Chapter 20

After Arlena rescued her from the self-locking coat closet with the timed light switch that was set to turn off after one minute, Penelope joined her in the dressing room to meet some of the Big Apple Dancers.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” Penelope said.

“Anytime,” Arlena said with a chuckle. “I feel so brave.”

“I was really trapped,” Penelope said grimly. “I freaked out a little in the dark.”

“Anyone would,” Arlena said, looking up into the rafters. The rigging above the stage where several lights and cables hung, loomed like giant spiders in a web. “If you ask me, all old buildings in the city are a little mysterious.”

One of the dancers sat in a chair, her foot pulled up in her lap so she could massage her toes with her hands.

“Did Bainbridge lock you in the closet?” the woman asked. Her eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner, her hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head. She had on a sports bra and leggings, her muscular body twisted like a pretzel in the chair.

“Excuse me?” Penelope asked. “Who is Bainbridge?”

“The Vitrine Theater ghost,” the dancer said.

Arlena turned and looked at Penelope, then back at the girl. “We’ve never heard of a ghost here at the theater.”

The dancer rolled her eyes and sighed. “He’s a legend around here. Victor Bainbridge was lead actor here in like, 1900, I think. He fell from the apartment upstairs, down through all the rigging and scaffolds, hanging himself accidentally during a performance. They say he haunts the theater now.”

“Oh my,” Penelope said. “Well, I was a little creeped out, but I don’t believe in ghosts.”

The dancer stood up from her chair and shrugged, shaking out her gracefully long limbs. “I do.”

After the girl left, Arlena laughed. “There you have it. I’ve rescued you from a haunted closet.”

“Let’s get back to work,” Penelope said. “I prefer things that I know are real.”