Final Act by Dianne Yetman Read Free Book Online Page A

Stage Manager she met last evening, Andrew something .  The rush of instant attraction to the man she felt last night was still there, his charisma, and dark good looks pulled her under with the force of a surfer’s wave.  Dangerous stuff.  She moved on.     
     
    Scanning the back row, two seats from the aisle, she recognized a face. Camira Paul, the actor who played Maggie the Cat.  She missed her last night; Gordon or Roger must have spoken with her.  She was Hanya’s cousin.  Kate met her months ago when she picked Hanya up at the end of her shift on the suicide line.  A beautiful woman, modelling at the time, if memory served her correct, I’m not surprised she moved onto acting. 
     
    Finishing her scan , she looked in disbelief at the woman seated in the last row. It was June , her hairdresser, minus her scissors.  What the hell was she doing here?  Hairdresser to the stars ? Or part-time thespian?
     
    A rumbling noise caught her attention.  A beat up trolley, loaded down with pastries, a large coffee urn, cups, spoons, milk and sugar, was being pushed down the aisle by a tall, thin man with a slight paunch below the belt.  Kate identified him right away.  I t was the producer of the production , Henry Ward .  She had spoken briefly with him last evening.  
     
    On cue, actors and crew rose as one body and made a beeline for the cart. Henry motioned for the police to join them.  They shook their heads and waited patiently for the group to resettle.  They knew the value of caffeine stoked people during interviews.
     
    Once everyone was back in their seats, Gordon cleared his throat and addressed them again.  “We have temporarily taken over the Director, Producer , Set Designer and Chief Publicist ’s offices .  The interviews will be taped.”
     
    Shuffling noises and nervous coughs could be heard following his remark.
     
    “There’s no reason to be anxious.  Taping is a routine procedure for information gathering sessions. The members of our team are experienced interviewers so it shouldn’t take too long.  We need two days to speak with everyone so we are proceeding alphabetically .  Some of you will leave and return tomorrow morning once you register your presence here with Cst. Tom Adams.  We would appreciate it if one of the crew would find him a table and chair to use.
     
    Ed volunteered set the table and two chairs up on the main stage.  Gordon nodded his thanks.  
     
    “ We will now proceed with the first four persons, the rest of you remain seated until called upon to register or escorted to an interview.  W ould Charlotte Beauvoir, Eleanor Foster-Sutton, June Grayson, and Philip Lawson please follow us to the office area; Constable Shirley Proctor will summon the rest of you as needed.”
     
    Charlotte lifted her heavy body out of the front row at the same time as June. Eleanor, rose, back rigid and followed behind the other two women.  Philip uncoiled his long, lean body, and like a gazelle loped his way down the aisle. 
     
    The remaining cast and crew watched the ordered recessional, thanking the gods above they weren’t the first. 
     
     
    ***
     
    His office in use by the police, Henry walked backstage and open ed Charlotte’s dressing room door sat in the large swivel chair and stared with uns eeing eyes at the mirrored wall, his mind on the call he received at home early this morning from the Chair of the Board.
     
    The call came in at 6:30am. An official invitation to direct the next scheduled production, Death of a Salesman, was made.  Henry remained calm.  He had rehearsed his response over and over again.   Hedging, he thanked the Chair for his confidence but producing was his field; he wasn’t sure if he could meet the rigors of the Director’s position.
    “Don’t so modest, Henry.  Jeffrey, God rest his soul , and I were talking only a week ago and he sang your praises, recommended you, in fact, for the Director’s chair.  Give it a