The kids loved the stage makeup class, especially some of the tricks Louise had offered on creating realistic black eyes and bruises. It was a good thing she had invested in several tubs of wet wipes, or their parents would have been storming the fence for the person who had beaten up their kids. I had made it back in time for Louise to beetle down the hill to her scene rehearsal with Leonato, Beatrice, and Hero. She waved off my thanks and I promised to settle up with her later.
After lunch, and once the kids were semi-respectable again, I gave them a half hour to do an “Italian run through” of their monologues in groups of three, a trick of rattling off dialogue as quickly as possible to get it memorized in some sort of cerebral muscle memory. The results were such that great bursts of laughter kept erupting from the various groups. It was nice to hear.
They were occupied, so I wandered off to the perimeter of the theatre site well away from the trailer and picnic tables, closer to the paddleboat edge of the lake. I wanted to make a call to Denise, and I didn’t particularly care to be overheard by anyone here.
“Did you tell him your theory about Oren?” Denise wanted to know. “I’ve been giving that one a lot of thought, ever since you brought it up and you know, that puts a whole list of people on notice.”
“Like who?”
She must have written them down because she rattled off names like she was reading them from a list. “And the latest two MFA directors to graduate sans theatre, though theirs would have to be the long game, hoping to gain one of the smaller theatres vacated by whoever took over from Oren.”
“Holy doodle, that’s some cold thinking.”
“Murder is a cold business, Randy,” Denise said, “to say nothing of theatre. But I came up with a couple of more lists.”
She was turning into me, I swear. “Sure, let’s hear them.”
“Well, if we add in people who might have had it in for Eleanor, and leave Oren as an accident, we could include Stephen Tracey, who plays the taxidermist’s son on the show. He lives near here and might have had a hate on for her. He was getting a lot of laughs at the beginning of Gopher Broke when he was trying to run a taxi service by taping a cardboard over half the sign on his dad’s truck, and now he’s barely featured.”
“He could have been asking to go light, so he could pursue other things.”
“In Canada?”
She had a point.
“Then there is Paul Mather, the writer,” she continued. “In fact, he may have killed Oren, too, wanting to move into the sure thing of directing as opposed to television writing.”
“Listen to yourself. The most successful Canadian television writer since Paul Haggis wants to come back to Edmonton to run a live theatre in the west end of town?”
“Directing is something they all want to do eventually. It’s playing god.” Denise sounded strained. She also sounded like she’d been trolling IMDB for whatever faint connection to Eleanor she could find.
“Well,” I said, trying to sound supportive, “I’m sure a list like that is going to show the police that there are more ways than one to look at this puzzle.”
“It’s not a puzzle, Randy,” Denise said in a clipped tone. “It’s my life they’re debating.”
“I know. Listen, I have to get back to the kids. Send me that list by email, along with your reasons, so that Steve can have a look at them. I’ll be sure he gets them and passes them on to Iain and Jennifer Gladue.”
“Thank goodness he’s back.” Denise heaved a sigh. “Now maybe someone over there will listen to reason.”
“Well, we’ll see. Better than nothing, though, right?”
We muttered a couple more things to each other, Denise pretending she was calm and collected and me pretending I believed her act.
The kids had already divided themselves into their scene groups and were diving into their rehearsals and planning. I grinned in spite of myself. There was just nothing like the lure of the stage to focus people on a goal. I had a feeling some of the parents coming at the end of the camp to watch our presentation were going to be quite surprised at the evidence of dedication and burgeoning talent.
Louise walked over to debrief me on the morning.
“They were so sweet. And quick to get the concepts, too. It’s really all about knowing how the light hits surfaces, stage makeup. It’s not that often you get kids who have never even experienced a wrinkle figuring out how to enhance and create one with light and shadow. I was impressed.”
“I cannot thank you enough for taking that on for me, Louise. I could have let him come in on the 747 bus link, but I think being met at the airport is one of the best things, and I wanted to be able to do that for him.”
“Besides, you missed him! I get it. No problem. I was glad to help.”
She strolled off down the hill to the backstage area. I had paid her for the supplies, but I figured I would have to pick up something nice for her as well, like a bottle of wine and a basket of goodies.
The rest of the afternoon went smoothly enough, and I waved off all the kids and got myself out of the park and halfway up Emily Murphy Park Road by 4:30. Passing the Groat Road rush-hour traffic made me grateful for the thousandth time that I didn’t have to rely on a car for transportation. Edmonton was getting more and more congested, even with the extensive city bus system. I was hoping Steve’s crew’s eventual report would highlight the absolute need to continue and expand the LRT system throughout the city. We had spent enough rounds of city councils deciding to shelve the plans for later, all the while supporting developments better left to private investors.
I was hoping Steve would feel awake enough to come over, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Somehow, the whole travelling westward jet lag just slammed people. He might be foggy for a good couple of days.
I sure hoped not. I needed him sharp and on his game. And so did Denise.
I needn’t have worried. At six-thirty, Steve knocked and then turned the key into my apartment. He looked clean and shiny. If you looked closely, you could see that the skin by his eyes was still a bit drawn and thin, but that would be the only indication he’d been up for more than twenty-two hours straight and covered a good chunk of the globe in one day.
I fed Steve salad chopped full of pea pods, cucumbers, and red peppers along with boxed lettuce greens, and broiled chicken breasts with rosemary and lemon slices. I also made mashed potato pies, a concoction of potato, egg, chopped broccoli and cheese in a ramekin that I had created to approximate the tasty little potato circles you could order in the IKEA restaurants.
He ate with gusto, which is the best compliment a cook can receive.
Later, we sat in the living room with a pitcher of iced tea, looking at photos Steve had downloaded from his camera onto a flash drive. Norway looked gorgeous, as if a crew of people went out and washed the scenery and the streets every evening in anticipation of the next day.
“They have their troubles just like any other place,” Steve laughed, “but it really is a wonderful country. And I brought you this.” He pulled a small parcel out of his pocket.
I unwrapped the small white paper bag he’d rolled over itself and reached in to find a three-inch statue of a troll on a ribbon.
“He’s a niessen, a house troll who will keep your abode safe and your milk sweet.”
“Well, what would I do without sweet milk, I ask you?”
“There are all sorts of different trolls in Norway who are responsible for various amounts of mischief. This little guy is a protector troll.”
“For when you can’t be around?”
Steve leaned in and kissed me on the nose. “Exactly.”
“He’s great. I wonder if he’d moonlight and protect Denise as well.”
Steve sighed. “I know you’re worried, Randy, but you have to have a little faith.”
“I am not so certain. Without you in the picture, there has been a whole lot of focus on Denise. It comes off people in waves whenever we go somewhere. And it’s as if they are projecting relief as well as blame, like she’s been staked out like the scapegoat for the sins of the theatre community.”
“What is this, Children of the Corn? The whole theatrical community rose up and sacrificed Eleanor Durant in some sort of arcane river valley ceremony?”
“Eww, no. But wouldn’t that be utterly spooky? Now I’m going to have nightmares all night.”
“Well, I wish I could stay to keep them at bay, but I really need to conk out for about twelve hours.”
“And I have to be down to the park bright and early for the next week and a bit, and then I’m done.”
Steve promised to take Iain the lists Denise had made, along with my annotated calendar of events. I promised to focus on my job. We made plans to celebrate his return properly on the following Saturday night, when I’d be finished my gig and he’d be unjetlagged.
“We really have quite a bit of catching up to do, after all,” Steve leered, and then laughed when I blushed.
“Oh Randy, I’ve missed seeing everything you think played out on your face. Hanging around the acting world has done nothing to help you, has it?”
I swatted him. “I’ll have you know I’m learning a whole lot of new tricks. It’s all about light and shadow.”
Steve waggled his eyebrows at me and headed down the hallway to the door. I closed and locked my door and grinned.
It was good to have him home.