After today, he’d be giving this up. The smells, the sounds, the lights, and lines. It was all he’d really ever known, and the sudden realization of love for it rocked him.
Didn’t matter a damn, he reminded himself, and turned to the stairs that led below the stage. They had theaters on Tahiti if he wanted a busman’s holiday. He could even maybe open his own little regional place. A theater-casino palace.
That was a thought.
The Linus Quim Theater. Had a ring to it.
At the base of the stairs, he turned right, down the twisty corridor. He was humming now, happy in his own space, bubbling lightly with anticipation of what was to come.
An arm snaked out, hooked around his neck. He yelped, more in surprise than fear, started to turn.
Fumes poured into his mouth and nose. His vision blurred, his head rang. He couldn’t feel his extremities.
“What? What?”
“You need a drink.” The voice whispered in his ear, friendly, comforting. “Come on, Linus, you need a drink. I got the bottle out of your locker.”
His head drooped down, weighing like a stone on his skinny neck. All he could see behind his eyelids were bleeding colors. His feet shuffled over the floor as he was gently led to a seat. He swallowed obediently when a glass was held to his lips.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”
“Dizzy.”
“That’ll pass.” The voice stayed soft and soothing. “You’ll just feel very calm. The tranq’s mild. Hardly more than a kiss. You just sit there. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Okay.” He smiled vaguely. “Thanks.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.”
The noose had already been prepared from a long length of rope culled from the fly floor. Gloved hands slipped it smoothly around Linus’s neck, snugged and straightened it.
“How do you feel now, Linus?”
“Pretty good. Pretty damn good. I thought you’d be pissed.”
“No.” But there was a sigh that might have been regret.
“I’m taking the money and going to Tahiti.”
“Are you? I’m sure you’ll enjoy that. Linus, I want you to write something for me. Here’s your pen. That’s the way. Here’s the pad you always use to make your notes. You never use an e-pad, do you?”
“Paper’s good enough for me, goddamn it.” He hiccupped, grinned.
“Of course. Write this down, would you? ‘I did it.’ That’s all you have to say. Just write ‘I did it,’ then sign your name. Perfect. That’s just perfect.”
“I did it.” He signed his name in a stingy little scrawl. “I figured it out.”
“Yes, you did. That was very clever of you, Linus. Are you still dizzy?”
“Nope. I feel okay. I feel fine. Did you bring money? I’m going to Tahiti. You did everybody a favor by wasting that stupid bastard.”
“Thank you. I thought so, too, Let’s stand up now. Steady?”
“As a rock.”
“Good. Would you do me a favor? Could you climb up the ladder here? I’d like you to loop this end of the rope over that pole and tie it off. Nice and snug. Nobody ties knots like a veteran stagehand.”
“Sure thing.” He went up, humming.