Chapter 6

"Oh my God, I need a drink!" Delphi flopped onto her daybed in the studio apartment she and Isobel shared in Midtown. She held out her hand, palm down. "Look! I can't stop shaking."

Isobel retrieved a half-empty bottle of Bushmills from the pantry and poured out two generous glasses.

Delphi knocked hers back in one gulp and wiped her mouth. "I can't even tell you what it felt like when I thought I'd shot him. You hit the floor, and then everyone started screaming." She closed her eyes, squeezing back tears. "I saw my whole life flash before my eyes."

Isobel let the whiskey burn away the last layer of fear still tightening her throat. "But you didn't pull the trigger."

"I know, but in that moment, I don't know...I thought somehow I must have done it without realizing it." Delphi shuddered. "I told you this gig was a terrible idea." She gestured toward Isobel's blouse with her empty glass. "You look like a refugee from a Wes Craven movie."

Isobel glanced down at the sticky combination of fake blood and dried Brioschi that ran from her collar to her waist. "I really hope this stuff comes out. Otherwise, that's two blice ruined."

"Two what?"

"Blice. Plural of blouse."

Delphi yawned. "You are so weird."

"No, don't go to sleep on me yet! We have to talk about what happened."

Delphi opened one blue eye. "Must we?"

"Yes. Now, while our impressions are still vivid."

"We already told the police everything we know."

"That's not the same as hashing it over."

"You start, then."

"I want to know who the judge saw," Isobel said. "Seems like that's a giveaway."

"Probably someone who shouldn't have been on the list. Makes you wonder who screwed up." Delphi stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "What was Harrison like?"

"Very stern, totally humorless. According to Bethany, he didn't appreciate our silly little skit, because to him crime and punishment are not entertainment, they're life and death."

"Yeah, well, tonight they were all of the above." Delphi disappeared into the bathroom.

"They all seemed a little scared of him, except Candy," Isobel called after her. "She seemed to be challenging him in some subversive way."

Isobel unbuttoned her blouse and threw it in her laundry bag, then put on her Phantom of the Opera T-shirt to sleep in. She puttered around the L-shaped studio, gathering used glasses. How many guests had there been at The Hostelry - two hundred maybe? Plus the restaurant staff and her murder mystery colleagues...

Struck by a sudden thought, she set the glasses on the kitchen counter, raced to the bathroom, and yanked the door open. Delphi squealed.

"Jesus Christ! Can't a girl take a dump in peace?"

"Sorry!" Isobel slammed the door and leaned against it. "What about Andrew? He ran out into the park through one of the other dining rooms."

"I know you love this stuff, but can't you at least wait until I'm done?" Delphi shouted and then grumbled something Isobel couldn't make out.

Peter knew Andrew had run off, and he was supposed to be in charge of his actors. He should have said something to the police.

"Why didn't he?" she said aloud.

The bathroom door opened suddenly and Isobel stumbled backward. Delphi emerged in her bathrobe, her blond curls cascading from a haphazard topknot. She brushed past Isobel into the tiny galley kitchen and started rummaging in the fridge.

"Why didn't who do what?"

"Why didn't Peter tell the police there was another cast member who fled?"

"He forgot. We all did."

"He didn't forget! I reminded him."

"You reminded him, and then you forgot. So did Peter."

"It's not the same. Vitelli asked Peter to round up his actors. He didn't forget he was missing one. No way." Isobel pulled out a stool and sat at the counter. "What did you make of Andrew?"

Delphi brought over a wedge of cheap deli Brie and some crackers. "Totally stoned. Which, come to think of it, is not a bad way to approach a gig like that."

"Don't you think it's weird that he kept disappearing during rehearsal? Peter had to hunt him down every time we needed him. Where was he going?"

"I think it's pretty obvious." Delphi mimed smoking a joint.

Isobel spread some Brie on a cracker, pressing so hard it broke in two. "I want to know who did this."

Delphi wiped up some cheese and licked it off her finger. "Why? You didn't find the body this time. You practically were the body. You don't have to clear your name - nobody thinks you did it."

"But people might still think you did it."

"The cops know I didn't, and they're the only ones who count. Let's just forget about this and move on. I don't ever want to see, speak, or think about any of these people again."

"This thing about Andrew disappearing is troubling, though. Don't you agree?"

"No. You know what's troubling? Peter never paid us. That's troubling." Delphi pushed the cheese away. "I don't even want this. I'm going to bed."

But after she polished off the Brie, Isobel sat up for several more hours, replaying the evening in her mind. She couldn't shake the sense that there was some important detail she wasn't recalling, but she knew the more she worried at it, the deeper it would bury itself in her consciousness. She finally gave up and curled up on her air mattress across the cramped studio from Delphi's daybed. As she listened to Delphi's light snoring, it occurred to her that Delphi would have to speak to Peter again if she wanted her check. Unless Isobel took charge and got it for her.

She rolled onto her stomach and laid her head in the crook of her arm. That was what she'd do. She would call Peter and ask about their paychecks. And maybe sneak in one or two other questions as well.