Welcome to Amateur Theatricals, book twelve in the Operation Quickline series. The stage is set for a major operation as Lisa, Sid, and Nick go undercover at a university to find who’s killing KGB moles in training. You can read the first episode here, and catch up on the series here.
I would have thought that having a dead body turn up in a classroom would mean that classes the next day would be canceled. Top Girls was still set to open that night, Friday the Thirteenth be damned, and Richard rehearsals would continue as well.
I, however, ditched classes that day. Everyone knew I had seen the body and then promptly barfed, and I just did not want to talk about it. You see, I have this little phobia of corpses, which I know is a little weird given that I’m a spy. But the first time I found a corpse was also the first time I got shot at, and I freaked, so that’s what I usually do when I see a stiff. The barfing happened after I killed my first person. The one good part of the phobia is that it tends to throw people off about me.
Nick and I went to rehearsal that Friday night dressed in nice clothes. I had our knitting in my purse. Sid, also dressed up, sat in the room with us, ostensibly to help me get through after the night before. We’d already heard that the victim was Rita Kominsky, the engineering student among the remaining finishing students. From what I’d seen of the bruises on her throat, it seemed like she’d been strangled by hand. But there wasn’t much time to discuss it, and as soon as Nick and I were done, we had the faculty reception for Top Girls to go to.
The faculty had been warned not to say anything about the body, as had the cast. As if that was going to keep people quiet. At least, no one really pounced on me in search of gruesome details, but that may have been because I hung tightly onto Sid’s arm. We mostly chatted with some of the other cast members, and the consensus was that whoever the Campus Killer was, he had some incredible nerve. After all, as busy a place as the Performing Arts building was at night, how could somebody haul a body into a classroom there without being seen? There had been no sign of a struggle in the classroom (I had no idea how that had leaked, but it was true from what I’d seen). Therefore, Kominsky had to have been moved after she’d been killed.
The next night, we saw Top Girls. It had been a quiet day. We had a little celebration for Nick’s birthday, which is also on Valentine’s Day. But we’d all agreed that was one of those personal details that might get us into trouble if it got out to the wrong person. So, we pretended his birthday was coming up on some future date. Still, Sid seemed a little wistful that night after we got home from the play.
“You know, our boy is officially a teenager now,” he said as we snuggled in bed.
“I know.” I winced. “It’s something that Mae complained about when her kids were really little. She couldn’t wait for Darby to get out of diapers, and the same with the others. Then when they did, she got all weepy-eyed because they were growing up.”
Sid chuckled and held me closer. “Four more years and he’s legally an adult, four and a half and he’ll be in college. It doesn’t seem like that long at all.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
The next day, things only got more wistful as sweet young things from Sid’s classes, Terry Peterson, and all the rest of our team joined us for Office Hours at Angelo’s. It started with some cutie named Darla.
“I’ll bet your son was really cute as a baby.” She giggled as Nick sighed.
“He was adorable,” I said, grinning. I knew that for a fact, since we did have Nick’s baby pictures. “You should see his first-grade picture. He was all mad about something and he would not smile for the camera.”
“I had to wear that stupid gray plaid shirt,” Nick grumbled.
“He’s got the cutest little frown on his face.” I added.
“I’ll bet he did some really funny things when he was little,” Darla continued.
We all smiled, but there was a light undercurrent of tension from Sid and Nick. You see, Sid and I don’t know that much about what Nick was like before we met him when he turned eleven. Nick’s mother hadn’t even told Sid she was pregnant, let alone that he had a son. Nick has a few memories and a couple stories that his grandmother told him, but most of his infancy and young childhood are effectively lost, since both his grandmother and birth mother have died. Fortunately for our cover, I’d had a couple of stories in reserve.
“He was a handful,” I said. “I remember when he was three, my cousin’s baby was being christened, and at the party afterward, my cousin was changing her daughter’s diaper on the couch. Ryan saw the baby naked and was utterly terrified and screamed. ‘Mommy! Where’s her penis? How can she go pee-pee without a penis?’ And it was loud, in front of all our relatives, including my grandma, who was horrified.”
Everyone at the table laughed hard and Nick had the decency to duck his head as if he were humiliated. Sid, fortunately, had heard the story before.
“Then there was the time—”
“Mom!” Nick groaned, but I could see him grinning.
“When you were four.” I looked around at the rest of the group. “He spilled a whole bag of flour on the kitchen floor while I was on the phone, and then knocked over his milk on top of it, noticed that the milk beaded up on the floor, and poured out the rest of the milk trying to figure out why. He ran me ragged the whole morning, asking me why the milk acted so funny.”
That also got a good laugh, and fortunately, the conversation meandered on to other topics. When the civilians had finally gone, Sid turned solemn.
“We need to get the police reports on Rita Kominsky,” he said.
Frank shrugged. “I can do it. I’ve already cased the building and set up a reason to be in there. You want me to check the other victims, too?”
“That would be good. It would be nice to see if the cops have come up with anything else.” Sid turned to Jesse. “LeShawn, have you got anything?”
Jesse slid a stack of photos onto the table. “I’ve got that arrest report from Dr. Weber’s office that Lisa shot last week. Also, I did a little recon on that Company agent Randall told us about. Guess who he’s been hanging around with?”
Sid picked up the pictures and cursed. “Dr. Weber.”
“They seem to be friends. Dr. Weber told somebody that he’s Noah Taplin and an old friend of his from his undergrad days.”
I groaned. “The reports said that Weber doesn’t have any connections to the intelligence community.”
“And our people probably got that report from The Company,” Sid grumbled.
Frank looked at the bail receipt and arrest report photos. “October twelve. Wasn’t that the night Damian Walsh was killed?”
Sid couldn’t help groaning. “So, we actually have someone with ties to the Company and a probable alibi.” He looked at the photos. “I don’t recall exactly what time frame they put on Walsh’s death, but I suppose it is possible that Weber killed him. Just barely.”
Kathy frowned. “What if there’s more than one person doing the killings?”
“The handprints on the throats all seem to match, according to the reports we have,” I said. “What are the odds we have two or more killers with the same size hands?”
“Really bad,” said Esther. “But not impossible.”
Sid rolled his eyes. “That improbable I don’t think we need to deal with. Anything else?”
“Yes,” said Kathy. “I noticed something about Maggie Leitner’s personnel file. She got her MFA as Nadine Lipschanz. So, I picked up the report on her from Red Light, and that was her name originally. According to the report from Red Light, she checks out both as Leitner and Lipschanz. It seems she changed her name when she started acting professionally.”
“Probably had an agent insist on it,” I said.
“Sounds like.” Sid sighed. “Alright, we can stick around a little and just chat or head out.”
Irene and Randall left first, then Sid and I did, with Nick in tow.
“Mom?” Nick asked as soon as we were in the car. “Did you make up those stories about me?”
“Not entirely,” I said.
Nick gaped happily. “It was one of the O’Malleys.”
Mae changed her name when she married Neil O’Malley, and the kids, of course, have the same name.
“The christening story was Darby, and it was Janey’s first day home from the hospital.” I laughed at the memory. Darby is Mae’s eldest and Janey is his sister. “He was simply horrified. Granny Caulfield had a conniption, and Mama was aghast, but Mae kept saying that the pediatrician said that they should use the correct names for body parts.” I looked at the back seat. “By the way, your cousin hates that story with a passion, so you may want to use some discretion.”
Nick’s laugh was just a touch evil. “And Darby did the flour, too?”
“Nope. That was Ellen.” I shook my head. Ellen was the next youngest of Mae’s kids after Janey. “I nearly killed her.”
“Was that the day I met them all?” Sid asked.
“Two days before that.” I smiled at the memory. I turned back to Nick. “Your Aunt Mae was in the hospital after knee surgery, and I had to babysit for a whole week.” I shuddered.
Frank was as good as his word. If anyone in the Collins Police Department noticed that an unauthorized person had come in and gotten copies made of their reports on the Campus Killer, the news never reached our ears. Sid brought home the reports on Tuesday afternoon. I was not in a good mood.
“What’s the matter?” Sid asked.
“Kaspar.” I groaned. “He is such an asshole!”
Sid’s jaw dropped. You see, I don’t swear. I just don’t. I think it was because it was one of those things growing up that my mother simply did not tolerate. Even darn or shoot could get my fanny tanned when I was a little girl. I don’t mind other people swearing, and Heaven knows, Sid’s language often involves all seven of the words you can’t say on television. On the other hand, in the theatre department, I was surrounded by people whose variations on the traditional curses verged on the poetic. Things there bit the Big Cosmic Weenie when they went wrong, and I’m not going any further.
“He is so Industry!” I paced the living room. “I mean, Kaspar goes on for twenty minutes about how Mark’s scene really reflected the Truth that is Theatre, and it was a scene from Plaza Suite! Possibly one of the worst things Neil Simon has ever written. I did Moliere. The Misanthrope. I totally played into the farce. My guys were good. Kaspar just sniffs, said it was farce and moved on.”
“It sounds like you achieved what you intended.” Sid looked a little befuddled.
I shrieked.
“Honey, you’re right.” He came over and held me. “But he really is only a momentary aggravation.”
“Too bad he isn’t our bad guy.” I snorted.
Sadly, just because somebody is a jerk doesn’t mean he’s the one murdering people or stealing secrets or other nefarious activity. The vast majority of the time, someone who is being a jerk is not guilty of anything worse than being a jerk.
“Anyway,” Sid said. “Let’s go through these reports. David dropped them off in Research today, and the least we can do is look at them.”
But there wasn’t anything in them we didn’t already know. No one had seen anybody carting around anything big enough to be a body in the Performing Arts building the previous Thursday. The coroner’s report suggested that Kominsky hadn’t been dead very long when she was found, although it had to have been after six that night, because that was the last time anyone had seen her. Given that Dorfmann and Terry Peterson were in the director’s room by six-thirty, it sure looked like they had solid alibis. I was kind of glad. Even so, it was a little frustrating.
“You know, Raylene was there that night,” I said. “I saw her on the edge of the crowd. I was too busy barfing to question it, but she was there.”
“Yeah, but is she strong enough to strangle somebody, then haul the body someplace else?”
“Admittedly, I haven’t seen her, but I’m told she spends a lot of time at the Fitness Center.”
Sid sighed. “We haven’t ruled out Maggie Leitner, either. And you said she’s pretty strong and knows how to strangle somebody.”
“There is that. And there’s also Mimi Dearing. Even if she did the strangling, she does have a son who’s decent-sized. What if he’s helping Mommy? They’re not a nice pair.”
“That could also account for Raylene.” Sid blinked behind his glasses. “She could be doing the killing with Carl helping her hide the bodies. Or Carl could be doing it and she’s just hanging around.” He groaned. “This is ridiculous. There are too many suspects.”
I shrugged. “So, what else is new?”
“Wait a minute. What’s this?” Sid suddenly cursed a blue streak, then handed me the sheets of paper.
It was an arrest report. The arrestee was James Dearing, age seventeen, on attempted rape charges. He’d been brought in around five in the afternoon on February 12. His mother had made a statement around seven that he had only been playing games and that the victim had to have misunderstood. There was also a statement from the victim, Kristie Van Meer, that the Dearing boy had been harassing her repeatedly at school. The arresting officer wrote that he caught Dearing holding the girl down and trying to remove her pants.
My brain felt like the spinning wheels of a drag car getting ready to peel out. Sid was truly angry and paced the living room.
“And they wrote up our kid for being threatening!” he snapped. “Our son probably saved this girl from an attack. This is ridiculous.”
“I know, and I agree wholeheartedly. But there’s something else here that’s more important.”
Sid looked at me in shock. Well, there really isn’t anything more important than our boy, and my blood was boiling about the school report. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it at that moment, and there was one other problem.
“Honey, we also have two fewer suspects.” I said. “This report has Mimi and Jimmy pretty solidly alibied for the time that Kominsky was killed.”
Sid cursed again. He checked the report on Kominsky.
“You’re right.” He cursed. “I suppose I should be grateful. But it doesn’t entirely leave them out of it if Raylene is involved.”
“I know.”
Sid checked his watch. Nick was due home any minute. We focused on getting dinner made and relaxing that evening since, for a change, neither of us had rehearsal. As soon as Nick was in bed, however, Sid and I went over the reports again, but couldn’t make any headway. He agreed to let me talk to Ms. Westmore the next day.
In the meantime, there was little to be achieved by talking the case over and over. So, we tabled the conversation and went back to working through and sniping at each other over the budget.
“I can’t wait to get home,” Sid finally sighed as we got into bed that night. “You’re right. We have to be careful. But can you blame me if I’m getting really, really tired of it?”
“At least, it hasn’t been so cold lately.”
“True.” Sid nuzzled my ear. “And you are nice and warm.”
“So, are you.”
I really wish I hadn’t said anything about the weather not being that cold. I know, offhand remarks like that have no effect on the weather, but you have to wonder about the timing sometimes. Things got downright freezing the next day. I still walked Nick over to school that morning.
Ms. Westmore not only agreed to see me, she seemed rather pleased with herself.
“I’ve been hearing that Jimmy Dearing was arrested last Thursday night.” I glared at her as she sat behind her desk. “Apparently, he attempted to rape a girl, and I strongly suspect the girl was the one that Ryan defended a couple weeks ago.”
“The Collins Police have spoken with us,” Ms. Westmore said with a triumphant smile. “Shortly after that, I had a nice, long talk with Dr. Schilling.”
“Oh?”
“Um, let’s just say that any report that might have landed in Ryan’s file has disappeared.” Ms. Westmore smiled. “I probably shouldn’t say this. The whole incident was a major mess on our side, too. We really try to work as a team here, and half the faculty was up in arms that a kid might get away with being threatening, even if it was in a good cause. The other half was furious that we weren’t giving Ryan a medal. I mean, come on. Jimmy is four years older and quite a bit bigger than Ryan, and Ryan stood up to him, and did it non-violently. There were several of us who would have cheered if Ryan had hit Jimmy. That kid has been nothing but trouble.”
“I’ve heard his home life is pretty difficult.”
“Well, the arrest makes it easier for us to address his problems, so that’s a good thing. We’re just trying to work out how to deal with it on the public side of things. Jimmy clearly can’t come back to school, so we’re working on finding some tutors for him and finding ways to help him manage his anger. As for Ryan, I want to apologize. There was no reason to write him up. It’s just sometimes tough trying to be fair all around.”
“I accept your apology,” I said, my voice a little grim. “Well, I’d better get going. Thanks for seeing me.”
It would have been nice if I’d been told by the school what had happened, but at least Nick was out of trouble for the time being.
That night, the wind whipped up and the flurries flew. By Thursday morning, there was nine inches of snow on the sidewalks. The schools were closed, including the university. Rehearsal was canceled, too. It was a good thing. I messed my back up again, shoveling snow. It was the twisting motion that seemed to do it. At least, it wasn’t that bad, and I had pills from the university health center. I still hadn’t found the ones I’d brought from home.
Dr. Dorfmann called for rehearsal over the weekend. Both Nick and I had to be there on Saturday, and I was not happy with my performance at all. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but I was not happy. Sunday, there wasn’t much to be gotten from the Office Hours meeting, but at least Nick and I could be there. Irene told me that Jimmy’s arrest had been kept quiet. I wasn’t sure if that surprised me or not.
Sid decided that the roots of my hair needed touching up and did it that evening, while I complained. The following quarter, the department was going to put on A Little Night Music, and I was required to audition.
“What are you going to do if we’re done before next quarter?” Sid frowned as he dabbed the hair dye on me.
“Please, God, I hope we are.” I looked up at the ceiling in fervent prayer, then shrugged. “I’ll just have to leave. I’m not going to stick around even if I get Desiree Armfeldt. But all acting students are required to audition, and Jeff Necht is directing, so I won’t be able to get away without auditioning. I have to come up with a song, too.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. We’re talking Sondheim.” Sid’s eyes almost lit up. “I’ve got it here, I think.”
“You packed a Sondheim book?”
Sondheim is not easy to sing, and being mostly about the lyrics, it’s not as fun for Sid to play. As soon as Sid had dried my hair so that I wouldn’t stain the bed linens, he got a sheet music book off the shelf next to the piano.
“It’s Broadway, in general, but there’s plenty of Sondheim here.” He flipped through the pages. “Here’s a good one. How about Here’s to the Ladies Who Lunch?”
I looked at the lyrics and laughed. “Oh, my god. It sounds like the faculty wives.”
So, we worked on that, and worked on it again Monday night.
Thank you for reading. For more information about the Operation Quickline series, click here.
Please check out the Fiction page for the latest on all my novels. Or look me up at your favorite independent bookstore. Mine is Vroman’s, in Pasadena, California.