Haggerty flipped on the gas. “Hey, where’s the coffee?”
Codella opened the cupboard and smiled. “Have some tea.”
He frowned. “I’ll pass.”
She went to the front door while he examined the contents of her refrigerator. This morning, her New York Times lay on the floor tiles in front of her neighbor Jean’s door. Speed, not accuracy, was the main concern of the delivery guy who hurled papers from the elevator each morning. Codella picked it up and was carrying it back to the kitchen when she noticed the headline on the front page just above the fold. “Hey, check this out,” she called to Haggerty, who was slipping two slices of bread into the toaster. He came behind her to read.
Broadway Dance Legend Dead at Age 56
One of Broadway’s shining stars, Lucy Martinelli Merchant, died yesterday of Alzheimer’s related complications. Fans of musical theater remember her best as Noreen Shipley, the big-hearted showgirl in Vegas Nights, a performance that New Yorker critic Marty O’Kane described as a “dazzling, heart-stopping display of art in motion.” In 1993, Vegas Nights won Merchant her third of five Tony Awards for Best Lead Actress in a Musical. During her 386 consecutive performances, Merchant famously signed autographs every night, often lingering at the stage door for more than an hour. In a Vanity Fair interview that year, she explained her devotion to fans: “The theatergoers are my real employers. Without their passion and dedication, the magic on stage could never happen. I owe my joy to them. Why wouldn’t I give some back?”
Codella turned to the inside page where the article continued. She poured boiling water over the green tea bag in her mug while Haggerty pulled the toast out and buttered it. Then they continued to read.
During her career, Merchant electrified Broadway and West End stages in hit after hit. Choreographers loved to work with her. “She’s not just an artist and a superb athlete; she’s the ultimate risk taker,” choreographer Gabriel Salzman commented during previews for Vegas Nights.
Haggerty took a bite of his toast. “You ever see her?”
“I wish I had.”
“I once dated a dancer. She had an amazing body.” He grinned.
“Dated or picked up?”
He kissed her cheek. “It was a long time ago.”
Codella rolled her eyes at him and sipped her tea. She skimmed through the details of Lucy Merchant’s first four Tony Awards until she got to something more interesting.
In 1994, Merchant gave birth to only daughter, Julia Merchant, and in 1996, she married the father, newly divorced financier Thomas Merchant. That same year, she won her fourth Tony Award in Harbinger of Love. She went on to win a fifth in 2001 for Filibuster, in which she played the role of Helen, the spiteful wife of a U.S. senator, opposite a delightfully abhorrent Malcolm Walsh, who also won a Tony for his performance.
In a freak accident six months into that show’s run, Merchant fell from a structural platform during a performance and broke her leg in two places. She never returned to the stage as a dancer, but in the wake of the tragedy, she transformed herself into one of the most prolific and innovative choreographers of her time, staging back-to-back hits such as Dance Until Dawn and Fever Dream.
“You ever wonder what your obit will say?” Haggerty asked.
“I wrote mine in my head several times while I was in the hospital.” She sipped her tea. “Lucy Merchant’s was probably written by some New York Times staff writer the day she moved into Park Manor. I’m sure all those celebrity obits are sitting in a file years in advance.”
Haggerty held a piece of toast up to her mouth. “Eat something, Detective. You’re still too thin. Let’s keep your obit in the file.”
Codella pushed the toast away and kept reading instead. Haggerty lowered the toast to a plate, rested his chin on her shoulder, and read along.
In a 2014 interview with New York Times arts columnist John Avery, Merchant acknowledged that she was a carrier of a rare genetic presenilin mutation associated with inherited early onset Alzheimer’s disease. “This is obviously devastating news. I’ll face it with as much stage presence as possible and do whatever I can while I can to advocate for those who still have time to benefit from a cure.”
Broadway marquee lights were dimmed at 8:00 PM last night in Merchant’s honor. She is survived by her husband, Thomas Merchant, daughter, Julia Merchant, and younger sister, Pamela Martinelli.
Codella lowered the paper. “Shit, that’s worse than cancer.”
“We’re all ticking time bombs.” Haggerty raised the toast to her mouth again.
Were any diseases purely accidental, she wondered as she took a bite, or were they all blueprinted in the primordial language of DNA the moment your life began? She had experienced the awfulness of the body’s betrayal. But how could that begin to compare with the mind’s? Had all of Lucy Merchant’s memories dissolved before she died? Had she lived her last days with no storyline at all, robbed of her darkest secrets, her deepest disappointments, and her failed romances as well as her moments of glory on the stage, at a curtain call, when thunderous applause must have made her feel omnipotent?
Codella recalled her own vivid memories of childhood. The sights, sounds, and smells of that last evening on Pleasant Street in Cranston were hardly pleasant, but they were part of her narrative, part of who she was today. They were like the light from a burned out sun still barreling through time and space to make an impact on the present. What would be left of her when those memories faded away?
Haggerty was rinsing his plate. Then he put it in the dishwasher. He was on his best behavior, she thought. Trying to make this work—whatever this was. She put her hand on his back. He turned, smiled, and wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands found the backup gun in the holster tucked into her waistband, and he frowned. “Since when do you carry your backup on duty?”
“Since the last time I could have used one,” she said. “Since Sanchez.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Well, let’s hope you don’t need one today, Detective Codella. Now, I’ve got to go. Reilly’s out until next Monday, and I’m playing captain all week.”