“Whoa,” Cait said when the door slammed behind Alt. “That man’s got a temper.”
“And a whopping ego,” June said. “He’s definitely not the warm and fuzzy type, but everyone admires him because he’s such a great actor.”
“I wonder why he’s here,” Cait said.
June raised one shoulder. “Maybe to get into Chip’s head and screw him up.”
“Why?”
“To distract him, like a wasp buzzing you.”
Cait shook her head in disgust. “I talked to him last month after you gave me his number. I wanted the names on that short list for associate artistic director. He wouldn’t give me the names until he confirmed with Detective Rook that I was who I said I was. Can he remove a name just because he doesn’t like the person?”
“Apparently. It was probably for the best, because the two of them working together would be like a fire in a forest after a drought.”
“That bad, huh? One of my professors said there were two Hamlets in the play. One the sweet prince who expresses himself in poetry and is dedicated to the truth, and the other a barbaric Hamlet who treats Ophelia cruelly. Not hard to guess which Hamlet would fit Alt.”
June laughed. “Hamlet is a grand poetical enigma.” She took Cait’s arm. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the actors. This is fun for me.”
Cait followed June up the stairs and behind the curtain into the green room. The people in the room vibrated with an undercurrent of energy, but Chip Fallon’s attention was riveted on a young woman obviously in distress, her hands flying around as if trying to make a point.
June said, “Father Chip’s at it again. That’s Toni Behren he’s talking to. She plays Ophelia, who Hamlet’s mother hopes will be his bride.”
Cait raised her eyebrow. “Father Chip?”
June nodded. “Chip went into the Josephinum Pontifical College in Ohio right out of high school to become a priest. He dropped out during his third year. People heard about it and, much to his chagrin, started to address him as ‘Father.’ It stuck. Sometimes it embarrasses him, but he’s sensitive to others’ feelings and tries to help if they ask.”
“I’m familiar with the college. It’s in Worthington, outside of Columbus,” Cait said, her eyes on Chip. “I wonder why he dropped out.”
“The tuition’s high, but my guess is Chip missed girls.” June pointed to a woman entering the wig room. “That’s Paula. She plays Gertrude, Queen of Denmark and mother of Hamlet. I’ll introduce you.”
Cait glanced around, expecting to see more actors. “I know this is a small festival compared to Oregon’s, but shouldn’t there be more actors?”
June nodded. “A few more will come, but actors play multiple roles, even in a single play. Trust me, it can be a feat of dramatic gymnastics. Don’t ask the actors how they keep their heads straight—or their lines. It’s in their job description, but they love what they do. I did and so did Tasha.”
“I’m glad I chose a different path and became a cop after college,” Cait said as she followed June into the wig room.
“Paula,” June said to a woman who was adjusting a wig on a Styrofoam head.
The woman spun around.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” June said. “I’d like you to meet Cait Pepper, Tasha’s niece. Cait inherited the Bening Estate.”
Tall, blond, and striking in white shorts and red tank top, Paula smiled and held her hand out to Cait. “I was devastated when I heard about Tasha. She mentored me and shared her secrets for remembering lines. I was honored when she picked me to play Gertrude.”
Cait shook Paula’s warm hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing the play.”
“Tasha couldn’t have chosen a better location for her festival on this hill with spectacular views of the valley,” Paula said. A frown crossed her face. “I hope you plan to continue the festival. It meant so much to her.”
Cait still struggled when asked about her inheritance. “I gave up my job to come here so, yes, those are my plans, but I don’t know how to entice actors to come here since I’m not in the business.”
Paula’s eyes lit up. “Didn’t you know? Plays are scheduled for two more years. Tasha knew which actors she wanted and booked us a long time ago. I’ll be here each year.” She glanced over Cait’s shoulder. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Cait.”
Cait watched Paula leave. “I had no idea there was a three-year plan in place. Had I known, I wouldn’t have worried. Marcus never mentioned it.”
“He probably thought you knew,” June said. She picked up a blond wig and set it on her head, turning her head back and forth in front of a mirror at one of the vanity tables. Her voice wistful, she asked, “What do you think?”
Cait adjusted the wig on June’s head. “You’d make a perfect Gertrude.”
June replaced the wig, a twinkle in her eye. “That’s good, because I played her many times.”
Cait remembered June saying there were few roles for aging actors. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me about your acting career.”
“I’d love to, but not when you’re tied in a knot over Wally Dillon.”
Outside the room, Cait heard Ray Stoltz’s booming voice barking instructions about lights and sound to a crew of technicians.
“Ignore Ray,” June said. “A stage manager’s job never ends. Right now, he’s in the middle of the information wheel, communicating with everyone to make sure all changes are noted and taken care of.” She looked at Cait. “If you’re thinking he’s ruthless now, just wait until the seats are filled and the audience brings their own energy. It changes everything. A good stage manager reacts to an audience and takes notes. Trust me, Ray is one of the best at what he does.”
“I never thought about it like that,” Cait said. “What about his brother, Jay? I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Oh, Jay’s job can be stressful, too. You’d never know to look at him, but Jay is the go-to guy when there are problems with the costumes. Brawny as he is, he has magical fingers with a sewing machine—turns out gorgeous dresses and blouses in satins and silk. You should see the shawls he’s knitted.”
“I’d like to,” Cait said, with a bit of a chuckle as she pictured big Jay with tiny knitting needles.
June grinned. “Remember, never judge a book by its cover. Let’s see what’s happening at the Blackfriars theater. I’ll introduce you to the Macbeth actors.”
They crossed the courtyard, where half a dozen people were pulling suitcases behind them. Cait watched the group, looking for signs they didn’t belong to the theater. “I should have called Stanton Lane, Tasha’s attorney, about the furnished apartments Tasha leased. I don’t know if it’s up to me to see they’re cleaned before the actors get here.” She reached into her handbag for her new electronic notepad. “If I don’t write it down, I’ll forget to ask Marcus when I get back.”
“Don’t stress over it. Believe me when I say they’ll let you know if they need something. Actors are not shy.”
When they reached the small white building that housed the Blackfriars theater, Cait heard laughter through the open door. “I see Ray’s already opened this theater.” She stepped through the doorway, aware of tape that had been used to cover the electrical cords during last month’s play, Tongue of a Bird. The last thing she needed was to be sued for carelessness.
Cait hadn’t before seen the theater so well lit. Floor lights had been set up around the stage. The bright lights spread over the black walls, stage, and tiered benches, but the wooden shutters, screens, and trellises remained closed to block outside sunlight.
“Tasha was brilliant to think of building this theater,” June said. “It’s scaled similarly to Oregon’s Black Swan, perfect for those experimental and risky productions that are coming into their own these days.”
“And now Macbeth.”
“Yes indeed.” June waved to someone across the room. “Sit down, Cait, in the first row. I want to demonstrate something.” She took a big step up onto the stage and stood at the edge. “How do you feel?” she said, looking down at her.
“Vulnerable.”
“Good—that’s how an audience feels this close to the actors. Isn’t it wonderful? This intimate seating allows you to immerse yourself into the play and into the minds of the actors.”
Cait nodded, but thought she’d prefer to sit a couple of rows back. “Where’s the scenery?”
“Tasha talked with me about that before she died. Macbeth, in this intimate setting, is meant to focus on the psychology of the characters. The props are simplified to two chairs, two goblets, and the crown.” She blinked a few times and turned her head away. “Sorry.”
It was times like this that reminded Cait of how close June and Tasha had been. Cait had her own moments regretting she’d never had the opportunity to know Tasha, but she took comfort in small things, like Tasha’s meditation garden and the view of Mount Diablo and the valley below. But sometimes, when a breeze touched her shoulder as she sat in the garden, she wondered if Tasha was sending her a message.
June cleared her throat. “As I was saying, the crown is seen as the central image to the play, the reason Macbeth commits that first murder.”
Cait wondered if June missed acting more than she admitted.
Ray Stoltz walked in from the rear of the theater. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of roller skates hanging around, would you? I’m feeling my age every time I race back and forth between the theaters.”
“I thought Jay was your assistant,” Cait said.
“He is, but he has his own problems to deal with.” He pulled a radio from his belt of tools. “This is how we communicate.”
Cait pointed to a disc in the middle of the stage with what appeared to be a pool of blood at its center. “Remind me about that.”
He stared at Cait. “Do I have to explain everything to you? If you’re going to run a Shakespeare festival, maybe you should go back to school. That’s a disc painted to work with a special lighting design to convey changing moods of the play’s most dramatic arc. When you see the play, pay attention to how the pool of blood seems to glow from within.”
Cait ignored Ray’s comment and looked closer at the disc.
“The blood will be used as a weapon and a prop.” Ray wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Do I need to tell you how it ends?”
She shook her head. “I know how it ends, Ray. The characters’ stark white costumes will be splattered with blood.”
“Kudos for you,” he said.
“But on this small stage and without a caldron for the witches—”
“The pool of blood is the cauldron, Cait,” June explained. “The round stage is also a cauldron.” She nudged Ray on his arm. “Have you seen Kenneth Alt? He’s here for some reason. He and Chip Fallon don’t get along. Maybe you should keep an eye on them.”
“Now I’m supposed to babysit two hot-tempered actors?” Ray said. “We’ve got two plays going on at the same time. Hire a couple of rent-a-cops, for Christ’s sake.” He jumped down from the stage and stormed off.
“He’s right,” Cait said. “He’s got his hands full.”
“Don’t worry about Ray,” June said. “He’ll come through. He always does.” She paused before a black curtain that stretched across the width of the rear of the theater. “We have six actors—Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, and Banquo, Macbeth’s ally, and three women who play the other roles. The small stage is perfect for hearing the language and getting into the heads of the characters.” She held the black curtain aside for Cait. “Looks like we’re in time for dress rehearsal. Let’s find Betsy Ryder; she plays Lady Macbeth.”
Cait bumped into a clothes rack on wheels and caught it before it rolled away.
June went up behind a woman and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi, Betsy.”
Betsy turned. She grasped June in a hug. “I saw you when you came in the door. What are you doing here?” She glanced at Cait.
Cait stared at the tall woman dressed in layers of sheer white materials, her long dark curly hair clasped behind her head. She looked exactly like the magazine photo of Tasha that Stanton Lane had given her.
“Jim and I came here after we retired,” June said. “This is Cait Pepper, Tasha’s niece.”
Betsy beamed at Cait and held out her hand. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Cait shook Betsy’s hand. “The feeling’s mutual, I assure you. I have a picture of Tasha dressed in a costume like the one you’re wearing.”
She looked down at her costume. “This is from the wardrobes at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.” She looked over Cait’s shoulder. “I’m being summoned. Let’s talk later, Cait.” As she rushed off, hems of her layered dress dragged across the floor.
“They’re about to start rehearsing,” June said. “We should get out of their way.”
Outside, Cait watched one of the crew push a cart across the courtyard. “I’m going to look for Rook.”
“Okay. I’ll hang around here for awhile.”
Cait scanned the yard as she walked. She slowed when she noticed a tall man in jeans and pale blue T-shirt standing in the meditation garden. She reached for her gun.
He turned. “Hello, Cait.”
She nearly collapsed with relief and grinned—Royal Tanner was back!