Manhattan Mayhem (23 page)

MARCUS
: I just—I just—I mean, I
cannot
believe it. Dead? Klein is
dead
? He cannot be dead. I mean, I feel like he is literally right here in this room right now.

WONG
: Actually, Mr. Vowell, we’re still awaiting the coroner’s van. Mr. Klein is out there next to the Dr. Pepper machine, if you’d care to see him.

MARCUS
: Oh, my God, no thank you. I could
not
handle that. It’s just
so,
so sad and
so,
so weird. I’ve never known anyone dead before. My friend Rigoberto was extremely sick once, and he was
sure
that it was cancer. He said goodbye to all of us, one by one, and then the doctor told him it was indigestion, and he just had to chew his food more.
Such
a close call.
So
scary.

WONG
: Mr. Vowell, who was present at rehearsal yesterday?

MARCUS
: Yesterday, yesterday … Okay, let’s see. We were rehearsing act two, scene two. It’s
such
a good scene. Sidney gives his whole shocking speech and then he looks at Clifford and he goes, “I’m out of dialogue. Your go.” And then Clifford—that’s me, I’m playing Clifford—
such
a good part—I go, “I’m hoping you’ll take pity on a pretty face.” I love that line. Love it! It’s
such
a good play.

WONG
: I’ve never seen it.

MARCUS
: Oh.

WONG
: I don’t see a lot of theater.

MARCUS
: That’s a shame.

WONG
: I saw
The Lion King.

MARCUS
: Oh! Wasn’t it
so
gorgeous? Wasn’t it just
amazing
?

WONG
: Eh. Lions? Singing? I didn’t buy it. So, who was present at rehearsal yesterday?

MARCUS
: Right, right, right, right. Okay. Me, obviously, plus Lewis Cannon, he’s playing Sidney. You’ve heard of him.

WONG
: No.

MARCUS
: Okay, well, he’s an actor. And then Patrick Wolfish, of course, he’s the stage manager. And Elsie, the director, and Mr. Klein. The producer obviously doesn’t have to be at every rehearsal, but he is always around. Like, always. But now he’s dead—I just can’t
believe
that he’s dead—it’s just so,
so
—

WONG
: Sad, yes, you said. Marcus, did you get a message like this one last night?

(She holds up the phone, as before.)

MARCUS
:
(Reading, puzzled first and then horrified.)
No. Wait—
wait.
Oh, my
God.
Patrick killed Klein! Patrick killed him! This is
insane
! He
murdered
him? The stage manager did it? Why would he
do
that?

WONG
: Good question. Any idea why Mr. Wolfish would have wanted Mr. Klein dead?

MARCUS
: No! Klein was terrific. He was a
marvelous
man! He was marvelous! Everybody loved him.
Everybody.

(The lights dim on weepy
MARCUS
, and, downstage left, we find
ELSIE WOODRUFF
.)

ELSIE
: He was a monster. A total monster. If I were making a list of the worst people in the world, I would go, first Klein, and then the guy from the church that pickets soldier’s funerals because God hates gay people. Or maybe Bashar Al-Assad would be second. And then the funeral guy, third. But
definitely
Klein is first.

WONG
: So you’re glad he’s dead, Ms. Woodruff?

ELSIE
: I didn’t say
that.
Death sucks. But I’m not rending my garments about it, is all I’m saying. He was a bad producer and a bad human being.

WONG
: Why, then, did you choose to work with him?

ELSIE
: Well, Detective, have you ever heard of money? It’s thin and green and you need it to pay for things. I live in a Williamsburg walk-up that costs me two grand a month. I need to work. Besides, I love this play. Klein was a moron, but an Off-Broadway revival of
Deathtrap
was a solid idea. Some other people disagreed.

WONG
: Oh? And which people were those?

(Lights down on
ELSIE
and up on
PATRICK
, who huffs.)

PATRICK
: I made no secret of that opinion. Reviving
Deathtrap
was a bad decision. It was a sentimental favorite of Klein’s, but it has zero chance of connecting with a contemporary audience.

WONG
: And why is that?

PATRICK
: It’s dated, for one thing. Carbon copies? Electric typewriters? Home phones?

WONG
: You don’t think a modern audience knows what a home phone is?

PATRICK
: Well, of course they do. But it marks the piece. It makes it feel stuffy and small. I told Klein, let’s do something that matters. I told him, you want to do a thriller, let’s do Martin McDonagh. Or let’s do a Belber. Let’s do a Sarah Ruhl. Let’s do
Hamlet,
for God’s sake!

(Lights switch back to
ELSIE
.)

ELSIE
:
(rolling her eyes)
Does he think there’s no outdated references in
Hamlet
? When was the last time you ate funeral meats, Detective? When was the last time you were hoisted by a petard?

WONG
: What?

ELSIE
: Exactly. Just for the record, I’m not surprised that Patrick killed him.

WONG
: I didn’t say that he did.

ELSIE
: What?

WONG
: Do
you
think that artistic differences constitute sufficient
cause for murder, Ms. Woodruff?

ELSIE
: No.
(suddenly feeling cornered)
Why?

WONG
:
(turning a page in her notebook)
How was your working relationship?

ELSIE
: With Klein? Why? What have you heard?

(Lights down on
ELSIE
and up on
LEWIS CANNON
. He peeks over the top of his sunglasses, as if relating a great secret.)

LEWIS
: Did they get along? No, ma’am, they did
not
get along. They certainly did not. And listen, I’ve seen a lot of friction on a lot of sets over the years, and this was bad. This was very bad.

WONG
: Sorry, wait just a moment. Your name is Mr. Cannon, is that correct?

LEWIS
:
(incredulous)
Uh, yes? That’s a joke, right?
(Off
WONG
’
S
look.)
No? God, that’s
embarrassing.
For you, I mean. Embarrassing for
you.
But okay. That’s fine. Yes, my name is Lewis Carlin Cannon. I have won Obies. I have won Drama Desk Awards.
(Off her look, again.)
You do not know what those things are, and I am
horrified.
Listen, darling, I was Nicely Nicely last year.

WONG
: What is that?

LEWIS
:
Guys and Dolls?
Roundabout revival?
(sings a little)
“I got the horse right here …” No?

WONG
: I don’t like theater.

LEWIS
: Oh, no?

WONG
: Whenever I watch a play, I think that if these people were really good, they’d be on television.

LEWIS
: You better be careful, sweetheart. Someone around here might kill
you.

WONG
: So. You said that Mr. Klein’s relationship with the director, Ms. Woodruff, was a bit tense.

LEWIS
: Tense? Tense is not the word. This was brutal. This was like—well, I’ll tell you, one time I was working at the Public, with Tony—that’s Tony Kushner—and we’re rehearsing, and I’m giving him
some little suggestions—

WONG
: Excuse me.
(
WONG
takes out her phone.)
Hello?

LEWIS
: And George—George C. Wolfe, that is—he gets very agitated by this side conversation, and things are getting
very
hot—

WONG
: Sorry, Mr. Cannon, just a moment—

LEWIS
: And then Stritchie comes in—that’s Elaine Stritch, I called her Stritchie—

WONG
: Please, stop talking now.

(
WONG
listens to her phone for a moment while the lights dim on
LEWIS
and find
PATRICK
.)

WONG
: My officers are having some trouble locating your husband. Can you give us more of a description?

PATRICK
: He’s a six-foot-tall man with a beard, singing “Poor Little Buttercup” on the A train. I think you’ll find him.

WONG
: We’re doing our best, sir.

(Lights down on
PATRICK
as
WONG
turns to
ELSIE
.)

ELSIE
: We didn’t have a bad relationship. He just had a bad presence, okay? That’s all.

WONG
: What do you mean by a “bad presence”?

ELSIE
: I mean, when he was present, everything was bad. He would stand behind me while I was trying to direct, making these small agitated noises. Actors are tiny people. They are fragile. They need to be brought along gently, like ponies. I would say, “You’re doing great, you’re almost there …” And there would be Klein, standing behind me, huffing on an unlit cigar, making everybody palpitate. He was ruining the show, and when a show tanks, the producer goes on to another show. But the director? The director is the captain. The director goes down with the ship.

WONG
: So, the production was going poorly?

(
ELSIE
opens her mouth to answer, and the lights switch over to
LEWIS
.)

LEWIS
: Yes. A disaster! That’s why I was trying to get out.

WONG
: Excuse me?

LEWIS
: This was the
worst
train wreck I’ve ever been involved in, and I was once in a musical about a train wreck called
Train Wreck!
which was a total train wreck. Although Alan—that’s Alan Cumming—

WONG
: Mr. Cannon?

LEWIS
: Alan brought his usual joie de vivre to the role of the coal shoveler. He and Sutton—

WONG
: Mr. Cannon? What did you mean by “get out”?

LEWIS
: Oh. It’s nothing. I had … another offer. Another opportunity.

WONG
: And what do you mean by “trying”?

(Lights shift to
MARCUS
, who gasps.)

MARCUS
: Oh, my God,
of course
! I forgot all about that! Yes, he got a call—it was right in the middle of rehearsal. Monday, maybe? Tuesday? He got off the phone and … oh, my
God,
it was
Lewis.
Lewis Cannon killed Klein! That
monster!

(Lights shift to
ELSIE
.)

ELSIE
: Yup. Yes. I was there when he got the call. We were in the middle of the heart attack scene, end of act one. It’s high drama, big emotions, and Lewis’s phone rings and he
takes it. (sighs)
Actors. I’m telling you.

WONG
: Go ahead, please.

ELSIE
. He’s on his phone, and his eyes get wider and wider, and you just know he’s going to get off the phone and say something enormously egotistical and self-regarding. You can just tell.

(Lights shift to
PATRICK
.)

PATRICK
: He just goes
(does a very good Lewis impression),
“Three words, folks. Gypsy. Broad. Way.”

WONG
: And what was your reaction?

PATRICK
: I told him that Broadway is one word, and then I said, “Back to work, folks.”

(Lights shift to
ELSIE
.)

ELSIE
: After rehearsal, he went to Klein, who of course was a monster about it. He refused to let Lewis out of his contract. Absolutely refused. Stood there puffing on his disgusting cigar just going, “No, no, absolutely not.” I told Klein, just let him go play Goldstone; he’ll be terrible in this show if he feels handcuffed, pardon the pun.
(Off
WONG
’
S
look.)
There are handcuffs? In the play? Oy. Listen, the point is, Klein thought that Lewis’s celebrity, exceedingly minor though it is, was the only thing selling tickets.

(Lights back to
LEWIS
, who takes off his sunglasses and stares balefully at
WONG
.)

LEWIS
: Fine. You got me. I wanted out. I shouted about it a little. So that means I killed the guy? What am I, Sweeney Todd all of a sudden?
(Beat.)
He’s a murderer. In a play. Skip it.

(Switch to
MARCUS
, who is back in full overwrought mode.)

MARCUS
: I mean, I just can’t
believe
it. It’s
crazy.
First, it was the disgruntled stage manager, and now it’s the fading Broadway star. It’s like
everybody
is killing Klein!

(Switch to
ELSIE
.)

ELSIE
: You know what it’s like? It’s like one of those old Broadway thrillers!
Gaslight. Dial M. for Murder. Mousetrap.
That whole genre,
which Levin was totally paying tribute to with
Deathtrap.
Someone gets killed, the audience gets clues along the way, but the solution is always more complicated than it seems. And there’s always a policeman of some sort. Usually a dull, plodding sort of person. No offense.

WONG
: That’s okay.