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“Well I heard she had to be medicated,” said the other dancer. “And she’s been in a catatonic state since the accident.”
Dorian elbowed me. “Maybe you’ll get to run the show tonight as the lead!”
“Maybe.” I glanced at Braden, who had broken off from our group to stretch his legs by the wall. He doesn’t know how he feels. I wondered if the chemistry of doing our lines together again would help him figure out what he wanted.
I stretched my legs and did some vocal warm-ups in the hall backstage while waiting for Atkins to come out. But when his door opened, it was a stranger who walked out.
A stranger wearing an NYPD detective badge.
“Evening,” he said, nodding to me. He was wearing plain clothes, although the crew cut and hard face made him out to be a cop even without the badge. “Are you Nadia?”
“I… yes?” I said.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
It may have been phrased as a request, but his tone and stare implied I didn’t have any choice. I nodded and followed him farther down the hall away from the other cast members.
The detective didn’t introduce himself. He pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket and then turned his stare back on me. “You’re the understudy to Tatiana? The lead?”
“That’s right,” I said in a squeaky voice. He suspects that I’m the saboteur. I had the biggest motive to want Tatiana gone.
“Are you aware of the strange events surrounding the show?”
“I am,” I replied.
“Please list some of these events, so I know we’re on the same page.”
“Umm. The spotlight crashing yesterday. That could have killed someone. Ryan, the stage hand, told me screws have been loosened from lighting housing up in the catwalks. I think that’s all I’ve heard of.”
He nodded and wrote in his notepad. “Have you noticed anything suspicious in the theater in the past few weeks?”
“There was a strange sound in the catwalks the other day,” I said. “The same day the spotlight fell. Dorian and I heard it before rehearsal.”
“What were you two doing here before everyone else?”
“Practicing,” I said. “He was giving me pointers on my track.”
“Track?”
“The path you move during a scene,” I explained, gesturing at the floor. “Each actor has a different track for their role. Where they’re supposed to be on stage at any given point. As a backup dancer, my tracks are more complex than anyone with singing roles.”
“I see.” He scribbled some more in his notepad. “That’s all I had for you. I mostly wanted to corroborate what Director Atkins said about the suspicious noise you heard.”
“Oh,” I said. I still felt like a cornered deer waiting to get shot. Why was he toying with me? “Do you know who…”
The detective barked a laugh. “The way I see it, this old theater has a lot of quirks. And if all the budget-cutting is true, then I doubt the stage hand has done a thorough job setting up the lights. That makes more sense than sabotage. Who would want to sabotage this crummy show? No offense.” He nodded as he left. “Thanks for your time.”
I blinked a few times before walking back to the stage. I’d expected the questioning to go on much longer than that. Why hadn’t he given me more direct questions about my involvement? Asking if I had an alibi or something?
“You okay?” Dorian asked when I returned to the stage. I quickly explained the detective and what he’d asked.
“Oh, wow,” Dorian said. “I guess it’s good that they’re taking it seriously, huh?”
“I guess.”
When Director Atkins’ office door eventually opened, he and Tatiana came walking out like a principal who had just scolded a student. Her face was totally blank, which was shocking for someone so overly expressive. Maybe she was heavily medicated, like the other dancer had suggested. Or something Atkins said had spooked her.
Or she’s afraid of the spotlight that almost crushed her. That was enough to make anyone go pale for a few days.
