The Other Path
Chapter 49
"Yes, I knew Larry Marah before the tragedy," Moxie Generis admits. "He was in two plays I directed. He was a fine actor and dependable– always showed up on time knowing his lines. I couldn't believe he went crazy like that."
"He wasn't crazy. He was on PCP," Kate replies. "Do you have any idea where he might have gotten it?"
"Absolutely not!" Moxie exclaims. "Sure, my casts and crews might smoke a little pot to stay loose, but nothing else. I don't need my people messed up. And as far as I know, Larry didn't touch anything."
"Was there anyone hanging around the theater who might have been selling drugs?" Kate asks.
"Auditions were closed. Security wouldn't have let anyone in," Moxie insists.
"Did Marah have a problem with anyone?" Rick queries.
"Not anyone associated with the play. But I was at Jamba Juice to get one of their energy smoothies before the auditions started. I saw Larry there. He was talking with someone at a back table. I didn't hear what they were saying. They kept their voices down. But it looked pretty intense."
"Can you describe the person Mr. Marah was with?" Kate inquires.
"He was a Jim Caviezel type. You know, dark but lighter eyes, passionate looking, the kind of guy who gets cast as Jesus Christ or a tragic loner."
"Height, weight?" Kate prompts.
"As I said, a Caviezal type, about six-two, maybe 170 pounds."
"Anything un-Caviezel that would be distinguishing?" Rick presses.
"No. Yes, his clothes, maybe. You see everything in Manhattan, but he was wearing one of the vests with all the pockets, the kind you sometimes see on the fisherman out on Long Island."
"Not too much fishing in Manhattan," Rick comments.
"Anything else?" Kate asks. "Any small thing could be important."
Moxie's lips thin to a tight line. "I'm sorry, no."
"How about the name on his cup?" Rick interjects. "Could you see any of that?"
Moxie closes her eyes, much like Martha does to visualize a scene. "There was, but I could only see the first two letters, 'DO.'"
"That could still help a lot," Kate assures Moxie, handing the director her card. "But call me if you think of anything else, anything at all."
"All right." Moxie agrees. "Mr. Castle, will your mother be coming back to finish her audition?"
Rick's mouth quirks in a sideways smile. "With her devotion to her craft, I can't think of anything that would stop her."
"Names starting 'DO,'" Rick considers as Kate drives back to the precinct, "Dopey, Doc."
"I don't think we're looking for any of the seven dwarves. Moxie said the guy with Marah was six-two. And it didn't sound like he was about to burst into song," Kate adds.
"True enough," Rick allows. "Perhaps a Donald or a Dominic. You know, we really should ask Mother. She knows a large percentage of the New York Theater Community. She might recognize Moxie's description or know someone who would. And she's anxious to see the case solved."
"Good thought," Kate acknowledges. "Where would she be this morning?"
Rick pulls out his cell. "I'll call her and find out."
"I needed to recover my center," Martha explains, meeting Rick and Kate at a cafe next to a yoga studio. "So I came for a one-on-one class with my guru. But how can I help you solve that poor young man's murder?"
"Moxie Generis described someone who was with Lawrence Marah as a Jim Caviezel type, possibly with a name starting with 'DO.' Do you know anyone like that?" Kate asks.
Martha takes a sip of herb tea as she reflects. "I hate referring to an actor as a type. A true artist should be able to immerse themself in any role. Nevertheless, it is unfortunately how casting decisions are often made. A tall, dark, and brooding 'DO.' I believe that would fit the actor who understudied Michael Compsty's 2005 Hamlet in the East Village. His name is Dorian Brand."
"What's he doing now?" Rick inquires.
"I haven't heard of anything he's done in the legitimate theater since then. But almost all actors fall on hard times. We take whatever jobs we can get. I still have nightmares about some of mine."
"Lady Liberty outside the tax service?" Rick guesses.
Martha shudders. "Telemarketing chalets in the Poconos. A horrible man went up and down the aisles of callers, yelling, 'I want sits!' Fortunately, I picked up a walk-on a day before the operation was busted for false advertising."
"You know, I got a call not long ago pitching one of those," Rick recalls. "Someone must have restarted the scam. The guy swore he could see a man catching a trout outside his window. I suppose if I'd been interested in impaling innocent fish on metal hooks, he might have caught my interest."
"Our suspect was wearing what could have been a fishing vest," Kate remembers.
"One of the open calls right now is for a commercial for fishing gear. Your suspect might have been hoping to book it," Martha suggests. "NY Castings has the listing."
Rick grabs his phone from his jacket pocket. "I'll check the website. Right. A commercial for Fisherman's Best is casting right now at Chelsea Piers. And if Dorian Brand tried out, he would have given them his resume complete with contact information and a headshot."
Martha smiles at her son. "Richard, it's nice to know you've learned something about the theater."
"Mother, after all the time backstage with you, you have no idea."
"I'm going to run DMV on Dorian Rand to make sure we're looking for the right person before we go down to Chelsea Piers," Kate decides. "I can get his license or ID sent to my phone. We can show it to Moxie Generis before we check out the commercial audition."
"The miracles of modern technology. Too bad they don't extend to shortening the lines to get said license or ID," Rick quips.
"OK, got it!" Kate shows the image to Martha. Does this look like the actor you told us about?"
"A little older, but yes."
"Then let's get to the theater."
"Mother, Moxie was anxious for you to finish your audition. Want to come along?"
Martha draws herself up in her chair. "Richard, as you know full well, I haven't missed an audition yet."
At Chelsea Piers, Carly Banks, the director's assistant, checks the screen of Kate's phone. "Yeah, I remember him. He dressed up for the part but wasn't even close to right for it. The customers we're targeting are outdoorsmen. They spend time in the sun. He looked like he lived in the subway."
"Can I get a copy of his resume?" Kate inquires.
Carly hunts through a pile before handing Kate the document and attached photo. "You can have the one he gave us. We won't be needing it for anything. When you talk to him, you should tell him to audition for vampire movies. He'd be perfect, and I hear there's one casting next week."
"We'll be sure to pass that along," Rick promises.
"Carly's right. He does look like a vampire," Rick muses as Kate drives toward the address on Brand's paperwork. "But he couldn't be one. He was out in the daytime, and he was drinking Jamba Juice, not blood. But where do you think he'd get PCP, and how would he give it to Lawrence Marah?"
"He may not have done either. One thing at a time," Kate cautions. "Let's talk to the man."
