A Midsummer Night's Scream

caterer, then let’s rent a movie and order a take-out dinner for the two of us and our kids.“
    “Sounds like a good plan. But we’ll have to make sure to catch the local newscasts. Maybe some reporter knows more than we do.“
    Mel had the whole staff working. The scene-of-the-crime people had quartered the dressing room where the body was found. The doctor had been there to pronounce formally that the victim was dead of causes unknown, but presumably from a blow to the back of his skull. The photos had all been taken and the body moved to the police morgue.
    Professor Imry had turned up at two in the afternoon and had been having mild hysterics and demanding to see the officer in charge the whole time.
    With everything being competently done on the ground floor, or at least in progress, Mel finally took the time for a preliminary interview with the director. He met with him in the lobby.
    “Mr. Imry—“ he began.
    “Professor Imry, if you don’t mind. You wouldn’t let me call you Mister, would you?“
    Mel’s first thought was that Imry was right. His second was that his own title was harder to come by and far grittier than Imry’s, but he didn’t let his annoyance show.
    “Professor Imry, how many people have keys to the theater?“
    “Why do you ask? Nearly everyone, obviously. Actors are artists and sometimes want to work alone on the stage trying out movements, or how many strides it takes to move where they need to be.“
    Mel wanted to smack some sense into this man. This was a serious security violation. The college that owned the theater would be horrified if they knew.
    “So all the actors had keys? Who else?“
    “The janitor. I don’t think the costumer needed a key. Let’s see, who else? The lighting director had a key—he was going to work with his two students in a dark setting one evening. The electrician—he had to make sure that all the connections were functioning properly. The woman from the art department had one.“
    “The art department?“ Mel asked.
    “For the use of the students who were going to build and paint scenery backdrops. Nobody in their street clothes wants to run into wet paint, you see?“
    “So nearly everyone and his mother could have come in here at any time?“
    “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way,“ Imry said, clearly offended.
    “Did you take into consideration the matter of safety? Did you get approval from the college to give out all these duplicate keys?“
    “I didn’t think it was necessary. Who could have imagined this sort of thing was going to happen?“
    Mel asked for a list of people who had keys, and their telephone numbers and addresses. “I’ll have one of my officers call everyone in to get their fingerprints. That can be done in the lobby.“ He also asked if Imry knew the victim’s next of kin. It was vital to reach them.
    “I don’t have that information, but the registrar of the college will. I think the telephone number is in my office. I’ll get it.“
    “No, you won’t. Tell me where your office is and I’ll find it. You’re not to go anywhere but the lobby for now.“
    Mel then asked, “Where were you last night after the rehearsal?“
    “I went home to do some work on my next script,“ Imry answered warily.
    “Can anybody back you up on this?“
    “Maybe someone in the apartment complex where I live noticed me come in or took note that my car was parked in my assigned place.“
    “Give me your address.“
    Imry did so. And Mel asked another question. “Were you on good terms with Dennis Roth?“
    Imry hesitated just a second too long. “As actors go, he was okay.“
    “That’s not what I asked.“
    “I’ll be honest with you. I thought he was a good actor or I wouldn’t haven’t engaged him for this role. He looked the part. But I didn’t much like his attitude.“
    “Why was that?“
    “He didn’t want to stick to the script.“
    Mel closed his notebook and said, “I’ll be asking you more questions later.“
    When Mel confirmed that Imry’s office had been gone over already, he went through the paperwork there and found the number for the registrar. He had to explain patiently that he was Detective VanDyne and that a student had been murdered. He needed the telephone number for his next of kin. He was told he had to come in in person and show his credentials.
    “I’ll send one of my officers. I need to be available here.“
    He called his office and told his assistant to arm