"That was what I was about to hint at," Ms.
Bunting said with a laugh. "John is still wasting time hunting for his golf club, and I don't want to take a cab. My last ride in one was harrowing, to say the least."
"I'll give Shelley a call and tell her this. We'll pick you up in time to be at the needlepoint shop at one."
Shelley was delighted. "I have finished my sampler and want to have it framed and then pick out new thread colors for this basket-weave project."
Jane laughed. "You just want to fill up more of the pockets in your jewelry holder thing. So do I. We still have thirty more pockets to fill with pretty colors."
They picked up Ms. Bunting, who was waiting in front of the hotel. "This is so nice of you girls to haul me around."
"You merely inspired us to go spend money," Jane said.
"It could turn into an expensive hobby, couldn't it? But well worth it," Ms. Bunting said. "I've already completed one in two weeks, and the play runs another three. I'd be bored senseless if I didn't have something do with my hands all day."
When they arrived, all three of them bought new canvases and new threads in gorgeous colors. They also learned how to do basket weave.
Martha gave them each a scrap of leftover canvas and showed them how to do the stitch. "Remember, keep a loose hand. This is the most durable of the patterns, but it will go all diagonal if you do it too tight."
Ms. Bunting said, "You know, I was a little afraid at first that I couldn't do needlepoint this well. I have a touch of arthritis in my right hand. I was surprised to learn that the stitching was good for me. The pain went away after the first few days. It's been good for me in a number of ways."
"I'm so glad to hear that," Martha said. "I've heard the same from other people new to needlepoint. Sometimes it makes that big muscle in your thumb hurt a little for the first few days. But all three of you have mastered the right tension," she added, looking at the projects they'd brought along.
"Will you be able to turn mine into a pillow before the play is done?" Ms. Bunting asked.
Martha said, "I normally send it out to be done. But for you, I'll do it myself. Let's look over fabrics that you'd like for the back and the piping around the edges." She proceeded to rummage in one of her storage bins and spread out a dozen or so swatches.
"I like the Wedgwood blue," Ms. Bunting said. "Is it sturdy enough?"
"It's the perfect weight and heft. I have enough of it, and I can have the pillow ready for you early
next week." She paused a moment, then added, "Mrs. Nowack, you're doing that basket weave just a tiny bit tight."
Professor Steven Imry called Evelyn Chance at eleven-thirty Friday morning and told her how he'd changed the script, explaining that only two actors needed to know different lines in the final act and they'd already rehearsed it.
"I want to see it myself," Ms. Chance said.
"Then pick up a copy in my office at the theater. I'm going home to sleep this afternoon." He hung up.
She called back, furious, and there was no answer.
Mel called Jane and asked, "Are you two going to the opening night of the play this evening?"
"Probably not for all of it. We've already seen nearly every scene, except the one Evelyn Chance insisted that Imry change. We might show up at the end, though, just to see if it makes sense."
"I hope you will. And Jane, this is going to be an imposition, but would you and Shelley hang around for a bit after the play?"
"I suppose so. Why?"
"I can't tell you. But I'll need both of you there."
"Okay." Jane was perplexed but knew better than to argue.
She called Shelley and repeated the mysterious message.
"What on earth would he need us for?" "Maybe to give some sort of information about the murderer?"
Shelley said, "We don't know anything worthwhile. What little we do know is about Ms. Bunting, and she's certainly not a murderer. But if he wants us there for some obscure reason, I guess we should do as he asked. Have you told him about your agent yet?"
"I haven't had the chance. He's been too busy. I don't want to give my good news to a man too preoccupied to fully appreciate it."
"We might as well turn up for the whole play," Shelley said.
"Oh, please no, Shelley. I couldn't bear it."
"Okay, but I'm going to go to see how the college handles the intermission. They might have a caterer that I don't know about."
"I'll join you then as a taster," Jane said, "and sit through the last act to see if Imry's fixed it."
Jane dutifully showed up and was horrified to see how hard it was to park anywhere near the theater. There must have been a good turnout. She supposed that all the drama students were forced
to attend, as she had been when she was taking a similar course in college.
The catering at the intermission was, in Shelley's opinion, not good enough to even ask who they were. She told Jane that the wine was cheap, the canapés weren't very good quality, and the paper plates were flimsy. Jane, having accidentally lost her grip on her plate and dumped her too-dry tiny sandwich on the floor, agreed.
They could only find seats on the far side, two-thirds of the way from the stage. The sound wasn't very good where they sat, but they sneaked down and stood in the aisle to hear the resolution in the final fifteen minutes. It was okay. Not really good, but acceptable. When the actors came out for bows, only Ms. Bunting provoked a standing ovation.
Jane and Shelley knew a semi-secret way to get back behind the scenes by now without attracting the attention of anyone in the departing audience, though they discovered that quite a few other people also knew the way. The cast was still on stage. Ms. Chance and some of her benefactors were already backstage. So were some of the students of the drama school. A few of the crew members and their families showed up as well.
"We'll just stand around uhtil the crowd clears," Jane said. "Mel will find us when he needs us."
Eventually the crowd thinned. The actors returned to the dressing rooms to remove their costumes and makeup, some with haste because they had a free weekend to enjoy, since the next performance wasn't until Monday night.
Mel finally showed up. "We're having a meeting shortly in the workroom. Go wait in there, if you would," he told Jane and Shelley.
There were three people already there whom Jane and Shelley had never seen. One woman and two men. None of them showed any interest in Jane and Shelley nor each other.
Jane and Shelley took seats at the foot of the table and didn't speak a word. Nor did the two men and the woman. Professor Imry was the first familiar person to show up. He took his usual seat at the head of the table. Five or six minutes later Ms. Bunting came into the room and sat next to Imry.
She said, "What is this about? I'm tired and want to go back to the hotel."
Imry looked past her as Mel and John Bunting entered the room.
John already had found a drink to bring along. "What's going on here?"
Mel closed the door behind him and said, "I'm
here to arrest you for the murder of Dennis Roth."
Bunting spilled his drink. "That's crazy! I did
no such thing." He glared at Mel and asked,
"Who are these strangers?" indicating the two men and the woman.
"The men are plainclothes police officers who are going to escort you to jail. The woman officer will stay with your wife."
Mel read Mr. Bunting his rights as one of the men handcuffed him.
"Take Mr. Bunting away, please."
Shelley and Jane turned to Ms. Bunting. She was pale, but almost as composed as always. "Did he really do it?" she asked Mel in a voice that barely wavered.