Page 17
Story: Lament at Loon Landing
“She’s invited me to have breakfast with her at the inn tomorrow, so maybe I’ll have a better feeling for the situation after we talk.”
Jack took a swig from his beer bottle. “You’re the theater expert. How likely is it that lighting equipment could fall accidentally?”
“I mean, a lot is going to depend on the knowledge and diligence of the run crew. The festival crew are volunteers and mostly amateurs. Lara’s got her own skeleton crew and presumably they’re more experienced, but lighting is always one of the most dangerous things happening onstage. In addition to the risk of electrocution, there’s the risk of fire. There’s the risk of falling over cables and wires. Plus, lights are really heavy. They’re secured to rigs and scaffolding with tethers and safety cables. If something isn’t properly battened down, it isn’t just the lights that can fall. The whole support beams and rigging can come crashing down, and it can happen fast.”
Jack mulled that over. “You’ve got a lot of people working backstage, I assume?”
“Yes. Working. Waiting. Rehearsing.”
“How easy would it be to sabotage the lighting equipment?”
“Stage crew would have the best chance of getting away with it. Once a performance starts, anyone who doesn’t belong backstage is going to stand out like a sore thumb.”
“But, as you’ve pointed out, you’ve got two teams working backstage that don’t really know each other.”
Ellery said, “That’s true. I think it would have to be someone comfortable with being backstage, though. Most non-theater people get lost backstage. Especially in the dark.”
“Okay.”
“The thing is, it’s not like anything was cut or broken. It looked like a cable was improperly rigged, and then snagged on a batten, which snagged on some drapery. A lot of the festival equipment is old. The sound system. The lighting equipment. It’s all seen better days. The boathouse itself is…well, I’m sure you’ve seen it. Honestly, anywhere else and I think that stage would be condemned.”
“Then it could have been an accident.”
Ellery said, “It absolutely could have been an accident. It probablywasan accident. It’s just that the timing feels a bit coincidental.”
“I agree. I’ll do some checking around tomorrow.”
Ellery let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Thanks. That would be a relief.”
Jack’s expression was quizzical. “Having second thoughts about taking this case, Mr. Brown?”
Mr. Brown was a reference to the boy detective Encyclopedia Brown books, which Jack had read back in the days of Little League and lunch boxes.
“Second, third, and fourth. When I saw that light fall…”
“Mm.” There was a wealth of experience—and understanding—in that monosyllable.
“How wasyourday?” Ellery asked as Jack finished his beer. He put his teacup in the sink. His own day had been long, and he was more than happy to bring the curtain down on it.
“Same old, same old. There’s a lot more politicking involved in being police chief than I ever imagined.”
Ellery tipped his head. “Do you regret taking the job?”
“No.” Jack spoke without hesitation. “They needed someone from the outside. I think I’ve made changes that make policing easier and the island safer. There’s always a trade-off.”
That was the truth.
Ellery smiled. “Speaking for myself, I’m glad you took the job.”
Jack grinned, and pitched his beer bottle with unerring accuracy into the kitchen recycle bin. “You’re definitely one of the perks, Mr. Page.”
A short time later, as they were undressing in the small, tidy bedroom, Jack said, “Howard struck a plea bargain.”
“Did he?” Ellery draped his shirt over the back of the vintage valet stand he’d found at Captain’s Seat and had repaired and refinished for Jack as a thank-you-for-everything. A gesture which Jack had seemed disarmingly surprised and even touched by.
“Yep.”
Ellery opened his mouth to ask, but Jack said dryly, “He still insists he acted alone.”
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