A/N: Many thanks to Wuchel1 for the feedback, the fellowship, and for talking me down off the ledge so many times this season. I haven't jumped yet.
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We'll Always Have Broadway
Chapter 1
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"More show tunes, Harold? Really?"
John set down the hot tea and freshly-baked donuts and bit back a grin at the new stack of CDs on his employer's desk. It was chilly in the Library on this early spring morning, but as long as he could tease his partner - and have Bear there to greet him, nuzzling his hand for treats - he didn't really mind the cold.
"These are research, Mr. Reese," Finch replied unruffled. "We have a new Number and you've probably heard of her."
Harold gestured towards the photograph of a flamboyant, middle-aged woman taped to the cracked board that was the focal point of their workspace.
"Dame Maggie Cortlandt - legendary Broadway icon and beloved star of classic musicals."
John nodded in recognition at the picture. Over the last few decades it would have been nearly impossible not to have heard of Maggie Cortlandt. Her success on Broadway had led to a lucrative career in the music industry as well as several high-profile film roles. A few of her movies had even been screened for his unit when he was first deployed overseas.
"What's she doing in New York?"
"Returning to her roots. She's about to open at the Winter Garden Theatre - in a revival of 'The Sound of Music.'"
He had turned back to his employer to ask about possible threats, but the question died unspoken as a nearly-forgotten childhood memory of a fresh-faced Julie Andrews running down an Alpine hillside flooded his mind.
"Wait - isn't she…?"
"Fifty-seven," Harold replied blithely.
John could feel confusion rearranging his features. Finch's face, however, held more than a glimmer of amusement, as if the other man had been anticipating his bafflement. The ex-op had no real interest in theatre but it was a passion of Harold's, and he gave his partner an affectionate roll of his eyes while he waited for the billionaire to enlighten him.
"Certain performers have signature roles that they will always be associated with - Carol Channing in 'Hello, Dolly' for example. Or Yul Brynner in 'The King and I.' For Maggie Cortland that role is Maria von Trapp. And even though Miss Cortlandt has had more farewell tours than Cher, this latest revival is nearly sold out. The public loves her in this part."
John continued to eye the photo skeptically. While the well-preserved woman looked nowhere near her actual age, there was absolutely nothing in her worldly visage to suggest the innocent postulant at the heart of the famous musical.
"I understand they can work miracles with lighting these days," Harold offered helpfully.
Finch hit a key and John moved around to peer over the other man's shoulder as the actress's most recent appearance on late night television began playing on the laptop's screen.
Just crossing the stage of the Ed Sullivan Theatre it was clear that Maggie Cortlandt had a certain aura about her, that je ne sais quoi that so often accompanies celebrities and draws other people into their orbits. But there was something in her manner that commanded attention as well - a haughty grandeur and the supreme confidence born of many years in the public eye that served her well as she made innocuous small talk, shamelessly promoted her upcoming projects and flirted outrageously with David Letterman.
"Welcome back to New York, Maggie. This must be an exciting time for you with a new show about to open and your autobiography coming out soon. I'm looking forward to reading that."
"Well of course you are Dave. Everyone knows you've always wanted to get me between the covers…"
The audience tittered and applauded at her every bon mot and roared their approval when the segment was over. There was certainly no denying the actress's popularity.
John plucked a donut from the cardboard box as he returned to his chair, leaning back thoughtfully.
"So who would want to kill her?"
"Quite a few people, I'm afraid. Despite her gracious public persona Miss Cortlandt has a reputation for being rather difficult to work with. She certainly has not endeared herself to her current cast and crew - the production has been in turmoil from the beginning. The show is on its second director and most of the supporting cast has turned over at least once. Maggie herself has fired three personal assistants and two more have quit.
"The Shubert Organization has tried to downplay all of this because they're heavily invested in this revival and can't afford any bad press. They've catered to all of the woman's outrageous personal demands - even an extensive remodeling of her dressing room - because without Maggie Cortlandt there is no show."
Harold cut short his analysis with a small frown, and John followed his eyes to the fine coating of powdered sugar now adorning his suit jacket. He straightened in his chair and brushed away the offending powder but the billionaire had already turned back to his screens, not quite managing to hide an indulgent smile.
"This show has become the theatrical event of the season and all the publicity surrounding it has pushed several other promising productions into the background."
"Rival producers then? You think the competition might be targeting her?"
"It's certainly a possibility. In any case I believe it's time that we give our regards to Broadway."
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Maggie Cordlandt's name - emblazoned in lights above the title of the show on the Winter Garden's massive marquee - was visible from blocks away. Dozens of people milled around the entrance vying for last-minute tickets or hoping to catch a glimpse of the iconic actress, and there was a sense of eager anticipation for the evening's big performance.
They skirted around the crowd to the side of the theatre and slipped in through the stage door.
The production appeared to be functioning in a state of organized chaos. A tech rehearsal was underway, the sound of hammers echoed from backstage as last minute adjustments were made to props, and the juvenile actors playing the youngest of the von Trapp children were huddled in the back of the theatre receiving some last-minute advice from the show's acting coach.
Harold seemed entirely in his element as they wound their way through the wings - pointing out details about the sound design and the complicated fly system that hoisted lights and scenery high above the stage. John tried to take it all in but this was his partner's world, and rarely had he felt so out of place.
"Hey, are you guys blind? Get out of the way!"
They jumped back just in time to avoid getting flattened by a large backdrop being wielded by a burly hulk of a man who was now glowering at them from beneath a sweat-soaked brow.
"Morons," he proclaimed to no one in particular as he lumbered off with the heavy piece of scenery.
"You'll have to forgive him. That's Jeremy Bronner. He's the production's head carpenter, and we're all under a lot of pressure right now."
They turned in the direction of the voice and a dapper man - fortyish with a thinning hairline - approached them and shook Harold's hand firmly.
"I'm Otto Beringer, director of this jovial crew. And you must be Mr. Wren, I presume?"
The man's face reflected equal parts determination and a hellish kind of stress, but he greeted them cordially nonetheless.
"You do realize that this is our final dress rehearsal before we open tonight." A note of gallows resignation crept into his voice. "Well it's supposed to be anyway. Maggie is insisting on some last-minute wardrobe changes before she'll come out of her dressing room. The costume designer is in with her now."
He led them towards a freshly painted, unmarked door. Unhappy voices could be heard rising and falling behind it.
"We understand that you're busy of course," Finch said with genuine sympathy. "And we wouldn't dream of interrupting you except for a matter of the utmost urgency. We believe that Miss Cortlandt's very safety is at stake."
Just than the dressing room door flew open to reveal the wardrobe mistress, red-eyed and clutching Maria's second-act wedding dress. She slammed the door behind her and fled without looking back at the men.
"Is there anyone who doesn't want to kill this woman?" John muttered so that only Harold could hear.
"If you ask me, Maggie Cortland is more than capable of taking care of herself," Beringer said wryly," but you might as well go ahead. We're not accomplishing anything here right now."
Otto paused to give instructions to a waiting intern, took a quick call from the publicity department and signed an autograph for a visiting VIP. There was an almost military precision to the director's command of the production that John could actually relate to.
A pretty brunette in her early twenties approached them and Beringer greeted her warmly.
"This is Kylie Hunter, Ms. Cortlandt's personal assistant - and the production's official 'diva whisperer,'" the director said with a touch of awe. "Honestly I don't know what we would do without her."
"We're all just doing our part to put on a good show," she responded modestly.
There was something about her voice that belied Midwestern roots, and she radiated a wholesomeness that suggested she was far too nice for her job.
The stage manager pulled Otto away and whispered frantically in his ear.
"If you'll excuse me now I'll leave you in Kylie's capable hands. I have to take a meeting with some very nervous investors." The man appeared to have aged years in the few moments they had known him, yet there was something indefatigable about the director as well.
"Your job appears to present a unique set of challenges," Harold said to the girl as Beringer strode away.
She took his meaning and smiled.
"Maggie isn't quite as bad as people make her out to be - as long as you know precisely how she likes things and carry out her wishes exactly as she demands them.
"Actually the producers are paying me double the normal rate for this job. I'm getting married in a few weeks and the extra money will really come in handy."
Piano scales were being played inside the room now, and a husky voice struggled to accompany them.
"Hi sweetheart!"
A young blonde man with model-good looks slipped his arm around Kylie's waist and the girl beamed at him.
"This is my fiancée Jake."
"Jacob Hale. I saw your name in the press release. You're playing Rolf, the delivery boy who romances Liesl."
"I didn't think I had a chance when I auditioned, but I got the part - and the girl." The young actor kissed Kylie's hand and then looked at them intently.
"Are you the fellows from Variety? Because I can have the PR department get in touch if you if need a head shot or some of my reviews. I received some very nice notices for my work in Grease…"
"Sorry, no. We're actually here to see Miss Cortlandt."
"I've got to run anyway. The choreographer is changing my number again. See you later, okay?" He gave Kylie a quick kiss on the cheek before turning back to the two men.
"It was nice to meet you both. And good luck with the Gorgon," he called as he walked away.
Kylie shook her head in exasperation and Harold chuckled, leaving John to raise a curious eyebrow.
"The Gorgon, also known as Medusa, was a mythological creature so hideous that her very gaze was said to turn men to stone. Let us hope that young Mr. Hale was exaggerating."
The barely-recognizable strains of the beloved title song were now leaking from the dressing room. Kylie rapped on the door cautiously, but the knock was either unheard or simply ignored.
She knocked again, more firmly this time. The tune stopped abruptly and a decidedly unmelodic voice began shrieking from inside the boudoir.
"How many times must I tell you people not to interrupt me when I'm getting into character!"
And as the door was wrenched practically off its hinges John unconsciously nudged Harold out of the Gorgon's line of sight.
He needn't have worried. Dame Maggie Cortlandt had eyes only for him.
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A/N: So much exposition! I hope you're enjoying the story so far anyway. Things are about to get very strange for our boys in the next chapter. As always, your comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!