Dead, to Begin With, page 15
Rhodes didn’t really like the idea of going up into the grid, but he thought he should at least take a look to see if there was a Phantom of the Opera House up there.
“Take this,” Rhodes said, handing Seepy the flashlight. “Go turn on the big lights so I can see up there.”
Seepy took the light, and Rhodes started up the ladder. The creaking stopped, but Rhodes kept going. He was about a fourth of the way up when Seepy said, “The lights won’t turn on.”
Rhodes was pretty sure Seepy was smart enough to know how to turn on the lights, but he climbed back down the ladder and walked over to where Seepy stood flicking the switch from ON to OFF and back again.
“See?” Seepy said.
The creaking started again.
“That’s Jake for sure,” Harry said.
Rhodes held out his hand. “Give me the flashlight.”
Seepy complied, and Rhodes stuck the flashlight in his hip pocket. He could see well enough to climb the ladder, thanks to the ghost light. When he got to the grid, he’d turn on the flashlight, which would make it practically like daylight up there. What could possibly go wrong?
Best not to answer that question. Rhodes started up the ladder again, the flashlight heavy in his back pocket. He climbed the ladder without too much trouble, and when he’d planted his feet firmly on the grid, he pulled out the flashlight and turned it on. The beam was wide and white and strong. Rhodes saw nothing in front of him that didn’t belong there. The creaking sound had stopped.
“You should turn off the light,” Seepy called up from the stage. “Ghosts prefer the dark.”
“You told me that,” Rhodes said.
“Because it’s true,” Seepy said.
Rhodes had no intention of turning off the light. He flashed the beam to the left and right. As far as he could tell, nobody was on the grid but him.
“That noise was just the wind,” he said.
“‘Let me see, then,’” Harry intoned in a theatrical voice from his seat, “‘what thereat is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore. ’Tis the wind and nothing more!’”
Rhodes knew that quotation. It was from “The Raven,” and if it hadn’t been the wind in the fly loft, it had been nothing more than a bird. Rhodes wasn’t afraid of birds, Alfred Hitchcock’s movie notwithstanding. However, while it was possible that a bird had gotten into the theater and was flapping around in the fly loft, it wouldn’t be making the sound that Rhodes had heard, and it wouldn’t be flying around at night. A bat might be up there, too, but Rhodes hadn’t heard of any bats being in the theater.
Rhodes was about to turn and go back to the ladder when he thought he saw movement in the far right corner of the fly loft, and then he heard the creaking noise again. He turned the flashlight in that direction and thought he saw something that might have been dust move through the beam. He took several steps along the grid and found the spot where the catwalk turned to the right. He made the turn and took a step, keeping the light pointed at the spot. He saw nothing there now, but he could still hear something. He took another step forward.
That’s when the flashlight went out.
Rhodes stood still and waited for a few seconds so his eyes could get adjusted to the sudden absence of light. The ghost light was below him, and its light was so faint that Rhodes felt for a short time as if he were in complete darkness. He’d thought his flashlight had a good charge, but he must’ve been wrong. The lights down below wouldn’t work, either, but that was just a coincidence.
When he could see about as well as he was going to be able to, Rhodes clicked the button on the flashlight a few times. It didn’t respond, so he turned around and started back.
At his first step, the board broke under his feet. His foot went through the board, and the flashlight flew out of his hand. He thought he heard someone yell, but he couldn’t be sure because of the roaring in his ears.
Rhodes didn’t fall far. Only one board had broken, and while his leg was jammed into the gap between two boards, he wasn’t in any danger of falling.
Until several other boards broke.
Rhodes plunged through the hole in the catwalk, pieces of board falling with him. For a fraction of a second he thought of how Jake Marley’s body had looked as it lay on the stage. He wondered how it would feel when he landed, or if he’d feel anything at all.
Chapter 17
Rhodes decided not to find out how it would feel to hit the stage, not if he could help it. He reached out with both hands and caught hold of the board just in front of him. His arms were almost pulled out of their sockets as they took his full weight, and he swung forward, then back.
He swung a couple of times, not far, then steadied. He didn’t look down. He looked up at the grid and at the board he was holding on to. He knew he couldn’t hang on for long.
“I’m calling the fire department,” someone shouted. Seepy.
“This is going to be the most-watched thing ever,” someone said.
Jennifer Loam? Where had she come from? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was holding on to the board.
How could she be recording anything? It was then that Rhodes realized the lights on the stage had come on.
“Don’t let go,” Ivy called. “We’re getting help.”
Rhodes didn’t plan to let go, not voluntarily, but he couldn’t maintain his grip for long. The fire department wasn’t going to do him any good. It wasn’t like he was a cat stranded at the top of a telephone pole. By the time a ladder could be brought, he’d be down on the stage. Maybe he’d break only his legs or his back and not his neck.
Or maybe he could pull himself back up onto the catwalk. It wasn’t as if the other option had any appeal at all.
Rhodes wondered how long it had been since he’d done a pull-up. Years. Decades. But that was all right. He wasn’t going to try to set a record and do seven thousand of them. He only had to pull himself up once. How hard could it be?
Really hard, as it happened, since his fingers were holding on to a board, not a bar that they could curl around for good gripping. That didn’t matter. He had to stop thinking about it and give it a try.
Swing forward, back, and up. That was how to do it. Give himself a little momentum, time it just right, give one final push with his arms if he got any height on the backswing, and he’d be fine.
Either that, or he’d be down on the stage, which was where he’d wind up anyway if he didn’t do something quickly.
Rhodes took a deep breath, then swung himself forward, back, and up. Scooting his hands in the moment of the backswing, he pushed up with his arms and threw himself forward as hard as he could. He landed on the catwalk, not quite as far forward as he’d hoped, but he jammed his fingers between two boards and pulled himself a few more inches toward safety. He felt his center of gravity shift, and he knew he wasn’t going to fall now, even though his entire length wasn’t up on the grid. He took a couple of gasping breaths, reached out, took hold of the edge of another board, and pulled himself forward again.
He lay still and breathed rapidly, and he could feel his heart beating against the catwalk. He wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, and he hoped that if he didn’t move for a while, his heartbeat and breathing would slow down. If they didn’t he might be in as much trouble as if he’d fallen.
“Are you all right?” Ivy asked from somewhere below.
“Sure,” he said. “Dandy-rootie.”
“He’s not all right,” Ivy said to someone. “He’s never said ‘dandy-rootie’ before in his life.”
Rhodes didn’t bother to respond to that. He tried to regulate his breathing and was glad to find that it was returning to normal and that his heartbeat had slowed. In another week or two, he might even be able to stand up.
“This is disappointing,” Jennifer Loam said. “Sage Barton would have jumped up by now and tossed off an amusing joke.”
“Dandy-rootie,” Rhodes said, but so softly that he wasn’t sure anyone could hear him.
“Jake Marley must want you to stop asking questions, Sheriff,” Harry said. “He didn’t mean for you to get down from there in one piece.”
Rhodes didn’t think that was strictly true. No matter how bad the fall might’ve been, he’d still be in one piece. It would be a pleasure to correct Harry, but why waste the breath to do it?
Besides, he didn’t think Jake Marley had had anything to do with his fall. Rotten boards had been the problem, even though they hadn’t seemed rotten earlier in the day.
Why had the lights come on, though? Some kind of short in the switch, probably. That had to be it.
Rhodes thought he might be able to sit up. His arms were still trembly, but he pushed himself up and twisted around into a sitting position. Standing wouldn’t be too hard if he took it slow. His legs felt like rubber bands, but after a couple of seconds he was okay. He started toward the ladder.
“Stay there,” Ivy said. “The fire department will be here in a minute.”
“I’m fine,” Rhodes said. “Dandy-rootie.” And it was true. The closer he got to the ladder, the steadier he became. His heartbeat and breathing were fine, and descending the ladder didn’t seem intimidating in the least.
He gripped the rung in front of him, put a foot on another rung slightly below the catwalk, and went right on down. When he got to the bottom, Ivy was waiting for him. She put her arms around him and hugged. He hugged her back.
“Great,” Jennifer said. “Just hold that pose.”
Rhodes didn’t need any encouragement, but he couldn’t stay in one spot forever. He released Ivy and looked at her. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up, but nothing’s broken. I’m hardly even bruised.”
“Good,” Ivy said, “but don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” Rhodes said, looking around the stage at the pieces of boards that lay around. He saw his flashlight. The beam was strong and straight. The fall must have jarred it on.
He heard a commotion in the lobby, and a couple of men burst through the door into the theater.
“Everything’s fine,” Rhodes said, glad his voice was steady and strong enough to reach the back of the auditorium. “I got down by myself.”
The two men stopped.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” one of them said.
“I’m sure. Thanks for coming, but I’m fine.”
The two men looked at each other.
“I have video,” Jennifer Loam said. “Would you like to see it?”
“Darn right,” one of them said, and they both walked down the aisle and came up on the stage.
“Where did she come from?” Rhodes asked Ivy.
“She was driving by and saw the CPI van and the Edsel out front. She thought something newsworthy might be going on.”
“She was right,” Seepy said. “I’m trying to come up with a clickbait headline now. I’m still doing a little work for her, you know.”
Rhodes didn’t say anything. He went over and picked up his flashlight. The heavy aluminum casing wasn’t even dented. He clicked the switch, and the light went off. He stuck the flashlight in his back pocket.
“How about this,” Seepy said. “‘Catwalk Collapse—You Won’t Believe What Happens Next!’”
“The alliteration at the beginning is nice,” Harry said, “but it kind of falls apart after that.”
“I’ll work on it,” Seepy said.
The two firemen finished watching the video and were suitably impressed.
“You gotta get that online,” one of them said.
Rhodes recognized him now. His name was Phil Binks.
“Oh, I will,” Jennifer told him. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“Good,” Phil said. “I’ll tell my wife about it.” He looked at Rhodes. “She’s a big fan of yours, Sheriff. She thinks you’re great.”
Rhodes didn’t know what to say to that. For a second he was afraid Phil would ask for his autograph, but the awkward moment passed, and Phil and the other fireman left.
“I should put you on salary, Sheriff,” Jennifer said. “You’re the star of my Web site.”
“She doesn’t pay much,” Seepy said.
“I could always use the extra income,” Rhodes said, “even a small amount, but I don’t think the county would like the idea.”
“I deserve a raise,” Seepy said. “You know those great clickbait headlines I write? They’re what makes you a star.”
“The sheriff was a star before you started writing headlines,” Jennifer said. “I have to go home and get this edited and ready to go. Thanks for another great show, Sheriff.”
Rhodes didn’t tell her she was welcome, but she didn’t seem to care. She told everyone good-bye and left.
“What happened up there?” Ivy asked. “I know you fell through the catwalk, but how?”
“Maybe I need to go on a diet,” Rhodes said. “Let’s have a look at those boards.”
He picked up two pieces of board, one in each hand, and looked at the breaks. They were jagged, and Rhodes flicked bits off with his finger.
“They just broke,” Rhodes said. “They look to be a little bit rotten.”
“Ha,” Seepy said. “Those boards aren’t rotten. It was Jake Marley, for sure. Did you see him up there?”
“No,” Rhodes said. “I didn’t see Jake Marley or anybody else. There wasn’t any ghost. There wasn’t anything.”
“What about the lights?” Harry asked. “They all came on at once, and nobody was even near them.”
“Seepy had been messing with them earlier,” Rhodes said. “Some kind of problem with the switch, probably.”
“Ha,” Seepy said. “You just don’t want to admit that there’s a ghost in here.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Rhodes said. “If you catch a ghost and keep him around for me to see or talk to, I’ll believe he’s here. Otherwise, I don’t think so.”
“Are you still thinking about eating somewhere?” Ivy asked.
Rhodes realized that he was hungry. Almost falling to his death had given him an appetite.
“Let’s go to the Jolly Tamale,” he said. “I could use a chile relleno.”
“I’ve heard they have spinach enchiladas now,” Ivy said.
“You can have those,” Rhodes said. “I’m having a chile relleno.” He looked up at the hole in the catwalk. “Or two.”
“I guess you deserve them.”
“Darn right I do.”
“Wait a second,” Seepy said. “What about that noise we heard? It’s stopped now. Jake’s through for the night.”
Rhodes looked at Harry. “It was just the wind and nothing more.”
“Right,” Seepy said, “and if you believe that—”
“Don’t try to sell me a ghost-busting kit,” Rhodes said, “or a bridge in Brooklyn, either. I didn’t see anything up in the fly loft, and everything that happened has a perfectly logical explanation.”
“Logic isn’t truth.”
“‘Beauty is truth,’” Harris said.
“I know that one,” Ivy said. “John Keats.”
“You get an A,” Harry said. “Can you name the poem?”
“Do I get extra credit?”
“I’ll pay for dinner at the Jolly Tamale if you’ll invite me to go with you.”
Seepy nudged him with an elbow.
“And of course if you allow Seepy to come along, I’ll pay for his dinner, too.”
“And Dan’s?
“Of course. That’s understood.”
Ivy turned to Rhodes. “Want to invite them?”
“Why not? I can use a free meal,” Rhodes said, knowing for sure he’d be ordering two chile rellenos.
“Okay, then,” Ivy said. “It’s a deal. ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is the poem.”
“Right you are,” Harry said. “A lot of people think it’s ‘Ode to a Grecian Urn,’ but it’s not.”
“I knew that,” Seepy said.
“I’ll take your word for it, but it doesn’t matter. You’re getting a free dinner anyway.”
“Can I give a math quiz while we eat?”
“No,” Harry and Rhodes said together.
“You can’t mention ghosts, either,” Rhodes said. “Is everybody ready to leave? We need to turn off the lights first.”
“Not the ghost light,” Seepy said. “Doing that might cause problems.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Rhodes said. “Get your stuff gathered up, and let’s go eat.”
“Dandy-rootie,” Ivy said.
Chapter 18
The next morning was a Sunday, and Rhodes hoped it would be a quiet day. He was sure it hadn’t been a quiet Saturday night, however, because Saturday nights were never quiet, even in a rural county. Rhodes went to the jail to catch up on what had gone on, but of course Hack didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to talk about what had happened in the theater.
“Out of the loop,” Hack said. “You never keep me in the loop, ain’t that right, Lawton.”
Lawton, who was standing over by the door into the cellblock, nodded. “I’m not in the loop, either, but I’m just the jailer, so I guess I don’t matter. You’d think the dispatcher ought to know what’s goin’ on, though, know where the sheriff is, and stuff like that. It might be important in case of some emergency.”
“Sheriff was the one havin’ the emergency,” Hack said. “Not that we’d know about it if it wasn’t for the Internet. That’s the only way to find out anything around here.”
“Sheriff hangin’ up there and pullin’ a Burt Lancaster,” Lawton said. “Never saw anything like it.” He paused. “Well, except back when Burt Lancaster did stuff like that. You ever see Burt Lancaster, Sheriff? In the movies, I mean.”
“I’ve seen his old movies on TV,” Rhodes said. “I was nothing like Burt Lancaster. Trust me. He was an acrobat. I’m just a sheriff.”
“Looked like Burt Lancaster to me. A real death-defyin’ act, that’s what it was.”
“You gonna tell us how it happened?” Hack asked. “Says on the Internet it was a ghost.”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” Rhodes said, and he gave them the short version of what had gone on in the theater.
