Smoke and Mirrors Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t . . .”
    â€œI’m taking these inside now!”
    â€œWhatever.” He wasn’t quite mocking her. Quite. Okay, maybe a little. “I’ll just be out here cleaning your blood off the stone.”
    â€œFine.” Spinning on one air-cushioned heel, she stomped in through the front doors.
    â€œSomeone needs to switch to decaf,” he sighed. He’d been standing not three feet from the steps when she fell, close enough to hear her knee make that soft/hard definite tissue damage sound, and he had a pretty good idea of where she’d impacted with the porch. Weirdly, while there’d been lines of red dribbling down her shin, he couldn’t find any blood on the stones. As embarrassed as she was, she’d probably just bounced up before the blood actually started to flow.
    Probably.
    The show packed up around 8:30 PM.
    â€œNice short day, people. Good work. Eleven and a half hours,” he added to Sorge as he moved out of an electrician’s way. “No way we’ll make that tomorrow, not with all those extras.”
    Tony’s grasp of French profanity wasn’t quite good enough to understand the specifics of the DP’s reply.

Two
    â€œHEY, HENRY, it’s Tony.” He shifted the phone to his other hand and reached into the back of the fridge. “It’s highly likely that we’re going to run late tomorrow night . . .” How long had that Chinese takeout been in there? “. . . so I was thinking that I’d better . . .” Opening the container, he stared at the uniform greenish-gray surface of the food. He had no idea what he’d ordered way back when but he had a strong suspicion it hadn’t looked like that. “. . . meet you at the . . .” The click of a receiver being lifted cut him off. “Henry?”
    â€œTony? Sorry, I was in the shower.”
    â€œGoing out to eat?”
    He could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “Is that any of your business?”
    â€œNope. Just curious.” The bologna still looked edible. Well, most of it. He tossed it on the counter and closed the refrigerator door. “We’ve got extras working tomorrow, so I’ll likely be late.”
    â€œYou say extras like you’re thinking of calling in pest control to deal with them.”
    â€œI’m not, but Sorge and Peter are. They hate working with extras.” Tony grabbed a little plastic packet of mustard from a cup filled with identical plastic packets, ripped off the top with his teeth, and squirted the contents out onto a slice of bread. “It might be best if I meet you at the theater. The show starts at ten, so if I’m not there by quarter to, just go in and sit down. I’ll find you.”
    â€œWe can call it off.”
    â€œNot a chance. How often do you get to go to the theater in the summer?” Friends of Tony’s from film school were taping the play and the high-profile television stars playing the leads for the local cable channel. Opening curtain was at ten because they couldn’t get the camera equipment until after their day jobs finished with it. Tony had no idea how they’d convinced the theater or the actors to go along with their schedule but that wasn’t his problem. When he’d heard about it, he’d realized it was a perfect show for Henry. Given late sunsets and early sunrises, Henry didn’t get out much in the summer. Ripping the slightly green edges off the half dozen slices of bologna, he stacked them on the bread and mustard. “You know where the Vogue is, right?”
    â€œIt’s on Granville, Tony, practically around the corner. I think I can find it.”
    â€œHey, I’m just checking.” He applied mustard to the second slice of bread.
    â€œDid you know that the Vogue Theater was haunted?”
    â€œReally haunted or haunted for publicity’s sake?”
    â€œBit of both, I suspect.”
    Tony