Something Wicked Read Online Free Page B

furious bellows. But women are notoriously blind to flaws in their beloveds, and the whispers around the island made the odds ten to one that Janet was another of Shane’s foolish conquests.
    T.K. Horton looked to be odd man out on every front, with his daughter pursuing Shane with the tenacity of an overripe hound in heat, and his wife reverting to giggly, preteen behavior whenever the great lover appeared. T.K. was such an unlikely center for domestic tragedy. As he watched Hugo, his jowly face began to look years younger. Hope flickered in his spaniel eyes. If Shane were kicked out of the play—God, T.K. obviously could taste it!
    Another face watched with burgeoning hope, and the sight really made Annie sad. Eugene Ferramond was
born
to play Teddy Roosevelt. He had the same bluff good looks, the same orange brush mustache, even the rimless eyeglasses that hung from a cord. He was burly as a bear, moved with a bouncy swagger, and was as nutty as his hero about history. Until this year, he could always count on playing Teddy whenever the players revived
Arsenic and Old Lace.
    But not this summer. Instead, when the cast was announced, Eugene was picked to play Officer O’Hara. Now, to be sure, that was a wonderful role, the cop who desperately wants to be a playwright and is consequently sublimelyoblivious to the presence of a wanted murderer. He concentrates instead on selling his plot outline to the theater critic Mortimer Brewster, who is frantically trying to save his old aunts from incarceration as murderesses and simultaneously foil the deadly plans of his dangerous brother Jonathan and Jonathan’s sidekick, Dr. Einstein. Even as Hugo raised his volume another notch, Annie thought in passing what a
wonderful
Mortimer Max was.
    Eugene was a very good Officer O’Hara. But he didn’t want to be Officer O’Hara. He
wanted
to be Teddy.
    It was Henny Brawley who had gotten the real scoop and shared it with Annie when she dropped by Death on Demand to pick up her latest batch of books (two by Liza Cody, two by Jim Stinson, and three by Anne Morice). According to Henny, Burt Conroy had forced the director to pick Shane for Teddy because Sheridan Petree, Shane’s wife, had agreed to underwrite all the expenses for the play. And that was too tempting a plum for Burt to refuse. After all, if the play didn’t cost a penny, every cent of ticket sales could go for profits and make it that much more likely that the summer season would turn a profit—and Burt Conroy loved his community theater with a passion that most men reserve for their wives, mistress, or cars.
    Hugo reached his dramatic finale. “God knows why Sam picked Shane! It would take a deity to understand that incredible decision. I consider it one of the world’s inexplicable mysteries.”
    (But not to Henny,
Annie thought.)
    Hugo hit full vocal stride. “Shane’s an unmitigated disaster as Teddy. He’s a disaster as an actor. Although, God knows, it would help just a little bit if he would learn his lines. Is it too much to ask,” and now his voice dripped venom, “that the sorry bastard know his lines five days before we open?”
    An ebullient call erupted as Sam pushed through the center aisle doors. “Kids, kids, let’s get ready! Time’s a-wasting.” Sam bounded toward the stage, clapping his hands. “Act Two, that’s the ticket. Everybody ready?”
    Even Sam noticed something curious in the quality of silence that greeted him, but he shook his head, and the blondish fringe of hair that stuck out in tufts like a friar’sheadpiece quivered with energy. “Come on now, lots to do, kids. Jonathan, stretch out in that armchair, look like the lord of the manor. You’re back home, king of the hill. Come on—”
    Hugo didn’t make a move.
    Sam squinted up in concern. “Sorry to be late.” His watery blue eyes flickered away. “Having trouble locating the programs.”
    But Annie saw the pain in those eyes and in the sudden droop of the