A Midsummer Night's Scream

Shelley said.
    “Oh, please no, Shelley. I couldn’t bear it.“
    “Okay, but I’m going to go to see how the college handles the intermission. They might have a caterer that I don’t know about.“
    “I’ll join you then as a taster,“ Jane said, “and sit through the last act to see if Imry’s fixed it.“
    Jane dutifully showed up and was horrified to see how hard it was to park anywhere near the theater. There must have been a good turnout. She supposed that all the drama students were forced to attend, as she had been when she was taking a similar course in college.
    The catering at the intermission was, in Shelley’s opinion, not good enough to even ask who they were. She told Jane that the wine was cheap, the canapés weren’t very good quality, and the paper plates were flimsy. Jane, having accidentally lost her grip on her plate and dumped her too-dry tiny sandwich on the floor, agreed.
    They could only find seats on the far side, two-thirds of the way from the stage. The sound wasn’t very good where they sat, but they sneaked down and stood in the aisle to hear the resolution in the final fifteen minutes. It was okay. Not really good, but acceptable. When the actors came out for bows, only Ms. Bunting provoked a standing ovation.
    Jane and Shelley knew a semi-secret way to get back behind the scenes by now without attracting the attention of anyone in the departing audience, though they discovered that quite a few other people also knew the way. The cast was still on stage. Ms. Chance and some of her benefactors were already backstage. So were some of the students of the drama school. A few of the crew members and their families showed up as well.
    “We’ll just stand around until the crowd clears,“ Jane said. “Mel will find us when he needs us.“
    Eventually the crowd thinned. The actors returned to the dressing rooms to remove their costumes and makeup, some with haste because they had a free weekend to enjoy, since the next performance wasn’t until Monday night.
    Mel finally showed up. “We’re having a meeting shortly in the workroom. Go wait in there, if you would,“ he told Jane and Shelley.
    There were three people already there whom Jane and Shelley had never seen. One woman and two men. None of them showed any interest in Jane and Shelley nor each other.
    Jane and Shelley took seats at the foot of the table and didn’t speak a word. Nor did the two men and the woman. Professor Imry was the first familiar person to show up. He took his usual seat at the head of the table. Five or six minutes later Ms. Bunting came into the room and sat next to Imry.
    She said, “What is this about? I’m tired and want to go back to the hotel.“
    Imry looked past her as Mel and John Bunting entered the room.
    John already had found a drink to bring along. “What’s going on here?“
    Mel closed the door behind him and said, “I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Dennis Roth.“ Bunting spilled his drink. “That’s crazy! I did no such thing.“ He glared at Mel and asked,
    “Who are these strangers?“ indicating the two men and the woman.
    “The men are plainclothes police officers who are going to escort you to jail. The woman officer will stay with your wife.“
    Mel read Mr. Bunting his rights as one of the men handcuffed him.
    “Take Mr. Bunting away, please.“
    Shelley and Jane turned to Ms. Bunting. She was pale, but almost as composed as always. “Did he really do it?“ she asked Mel in a voice that barely wavered.
    “I’m sorry to say he did,“ he replied.
    The policewoman sat down next to Ms. Bunting and offered a tissue, which Ms. Bunting waved away.
    “I asked Professor Imry to sit in to assure you that the play will continue,“ Mel said. “The young man who plays the old butler will take over your husband’s role. Professor, please confirm this before you leave.“
    Imry did so, then left the room after apologizing profusely to Ms. Bunting.
    “What is the evidence for this?“ Ms. Bunting asked.
    Mel pulled up a chair from the table and turned it around to face her. “There is a lot of evidence. Are you sure you want to know all of it?“
    “Yes, I do,“ Ms. Bunting said:
    “The missing golf club was found by a well-known Dumpster diver two blocks from your hotel and pawned. There was blood in the grooves on the flat head matching Dennis Roth’s DNA.“
    Ms. Bunting closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Go on.“

Twenty-six

    I hardly know