Dying To Audition: A Como Lake Players Mystery, #2

By John Gaspard

(previously published under the pen name Bobbie Raymond)

 

One of the actors gave a killer audition. The only question is: Will they kill again?

 

What begins as a simple evening of auditions for The Importance of Being Earnest turns into a deadly mystery for Leah and her cast.

 

First one actor is murdered, then another disappears, leaving Leah in the dangerous position of trying to solve the crimes while re-casting her show.

Will Leah make it to Opening Night before one more tragedy strikes her comedy?  

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Gaspard
• Release date: Oct 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201951924

John Gaspard

John is author of the Eli Marks mystery series as well as three other stand-alone novels, "The Greyhound of the Baskervilles," The Sword & Mr. Stone" and "The Ripperologists."He also writes the Como Lake Players mystery series, under the pen name Bobbie Raymond.In real life, John's not a magician, but he has directed six low-budget features that cost very little and made even less - that's no small trick. He's also written multiple books on the subject of low-budget filmmaking. Ironically, they've made more than the films.Those books ("Fast, Cheap and Under Control" and "Fast, Cheap and Written That Way") are available in eBook, Paperback and audiobook formats.John lives in Minnesota and shares his home with his lovely wife, several dogs, a few cats and a handful of pet allergies.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I think we have another Mrs. Danvers situation here. Just wanted you to know. So you’re not, like, surprised when they all come rolling in.

Leah smiled, thinking that was an intriguing phrase. A Mrs. Danvers situation? she repeated. How do you mean?

"Oh, you weren’t here when we did Rebecca last season, were you?" Kanisha said.

Leah shook her head. Way before my time, she replied as she continued to sort through the papers on her lap.

Kanisha looked back toward the lobby and then turned to Leah. At those auditions, a lot of the older actresses dressed the part, she began. The part of Mrs. Danvers. You know, hair up in a tight bun that looks like it would give the person next to you a headache. Black clothes that look too somber even for a funeral. The whole deal.

Basically, Judith Anderson from the movie version, Leah suggested.

The young Stage Manager shrugged. I don’t know about that, she said. I just know when I first opened the door at that audition and saw three of them coming toward me from the parking lot, I nearly slammed the door and called the cops. It was right out of a horror film.

She shuddered at the memory.

So you’re saying they’ve shown up again for tonight’s auditions? Leah asked, trying to connect Kanisha’s story with the current situation at the Como Lake Players theater.

They were the only ones in the large, empty auditorium, preparing for an evening of auditions for the theater’s next show, The Importance of Being Earnest.

A whole flock of Mrs. Danvers? Or would it be a herd? A horde? A pack? A murder, perhaps? Leah laughed, but she was alone on that. Clearly Kanisha wasn’t having as much fun with the concept as Leah was.

Nope. Tonight we have a flock of Lady Bracknells, she began, but Leah cut her off.

A bevy of Bracknells? Leah suggested.

They’re not all dressed in black, Kanisha continued, ignoring the comment. But apparently a lot of actors in this town keep their own stock of Victorian dresses in the back of their closets.

Presumably just the actresses, Leah suggested, and then remembered that it was not uncommon to cast the part of Lady Bracknell with a man. She hadn’t entirely ruled out that idea for her production, although she wasn’t currently leaning that way.

Please, please, please tell me we have other actors waiting to audition besides a bunch of older women who want to play Lady Bracknell.

Not to worry, Kanisha said. We also have Cecilys. Lots and lots of Cecilys.

You mean Cecilys and Gwendolyns, right? Leah asked, a nervous timbre beginning to form in her voice.

Kanisha shook her head. So far, we’ve got about fifteen girls, and they’ve all signed up to read for Cecily.

I hope they realize they all can’t be Cecily.

And I hope you realize that only one of them can be, Kanisha replied.

Leah nodded. Not to worry, she said. When it comes to casting, I am nothing if not decisive. I’m known for it. Legendary, even.

Fantastic, Kanisha said as she glanced down at her clipboard. So who do you want first, Bracknells or Cecilys?

Let’s clear out some of the Bracknells, Leah said, and then turned back to Kanisha before she could head up the main aisle. Clear out some of the Bracknells! It sounds like we’re doing landscaping, doesn’t it?

Kanisha just stared back at her, expressionless.

Wait, let’s do Cecilys first, Leah said. No, wait. Hang on, let me think about this for a second.

How about we do this, Kanisha said as she realized Leah wasn’t actually as decisive as she had claimed to be. Why don’t I just send them in the order they arrived? That seems fairer to the actors and at the same time gives you a little twinge of suspense, always wondering who might next come through that door.

That sounds great, Leah said, and then she turned back to her notes, looking through the sides she had pulled for each character. She had begun to worry she might not have selected the best scenes for each personality and was second-guessing the choices she’d made.

She looked at her watch, wondering if she still had time to run up to her office, pull different scenes from the show, and get them photocopied for this evening’s audition. One glance at her watch informed her that ship had long since sailed.

Kanisha, watching from the top of the main aisle, shook her head slowly from side to side. Then she turned and made her way back into the lobby to wrangle the first auditioner for what would likely be a long, long evening.

The theater’s lobby had been, with little effort, converted into a staging area for aspiring thespians. Folding chairs had been placed in no particular pattern throughout the space.

A table had been set up in front of the box office window, where two volunteers greeted actors upon their arrival, accepting their headshots and adding their names to the list of character roles to be filled.

Given the digital nature of the world today, Kanisha was always surprised to see actors clutching physical 8x10 photos, stapled to their printed resumes. The Como Lake Players had never been at the forefront of any technological revolutions, and the theater seemed committed to taking an analog approach to auditions for at least the foreseeable future.

Kanisha scanned the room and could see the crowd had gotten bigger, and that it broke down pretty clearly by the role each actor was hoping to get.

The young men were there to audition for Algernon Moncrief or John Worthing, aka Jack. Oddly enough, she had already heard more than one say they wanted to audition for the role of Earnest, clearly demonstrating they hadn’t read the play. Similar occurrences had been the comic highlight of recent auditions at the theater for a production of Harvey.

The young women in the lobby were there to audition for the roles of Cecily or Gwendolyn, although as she had warned Leah, a preponderance had indicated a preference for the role of Cecily. Kanisha wasn’t really sure why.

In her reading of the play, Kanisha noted that Cecily appeared to have more lines than Gwendolyn, but not significantly more. In fact, Gwendolyn appeared in all three acts, while Cecily was only in the second and third. So Kanisha couldn’t understand the significance of why more young actresses had shown up with a preference for one character over the other.

The older women were there for Lady Bracknell or the governess, Miss Prism. While two more had shown up since her trip in and out of the auditorium, Kanisha noted with relief that neither of these two had come in costume.

She assumed the handful of older men were there for the part of Reverend Chasuble, armed with the sad knowledge that—failing in that particular goal—they would undoubtedly be asked to settle for one of the two much, much smaller butler roles, Lane or Merriman.

There was a constant soft hubbub in the room that Kanisha enjoyed. It was the sound of actors quietly running lines, honing their craft and preparing to audition. She greatly preferred actors in this mode—thoughtful and considerate—as opposed to how many behaved once they’d been given the role. The personality contrast, she had noted on numerous instances, could be stark.

Kanisha let the volunteers know that Leah was nearly ready to see the first actor, then glanced at her watch to ensure things were, indeed, running on time.

Currently, they were right on schedule, but she knew that wouldn’t last.

It never did.

"For my one-minute audition piece, I will be performing the sixty seconds of silence which opens Act Two of David Mamet’s classic drama, Glengarry Glen Ross."

Leah looked up, surprised that an actor had appeared on stage without her noticing. And then she realized it wasn’t just any actor; it was Alex, who had volunteered to come in and read with the actors who were auditioning.

Leah laughed at his joke and was genuinely glad to see him—and not just because she needed someone to read with the auditioning actors. She really liked Alex. And he liked her. That much was clear.

She had met him months before, during the theater’s drama-filled production of the comedy, Arsenic and Old Lace. Although they both had acknowledged an immediate and strong attraction, Leah wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about it.

Leah recognized she was still stinging from her relatively-recent breakup with Dylan, her romantic and professional partner back in New York. His constant infidelities had been the impetus she needed to finally leave New York and her life as a struggling actress … and relocate in St. Paul and into her new and often daunting role: Executive Director of the Como Lake Players.

She had been surprised at how quickly she had slid into this new role and new life. And then suddenly Alex was there, being all handsome and charming. And Leah knew, instinctively, that it was way too much new stuff all at once.

And so they’d agreed, or at least tacitly acknowledged, that now was not the right time to start something new. At least, it wasn’t the right time for Leah.

But, she thought, looking at him up there on the stage, he was such a swell guy, sweet and just … Alex.

Tall, but not too tall. Fit but not too fit. Brainy but enough of a smart aleck to keep things interesting. And handsome, but just handsome enough. As her mother had warned her, never date anyone who is prettier than you are. Leah hoped she had learned that lesson with Dylan.

Leah shook her head as all the old confusion rose up quickly within her, once again clouding her already hazy thoughts. Thanks for coming in to do this, she said. It’s a huge help.

Always happy to be of assistance, Alex said.

And you’re sure you don’t want to audition for the show? Leah continued, still not sure why he had declined every hint she had offered over the past three weeks.

Alex shrugged. I’ve done the show twice, once as Algy and once as Jack, he said. I think I’ve exhausted the current options.

There’s always Reverend Chasuble, Leah suggested with a smirk.

"’Were I fortunate enough to be Miss Prism’s pupil,’" Alex said as he slipped effortlessly into a British accent and the voice of a much older man. ’I would hang on her lips. I spoke metaphorically—my metaphor was drawn from bees.’

Leah laughed and Alex smiled, glad to see he still had the ability to amuse her, even if their relationship was still in its own unique, not-fully defined form of limbo.

And, of course once I become an actor of a certain age, I hope to follow the path of my hero, Brian Bedford and his brilliant turn as Lady Bracknell up in Strafford. I saw it on video back in school

I saw him do it on Broadway, Leah admitted sheepishly.

And that’s why I hate you. And won’t do this show, he said with a laugh.

Well, you have been pretty busy lately, I mean, acting-wise, Leah said. Alex nodded in agreement as he sat down on the edge of the stage.

Yep, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. That’s what a guy does when he has no social life to speak of.

Since he had finished his run of Arsenic and Old Lace at this theater, she knew he’d done Arcadia out at a community theater in Bloomington, a limited run of A Christmas Carol for a pop-up dinner theater, then One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest back here at the Como Lake Players.

I need a break, he said. It’s a good thing I don’t have a private life, because if I did it would be in tatters.

You and me both, Leah agreed.

There was an awkward moment of silence between the two of them. The words private life seemed to have triggered it. Leah wondered, not for the first time, if the real reason Alex didn’t want to audition for the play was because it was the first one she’d be directing since arriving at the theater.

So what’s the plan? he said as he pushed himself off the stage. You have some sides for me?

Indeed I do, Leah said as she pulled several sheets from the stack she’d been attempting to organize on her lap. This should be everything you need.

He took the sheets from her and quickly paged through them. You picked some great scenes here, he said, glancing over at her before returning to his review of the documents.

Wilde gives one a lot to choose from, Leah said.

That he does, Alex agreed. That he does.

He looked at Leah again and she returned his gaze, each staring for what felt like a moment too long.

Shall we let the acting begin? Alex said, in an attempt to break the awkward moment.

Let’s do that, Leah agreed.

I’ll let Kanisha know you’re ready, Alex said as he trotted up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

Leah watched him go and then sat back down, somehow feeling both elated and deflated at the same time.

Is it hot in here? Leah said to no one in particular. Or is it just him?

CHAPTER TWO

Much later, once all the bizarre and murderous events were finally behind her, Leah recognized that all the information she needed to solve the mystery had been right there in her audition notes. Had she only been smart enough to look back at them.

Leah had first established her approach to holding auditions when she was running a small theater company in New York with her philandering ex-boyfriend. While the boyfriend was—hopefully—long gone, her approach to auditions was still relatively unchanged.

To begin with, she always requested a one-minute monologue from the actor—either comic or dramatic—before they were allowed to read from the show’s script.

Leah felt this provided her with a sense of what the actor could do when given the chance to rehearse a piece. Too often she’d made the mistake of casting someone who was terrific at cold readings, only to find out later in rehearsal that cold reading actually comprised their entire acting range.

After performing the prepared monologue, she’d then have the actor read a short scene from the script, performing the part they wanted to play. While other directors liked to pair up two auditioners at a time, Leah preferred to have the auditioning actor read the scene with someone who wasn’t auditioning but who was familiar with the material. She felt this gave the auditioning actor a better shot, because they were already playing against another prepared performer who’s only goal was to make them look good.

While this process provided her with great results, it also took about twice as long as the normal audition process. Consequently, she’d scheduled one extra-long evening for these initial readings while she searched for her cast for The Importance of Being Earnest.

First up were three of the potential Lady Bracknells. The first two were each wearing vaguely-Victorian dresses and neither one—as indicated by the simple ‘no’ next to their names in Leah’s notes—was particularly memorable. In fact, with the exception of their outfits, she forgot about them almost immediately.

The third Bracknell contender was far more promising.

I’m Susan Whithers, she said as she stepped onto the stage. She was probably in her early to mid-sixties and was (thankfully!) not dressed in Victorian garb, but instead in a sort of colorful leggings-and-caftan combo.

Nice to meet you, Leah said from her seat in the front row. And what will you be doing as your monologue tonight?

"Amanda from Private Lives, Susan said as she reviewed her position on stage and found her light. By Noel Coward," she added with a smile.

Yes, I’m familiar, Leah replied, grinning at the woman’s spunky attitude.

’I think very few people are completely normal really,’ Susan Whithers began, adopting an on-again, off-again, British accent, ’deep down in their private lives. It all depends on a combination of circumstances. If the various cosmic thingummies fuse at the same moment, and the right spark is struck, there’s no knowing what one mightn’t do.’

Once she’d finished her monologue–which Leah noted was ‘very, very good indeed’—she read through the Lady Bracknell scene, with Alex playing the part of Jack Worthing. She was much more subtle than the previous two actresses who had auditioned, and she made Leah laugh more than once, particularly in the way she brought the scene to a close.

’Me, sir!, Susan bellowed, as she stood up