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  I was expecting my staff in for a meeting at four, the Spaz had called and told me that the police were coming at four thirty, and Graham was due in any minute. What I really wanted to do was go home, preferably with Cam. I wondered what he was doing and how he was going to react to the news that I knew last night’s victim. And that it had been a murder.

  I got the time sheets out ready for everyone’s arrival, and poured myself another coffee. I really wanted a cigarette, but couldn’t find one in my desk.

  ‘Hey, Boss,’ Graham said as he poked his head around my door. I had long since given up trying to keep my door closed and having people knock.

  I looked up and smiled at him. Graham is very young – only eighteen, or almost nineteen as he likes to point out. He wants to be an actor more than anything else in the world. He had worked for me as an usher until he finished high school. Graham thinks that just being near the theatre is an education for him. He doesn’t care if he’s seating people, hanging up coats or serving drinks – he just wants to be here. He is tall, blonde, and quite well built for someone his age. I suspect he works out more than he admits. He looks vaguely like a young Kenneth Branagh and he is convinced that’s who he is going to be when he grows up. He’s pretty good, too. I’ve seen him in some children’s theatre and have been dragged to a couple of his high-school productions. He sings, he dances, he acts, and he dreams of seeing his name up in lights. When he graduated and my former assistant quit, I decided to take him on full-time. Graham may be a smart-ass, but he works hard for me.

  He looked like he’d got more sleep than I had last night, or maybe it was his youth. Had I ever been able to bounce back that quickly?

  ‘Hi Graham,’ I said.

  ‘So what’s new?’ he asked me.

  ‘Grab a coffee. It’s been an eventful morning.’

  ‘I’ll stick to the healthy stuff.’ He pulled a juice container out of his bag and sat down. ‘Don’t tell me you found more stiffs.’

  ‘No, no more bodies. And don’t be disrespectful.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He opened his juice and tossed the lid into the garbage can. ‘Two points!’

  ‘They have declared our stiff from last night to be a murder victim.’

  ‘What?’ said Graham, almost spitting his juice all over my desk.

  ‘And I found out that I knew him,’ I continued.

  ‘You are full of surprises, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, well the day ain’t over yet. The staff meeting is going to be short and sweet because the police will be here at four thirty to question me.’

  ‘Do we get to watch them grill you?’ His eyes lit up.

  ‘Graham . . .’

  .

  ‘OK, I’m serious.’

  ‘Thank you. After the meeting, I need you all to go through the place with a fine toothcomb, make sure that all the police tape is gone and everything is OK for tonight. I don’t want any patrons to find something lying around. Then you can take a quick break, but be back by five thirty. I’m going to need all you guys around here tonight. I have a feeling there may be some reporters around, and maybe a few kooks as well. Hopefully this will all die down quickly.’

  ‘Bad choice of cliche. How busy are we supposed to be tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Totally sold out.’

  ‘Wow, I didn’t realize so many people in Calgary want to see Much Ado About Nothing. A little publicity goes a long way.’

  ‘That’s rule number twenty-five in the publicity manual. When all else fails, kill somebody.’

  Graham laughed. ‘So after last year’s dismal ticket sales, they thought they would open this year with a bang?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past them. Look, I’ve got to make some notes for the meeting. Do you mind setting up the coffee in the Diamond Lounge for me?’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘You can run down to Grounds Zero and buy some muffins,’ I added. ‘And put them out, too.’

  ‘Right, see you down there,’ Graham said as he hurried out of my office. I’m sure he was anxious to spread the news of the murder.

  Three thirty. I had a half an hour to get ready. I brushed my hair, put it in a ponytail and then freshened my make-up. I keep several outfits in my office so I can always change here. Saves a lot on cleaning bills. I put on my black jacket and pants with my yellow silk tank top. It was my favourite. I felt the need to look the consummate professional in front of the police. I headed down to the lounge and helped Graham finish setting up.

  By five past four, everyone was there, in uniform, with coffee in hand. I had ten permanent staff, ranging in age from fifteen to sixty. Charlotte and Martha were my two sixty-year-olds, who had been looking for something to do with their days when our paths crossed. I snapped them up as soon as I found out they were interested, and we now work all the weekday matinees together. They do some weekend shifts too, when they are sick of having their husbands around and need a break from the home front. The rest of my staff range from high-school students to professionals to housewives – all people looking for something to do a couple of nights a week. Some want a little extra pocket money; others just want to be around other people. All of them have been with me for two years. I have virtually the same staff I started with, and am quite pleased with all of them. They work hard for the seven dollars an hour I can offer them and I, in turn, try to make their time here as much fun as I can.

  So there they sat in their black pants, white shirts, black cardigans and bow ties, name tags in place, looking to me expectantly, wondering what I was going to tell them about last night. I took a deep breath and prepared to tell the story for the fifth time in twenty-four hours.

  ‘Hi guys, thanks for coming in on such short notice. I’m sure you all know that something happened here last night. I’m going to stop the rumours and tell you exactly what did happen, and then brief you on what to expect tonight. I have a meeting at four thirty with the police, so any questions will have to wait.’

  No one spoke. I don’t think I have ever held a staff meeting where I really had everyone’s undivided attention, until now.

  ‘We had an uneventful evening, got the house in on time, had a busy intermission, and got the house back in. One of the bartenders told me that there was a stall door stuck in the main lobby washroom. I called the engineer on duty. Cam came up and we went in to check it out. We discovered that there was a patron in the stall and he wasn’t answering us. Cam got the door open and we discovered a gentleman who wasn’t breathing and didn’t have a pulse. We thought he had suffered a heart attack.’

  ‘At least the play didn’t bore him to death,’ Charlotte joked. Charlotte looks just like somebody’s elderly grandmother, but she has the fastest mind I had ever seen for a quick comeback. I don’t think Charlotte has ever been stuck for words.

  ‘Anyway, Graham called the paramedics and we did CPR until they arrived. They took over and transported him to the Foothills Hospital. We heard later that he had been pronounced dead at the hospital. The police arrived, the doors were locked and all the patrons were questioned on the way out. Two hours later, the only thing we discovered was that no one seemed to know the gentleman. We finally got out of here around three in the morning.’

  ‘Wow,’ Leonard butted in. ‘We spend hours practicing how to evacuate a thousand people but never once did I think we would have to worry about how to keep them in the theatre.’

  ‘Except during that one bad play last year,’ Martha piped up.

  ‘You read the Herald’s review,’ Charlotte said. ‘The theatre critic said we’re going to have to start worrying about locking them in if the productions don’t get better.’

  ‘So I guess this was a good practice run for us then,’ Leonard said.

  Leonard is a philosophy major at the University of Calgary – need I say more? His mind works on a whole different plane from the rest of ours. He has all these great philosophy jokes that my best friend’s husband always has to explain to me later. I wou
ld have to remember to introduce the two of them sometime.

  ‘If we could just get back on track here,’ I interjected. Somehow my staff meetings always seem to go like this. ‘When I came in this afternoon, I found out that he didn’t die of natural causes. The police were here all morning, doing whatever it is they do. Apparently the murder weapon was found. So that’s where we stand right now.’ I paused to let this sink in a little.

  ‘So what is going to happen tonight?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Tonight, and for the next several nights, I really need all of you guys here if you can possibly make it. We’re expecting some weirdos, the media, and who knows what else. I would like to try to keep them all away from the patrons and try to pretend like everything is normal around here. It is also very important to remember that some of the media we are trying to keep out are also our sponsors. So we’ve got to be firm but polite. And remember, no matter how dazzled you are by the spotlights, none of us is authorized to make a statement. And none of this “no comment” stuff.’

  ‘But that’s what they always say on TV,’ Graham said.

  ‘Well, back to real life,’ I said, shooting him a dirty look for sidetracking me again. ‘What you are authorized to say to the media, and I mean this, is that a Foothills Stage Network representative will be making a statement very soon.’ I looked down at my watch. ‘Is everybody OK with this so far?’

  ‘Can we all go check out the bathroom?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘You can check out everything. Graham is going to take over and let you know what needs to be done. I’ve got to get back to my office and meet with the police. I don’t want to see any of you up there before six o’clock. A little privacy would be nice for a change.’

  Everyone groaned.

  ‘I promise I’ll fill you in on all the gruesome details later.’ And with that I headed back up to my office to tell my story for the sixth time that day.

  Detective Lincoln arrived fifteen minutes late, which did not set me in good humour. I was running on a tight schedule and suffering from lack of sleep as well. I watched from my window as the police car parked in the loading dock and Lincoln got out. He looked much younger than I had expected. I had an image of someone in his mid- to late-forties, slightly overweight, slightly balding, suffering from years of too many cigarettes and too much coffee. He should have been wearing a rumpled raincoat, like Columbo, and should be divorced due to the pressure his wife had suffered from being married to a cop. This detective was young, slim, with thick black hair covering his head and no sign of bald spots. He walked with a bounce in his step and certainly didn’t look like he suffered from overwork or long hours of sitting at a desk. He also dressed much better than I ever expected to see a cop dress. I guess years of watching police shows on TV has ruined my perception.

  I poured myself another coffee, lit a cigarette and waited for him to turn up in my office. I didn’t have to wait long.

  I heard the door at the end of the corridor open and turned to see Lazlo following the detective down the hall towards my office, trying to keep up with the policeman. I noticed Laz was breathing quite heavily by the time they arrived at my door.

  ‘Kate,’ he started, trying to hide his discomfort, ‘this is detective Ken Lincoln. He’s with Calgary Police Services, Homicide Division. Ken, this is Kate Carpenter.’

  Ken held out his hand and I stood up and shook it.

  ‘Pleasure to meet you,’ he said. He had a good, firm handshake.

  ‘Nice to meet you too, Detective,’ I said. ‘Can I offer you a coffee?’

  ‘Never touch the stuff,’ he smiled. He looked even younger with that boyish grin on his face. Then he turned to Laz. ‘Thanks for the escort, Lazlo. I’ll call you if I need anything else.’

  Lazlo’s face fell, but he recovered quickly. I think he really wanted to be involved in this. He said his goodbyes and headed back down the hall. The detective waited until Laz was out of earshot before he began.

  ‘Have a seat,’ I offered.

  ‘Thanks.’ He sat down and reached into his pocket for a pen and notepad. I guess real-life cops actually did use them.

  ‘Now, I’m told that you knew our victim.’

  I took a deep breath and went through the whole story again. I was actually getting quite good at it by now. Detective Lincoln let me talk with few interruptions. He had even fewer questions when I was through. It appeared I would get him out of here and be back on schedule tonight. I was beginning to like him more and more. He finally closed his notebook and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘Well, that should do for now,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a call if we need anything else.’

  ‘Great. I appreciate you making this so quick.’

  ‘Well, if I could impose for a minute longer?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said.

  ‘Would you mind if I just used your phone for a quick call?’

  Relieved that he didn’t want to hear my story again, I quickly stood up.

  ‘It’s all yours,’ I said. ‘I’ll just wait in the hall and give you some privacy.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll be quick.’

  I kicked the doorstop away and let the door close behind me. I perched on the window ledge in the corridor outside my office and eavesdropped.

  ‘Hi, Rebecca? Hi honey, it’s me. I’m fine. I’m just calling to let you know I’m probably going to be a little late tonight. Yeah, it’s work. But it’s good news. I’ve got my own case. Yes, finally my first! I’m really excited too. Look, I’ve got to go now, but I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. OK. Love you. Bye.’

  It’s funny how people just assumed that a closed door meant no one else could hear your conversation – even the police.

  The door opened and Ken came out. I grabbed it quickly to stop it from shutting when I saw my keys sitting on the desk. I wasn’t about to get locked out again and have to call security to let me back in.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, grinning again. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  I just smiled at him as he walked down the hall. Seconds later I saw ten ushers heading towards my office, anxious to find out what had transpired.

  I felt exhausted when I got home, but was too keyed up to sleep. I changed into a T-shirt and sweats, went to put the kettle on to boil and restlessly wandered around the living room. I reached up to straighten one of my prints, picked the dead leaves off a plant, and finally went over to the piano and wiped the dust off the picture of my brother. The whistle on the kettle went off and I jumped, almost knocking the picture off the piano. I went into the kitchen and made some tea, grabbed a scone and carried them out on to the balcony.

  It was a beautiful, cool fall night, with a gentle breeze blowing. As I was looking at the stars I started thinking about my brother. He was almost four years younger than me, and lived thousands of miles away in Toronto, but we remained close. It had been almost six months since I last saw him, and I realized it must have been almost a month since I had talked to him. He was an airline pilot and frequently had overnight stops in Calgary. We always had dinner together and caught up with each other’s lives. I thought my life was boring compared to his, and he thought his life was boring compared to mine. I like to hear about his latest trips and he likes to hear about my latest productions. I really missed him. This death business was making me very sentimental, which was something I tried to avoid. I finished my tea and decided it was time to go to bed. As I was coming in from the balcony, the doorbell rang. I set my cup down in the kitchen and got to the door just as the bell rang a second time. I opened the door to see Cam standing there, looking slightly embarrassed.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get up to see you tonight,’ he apologized.

  ‘Don’t worry. Lazlo told me he had you counting everything that wasn’t nailed down. I didn’t think I’d see you.’ Seeing the look on his face, I realized my unintended pun. ‘Sorry, wrong choice of words.’

  ‘Do you mind that I’m here without an invitation?’
r />   ‘No, actually, I’m really glad to see you. Come on in.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Want some tea?’ I asked.

  Cam looked tired. His face was pale and he had the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. ‘Have you got a beer?’

  ‘Have you got a cigarette?’

  ‘Katie, I thought you were quitting.’

  ‘Don’t you dare lecture me. You smoke.’

  ‘Barely. But I also work out.’

  ‘So you’ll have healthy cancer cells?’ I opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. ‘Here, now give me a cigarette.’

  He pulled the pack out of his pocket. I took one and he lit it for me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Feel better?’

  ‘No, now I feel guilty for smoking. Are you here for the night?’ I asked as I poured myself another cup of tea, feigning indifference.

  ‘Would you like me to be?’ he asked.

  ‘Do you want to stay?’ I countered.

  ‘I could. I don’t want to infringe on your space, though.’

  ‘I only want you to stay if you want to.’

  ‘Katie, you said you needed some time away from me. I just stopped by to see if you were OK. So it’s up to you.’

  ‘Well I don’t want you to feel like we’re dating again. I think it’s still too soon for that. So if that’s OK with you . . .?’

  ‘Only if you don’t mind. I can stay for a beer and then go home.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I said, turning away from him.

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me back, slopping my tea on his shirt. ‘OK,’ he said, giving in, ‘I would like to stay the night. And take off this shirt.’

  ‘Good, because I would like you to stay . . . and take off your shirt. I need to talk and I really don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘You don’t have to be alone. I don’t just come here when I’m horny, you know.’

  ‘I know, but I feel guilty calling you and asking for help. Two weeks ago I told you I didn’t want to see you for a while.’

  ‘Katie, two weeks ago you didn’t have some dead man in your theatre. Besides, no matter what happens between us, I am always going to be your friend.’