Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 08 - Foul Play Read Online Free

plan.”

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 3
    “Everyone , I’d like to introduce you to our newest cast member,” Paulette started, looking amazingly pulled together considering what we’d discovered only five hours earlier. “This is Gabby St. Claire.”
    Everyone stared at me. I hadn’t expected a rousing round of applause. After all, one of their own had just died. Paulette had announced the news, the cast had spent about an hour crying and mourning—as they should—and now she was addressing the practical side of the loss.
    We all sat in the chorus room, which had three elevated levels with chairs. Paulette stood at the front, where a teacher might have given instruction, while the rest of the cast sat in a semi-circle on the risers, sniffling with tissues in hand and an unwelcoming air about them.
    She called me up to the front with her. The reception, not surprisingly, seemed a little cold. I would have probably handled things differently myself, if I’d had a choice in the matter. But Paulette had gotten the crazy idea in her head that I would take the lead part, and there was no changing her mind.
    I wished Mrs. Baker could have been here. My former teacher had a way of smoothing over bad situations. Things might have gone better if I’d had her in my corner, but apparently she had an awards ceremony to attend with her daughter.
    I couldn’t wait to see her.
    I realized Paulette was staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I cleared my throat, trying to figure out the best approach to take in the midst of the glares from the cast. There really wasn’t one, I decided.
    “I’m glad to be here but very sorry for the reason behind my addition,” I started, thinking I sounded rather graceful.
    Of course, a new person getting the lead role might not go over so well with some of the folks here, and I guessed I couldn’t blame them.
    After the cops left and before rehearsal, I’d reviewed the script. The play was such an odd little production—not that I’d told Paulette that. It was a mixture of Phantom of the Opera , Les Miserables , and The Sound of Music . It was hard for me to wrap my mind around.
    In the play, a nun was sent to star in a musical where mysterious things were happening on set. Meanwhile, a man who’d been wrongly accused of a crime he never committed had escaped prison and now lived between the walls of the old theater, hoping that the detective after him wouldn’t find him until he redeemed his life. People called him the Specter.
    This was the script that Paulette had thought was brilliant? It was practically a knockoff—a parody minus the cleverness. Add to that the fact that the songs were in abnormally high keys, the range was difficult, and the background tracks all sounded synthesized, reminding me slightly of carnival music. It seemed a recipe for disaster, on more than one level.
    I kept my mouth shut.
    Paulette had given me a CD of the songs I needed to learn: Yes, I’d have to sing.
    And, don’t get me wrong—I loved singing. But that didn’t mean I was any good at it.
    My mind jumped back to the present.
    “Even though we don’t have access to the stage right now, w e’re going to run through Act One,” Paulette continued. “Everyone in place.”
    Still feeling self conscious because of the veiled hostility of the other actors, I vowed to remain low key. Paulette remained firm that we shouldn’t tell anyone I was investigating this case. She thought I’d do better undercover—as the lead, the most vied for position.
    So now I looked like the g irl with connections, the actor who only had this role because of who I knew. Which, in reality, was true.
    I had no idea where to go to “get in place,” so I wandered to the middle of the makeshift stage.
    “You’re over there.” One of the male actors pointed stage left and cast another scowl my way.
    I thanked him, trying not to freeze in panic when I realized all the other actors would take one look at me and