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drama –impossible - w hy it’d be like a bathroom without a toothbrush”, Charlotte said. 
    Henry and Eleanor made deaf and left the room.  Andrew addressed the group.
    “The first ones to get rid of makeup and costumes are the first ones to leave for the comfort of their own homes and beds.”  He smiled and bid them a good night.
    “Keeps a level head that one does”, Charlotte said.  “We’d be lucky to have him in the Director’s chair.” 
    ***
    On the other side of the curtain , Alexis and Susan sat together in middle row seats, centre aisle .  The middle aged women had been friends for the last seven years and how the friendship managed to blossom was a mystery.  The friend ship began when Alexis, a Librarian in the city’s main branch retired and moved to a small town where she was able to buy a small bungalow.   Susan, a wealthy city socialite, relocated to the same small town when her husband died unexpectedly of an aneurism.  Escaping the claustrophobic care and concern of family and friends, she invited her sister-in-law to move into the family home, relocated, bought and restored a Victorian mansion in the small town.
    The two friends met at a fund raiser for the town’s library.  Susan had listened to Alexis’ halting speech of the importance of small town libraries .  She decided to befriend the retired, unassuming, shy Librarian.  The two forged a strong relationship, travelled once a year together to Europe, made frequent trips to the city condo Susan bought to shop and attend the theatre.  They joined the town’s bridge club where Susan dragged a reluctant Alexis into the mystery of the poison pen letters the women had begun to receive.  The two women actually succeeded in uncovering the culprit.  It gave Susan an undying thirst for all things mysterious.  Alexis regretted her involvement and put the whole incident out of her mind. 
    Alexis looked at her watch.  Thirty minutes since the producer first stepped on stage and informed the m there had been a backstage accident .  His next appearance was a bit more alarming.  T he police were on the scene and had requested everyone remain in the theatre until further notice.  At this latest news, theatre patrons’ cell phones sprout ed faster than weeds in a garden.  
    The Producer had waited until the buzz subsided before inform ing them the box office would be starting to issue refunds in the next five minutes and t he bar woul d be open ing at the same time.   A mass exodus to the lobby coincided with the closing of the curtain.
    Alexis was debating whether to seek out the facilities when the jab to her ribs hit.
    “For God’s sake, Susan, an excuse me or something would get my attention.”
    “Sorry , Alexis .  Look over at the top step, to your left, beside the curtain.”
    She glanced over and saw a tall, familiar looking woman, heading backstage.
    “Kate”, Susan yelled.  
    “Honest to God, Susan, you should have made a career in the theatre. Your voice projection is phenomenal.”    
    Kate turned, waved, smiled, pointed to her watch, and exited backstage.
    “Murder’s been done, Alexis .  A ccident my foot.  No accident would see a member of the Murder Squad here.”
    Alexis said not a word.
    “ Quick Alexis , to the left. If I’m not mistaken, the tall black man motioning to the usher is none other than handsome himself.  It’s Roger, the second member of the murder team.  I told you, Alexis, murder’s been done.” 
    Alexis suppressed her groan .  Had it only been t wo years since the murder ; t wo years since they met Kate and Roger. The memory seemed as fresh and chilling as autumn air.  She shivered at the remembered heartbreak; the trauma; and, at the end, the sheer terror.  
    “Indigestion, Alexis?”
    “You could say that.” 
    Alexis forced her thoughts elsewhere.  She thought about the first time she experienced one of Tennessee Williams’ play.  She was only 19 and had just