DEATH TAKES A BOW
Chapter Two
"Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?"
"Hey. You feelin' okay?"
"Never better. Why?" Mac glared across at Don as they walked away from the grotto.
"Well - you're not what I would call your usual peppy self."
"I'm tired, Don."
"Aubrey been keeping you up late?" Don's smirk failed to hide the honest concern in his eyes.
"We're just friends, Don. You know that. Besides, we haven't seen that much of each other, these past few weeks. Busy lives. You know how it goes." Mac moved ahead.
Butt out. I get it, thought Don with a sigh.
They made their way back through the wings and then took a short cut down to the auditorium. Bottom had finally managed to rid himself of the fairies that cramped his style. He leaned against the rail of the orchestra pit, arms folded, watching the scene with an air of patronising calm. "I wondered when you would get to me," he commented, as the two men approached him.
Don resisted the urge to talk to the donkey's gentle face instead. A flap was open in the creature's neck, revealing a far less amiable character, sharp-eyed and jowly. The effect was grotesque, as though the actor had been swallowed whole and was trying to cut himself free, from the inside out. "Walter Case. My officer tells me you're the one who found the body?"
"Part of the scene, dear boy. Rowena missed her cue. I wanted to find out why." He shuddered, an overblown gesture calculated to inspire pity. Mac watched him silently. Don chose nonchalance.
"Did you touch her?"
"Touch her? Good heavens, no! Why would I do a thing like that? It makes my blood run cold just to think of it. 'Murder most foul'..."
"Hamlet," said Mac, without batting an eyelid.
Bottom gave an imperceptible start. That's right, thought Don. We're not the dumb cops you took us for.
"When did you last see Rowena alive?" he pressed.
"When she lay down on her 'flowery bed'. Act Two, Scene Two. The play went on around her, but no one went near... Not unless you count... Oh, Lord!" Bottom's hand flew up to his mouth and his eyes grew wide. "Oberon. Rowena's husband, I mean. They were alone together when he enchanted her. Made quite a meal of it, as I recall. Drew his speech out - what is it with these movie actors and their dramatic pauses? Anyway, he's the only one who could have done it..."
"Don't you like 'movie actors'?" Mac said.
Bottom looked sly.
"I'm sure they're very good at what they do. But Shakespeare... that's a whole different skill set. Some of us trained for years... though I'm not one to cast aspersions," he added hastily, holding up his hands in denial as he watched Don's pen fly across the page of his little notebook. "Rowena's a wonderful person. Was. A wonderful person. No one could ever wish her any harm."
"Especially you," grinned Don, enjoying the man's discomfort.
"How well did you know her?" Mac pressed. "Ever act with her before?"
"Do I look like one of those Hollywood types?" Bottom sighed. "I'm an actor, you know - flesh and blood, not a 'face' on a screen. Our paths never crossed before now. Besides, I'm hardly her social type. You should probably talk to the lovers. 'Bright young things', the lot of them." Smiling in scorn at Don's raised eyebrow, he clarified. "Helena. Demetrius. Hermia and..."
"Lysander. Thank you, yes." Don looked smug as he turned away. "Please don't leave, Mr. Bottom..."
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Adam crouched beside his kit. He knew that he should be working, but his eyes kept stealing back to Rowena's body. She looked ethereal, and so sad - a far cry from the vibrant star whose sweet gaze filled his heart with warmth whenever he saw it...
"You liked her," said Stella, watching him.
"She was okay." He shrugged, embarrassed at being caught out. Like a schoolboy with a crush. "Her films were good. Lots of humour, and action. Not too fluffy."
"Strange to find her in something like this. Shakespeare isn't everyone's cup of tea." Stella knelt in a patch of hand-made flowers, running her gloved hand through their gossamer petals in search of trace. The image was quirky, yet pleasing. It made Adam smile.
"That's better," Stella told him fondly. "Don't let things get to you so much, Adam. You need to be hard in this business."
"You're not."
"Oh!" She laughed; a brittle and unexpected sound. "Thank you for that - I think. Other people might disagree with you."
Adam frowned. "Are you alright, Stella?"
"Never better," she lied. "Now get to work, before Mac comes back and yells at me for leading you astray."
This time, he giggled. "Grouchy today, isn't he? Maybe he got out of bed on the wrong side, or something." Stella's eyes narrowed in urgent warning. "Oops... I mean... Hey, boss. What did the Donkey have to say?"
"He thinks Rowena's husband did it." Mac raked his gaze across the crowded stalls.
"Over there," said Adam helpfully. "See? I have culture," he added, full of pride. "Peter Reynolds. He was awesome in 'Slavemaster: Rise of the Androids'..."
Stella dipped her head, hiding her grin behind a sloping mass of curls.
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The 'awesome' Peter Reynolds was dressed in a moss-green robe, shot through with golden thread. A wig made of tumbling, leaf-bound dreadlocks hung down his back. One arm was hooked protectively around the shoulders of the unhappy sprite. Both men were pale and on edge.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Mac offered, looking into the Fairy King's painted face and liking what he saw there.
"Thank you." Reynolds nodded gravely. "This is Rowena's ward, Henry. He's playing Puck."
The young man lifted up his chin and Mac was confronted by a pair of pale blue eyes, washed in tears and clearer than spring-water. Smiling weakly, Henry opened his mouth - but words were beyond him. Reynolds hugged him tighter in sympathy. "Does it have to be now?" he asked.
"Just a few questions," Don said, fighting his natural cynicism as he watched the honest display of affection. "Won't take long."
"Very well." Reynolds stared at them thoughtfully. "Let me see if I can get this right." He tilted his head, first one way, then the other. "'Mr. Reynolds - did you love your wife?' Why yes, Detective, with all my heart. 'Was she alive when you saw her last?' Of course. She winked at me, in fact, as I said my lines. Very off-putting. 'Do you know anyone else who would wish her harm?' Not at all. My wife was a good woman. Everyone loved her." Fixing his gaze upon Mac, the actor shrugged. "So. How did I do?"
"Not too bad," the detective replied. "But this isn't a game, Mr. Reynolds."
"You think I don't know that?" Tensing, the actor glanced down at Henry, as though for reassurance. "This whole thing - it's tearing me apart. Forgive me if I control myself the only way that I know how. What use would I be to you, and to her, if I let out the monster that lurks within? Do you understand, Detective?"
"More than you know," Mac said quietly.
Watching his friend, Don waited a beat before jumping in with his question. "Was your wife in any trouble, that you know of?"
"Certainly not. And if you're going to ask about lovers, please don't bother. We were happily married. Rowena didn't fool around."
"Would you know if she did...?" Don persisted, feeling oddly intrusive.
"Yes. I would." The Fairy King regarded him. "You can ask the difficult questions. I know you're simply doing your job. And you're not the only ones who want to find out what happened. Why Rowena was..."
Ducking his head, he closed his eyes, unable to finish the sentence. They watched, as pain stole over his face and was smothered.
Actors, thought Don, full of doubt.
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A/N: Aubrey and Mac. I could never quite decide whether or not they were meant to be in a proper relationship. All they really seemed to do together was eat. And then she simply disappeared. Perhaps this story will go a little way towards explaining why...
Thanks for all of your kind reviews and follows after Chapter One. You've given me so much confidence to carry on with this story!
Next update will probably be Friday, if all goes well.
