The Second Act Is Murder by W Read online

  Thrilling Detective, January, 1946

  When hideous death stalks, playwright Mark De Cloudt stakes his life in a grim gamble as he strives to snare a killer!

  CHAPTER I

  Howe wasn’t a regular producer. I’d

  THEATER PROJECT

  read about him in the newspaper. There was

  quite a story, all about how he had inherited a million dollars and what he was going to do

  ’D WRITTEN a play. I thought it was a

  With it.

  good play, but I could get few people to

  The feature writer went into great

  I agree with me. That’s why I was so glad detail.

  to meet Bertrand Howe.

  There were pictures of the old hotel

  Thrilling Detective

  2

  which Howe had purchased and was

  “I’m certain it’s a good play,” she said.

  converting into a summer theater, a half a

  “So am I,” said Bertrand Howe. “I’ll

  column devoted to Howe’s ideas that very few

  read it tonight and call you in the morning.”

  plays by unknowns get a fair chance. It was

  He called in the morning. “I like it,” he

  his contention that no one man or group of

  said, “and Susan likes it. There will be some

  men is smart enough to judge the merits of a

  rewriting, particularly the second act. It lies play just by reading it

  down and dies in spots. Why don’t you come

  He planned a different method. He was

  up to the theater. We can work on it together.”

  forming this company. They would select

  I went. That’s how I happened to go to

  several plays, try them out on the summer

  Lake Harvest.

  theater crowd. If one showed signs of success, he would then produce it on Broadway in the

  BACK in the roaring twenties, a millionaire

  fall.

  with more money than sense had built the Inn.

  I’d expected difficulty In reaching It was a four-story affair with sixty rooms. It him. I’d had difficulty in reaching several

  had a big lobby, dining room, grill and

  producers who I had tried to interest in the

  ballroom. The ballroom rose for two stories,

  play. But with Howe it was easy. I telephoned

  with a narrow balcony opening from the

  his office and was asked to call that afternoon.

  second floor.

  He was a small man, even in the small

  The place never had made money. It

  room. I’d expected a more pretentious office,

  had been built to cater to a trade which

  but he explained that it was only temporary,

  preferred Saratoga and the Lake Placid resorts, that he was in fact moving up to the theater at and it had been closed for almost twenty

  the end of the week.

  years.

  He asked what I’d done, seemed

  What Howe paid in the way of rental, I

  interested in my small town newspaper don’t know, but I don’t believe it was too background and listened while I gave him a

  much.

  brief outline of the play.

  His idea was simple. He furnished the

  “I’ll read it tonight,” he said. “In the

  hotel and the food. The cast did their own

  meantime, I want you to meet our star.”

  work and built the theater. They converted the I thought I was prepared for anything.

  ballroom into a show house which had two

  I’d never met an actress, and I was impressed

  hundred seats. It was strictly a community

  before she came in. Yet I didn’t expect the

  affair. Half the door receipts went to Howe

  shock I received when she walked through the

  who took care of the royalties, the lights and door.

  the cost of the basic scenery. The other half

  She was small, and dark and beautiful.

  was split among the players.

  I’d seen beautiful women before, but seeing

  But I didn’t see the Inn until later.

  her was like seeing someone out of my mind,

  It was raining the night I arrived, a

  for she was the exact heroine I’d pictured in

  torrent rather than a shower and I stood in the writing the play.

  little bus station and wondered if anyone

  “This is Mark De Cloudt,” Howe said.

  would show up.

  “He’s written a play, wrote a lot of it while

  I’d phoned Howe earlier in the

  stationed in the South Pacific. We may do it.

  afternoon and given him the time of my

  This is Susan Foster.”

  arrival, but he hadn’t been certain then

  Her hand was small and firm and she

  whether anyone could come after me.

  smiled when she spoke.

  “You’ll have only a three-mile walk to

  The Second Act Is Murder

  3

  the Inn,” he had said. “Just leave your bags at playwright was worth a three-mile ride in the

  the station and hoof it.”

  rain.”

  But it hadn’t been raining then, and

  I laughed with her but there was no

  walking three miles through the squally gusts

  sound of mirth from the actor. He sat silent,

  was anything but inviting.

  hunched over the wheel, and I didn’t blame

  I was just about to leave my bags and

  him for feeling sore. The water was pouring

  set out, when there was a wheezy noise of a

  down the windshield in a half inch film on

  decrepit car from out front and Susan Foster

  which the old wiper seemed to have no effect.

  burst in, bringing a wave of damp air with her.

  As nearly as I could judge under the

  She wore a red slicker with an attached hood

  car’s uncertain light, the road was gravel.

  and was laughing as she came through the

  Certainly it was rough and twisting and the

  door.

  trees shut us in on either side as soon as we

  “High, Mark!” she cried. “Did you left the scattered lights of the small town.

  think you were marooned?”

  “Nice country,” I said, in an effort to

  I grinned, all my ill humor make conversation.

  disappearing at sight of her.

  There was another grunt from

  “Just about. Nice of you to come.”

  Albright. “You think so.”

  “I love it,” she said. “Love the rain and

  “Gerry’s soured,” the girl explained.

  the wind. But Annabelle developed asthma

  “He found that he isn’t a good carpenter.”

  half way here and I wasn’t certain that we’d

  “If I’d known that Howe expected us

  make it. Well, where’s your stuff?”

  to rebuild the whole place I’d never have

  “Who’s

  Annabelle?”

  taken the job,” Albright said. “I’d be better

  “The Ford. Come on.”

  off, working in a ship-yard. Certainly there’d I caught up the bags and we made a

  be more money.”

  dash for the car a
t the curb. It was an old

  I didn’t answer. The top was leaking

  model A and I learned after the first couple of and the water running directly down my coat

  minutes that, among other things, the top collar. I shifted to the other side but found that leaked.

  it was no improvement. What you needed

  There was a dark figure under the when you rode in Annabelle was a stout wheel that Sally introduced as Gerry Albright

  umbrella.

  and after I’d settled in the lumpy back seat, I looked at him curiously, for I knew that IN CONTRAST, the lobby looked beautiful.

  Albright was Howe’s leading man.

  Most of the original furniture was still there But I could see nothing save the black

  and at the far end, a blaze roared in the big, bulk of him. The dash light wasn’t working.

  deep-throated fire-place.

  The car pulled away from the curb,

  We stamped in, bringing a lot of water

  moving with a certain crab-like motion and I

  with us. Albright shed his coat, tossing it

  guessed that the rear wheels weren’t quite in

  across what had been the reception desk.

  line with the front ones.

  There were several people in the room.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “Rotten

  Four were playing bridge at a table beside the night to be out.”

  fire, a couple of older women sewing on what

  “Rotten.” It was a grunt from Albright.

  looked like costumes and a tall, thin, very old Susan laughed. “Gerry didn’t want to

  man, pacing up and down the floor.

  meet you,” she explained. “I made him by

  He came over, stood in front of me,

  threatening to drive in alone. He said that no tucking one hand into his rusty black vest. His

  Thrilling Detective

  4

  thin white hair was long, worn collar length

  her voice. “That’s Stephen Anthony. He’s

  and covered by a broad-brimmed black hat.

  such an old ham, but he’s the kindest-hearted

  “To be or not to be, that is the person in the world. Come and meet the question,” he recited.

  gang.”

  “He’s crazy,” said Albright. “He

  The card players, three girls and one

  carried a spear once in a Shakespeare man turned out to be Larry Swift who I production and he thinks he’s Edwin Booth.”

  learned later was Albright’s understudy, Grace

  “Swine!” the old man said. “Stupid,

  Martin, and two sisters, Ellen and Mary Jones.

  unbearable swine. For my sins I am cast

  “Imagine trying to be an actress with a

  among them.”

  name like Jones,” Mary said as we shook

  “Don’t mind him, Mr. Anthony,” hands. She was the taller of the two, blond and Susan Foster patted the old man’s arm. “He’s

  nearing thirty. Susan told me later that she had jealous.”

  spent three years in Hollywood, but that the

  Gerry Albright snorted and turned studio had not renewed her contract and this away. He was tall, blond and if he had not

  was a desperate effort at a comeback.

  looked so sulky, would have been handsome.

  Her sister was much younger, hardly

  He wore a loose tweed suit and, as he walked

  eighteen, and I judged that this was her first toward the fire, drew a pipe from his pocket.

  acting experience.

  Something about the way he lighted it

  We spoke to the seamstresses, both

  told me that the pipe was an affectation, that character actresses and moved on toward the

  Gerry Albright was acting, and that he acted

  ballroom.

  most of his waking hours.

  They had done a good job. The stage

  The old man linked his arm in mine.

  looked professional. Howe had found an old

  “I have read your play, my boy,” his

  movie theater which was being torn down and

  voice was carefully pitched, sonorous. “Not a

  purchased the seats.

  great play, perhaps but, if carefully acted and He stood on the stage now, directing a

  properly cast, a good play.”

  dozen people who were scurrying about,

  “Thank you.” I was embarrassed.

  putting up scenery and he was so busy that he

  He smiled, a kindly yet condescending

  merely waved his hand.

  smile. “There are a few minor points which I

  I sat down beside Susan, my eyes on

  can help you with. If you care to come to my

  Howe. He was very small, weighing hardly a

  room where we won’t be disturbed by this

  hundred pounds. His face was thin. His hair

  rabble. And if you should happen to have a

  dark and curly and his eyes looked enormous

  small bottle in your bag, you’d best bring it.

  in the whiteness of his face.

  You are damp, my boy, and there is nothing

  “Quite a dynamo,” I said to the girl.

  like a drink to drive away the dampness.”

  She nodded. “I never saw anything like

  “I’m afraid I haven’t a bottle,” I it. He drives himself and everyone else, but he apologized.

  gets things done. You’d be surprised at the

  He lost interest almost at once, and

  amount of work we’ve turned out in two

  with a muttered word wandered away toward

  weeks. I never thought in the old days that he the fire.

  had it in him.”

  Susan joined me with a laugh.

  “Oh!” I looked at her. “You knew him

  “Poor dear.” There was real feeling in

  before.”

  The Second Act Is Murder

  5

  Thrilling Detective, January, 1946

  SHE nodded. “We all did. I mean we all knew

  stuff and set out my typewriter. I was just

  Bertrand although we all hadn’t met each thinking of going back down stairs when other. For ten years he tried to be an actor and, someone knocked.

  frankly, he was about the worst ever. But

  “Come in,” I called, hoping it would

  when he came into money and got this theater

  be Susan. It wasn’t. It was a little old man. He idea, he hunted up the people he’d played with carried a flashlight His bandy legs were

  from time to time and invited them up here.”

  hidden by overalls that had been washed until

  “That was swell,” I said, and meant it.

  they looked almost white and he wore an old

  “It’s nice that you all are friends, working

  leather jacket that was three times too big for together.”

  him. “You’re new,” he said, squinting at me

  “Is it?” There was a troubled note in

  with faded blue eyes and shifting the

  her voice which I hadn’t heard there before.

  blackened corn-cob pipe to the corner of his

  “That’s what Bertrand thinks.”

  mouth. “Saw the light and thought I’d check

  “What do you mean?”

  up.”

  For an instant she hesitated.

  “I’m new,” I admitted. “Mark De

  “I might as well tell you,” she said,

  Cloudt. I’m not an actor like the rest of you. I slowly. “You’ll find it out for yourself. wrote a play.”

  Everyone here hates practically everyone else.

  “I ain’t no actor.” He sounded

  They’re jealous. They think that they
do more

  resentful. “I’m the watchman. Been the

  than their share of the work, and don’t get the watchman here for twenty years. Afore that I

  right parts. They’re on edge. It’s been raining was the head bellboy. The Inn was some place

  for four days and actors shouldn’t be together, in them days.”

  closely as we are in this hotel. All of us realize

  “I’ll bet,” I said.

  it but Bertrand. He’s been so busy that he lives

  “Wouldn’t let a play actor in it in them

  in a kind of a world of his own.”

  days,” he went on. “Shot ’em—that’s what

  She rose to her feet. “Oh, forget it.”

  they’d have done if they’d tried to come in.

  She smiled and beckoned to me. And now look.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you to your room. Gerry

  “They aren’t so bad.” I was having

  Albright is next door. You two will have to

  trouble to keep from laughing.

  share a bath. I hope you don’t fight. By the

  “That’s what you think.” He extended

  way, you’re posted for kitchen detail in the

  a twisted forefinger, “But you don’t know,

  morning. We all have to take turns you mister. You don’t know. There’s going to be know.”

  things happen, mark my words! And if you’re

  I grinned. “I thought I was all through

  smart, you’ll go away. You’ll go away

  with K.P. when I left the Army.”