Acting Can Be Murder by John Gaspard

About the Book

The Phrase “Dying On Stage” Takes on a Whole New Meaning

After fleeing a failed relationship in New York, actress Leah Sexton finds herself as the new Executive Director of the Como Lake Players—a small community theater nestled in a sleepy St. Paul neighborhood. The initial calm of this new position is shattered immediately when a local critic—who had just panned the theater’s latest production—is found murdered on the show’s set.

On the heels of this grisly discovery, the show’s lead actress tumbles down a flight of stairs—or was she pushed? To keep the show running and the theater afloat, Leah offers to step into the leading role. The arrival of her ex-boyfriend amid anonymous threats against her and the show require Leah to act as if her life depends on it. Because it does.

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Excerpt

The young director looked out at the empty rows of seats in the theater and then once more took in the set around them. “So, what’s the theme?” Jason asked.

“Theme?” Leah said. The question had caught her by surprise.

“You know, what facet of the human condition does this play explore?”

This question brought Leah up short and so she took a moment to consider it. “Well, there’s a lot of death in the play,” she finally said. “It’s not exactly Hamlet, but there are a couple bodies on stage before the final curtain.”

“The critics love that,” Jason said. Leah couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or insightful.

“Well, some critics do,” she said. “I wish the same could be said of our local reviewer.”

“A harsh critique?”

“Brutal. The headline was something like, ‘Arsenic is Dead On Arrival.’ It was all downhill from there,” Leah said.

“A hatchet job?”

“Yes, quite literally as it turns out. The critic’s name is Ronald Hatchet.”

Jason laughed. “Looks like that poor lad’s career path was set at an early age.”

“Just our luck. And I thought the critics in New York could be harsh. They have nothing on Ronald Hatchet. Which is a shame,” she said, “because the cast is great and they’re funny and committed and the audience loves the show.”

“Ah yes, the final arbiter. The dreaded general public,” Jason said as he moved upstage to check out the doors, first the one to the cellar and then the one to the off-stage kitchen. Leah watched him, unsure of what the next best step might be.

“Well, we’re looking at several candidates, so unless you have any other questions for me...” she said, letting her words trail off.

“’All life long, the same questions, the same answers,’” he said as he moved over to the window seat.

Leah took a stab. “Beckett?”

Jason smiled, pleased with her alleged depth of knowledge. “Indeed. Endgame once again.” He pulled back the curtains, looked out the window and then absently opened the window seat.

“Yes, well,” Leah said as she glanced at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. “Anyway ...”

She started to head back to the stairs that would take them off the stage and, with any luck, bring an end to this interview.

“One quick question,” Jason said.

Leah turned back. He was standing over the open window seat, holding the lid with one hand. “Who constructs your props? This is fantastic.”

Leah moved toward him, completely unsure of what he was talking about.

“We built one of these when we did Joe Orton’s Loot back in prep school,” he continued, “because of course you have to use a dummy for that show. But it didn’t have near the detail of this one. Which was, I think, Orton’s point. As I remember.”

Whatever was in the wooden box, it was by far the most impressive thing Jason had seen since coming into the building.

Leah crossed the stage and looked into the window seat. What she saw in the box was so out of context to what she had expected, it took her several long seconds to understand what she was looking at.

And when she finally did, she couldn’t help but let out a yelp.

The sound was so sudden and sharp, it startled Jason, who let go of the box’s lid, letting it slam shut. He looked at Leah, who had gone white.

With a trembling hand, Leah reached down and clasped the edge of the lid, slowly re-opening the window seat. She was hoping against hope that what she thought she had seen had been some sort of optical illusion.

But it hadn’t been. Leah looked into the box for a long moment as she felt her mouth go dry.

“It’s the critic. Ronald Hatchet,” she said, her voice coming out in a rasp. “And he’s dead.”

About the Author

John is author of the Eli Marks mystery series and the Como Lake Players mystery series. He also has four other stand-alone novels: “The Greyhound of the Baskervilles,” “A Christmas Carl,” “The Sword & Mr. Stone” and “The Ripperologists.”

He hosts two podcasts: "Behind the Page: The Eli Marks Podcast," and "The Occasional Film Podcast."

In real life, John's not a magician, but he has directed six low-budget features that cost very little and made even less - that's no small trick. He's also written multiple books on the subject of low-budget filmmaking. Ironically, those books made more than the films.

John lives in Minnesota and shares his home with his lovely wife, several greyhounds, a few cats and a handful of pet allergies.

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