CHAPTER TEN — THE WEIGHT ABOVE THE STAGE
They entered the auditorium while a maintenance worker tested the house lights.
Snow pressed against the high windows, turning them into pale rectangles.
Bernard led the group along the stage wall to a red metal cabinet that had been opened during construction.
Inside was a lever with a worn brass plate.
A steel truss carrying loudspeakers crossed directly in front of it.
Fenwick examined the narrow gap.
“Can someone reach the release?”
Bernard tried to demonstrate without touching the mechanism.
His elbow struck a speaker cable before his hand reached the handle.
“Not safely,” he said.
Gideon opened a drawing on his tablet.
“This rig was installed from an approved plan.”
Lena pointed toward a measurement marked on the drawing.
“The final version is nearly eighteen inches lower.
”
Gideon looked at the actual truss, then at the screen.
He said the lowering had been necessary to hide the apparatus behind the projection image.
Fenwick ordered the rig removed.
Martin objected that the entire show depended on it.
“Then your show depends on obstructing a safety device,” Fenwick said.
“Which means your show is not ready.”
Workers moved in with ladders and a mechanical lift.
Gideon asked everyone to clear the stage until the equipment could be secured.
Nora followed Claire into the first row of seats.
They watched the workers disconnect cables that hung like vines over the painted scenery.
“I didn’t know about that release,” Claire said.
“Neither did I,” Nora answered.
“Bernard did.”
A loud metallic crack echoed across the stage.
One of the equipment brackets slipped as a worker loosened the outer bolt.
The truss dropped several inches before its safety chain caught.
A man on a ladder ducked, losing his balance.
Bernard caught the ladder’s side and held it until another worker steadied the base.
The truss swung once, then settled above an empty patch of stage.
Everyone froze.
“Nobody moves until the lift is locked,” Lena called.
Gideon rushed toward the equipment with his tablet still in his hand.
“The anchor shouldn’t have shifted,” he said.
The worker on the ladder climbed down and sat heavily on a road case.
His face was drained of color.
“You asked us to take that out while half the weight was still hanging,” he said.
Gideon started to explain, but Lena stopped him.
“We are not doing another step without the rigging supervisor.”
Martin came forward from the aisle.
“We cannot lose the whole morning.”
The worker looked at him.
“You nearly lost me.”
That finally silenced him.
Nora moved toward the worker and offered the bottle of water she had carried from the dressing room.
He took it with both hands.
She recognized the same stunned expression she had seen on Henry’s face at the diner.
The difference was that this man had been doing exactly what he was told.
Claire called the rigging supervisor and asked for a full inspection.
Fenwick informed the board that no audience would enter until the safety issues were resolved.
Martin stepped away to make a phone call.
Nora watched him through the open stage door.
He stood in the corridor with his back to the room, speaking urgently into his headset.
Then he turned toward the old archive wing instead of the lobby.
Nora remembered his repeated glances at the leather case.
She crossed the aisle toward Lena.
“Where does that corridor go?” she asked.
“Costumes, storage, and the old rehearsal rooms.”
“Is anything there connected to the music box?”
Lena considered the question.
“The property cabinet used to hold Marion’s things.”
Nora pointed to Martin’s retreating figure.
“I think he’s going to look for something.”
