Final Act Dianne Yetman (popular ebook readers txt) 📖

“Yes, of course.  You guys couldn’t get to question me yesterday because you chose to go in alphabetical order and ran out of time.  So, ask away.”

“Apparently, you and the deceased worked closely together over the past few years.  Like to fill me in on your impressions?”

“Yes.  I met Jeffrey when he was appointed Director of the rep group two or three years ago.  I was already established – I come from a long line of actors and producers, my mother rehearsed her lines while breast feeding me.  I’ve been Production manager slash producer for the past nine years.  Earned my reputation and kudos at the Neptune Theatre but always like the underdog so came to this one five years ago.

“How did you get along with the new Director?”

“Fine.  He was a gifted man, we were lucky to have him.  He was easier in the first couple of years.  The man had no limits.  He worked tirelessly with the production teams and actors to create performances that connected with the audience.”

“So, his star rose without a hitch?”

“No, not really.  He had a weakness, a soft spot.  It was his inability to take into account the budgetary and physical constraints of production.  That’s where I came in; it’s my area of expertise.  We worked well together.”

“Do you know why he relocated to Halifax at the height of his career?”

“I’m not sure.  There were rumours of course.”

“What kind of rumours?”

“Women problems - young women problems - very young women problems.”

“Are we talking pedophile, Ward?”

“Let me put it this way.  He sailed his boat close to the shore, close enough to scrape some paint but not enough to sink it.”

“Did he launch his sailboat in New York waters as well?”

Ward shrugged his shoulders.  “Who knows?  I didn’t hear anything.”

“Was your recent working relationship with Stone going well?”

“Not as well as it had in the past.  I never knew what to expect from him, one minute he was friendly, the next he was biting my head off at the third vertebrae.”

“Any idea what was going on?”

“I think his marriage was in trouble.  Catherine had always stood behind Jeffrey but maybe she had had enough.  The woman certainly deserved better.”

“You never thought of relocating to New York?  You have an excellent reputation.”

“No, of course not.  My work was well respected.  I don’t need fame and my finances are okay.  I’m not an ambitious man.”

Roger wasn’t buying it but decided now wasn’t the time for a challenge.

“Was Jeffrey afraid of anyone?”

“Yes, I believe he was but I have no idea who it might have been.  He was a complex man.  Kept his problems to himself.  But yes, he was afraid.”

Henry talked about the difficulties of putting on a production, the roles of the Director and his responsibilities for the next ten minutes.

“One more question.  You say you knew how to handle Stone’s tantrums and things went pretty smoothly between you.  Funny, it’s not what some people in the production told my colleagues. They said they heard quite a few shouting matches between the two of you.  Is that true?”

Ward shoved his hands in his pockets.  His eyes swerved right to the window.

His hands are either trembling or clutched. Ten dollars on clutched.

“I know where those remarks came from and I can’t believe the police would take what a puffed up, overweight, whiskey bloated, so-called southern belle, has to say.  Or was that poker up the ass dried up fig of a set designer spreading her poison?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I already have.  Jeffrey and I got along fine.  There were no problems.”

Roger turned off the machine.  He found Ward’s remark as believable as finding lobsters in a fresh water lake but once again, he let it go.

Chapter 4

Something in Susan’s tone of voice caught Alexis’ attention.  Standing directly across from her, back to the windows overlooking the park, the phone to her right ear, Susan had became quiet, stood as still as a heron resting in water.  She had hung up.

“That was Nora Jamieson.”

“Nora?  Catherine Stone’s sister?  Haven’t seen her since the charity bazaar she co-chaired with her sister.  That was two years ago now.  A charming woman, much more open, warmer than Catherine. ”

“Yes, she is certainly that.   If I remember rightly, Alexis, you were a tad warmer at the Bazaar as well.  The result of too much punch and flirting with Charles, who’s gay, what a hoot.”

“I recall, Susan. No need to keep speaking of it. So what’s up with Nora? Is she putting on another fund raising event?”

Susan’s face darkened.  “I wish.  Terrible news, Alexis.  The accident at the theatre last night; it was as we thought, it was murder.  Jeffrey Stone has been murdered.  To think while we sat and speculated about what happened, he lay dead behind that closed curtain. That’s the case Kate and Roger are working.  She didn’t say anything but it has to be.  The one morning I gave the paper a miss.”

“How horrid.”

“Nora asked if we would pay Catherine a visit this afternoon.”

“So soon?”

“I know; it surprised me as well, but Nora insisted.  To quote, ‘Catherine needs her friends around her.  The children aren’t expected home until tomorrow.’  Actually, I think both sisters could benefit from a visit.”

“Yes, of course.  When do you want to go?”

“I said we’d be there around 1:00pm.”

“Strange, Susan, the two of us attending the play; Kate and Roger at the scene of another murder.  What a coincidence.”

“I believe it’s more than a coincidence that we keep bumping into each other whenever there’s a murder.”

Alexis didn’t like the sound of this.  “I hope you are not seriously thinking of getting involved. If so, I’m out of here.  Fancying yourself as a private detective is ridiculous.”

“Detective?  What on earth do you mean, Alexis?  I’m simply an observer.”

“Detective is the right word, the word that led us both into trouble two years ago.  So dump the Marple/Pollifax image.  I mean it, Susan, lose it.”

“For God’s sake Alexis, don’t let one