“That’s a good point.”
“Nobody in the world doesn’t have a name.”
“Except in this play.”
“Yeah,” Ollie said, shaking his head, and looking at the script again, and then saying, “But even without a name, what I’d say is ’Look, miss, let’s be realistic here, okay? Do you expect me to believe you’re understudyin the starring role in this play, and the girl gets killed and you never even once think Gee, maybe I’ll get to go on in her place? Don’t you ever go to the fuckin movies, miss? Didn’t you ever see a movie where the star breaks her leg and the understudy has to go on for her? And all these fuckin workmen are sittin up on these little catwalks, high above the stage where the lights are hangin, and they all catch their fuckin breaths when she starts singin? And this old guy who pulls the curtain is standin there with his fuckin mouth open in surprise and a little old lady with costumes in her hands and pins stickin in her dress is standin there like she got struck blind, too, and all over the fuckin theater they’re amazed by what this understudy is doin, you mean to tell me you never saw that movie, miss? Let’s be realistic, miss.’ Is what I would say to her.”
“Wonderful,” Riganti whispered. “Thank you.”
“You ever get to kiss a girl in any of these plays you’re in?” Ollie asked.
“Oh sure.”
“What does a gay guy do when he has to kiss a girl in one of these plays?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I’m not sayin you’re gay, you understand. I’m just wonderin how they’d feel about something like that. You think they go home afterwards and wash out their mouths with soap?”
“I’m sure they don’t.”
“I was just wonderin. You ever throw yourself into any of these scenes? Where you have to kiss a girl in one of these plays?”
“Oh sure.”
“But somebody’s gotta do it, I guess, huh?” Ollie said, and grinned like a shark.
“Still, it’s not as easy as you think.”
“Hey. It must be very difficult, soul-kissin some strange girl in front of ten thousand people.”
“It is.”
“I’ll bet. You ever have to play a nude scene with one of these girls?”
“Oh sure.”
“What do they tell these girls when they want them to take off their clothes?”
“Who do you mean?”
“Whoever it is that tells them to take off their clothes.”
“The director, you mean?”
“Yeah, what does he tell them?”
“Well, if the scene calls for it…”
“Yeah, let’s say the scene calls for it.”
“He’ll just say, ’People, we’ll be doing the scene now.’ Something like that.”
“And she just takes off her clothes, right?”
“If the scene calls for it.”
“Are there any scenes in this play where they have to take off their clothes?”
“No.”
“Michelle Cassidy didn’t have to take off her clothes anyplace in this play, did she?”
“No.”
“So her boyfriend couldn’ta been annoyed by anything like that, huh?”
“No.”
“So what got him mad enough to stab her twenty-two times?”
“If he did it,” Riganti said.
“Oh, he did it, all right,” Ollie said.
“Maybe Andy did it.”
“Who’s he?”
“She. Andrea Packer. She plays the Understudy. Remember the scene you just read…?”
“Yeah, right,”
Ollie was thoughtful for a moment
Then he said, “No, it couldn’ta been her. Nor the other actress, either.”
“Why not?”
“Cause they’re actresses,” he said.
“What does that…?”
“They both had to’ve seen the movie,” he said.
10
THE MOMENT CARELLA GOT OUT OF BED, HE CALLED RIGANTI hoping to set up an interview for later that Friday. Riganti told him a detective had already interviewed him last night.
“What detective?” Carella asked.
“Ollie Weeks,” Riganti said. “He was very valuable.”
Carella wondered what that meant.
“If you have a few minutes later on,” he said, “maybe we can…”
“Oh, sure, but I’ll he rehearsing from nine to…”
“Few other people I want to talk to at the theater, anyway.”
“Well, sure, come on down,” Riganti said. “Happy to talk to you.”
Valuable how? Carella wondered, and hurried into the shower.
A traffic jam on the Farley Expressway delayed him for a good forty minutes. He did not get to the theater till ten past nine. He scanned it quickly, relieved to see that Ollie hadn’t beat him to the punch again.
Riganti, in jeans, Italian loafers without socks, and a loose-fitting cotton sweater, was already onstage with Andrea Packer. This morning, she was wearing a moss-green wraparound mini, orange-colored sneakers and an orange-colored T-shirt with no bra. Her long blond hair was stacked on top of her head like a small sheaf of wheat.
Riganti was trying to explain something to their director and their playwright, who both sat in what Carella now realized were their customary seats out front. Carella stood at the back of the theater, his eyes adjusting to the dark, trying to see if anyone else was sitting out there.
“… a more realistic approach,” Riganti was saying. “To the scene.”
“Let me understand this,” Kendall said. “Are you saying that you and Andy got here early this morning…”
“Eight o’clock,” Andrea said.
Carella had called Riganti at seven-thirty.
“… to read this scene we’re about to rehearse?” Kendall asked.
“To go over it,” Riganti said.
“To do an improv on it, actually,” Andrea said.
“An improv?” Corbin asked.
“Well, yeah. Actually,” Riganti said.
“On the new scene?” Corbin asked.
“Just to see if we could get a handle on it,” Riganti said.
“Find a way into it,” Andrea said.
“Find a realistic approach to it,” Riganti said,
“My new scene?” Corbin asked.
“Well… yes. Your… uh… new scene.”
“Which is terrific, by the way,” Andrea said.
“Really terrific,” Riganti said. “We were just trying to get a handle on it, is all.”
“By doing an improv?” Corbin asked.
“By trying…”
“An improvisation? On my new scene?”
“Just to try for a little added reality,” Riganti said, and turned to Andrea for assistance.
“To go for that additional touch of realism,” she said, and smiled helpfully.
“I think it’s quite real enough, thank you,” Corbin said. “And by the way, improvs arc for acting classes, and this happens to be a play in rehearsal. So let’s just run the new scene, if you don’t mind. The way I wrote it, please. My words, please.”
“I’m curious to see what they’ve come up with,” Kendall said casually. “How long will this take?” he called to the stage.
“Ten minutes,” Riganti said.
“Why don’t we see it, Freddie?” Kendall said. “What possible harm can it do?”
“What possible good can it do?” Corbin asked. “We’ve got eight new pages to…”
“It’s just an exercise,” Kendall said. “Loosens them up.”