The Temporary Detective

Chapter Eight

The sidewalk in front of the audition studio was empty except for passers-by, which Isobel considered a promising sign. The hallway was another story. Bleary-eyed actors leaned against the wall or squatted on the floor. Some chatted amiably, while others were buried in loose-leaf binders silently mouthing song lyrics, their eyebrows rising as they reached for imaginary high notes. The monitor was napping, face down, on the table. Isobel nudged him.

"Excuse me?"

He jerked awake. "What?"

"My name is on the waiting list. Any chance I'll get in?"

He rubbed his neck and pushed the grubby legal pad toward her. Many of the names were crossed out.

"Did they all get seen?" Isobel asked hopefully.

"No, they gave up and went home."

"Hey!"

Isobel turned around to see Delphi emerging from the restroom. She waved as Delphi made her way down the hall.

"Did you get in?" Isobel asked.

"Nah. We're wasting our time," Delphi said, indicating the tired, waiting actors lining the walls. "You took off in such a hurry this morning, I didn't think you'd bother to come back."

"It wasn't easy to get away."

"Tough day at the office?"

"You might say that," Isobel said. Then she started to laugh. And laugh. She got so hysterical she couldn't stop. Every time she tried to say something, waves of mirth attacked her again, until tears were running down her face and her stomach cramped.

"Look at the ceiling," Delphi instructed.

"Wh-wh-at?"

"Look at the ceiling. It makes you stop laughing. It's a great trick onstage when you're afraid you're going to crack up."

Isobel looked at the ceiling and found that her body did, indeed, relax its helpless spasms.

"Oh...my...God," she panted. "Why does that work?"

"I have no idea." Delphi said, bemused. "What was so funny?"

Before Isobel could answer, a robust, stirring tenor voice invaded the dull hum of the hallway.

"Sit do-o-o-o-wn, you're rockin' the bo-o-o-at!" the voice sang.

The monitor gave an appreciative nod. "That's the best sound I've heard all day."

A few moments later, the door opened and Sunil came out.

"That was you?" Isobel cried.

"How did you get in?" asked Delphi, cutting to the real point.

Sunil smiled ruefully. "A lot fewer guys than dolls."

Delphi and Isobel whirled on the monitor, who held up his hands in self-defense. "Another guy didn't show up, so I slipped him in. It was a fair trade!"

Isobel looked around. It was true; she counted roughly one man for every five women.

"You sounded amazing," she said to Sunil, as they all headed back toward the stairwell.

He made a face. "Yeah. Fat lot of good it did me. They asked if I'd be interested in playing Ali Hakim when they do Oklahoma in the spring."

"But he doesn't sing," Delphi said. "How could they waste that glorious voice on a speaking role?"

Sunil stopped. "Look at me," he said.

"What? You're too good-looking?"

"I'm too Indian."

Isobel glanced at Delphi and they both looked away, unsure what to say.

"I'm not exactly as corny as Kansas in August," he went on.

"Wrong show," Delphi pointed out.

Sunil shrugged. "Same difference."

"I thought people were casting non-traditionally these days," ventured Isobel.

"Call me racist, but I think some minorities make out better than others."

"Isn't a bit too early to be bitter?" Delphi asked.

"I've been in New York for a year already," he said gloomily.

"I meant that it's only four-thirty. I try not to get jaded and cynical until after eight."

Sunil managed a chuckle, but they soon fell silent. At the corner, they stopped for the light, and Delphi turned to Isobel.

"You never told me what was so funny before. Maybe it will cheer up Sunil."

"It wasn't funny exactly," Isobel said. "More ironic."

As Isobel described the events of the last two days, she couldn't help but be satisfied at the looks of shock on her new friends' faces. Unpleasant as it all was, she knew it made her more interesting.

"That's why when you said 'tough day at the office,' I kind of lost it," Isobel finished.

Sunil nodded. "I think I saw that on the news last night. Some Swiss bank?"

"That's the one."

"I've never temped, but from what I've heard, offices are not generally breeding grounds for murder. Looks like you hit the jackpot first time out," said Delphi.

"Yeah, lucky me," Isobel said. "What do you do for money?"

"I wait tables at Vino Rosso on Restaurant Row. Sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner. Tips are decent and," Delphi smiled slyly, "I'm picking up a little Italian from the maître d'."

As they continued walking toward the subway, Sunil asked, "You're not really going back there, are you?"

"I have to."

Delphi stopped her. "No, you don't. It's dangerous."

"I wouldn't go back if I thought there were an insane murderer on the loose," Isobel said. "On the contrary, whoever did this was very sane. Let me tell you, I wanted to kill that woman after three hours."

Delphi looked askance at Isobel. "You...didn't, right?"

For some reason, Delphi asking her point-blank bothered her less than James's confused hinting. "Of course I didn't. But I don't blame you for asking. You hardly know me."

"It sounds like whoever did it also wanted to humiliate her," Sunil mused. "I mean, think about it. Captured for all eternity on the pot!"

"Could it have been somebody from outside who came in, waylaid her in the bathroom, pulled the emergency bell and left?" Delphi asked.

Isobel shook her head. "She was such an unpleasant person that it just doesn't seem random."

"Then you definitely should not go back there, paycheck or no paycheck," Delphi said.

Sunil nodded. "Delphi's right."

"You're sweet to be so concerned, but I'll be fine." Isobel smiled. "It was really nice meeting you both. Good luck with everything."

"I think you need it more than we do," Sunil said.

As Isobel rode south on the subway, sardined between a bike messenger in need of deodorant and a young mother juggling twin toddlers, she wondered whether to take her new friends' advice. No job was worth risking her life. But what about the other people at the bank? They were all continuing to show up for work, weren't they? They had no choice. They all had jobs to do.

Well, so did she. She needed the money. James didn't have anything else for her, and even if he did, he might not send her out again. She still hadn't proven herself, not really.

And that was what she had come to New York to do. Prove herself.