Brian’s face crumpled and he looked as if he were about to cry. Brandy stepped up close to him and said, “We’re through, and just so you know, I never slept with Robbie.” She glanced at Lindsey. “His interest was elsewhere, but if he had ever offered, oh yeah, I’d have been with him in a heartbeat.”

Brian swung his arm back and Brandy clenched herself tight while Lindsey stepped forward to stop the blow. It never came.

Instead, Brian’s arm was twisted behind his back, and he dropped to his knees with a yelp of pain.

19

“I never could stomach a man who would hit a woman,” Emma Plewicki said. She bent over and cuffed Brian’s hands behind his back. “Come on, we’re going to take a little stroll over to the station.”

She hauled Brian up to his feet and dragged him out behind the curtain onto the stage. Lindsey and Brandy followed as if to be certain that he was being taken off of the premises.

“You can’t arrest me!” Brian protested. “I’m in the show.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Emma said. “Violet, you’re going to need a replacement for the part of Nick Bottom. This one was roughing up his wife, so I think we need to go have a little chat about his anger management issues.”

Violet took in the scene at a glance. One eyebrow was raised in silent question.

“I’ll let you know,” Emma said.

Lindsey knew the unspoken question was whether Brian was Robbie’s killer or not.

“Fine,” Violet said. “Brian, you’re out. Do not return to this theater again or you’ll be arrested for trespassing. Am I clear?”

“What? No!” Brian protested. “It’s her fault!” He nodded his head toward Brandy. “If she wasn’t such a slut, I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

“Brian Loeb, you have the right to remain silent . . .” Emma read him his Miranda rights while she dragged him up the main aisle to the front of the theater.

“All right,” Violet said. “We need a new Nick Bottom. Who was slated to understudy that part?”

The cast on stage looked at one another. No one stepped forward. Violet frowned and looked down at her legal pad, where she kept all of her notes.

“Oh, my god,” she cried. “I never assigned an understudy to that part because Brian was such an ass—literally—that I knew he’d rather die than miss his performance. Opening night is two days away. What am I going to do?”

“Don’t panic.” Nancy stepped from behind the curtain and crouched down at the edge of the stage, in front of which Violet was now pacing. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” Violet cried. “Who here knows Nick Bottom’s part? Anyone?”