Page 33 of Reckless Chance
“Oh. Do you think they cut corners, and the tree still wasn’t ready?”
“I don’t know what to think. Clearly, there was a problem with the tree that night, but it wasn’t what we thought was broken. We thought the control lever for setting off the fireworkswasn’t working. We hadn’t heard about any problems with the hatch door in the platform. We’ve had so many mishaps that I’m starting to believe the show is jinxed.”
“What other mishaps?”
“The first accident was when the fireworks went off at the wrong time, burning the leg of one of the dancers. Another day, a dancer slipped on an oily spot on the stage and hurt her shoulder when she fell. Those are the only accidents that I witnessed firsthand. I’ve heard about others.”
“What else did you hear about?”
“I heard that the fake rock wall fell, and a bunch of performers landed on top of each other. The makeup crew said they spent forever covering up the resulting bruises. Then Reese messed up his ankle the same night that Mr. Brentwood died. He said the silk that he was supposed to climb gave way, causing him to fall.”
“Is it common to have this manyissuesin a show?”
“There are always a few snags but not like this, particularly when it’s a high-end show.”
“Do you think they were all accidents, or do you suspect someone has been trying to sabotage the show?”
“Before the last one, each accident seemed minor. Together, they start to add up, particularly given what happened to Mr. Brentwood.”
“Right. Has anything else happened that you considered out of the ordinary?”
“No. Oh, wait a minute. There was one odd thing. During a dress rehearsal, one of my costumes was filled with pins that left me with pricks all over.”
“Ouch! Were the pins left in after alterations?”
“That’s what was strange. The woman who does our fittings swore she hadn’t done any alterations because the costume was perfect the last time that I tried it. That incident gaveme nightmares. I woke up the next morning in a sweat having dreamed I was a voodoo doll, and someone was repeatedly poking me with pins. Remembering it makes me cringe,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug.
“That’s horrible,” I say as chills run down my spine.
With a nervous laugh, she says, “No kidding. I didn’t sign up for costume acupuncture or the nightmare.” Looking down to check her smartwatch, she says, “I have to leave for another appointment. Is there anything else I can help with before I go?”
“That’s all for now. I appreciate your time. Hopefully, the show will be up and running again soon. Where can I find the person in charge of props?”
“That would be Kenny. He’s our prop master. Follow me, and we’ll find him.”
Amelia shows me around backstage as we search for Kenny. After a few minutes, we spot him on the catwalk high above the stage.
“Hey, Kenny. Do you have a minute? Can you come down? The hotel’s attorney needs to ask you some questions,” Amelia shouts.
He calls down, “Sure. Be there in a minute.”
“Good luck figuring out what happened. The show needs to reopen soon, or else a bunch of people will be out of work,” Amelia says, a frown darkening her face.
“We’re doing our best. Before the show starts up again, Mr. Cartwright needs to make sure it’s safe.” That means figuring out why there have been so many mishaps, including the ultimate tragedy that befell poor Mr. Brentwood.
The prop master arrives as Amelia exits the stage, waving a quick goodbye.
“Kenny, I’m Lowri. Is there somewhere we can talk?” I ask as we shake hands.
“Sure. Let’s go to my office.”
As I’m following him across the stage, we walk around a cart with several long sashes and various hardware. I stop, asking, “Kenny, are these the sashes the acrobats use?”
He returns to the cart, saying, “They’re called aerial silks. And yes, those are for the acrobatics.”
“Mr. Cartwright and I noticed one of the performers hurt his ankle during the show. What happened? Was there a problem with his aerial silk?”
“That was Reese. He messed up his ankle when his silk tore. He was furious.”
