongue-lashing about a musical cue. He certainly was a stickler when it came to his performance.
“Hey.”
“Hi Pauli. Getting some good rehearsal shots?” His digital camera hung on a cord around his neck. Since enrolling in a photography class at Etonville High, Pauli had served as the ELT production photographer—a role he accepted with great pride.
“I dunno.” He fiddled with the camera.
This was not the eager, upbeat kid who’d cheerfully assisted me on a couple of murder investigations—email hacking, digital forensics, and deep Internet searches. “Something wrong?” I asked gently.
“Like, Janice,” he mumbled, brushing a hank of brown hair off his forehead.
Aha. Girl trouble. It was a year ago that Carol was fretting he’d never get a date for the junior prom, and here he was, twelve months later, mooning over a female. “The actress playing Kim. Pretty awesome. What’s the problem?”
“It’s that guy who plays her boyfriend,” he said.
“The tall kid from Creston High.”
“That’s the dude.”
He was feeling the competition. “Pauli, they’re acting. You know, it’s the…method.” I flashed on Romeo parading around in his gold pants. “They have to be convincing.”
“That dude is too convincing.”
“Why don’t you ask Janice out after rehearsal?” Pauli was now officially driving the family car. “Maybe you could take her home?”
His eyes lit up for a moment, then went dull. “That means, like, I’d have to talk to her.”
I proceeded carefully. “You haven’t spoken to her yet?”
“Nah. Like she doesn’t know I exist. This love thing…it’s bogus,” Pauli said solemnly.
I got it.
* * * *
I told Lola the show was in great shape, begged off Act Two because I was exhausted and had an early day tomorrow, and moved to the lobby. The door whooshed open behind me. It was Ruby. She stared, blinked, and scanned the expanse of space—empty except for a banquet table and folding chairs stacked in a corner.
“You seen my bag?” she rasped.
“Your bag? No,” I said. “Did you leave it somewhere?”
“Duh. That’s why I’m out here,” Ruby said sarcastically.
The trill of Penny’s whistle leaked into the lobby. “Guess it’s time for Act Two.”
Ruby coughed. “They can’t do it without me.” She stomped back into the house.
What was that about? She left with her bag—which contained the flask—at the end of Act One. How did she have time to misplace it?
It was nine-fifteen, but felt like midnight. I’d gotten only six hours of sleep last night thanks to a chaotic camping nightmare featuring me being chased by a black bear into dense woods while Bill climbed a tree and hung out with his fishing rod. I had to win the summer vacation argument. I hadn’t been camping since my Girl Scout troop spent a weekend by the Delaware River when I was ten years old. It rained so hard the tents filled with water, all of our clothes got soaked, mold blossomed on our hot dog buns, and no one could get the campfire lit. Wet, cold, and hungry. Some outdoor fun!
I stepped into the June night air, inhaling deeply. The temperature had risen to eighty today. The summer humidity was like a wet blanket. Walter was right: The outdoor production might dictate that the