Grace - Chapter One is Done. (and yes, it's copyrighted because I just published it)

 Chapter One

 (* mistakes may still be lurking )

Elle Finlay’sdark eyes narrowed behind her stern gaze, scanning Judy Marchmont’s face forany signs of deceit. “A prop? That looks awfully real to me,” sheremarked, her arms folded firmly over themselves. Elle’s voice was low buteven, betraying no emotion except perhaps a hint of skepticism. The wholesituation reeked of ingenuity; something was very wrong, and it wasn’t just thefact that the headless body of a yet-to-be-identified community playparticipant lay bleeding at stage left; its head being left exactly where ithad rolled after being unceremoniously severed during what Judy Marchmont wascalling a “freak accident.”

            Elletook a step closer to Judy, her tall frame towering over the stage manager. “Andwhy on earth would anyone go to such drastic lengths to create a fake executionfor a play? What kind of people do you have working for you, Judy? Where didyou get the ‘prop,’ don’t tell me this was the first time someone decided totry it out to see if it really worked. You know they have lettuce for that sortof thing!” Elle’s voice rose slightly while emphasizing what she believedwas necessary to point out. “How do we explain the blood? The body? Who thehell is he anyway? I don’t even recognize him. He’s too old to be one of the students,and the only teachers or school staff involved were women, so far as I knewanyway.” She asked.

            WhenMarchmont’s eyes met those of the Deputy Mayor, her silence filled the roominstantly. Several pregnant seconds of dormancy passed before she answered. “He…heis my husband; my husband David.” She said. “You’re absolutely right; we hadtested it on the foam rubber pumpkins we found in the back as well as with ahead of cabbage, not lettuce. In every case, the blade remained in place, whereit should be; it didn’t…it didn’t push past the safety nub. God knows why itdid this time; I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. He’s…you know howhe is; he was insistent! He all but dared…he pushed me.  He told me it was safe, Elle; I believed him.He made it! He would know.”

            Elle’shand unconsciously clenched into a fist at her side, her body tense and readyfor action. She was far from the type who backed down easily and wouldn’t startnow. “You called the police, haven’t you? I mean, you called me, of course,but please tell me you’ve called the police!” Her words biting, each syllablelaced with disbelief and anger. Despite the chaos this would cause, sheremained laser-focused on Judy, waiting for her answer, hoping it would makesense.

            AtJudy’s revelation, Elle’s expression softened slightly. She could see thegenuine fear and confusion, perhaps even regret, flooding over herold friend’s face, and her heart ached for her. However, she couldn’t let herguard down completely until she knew the full truth. Elle’s mind repeatedlyrolled the words “my husband” as she processed the scene, instructing the womannot to touch anything. “Leave it exactly as it is. Don’t go near the head,don’t move. Stay exactly where you are until the police arrive.” Dialing9-1-1, Elle’s fingers shook, but she managed to connect the digits and place acalm, if not too calm, report into her phone, addressing the very real need forboth police and an ambulance forthwith. “The man is dead; there is no needfor sirens; just hurry, please.” She stated as she ended the call.

            “Ido understand your concern, Judy,” Elle said, her voice still strong enoughto show courage at that most bizarre moment. “But we can’t rule anything outyet. When the police arrive, don’t lie, don’t try to make up something, don’thide anything, nothing will do you more harm than to try and say it wasunavoidable; tell the truth and trust the system.” She told her, thinking thatit wasn’t necessarily the truth that she was doling out, but at least she couldcomfort herself in knowing she had seen Marchmont backstage when she heard theblade fall.

            Ellepaused, taking in the sight of the destroyed stage and the panicked stagehandsbehind the curtains where she had purposely told them all to stay. “Lockthat door, Michael! No one leaves! The police will probably come through the frontdoor, but we don’t need anyone making an exit before they arrive.” She toldone of the crew, a lack-lustered youth in his later teens. Glancing back towardher, Michael Bower informed her and everyone else that the door had been left opento let in some air. With the stage having been locked up for several months beforetheir rehearsals, it needed an airing; he couldn’t be positive that someone ormore than just one person had already left through the backstage door.

            Turningto address the group gathered on one side of the stage, her gaze hardened again.“I want everyone to stay exactly where they are. The police must take yourstatements even if you don’t think you have anything to say to them. If any ofyou know who did this, please don’t make up a story to be in the papers orsomething; just be as honest as you can be, and by God and all things Holy, donot go near that contraption again! It is absolutely off limits to everyone; itwill likely be firewood by morning!” her words carried throughout the halljust as the sirens of the police cars could be heard approaching the hall'sfront entrance.

            Puttingan older woman from the school in charge, asking her to stand in front of the others,not allowing anyone to move, Elle walked off the side of the stage, making herway through the auditorium to the hallway leading to the entrance of the hallto meet the police. As she strode off, her long legs ate up the distance, and shedisappeared into the blackness of the entertainment hall. Before reaching thedoors, she called back again to ask for the lights to be switched on; someonehad to move to make it happen, but at least she would know where they were.

            Elle’smind raced with possibilities. If this was indeed just an accident, she wantedto find out what caused the malfunction in the guillotine.  Perhaps it worked perfectly with stage propslike lettuce and the foam pumpkins, but when David’s full weight was on thething, it could have triggered the blade to bypass the safety nub and fallfurther than it ever had when he had tested it. This made physical sense to her,her mind turning rapidly during the few seconds it took to reach the uniformedofficers waiting for her at the locked front doors. 

    “Good afternoon,officers; I am Deputy Mayor Rachelle Finlay, managing the community outlet. We’reputting on an original play written by one of our students, the winner, infact, of the school’s yearly writing contest. It’s something we have done foryears. Believe it or not, it saves the community thousands of dollars inroyalty payments.” Her words faded quickly as she realized how stupid shemust sound explaining the play’s financial valuation at this time. 

            “I’msorry, I’m just not completely sure I’ve lost my head on….oh God, I’m sorry, Ididn’t mean to say that.” She stopped immediately, faced the two men beforeher, and asked them if they had been told what they would see. “Has anyonetold you what happened? I don’t want you to get in there and be surprised. Aman has been killed; we don’t know the mode, but we know the method. He hasbeen beheaded by what was supposed to be a harmless prop, a prop he himselfmade for the play. We don’t know if he was testing it or if someone else wasdoing so. I’ve asked the crew and stage actors to remain exactly where theyare. They are backstage behind the curtain at stage right.” Elleimmediately realized she needed to explain that stage right was, in fact, onone’s left as they entered the room.

            Asthe first officers entered the hall, Elle melted inside herself. Noticinganother set of police officers, both women, this time had made their way to thefront doors as well. Giving the first responders instructions on where to go, shemade her way back down the tiled floor and across the foyer to greet the new uniforms.“This way,” she said, not feeling the need to try and explain as much asshe had, not wanting to make a fool of herself for a second time. “I’mDeputy Mayor Rachelle Finlay; I am usually called ‘Elle.’ The others are mostlikely at the edge of the stage where the man’s head will be; I don’t know ifyou’ll want me to bring the others through the stage door and into the hall soyou can question them, us so you can question all of us.” She said,allowing herself to breathe while she spoke.

            Sittingin silence, Elle phoned her boss, Mayor Thomas Barnaby, apologizing for nothaving called him sooner, but as she explained, it was all rather desperate,and her first duty was, of course, to maintain the scene, keeping it as pristineas it could be for the police. “When I finally managed to get the actors and crew into the hall and seated, I noticed that two of them had already left. They either did so before everyone milled around to theright side of the stage by the stands and gears, or Michael could have let themout as I was greeting the police; I could tell he wasn’t as apt to keep thescene as he needed to be. He’s a kid; he probably doesn’t watch as many cop showsas we do, Tom.” She tried to make things a bit lighter despite the direcircumstances.

            “Ihope I’m wrong about this, Tom. I hope it was an accident and that JudyMarchmont didn’t want her husband dead. They’ve not had the most amicable marriage; I think we both remember the Christmas party fiasco when DavidMarchmont decided ten or fifteen drinks wasn’t nearly enough.” Even whileshe said it, she regretted having done so. Her dark eyes closed; she was tryingto find a moment of peace before admitting that Judy Marchmont wouldn’t havebeen the only one wanting to see David Marchmont dead. “I’m just beinghonest, Tom. I’m just being honest.” She told him.

Photo Credit: Mickey Rogan