In Death 10 - Witness in Death

religious equality.
    He stuffed the rest of the pretzel in his mouth, wiped mustard from his chin. The letter he'd sent would have been delivered first thing that morning. He'd paid the extra freight for that. An investment.
    The letter was better than a 'link call or a personal visit. Those sorts of things could be traced. Cops might have everybody's 'links bugged. He wouldn't put it past the cops, who he distrusted nearly as much as actors.
    He'd kept the note simple and direct, he recalled.
    I know what you did and how you did it. good job. meet me at the theater, backstage, lower level. eleven o'clock. I want $500,000. I won't go to the cops. He was a son of a bitch anyway.
    He hadn't signed it. Everyone who worked with him knew his square block printing. He'd had some bad moments worrying that the note would be passed to the cops, and he'd be arrested for attempted blackmail. But he'd put that possibility away.
    What was half a million to an actor?
    He used the stage door, keying in his code. His palms were a little sweaty. Nerves and excitement. The door closed behind him with a metallic, echoing clang. Then he breathed in the scent of the theater, drew in the glorious silence of it. He felt a tug at his heart, sharp and unexpected.
    After today, he'd be giving this up. The smells, the sounds, the lights, and lines. It was all he'd really ever known, and the sudden realization of love for it rocked him.
    Didn't matter a damn, he reminded himself, and turned to the stairs that led below the stage. They had theaters on Tahiti if he wanted a busman's holiday. He could even maybe open his own little regional place. A theater-casino palace.
    That was a thought.
    The Linus Quim Theater. Had a ring to it.
    At the base of the stairs, he turned right, down the twisty corridor. He was humming now, happy in his own space, bubbling lightly with anticipation of what was to come.
    An arm snaked out, hooked around his neck. He yelped, more in surprise than fear, started to turn.
    Fumes poured into his mouth and nose. His vision blurred, his head rang. He couldn't feel his extremities.
    "What? What?"
    "You need a drink." The voice whispered in his ear, friendly, comforting. "Come on, Linus, you need a drink. I got the bottle out of your locker."
    His head drooped down, weighing like a stone on his skinny neck. All he could see behind his eyelids were bleeding colors. His feet shuffled over the floor as he was gently led to a seat. He swallowed obediently when a glass was held to his lips.
    "There, that's better, isn't it?"
    "Dizzy."
    "That'll pass." The voice stayed soft and soothing. "You'll just feel very calm. The tranq's mild. Hardly more than a kiss. You just sit there. I'll take care of everything."
    "Okay." He smiled vaguely. "Thanks."
    "Oh, it's no trouble."
    The noose had already been prepared from a long length of rope culled from the fly floor. Gloved hands slipped it smoothly around Linus's neck, snugged and straightened it.
    "How do you feel now, Linus?"
    "Pretty good. Pretty damn good. I thought you'd be pissed."
    "No." But there was a sigh that might have been regret.
    "I'm taking the money and going to Tahiti."
    "Are you? I'm sure you'll enjoy that. Linus, I want you to write something for me. Here's your pen. That's the way. Here's the pad you always use to make your notes. You never use an e-pad, do you?"
    "Paper's good enough for me, goddamn it." He hiccupped, grinned.
    "Of course. Write this down, would you? 'I did it.' That's all you have to say. Just write 'I did it,' then sign your name. Perfect. That's just perfect."
    "I did it." He signed his name in a stingy little scrawl. "I figured it out."
    "Yes, you did. That was very clever of you, Linus. Are you still dizzy?"
    "Nope. I feel okay. I feel fine. Did you bring money? I'm going to Tahiti. You did everybody a favor by wasting that stupid bastard."
    "Thank you. I thought so, too, Let's stand up now. Steady?"
    "As a rock."
    "Good. Would you do me a favor? Could you climb up the ladder here? I'd like you to loop this end of the rope over that pole and tie it off. Nice and snug. Nobody ties knots like a veteran stagehand."
    "Sure thing." He went up, humming.
    On the ground, his killer watched with heart-thrumming anticipation. There had been fear when the note had arrived. Tidal waves of fear and panic and despair.
    Those were done now. Had to be done. Only mild irritation and the spur of challenge remained.
    How to deal with it? The answer had come so