thirty

To say that Dan’s funeral service was memorable would be like saying the Titanic had a rough crossing. Cindy’s response to unrelenting bursts from the jackhammer was to increase the volume on her ocean soundtrack. The end result was that for nearly an hour, Dan’s mourners listened to what sounded like an audio of seagulls armed with heavy machine guns, engaged in a bloody battle.

Following the service, we headed to Sardi’s for the reception. Inside the famed Broadway institution, waiters in red jackets and black pants guided guests to the main dinning room. There, against deep red walls, over 1,200 caricatures of show-business celebrities smiled down at us.

Nigel and I spied Brooke and Mark by the bar and wandered over their way. Their heads were bent close together, but when they saw us approaching they moved apart. I thought about the story that Zack had told me about Brooke and wondered if it could be true. As I did, Brooke smiled warmly at us and gestured for us to join them. It seemed inconceivable that the charming woman in front of me could have been so cruel as to destroy another girl’s career.

Nigel caught the bartender’s attention and asked for two glasses of wine. Mark waited until Nigel had finished ordering before offering a tentative smile and shaking Nigel’s hand, saying, “It’s Nigel, right? I’m Mark Adams. We spoke briefly at Fletcher’s the other night.”

Nigel nodded. “I remember. Sorry to see you again under these circumstances.”

Mark gave a grim smile. “I still can’t wrap my head around all of this. I heard that the police definitely think that Dan was murdered?” he asked, his glance sliding to mine. I gave an affirming nod. Mark shook his head as in disbelief.

“This all seems like a dream,” Brooke said with a small shudder. “Or rather a nightmare.”

“To think that someone actually killed him,” Mark said. “I mean, he wasn’t the most well-liked guy—he seemed to get a kick out of being critical for the sake of being critical. And he definitely pissed people off with some of his reviews, but I can’t see why anyone would want to kill him just because of that.”

“I think it’s hard for most people to understand the motive behind anyone’s killing,” I said. “People still do it every day.”

“But he was just a theater critic,” Mark protested. “So what if he gave a play—or an actress—a crappy review?” Beside him, Brooke began to fidget uncomfortably. “I mean, really,” Mark went on. “In the scheme of things, who cares? It’s one review. Nobody’s career ever tanked because of one lousy review.”

“Mark, I really don’t think that’s fair—” Brooke began.

“Yes, but the police said—” Mark began.

“Actually, I don’t think the police have established that he was killed because of one of his reviews,” I said.

Brooke glanced at me with a relieved expression. “See, Mark?” she said. “You can’t just assume that Dan was murdered because of a review.”

Mark blinked. “Right. I know,” he said. “It’s just … well, you can’t deny that he made some enemies over the years with his barbs.”

I took a sip of my wine. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular?”

Brooke tensed. Mark gave what I’m sure he thought was an indifferent shrug. He’d been wise to focus on directing; an actor he was not. “No,” he said. “I mean, I’m not. I’ve heard other people make some guesses, but it seems unfair.”

“That’s because most people are gossipy idiots,” said a familiar voice behind us. I turned to see Nina standing with a drink in one hand and a challenging look in her eyes.

Mark’s face flushed red. “Oh, hello, Nina,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

Nina smirked. “Yes. Thanks for the update, but I was able to work that out all by myself.”