There was an arched doorway near the rear of the church, which Felix explained was the entrance to the theater, but he walked right past it and around to the back of the church, where a metal door was set in a smaller arch. A sign advised that this was the stage door and asked all visitors to announce themselves. Felix pressed a button under a speaker. A woman’s voice said, “Yes?”
“Felix Hooper,” he said.
“Minute,” the woman said.
There was a buzz. Felix grasped the doorknob, twisted it, and led them into a space that looked like a one-room schoolhouse, with students’ desks and a teacher’s desk and a piano in one corner, and an American flag in another corner. A dark-haired woman wearing a wide, flower-patterned skirt over a black leotard and tights came into the room, carrying a clipboard.
“Hi, Felix,” she said.
“Hi. Is Judy here?”
“Onstage,” she said.
Michael noticed that she was barefoot.
“I’m Anne Summers, the stage manager,” she said.
“I’m Connie Kee, the chauffeur,” Connie said.
Michael did not introduce himself because he was still wanted for murder, albeit the murder of a dope dealer fence.
“You look familiar,” Anne said.
“Everybody tells me that,” Michael said.
“Okay to go in?” Felix asked.
“Sure.”
“‘Cause I want to kill Judy,” Felix said, and smiled.
“So does Kenny,” Anne said, and turned to Michael. “Kenny Stein, the director,” she explained.
Michael figured that in the theater, everyone had a title. He wondered if he was supposed to recognize Kenny Stein’s name. Anne was looking at him expectantly.
“Gee,” Michael said.
“You’d better sit way in the back,” she said to Felix. “Kenny likes a lot of space around him. Are you sure I don’t know you?” she asked Michael.
“Positive,” Michael said, and followed Felix across the room to a doorframe hung with a black curtain. Felix pushed the curtain aside, whispered, “Stay close behind me,” and stepped through the doorframe. Connie went out after him. Anne was watching Michael. He smiled at her. She smiled back.
There was darkness beyond the curtain.
And a man’s voice.
“Let’s take it from Judy’s entrance again.”
And then a voice Michael remembered well.
“Kenny, could you please refer to me as the Queen?”
Judy Jordan speaking. The woman who’d called herself Helen Parrish on Christmas Eve. Wishing to be called the Queen on Boxing Day.
“Because if I’m going to stay in character …”
“Yes, yes,” the man said patiently.
“… and you keep referring to me as Judy …”
“Which, by the way, is your name.”
“Not in this play,” Judy said. “In this play, I am the Queen, and I wish you’d refer to me as that.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the man said. “Can we take it from the Queen’s entrance, please?”
“Thank you,” Judy said.
Michael was following Felix and Connie up the side aisle of the small theater, turning his head every now and then for a glimpse of the lighted stage, where Judy Jordan was standing with three men. Michael stumbled, caught his balance, and then concentrated entirely on following Felix, who was now at the last row in the theater, moving into the seats there.
“What’s the problem?”
The man’s voice again. Kenny Stein, the director.
“Some problem, Your Majesty?”
“Did you want this from the top of the act, or from my entrance?” Judy asked.
“I said from your entrance, didn’t I?”
“That’s so close to the top, I thought …”
“From your entrance, please.”
Seated now, Michael turned his full attention to the stage. The set seemed to be an ultramodern apartment in Manhattan, judging from the skyline beyond the open French doors leading onto a terrace. But the people in the set—Judy and the three men—were dressed in medieval costumes. Judy was wearing a crown and an ankle-length, scoop-necked gown. One of the men was wearing a black helmet that completely covered his head and his face. Another of the men was holding what looked like a real sword in his right hand. The third man, younger than the other two, was wearing leggings wrapped with leather thongs, and a funny hat with a feather in it; he looked like a peasant.
“They’re rehearsing in the set for a play that’s already in performance,” Felix whispered, leaning over Connie, who was sitting between them.
“It’s only two A.M.,” Kenny said patiently, “just take all the time you need.”
“We just want to make sure we’ve got the right place,” the man with the sword said.
“The right place is Judy’s entrance,” Kenny said.
“From my line?”
“Yes, your line would be fine.”
“`The White Knight? At your service, fair maiden?`”
“Yes, that is your line,” Kenny said. “Can we do it now, please?”
“Thank you,” the man with the sword said.
“Judy, are you ready?”
“Please don’t call me Judy,” she said.
“Well, I’m not supposed to know you’re the Queen yet. You haven’t come in yet.”
“Yes, please do come in,” Kenny said. “Just say your line, Hal, and Judy will come in.”
“The play is called Stalemate,” Felix explained.
On the stage, the man with the sword said, “The White Knight. At your service, fair maiden.”
“I’m not a maiden,” Judy said. “I’m a queen.”