Invisible Threads--Chapter 25

Writer's Note: Please read the previous chapters and prologue of Invisible Threads before reading this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After returning to work, Al's night had been short and the following morning there wasn't enough coffee in the world to completely remove the cloud from her brain. Nor were the three cups she had drunk so far doing anything to keep the edge out of her voice as she spoke with the police. The replies to all of her questions were deliberately peppered with technobabble to hide the fact the she was being given no answers.

"Well, I'm glad to know that we are so goddamn safe here!"

Her anger was doubled by the fact that the police officer who had called was a woman. The obvious intent to form an I-can-understand-because-I'm-one-of-you vibe was grade school manipulation tactics. It pissed her off that they thought she was dumb enough to buy it.

The police officer remained professional. "Ma'am, the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department will continue to do everything in our power to ensure your safety during your time in our city."

Al hit End Call.

Natalie was sitting in Lacy's chair and nursing her fourth cup of coffee on the morning. They were alone in the booth, at least for thirty seconds or so.

The EP took a sip and winced at the tepid temperature of the brew. "I assume they've got nothing."

"They've got nothing and, with the effort being putting in, they'll get nothing unless the attacker walks in and confesses. With all of the cameras around this place, it seems that the hotel could keep the one at the back door working. The cameras in the casinos that spot cheaters are all A-One. The pesky little camera that protects the workers hasn't been working in months!" The last was punctuated with Al bringing her open palm down sharply on the table. Miraculously, her coffee cup remained upright.

The EP was all business. "Then what we have to do is close this chapter and move forward as fast as we can. We've got the talent team in meetings this morning regrouping from pairs to groups of four. With that plus a late night tonight, we'll be back on schedule in the morning."

"With a bunch of zombies running the show."

"I'll add a bowl of uppers to the food services table."

Al's distracted laugh was polite. If Natalie thought that she could get away with it, a bowl of amphetamines would be on the craft table right now. The EP's phone rang which caused her to glance at the screen, glance in Al's direction, and then leave the room before answering. Al was unexpectedly and blessedly alone.

Things around her were quiet. When problems didn't come to her, she needed to go to them. She got up and headed to the stage.

***

In the morning, Gary woke to find Cherie sitting on the edge of the bed staring at him. He checked his phone. It was not set to alarm for another fifteen minutes.

"You want the bathroom?" she asked

Morning preparations in the hotel room were too normal in a Stepford-wives kind of way. Gary was pleased not to be arguing but still felt a shiver up his spine at the lack of emotion on Cherie's face.

At breakfast, she seemed to be making up for lost time by speaking rapid-fire with her mouth full. The restaurant had just opened and they were sharing the large room with a handful of people.

Cherie finally swallowed. "Today is the hard part. Lots of sitting around waiting. You will get bored. Don't try to say anything noteworthy in the green room, you'll just screw it up. Then they'll take you and one other contestant to stand before the judges. You'll have to act like the other contestant is your best friend in the world."

"Even if it's Harriman."

"Even if its douchebag Harriman."

"What do I need to do?"

"If they talk to you, talk back to them. If they grab your hand, hold it. If they lean into you, then lean back into them. The really hard part for you is going to be when they announce that you are going through to the next round. Whoever is in the room with you will be getting told that they are not going through. They will probably try to hug you. Let them. If possible, hug them back. If you don't, you look like an asshole."

"But what if it's Harriman? Can I skip the hug, then?"

"It won't be. His focus group ratings are through the roof. He's going through. You'll be paired with someone who isn't."

"What if I'm the one being told that I'm not going through?"

"Then act however you want. It won't matter anymore. They'll probably try to get some candid crushed performer interview. But don't focus on that because it's not going to happen. Do you want to review your flow chart?"

She was still not herself but at least they were on familiar ground. "Yes. That would be a good use of time."

She opened the binder and flipped through to the flow chart for this day, "You are in the room with the judges and one of them says How do you feel? What do you say in return?"

The rest of breakfast passed with them playing question and answer.

***

Jim Harriman tossed and turned through the night and rolled out of bed with the sunrise. Wiping the post-shower fog from the mirror revealed dark, swollen circles under his eyes - nothing that couldn't be solved with some make-up. That is assuming that he made it through the next six hours without being arrested. He went down to breakfast but neither the coffee nor the food sat well on his sour stomach, and he left a full plate at the table.

The idea of going back up to his room brought with it a bout of claustrophobia, so he exited out through the lobby and, after a mental coin toss, turned left - away from the theater - and began to walk. Rather than being a distraction from his dark thoughts, he found himself peering down the alleys between the buildings and looking to see how many back entrances were monitored by cameras. The answer was most of them.

He fought a growing obsession to return to the theater and confirm the cameras. But that would be suspicious. Going to the scene of the crime and studying the cameras would guarantee him an interview with the police. That would have to wait until 12:00 Call.

So, he continued to walk and study. He was even able to start thinking of some ideas for sidewalk magic in case he did win this thing and it punched his ticket for a show in Vegas. Adding some sidewalk magic for publicity would be a good idea.

After an hour, he was finally feeling hungry and stopped in at a small diner. It was well off The Strip and the restaurant options were pedestrian fare. His stomach being not quite up to pancakes, he had simple scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. The food and coffee were neither good nor bad. In the corner, an elderly couple were putting coins into two slot machines.

He was not completely relaxed, but better. Getting to the theater and finding no cameras might set him at ease. Or he might never be at ease again. That train of thought removed the sliver of relaxation he had been feeling.

The long walk had gotten him sweating and he needed to take a shower before Call. If he started walking now, then he would have plenty of time to make it by Noon without having to rush.

***

It was no surprise to Al that Lacy being away was causing problems.

The director was having to scramble as she went through the partially filled out cue sheet. Luckily, it was obvious where Lacy had stopped, checking the stage elevator. And she had successfully checked it. Of course, after hearing about the previous night's activities, Fisher had decided to remove her request to make that entrance. So, Lacy going down into the trap room and subsequently getting attacked were all for naught. But Al smiled and said "No problem" when she received the news. It had been a stupid idea, anyway.

She and her team had juggled the schedule to make up the lost time. If they could get the green room shots started at 12:30, and if the judging scenes started on time at 1:00, then they might be able to finish the day in time for her to squeeze in six hours of sleep before tomorrow when there would be a live, voting audience and instant eliminations. That was when she really needed to be on her toes. She couldn't count how many times in her career where there had been four mounted camera feeds, three shoulder camera feeds, as well as a stringer and none of them were pointing in the right direction to get the shot she needed.

She checked off the last item on the cue sheet, ran past the prop table, chatted with the prop master, and then found the stage manager backstage pointing up at lights and talking with the gaffer. The discussion seemed genial and relaxed which was a good sign.

She butted into the conversation, "Everything looking good?"

The stage manager looked over and smiled. "Good to go."

The stage manager was not her favorite. The woman was not a good communicator and when they worked together, the director tended to find out about problems when it was too late to do anything about them. But she smiled back. "Thanks."

They were almost at Call and the talent was about to show up. Knock on wood, it looked like they would be ready.

"Ms. Parker?"

Al jumped slightly at the sound of her name. She turned to see two people: a younger woman in police uniform and an older man in plain clothes who she was sure she had not seen before.

"Yes?"

The man spoke. "I'm Detective Janus and this is Officer Latham. Could we speak with you privately?"

A host of questions jumped into Al's mind but she knew they would not be answered until they were out of public earshot.

"Certainly."

She led them out of the theater and into an empty conference room. After crossing to the far said of the table, she turned. "Would you prefer to stand or sit?"

The detective offered a soft smile. "Sitting would be nice."

Al gestured to the chairs strewn about the room and each grabbed one and slid it up to the table.

When they were seated, Al tried to get the show on the road. "How can I help you?"

Neither pulled out a notepad which seemed odd, the police always seemed to be writing in their notepads. The man, Janus, spoke. "There has been a change in status of the case."

The wording seemed stilted and he paused as if waiting on her to say something.

Al gave her line: "Change in status?"

"Ms. Birkland died this morning."

"What? No. She's fine. I talked with her and saw her..." Al's words trailed off as she tried to process what she had just heard. She looked into the faces of the detective and the officer. Lacy was dead.

"How did it happen?"

"The blow to her head apparently caused swelling and possibly a tear to a vein or artery within her brain. It was initially asymptomatic. But this morning, when she stood from her bed, something shifted or moved and she died instantly. It was painless."

The detective had no idea if the death had been painless. It was just something he said.

"So, the change in status is that this is now a murder?"

"A homicide. Yes, ma'am."

"And what do you need from me?"

"Our people will be coming by and needing to interview people who were here at the time of the attack."

"You already did that."

"Yes ma'am. Now that it's a homicide, we have to do it again. Find anyone we missed before and probably speak again with several we talked with before."

"But I thought that you had no leads."

"That remains true at this time but the change in status means a renewed effort."

She paused and took this in. "In other words, avenging the dead has a higher priority than protecting the living."

"It gets assigned more manpower. Yes, ma'am."

"Her parents!" Al jerked upright and looked back and forth between the two. "They're coming to see her."

The younger officer spoke for the first time. "They made it. They were with her when she died."

Al opened her mouth to say something but then had no idea what. Her mouth just hung open.

Janus stood and took a step away from the table to allow Latham to scoot around next to Al. The young woman took Al's hand and held it. Al squeezed. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and started taking long, deep breaths to get things back under control. These strangers were not going to see her break down.

When she looked back at Janus, her eyes were steady and clear. "When do the interviews start?"

Janus took over again. "Our people will be here in the next thirty minutes and will stay at least through the day and possibly return again tomorrow. We have an officer standing guard at the stairs down to the crime scene."

"Do we need to cancel the day's plans?"

"No, ma'am. We will keep the crime scene cordoned off but our efforts to stop the show itself have been overruled."

Al nodded. "You called the Executive Producer."

"Yes, ma'am. And she has an impressive array of attorneys on speed dial."

"That she does."

"I have been told to tell you that we will do our best to minimize any inconvenience."

Al appreciated the sarcasm underlying his words. "Do what you have to do. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, ma'am."

"If you can find your way back out, I may take a few minutes to myself."

"Certainly." He handed her a card. "This is my contact information. If I don't answer, call the second number and they'll get in touch with me."

Al had not realized that she was still holding the young woman's hand until she had to let it go to take the card. She looked up with a nod. The young officer returned it.

After they left, it took about ten minutes for Al to regroup. She heard her name on the radio and turned it off. Her phone rang and she changed the setting to Do Not Disturb. She sat and breathed. Breathe in. Breathe out. She didn't cry.

After the time she allotted herself to get it back together, Al knew what she had to do next. Standing, she smoothed her blouse before making her way through the maze of hallways back to the theater. She walked up to the front of the auditorium, stepped out onto center stage, and looked around at the hubbub and activity going on all around. The noise level was a dull roar muffled by the acoustics of the room.

She raised her voice: "Can I get everybody's attention, please?"

A few in the immediate vicinity of the stage stopped and looked up. A couple of those immediately turned back to what they were doing.

She raised her voice slightly higher: "Can I get everybody's attention, please?"

The staff were beginning to stop and turn toward her. But not enough of them and not fast enough.

"WILL EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

It was not unusual to see a director come unglued. Nor was it unusual to see Al go a little off the rails in the heat of production. But for Al Parker to step to center stage and scream an obscenity at the top of her lungs got everyone's undivided attention.

She looked around at her wide-eyed audience, "Um... Lacy... Lacy Birkland..." Her heart was pounding again. More deep breaths. She finally said it. "A short time ago, Lacy died."

There it was. The words were out. Made public. Real.

She spoke quickly now, afraid of what she would do if she stopped. "The police are going to be redoubling their efforts and will be back through the day to interview everyone who was here when it happened."

She paused for a moment and a voice came from the crowd: "Shouldn't someone say something?"

Al's teeth ground together. Typical theater bullshit. Wanting a scene.

"No. I knew her better than anyone here and I didn't know her well enough to say anything. Let's get back to work."

She made her way back up to the booth and took her chair.

One of the interns was speaking into their phone behind her: "I walk past those stairs like, every day. I mean, it could have been me! I'm pretty shaken up by it all."

It took every ounce of effort that Al had remaining to stay in her seat and avoid turning on the vacuous little drama queen and screaming that it wasn't about her. But she did remain in her seat and she did bite back her words. Typing in her password made her screen come alive. She sat and stared through it. Everyone else in the room pretended to look at their own monitors while watching her.

The EP came in and sat next to her. She said nothing and made no signals or motions, but everyone got up and left. The two women sat in silence for a moment.

The EP broke first: "That was an interesting announcement."

"It was what it was."

"We should probably give them a moment of silence or something."

"Sure. Why not? Continue to enable the self-centered little asswipes."

"Yeah. But they're our self-centered little asswipes. And it would seem odd not to."

Al spun her chair around. "Then let's give them exactly what they want. We'll put up an in memoriam at the beginning of the first taping tomorrow. Then all the little shits can have an audience for their big tearjerker. Hey! Why don't we invite her parents so they can see what a production number we made out of the daughter that they just watched... GODDAMNIT!"

She was not going to cry.

She was not going to cry.

She was not going to cry.

And she didn't cry.

The EP stood. "The in memoriam is a good idea. Make that happen."

"Fuck you."

The EP left and Al called down to Ed to get him started on the goddamn memorial.