A Midsummer Night's Scream

letting me know. I’ll get back in touch with the caterers and tell them to show up tonight, as planned.“
    Jane went back to her novel. She was still working on the list of events, scenes, and motives that might or not work. She also wrote another chapter. The hours seemed to fly by. She suddenly realized that it was almost time to cleanup and go to the theater. Where had the time gone? She’d wanted to fix that awful triangle she’d had to take out, thread by thread. Shelley was bound to be getting way ahead of her. Not that it mattered to Jane, but Shelley would rub it in.
    When she arrived at the theater, everyone was sitting in the first few rows.
    “Such a tragedy,“ Tazz said. “He was so young.“
    Jane wondered if Tazz was really older than Denny. She didn’t look as if she were.
    “I think we should say a prayer for him,“ Ms. Bunting said. “John, could you do that for us?“
    John stood up facing the rest of them and said, “Lord above, please take your child Dennis Roth into your loving arms.“ For some reason it sounded stagey, as if it were a prayer he’d memorized from some play he’d been in.
    “Amen,“ John added.
    All but Professor Imry echoed the amen.
    Then Imry cut in brutally, saying, “We’re allowed to use these seats, the stage, the meeting room, and the kitchen. Nobody may go up into the flies. No one is allowed in the basement or balconies either. If you noticed, we still have quite a ‘police presence’ here.“
    He made it sound sarcastic. As if the police were silly to stick around.
    “Now, let me introduce Denny’s substitute. This is Norman Engel. He’ll be playing the eldest
    son of Mr. and Mrs. Weston.“ He proceeded to start introducing the others by their script names.
    “See here, young man,“ Ms. Bunting said. “That’s offensive and unprofessional. We’ve told you this before. We’re Mr. and Ms. Bunting except when we’re on stage.“
    “Excuse me, Professor,“ Tazz said. “Isn’t this Norman person the one that you said the day before yesterday was simply observing?“
    “Yes.“
    “So you were going to fire Denny and replace him?“
    A stunned silence followed this question. Jane nudged Shelley and whispered, “That’s what I thought but didn’t want to say at that last rehearsal.“
    Imry pretended, badly, that hadn’t even heard the question. “Hadn’t you better get on with your job? That’s costuming. Not casting.“
    “I think I’m going to withdraw from providing the costumes,“ Tazz went on. “You can find them yourself.“ She picked up her belongings and started up the aisle.
    “Wait. Wait!“ Imry shouted.
    “Wait for what?“ Tazz replied. “An apology?“
    “Yes.“
    Another long silence fell. Everybody was gazing critically at the director. “Get on with it and make it good, young man,“ John Bunting said.
    “I’m sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker.“ He said this so quietly nobody quite understood it. “Speak up!“ John barked.
    “I’m sorry for what I said, Ms. Tinker!“ he shouted. “Now let’s all get to work. That’s what we’re here for, in case you’ve forgotten.“
    Tazz had returned to her seat, and now rose again. The rest of them also left their seats and followed her. All but Imry and his pet, Norman. Bill Denk muttered, “Exit to stage right.“
    “I’ll sue every single person who leaves! You’re all in violation of your contracts.“
    When the rest of them were halfway up the aisle to the lobby, a woman standing in the doorway stopped them. “Hold on,“ she said. “I’ll get this sorted out. Go sit back down.“
    She spoke with such authority that they obeyed, albeit reluctantly.
    The unknown woman followed them and approached the stage. “I’m Evelyn Chance. Remember me, Steven Imry?“
    The cast and crew had filed back to their seats to hear what she had to say.
    Ms. Chance went on, “I’m the person who helped the college solicit the funds to put this play on. I’m the one who’s going to sue you for every penny I raised for this pitiful script, and for paying Mr. and Ms. Bunting, putting them up in the hotel, their airfare, their food, and rental car.
    I’ve also put in a lot of time promoting it, to my sorrow. Now, you will make a real apology, and mean it, to each and every one of us. Or we’re all walking out and filing civil suits against you, you rude bastard. And keep in mind, too, that you are currently the most likely suspect for the murder of one of your