Murder and the Key Man by Clarence Budington Kelland

Author:Clarence Budington Kelland [Mills, Roxanne L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Digital Parchment Press

Chapter Thirteen

BEFORE the day's rehearsals started Peter Mortain went to Tod Arundel's office. Tod was at his desk when Peter arrived, and had been there for an hour. He leaned back in his swivel chair and tapped the script on his desk with his index finger.

"This thing is full of bugs," he said with that exasperation which Peter recognized as a warning of a tantrum to come. "Also," he said placatingly, "it's six weeks off."

"Why," Tod demanded, "can't something be right just once?" Peter grinned. "If it were, Maestro, you wouldn't have anything to do. We could get along without you."

Arundel's mood changed from one of irritation to one of gravity.

"Pete," he said, "I think we have come nearer to solving the problem of television than anyone else. We give a finished performance. We give variety, from decent humor to culture—and we make the cultural part of it attractive. Once a week we build sixty minutes of show that has finish and quality and cohesion. But we mustn't stand still, and we mustn't let down."

"Our strength," Peter said, "is the stock company idea. We have a unit. We don't have to grope once a week for performers. And they're not afraid of work."

Tod's face darkened. "A couple of capers like that thing Sunday night can put us on the skids." He went into details, about Elia Anor, which became more lurid as he progressed, climbing to a fantastic climax.

Peter did not make the suggestion that the peril could be eliminated by dismissing the girl. He knew she would not be dismissed.

"I think," he said, "I can assure you she will give no more trouble."

"The hell you can! What are you, a blasted medicine man who gives off spells and incantations?"

"No," Peter said, "but I made contact with a wizard. I think he will make good. Let's wait and see."

"Who is this warlock?" Tod demanded.

"A man by the name of Ludovic Sforza," Peter answered. "He promised to make her stand without hitching."

If Peter had hoped for any enlightenment on the antecedents or purposes or potentialities of Sforza, he was disappointed. Tod's mobile face became expressionless and his eyes blank.

"That," he said, "will be dandy—if it happens."

"I think you need not worry about Elia Anor," Peter said.

"I was worrying about me," Tod said straitly.

"I worry about you too, sir," Peter said.

"The public is unpredictable. Fickle. If I, for example, were to be involved in a public scandal, the Tod Arundel Company might as well fold up its tent and disperse."

"Then," Peter said easily, "you mustn't get smeared."

"Nobody," Tod said, "wants a cyclone to hit his house. But if it comes!"

"Dig a cyclone cellar."

"No good," answered Tod. "The mere fact of the cyclone would do the business. It would be ruin."

"Are you afraid of a cyclone, sir?"

Tod did not reply at once. He stared sightlessly at his desk. He seemed to be debating with himself, as to what he should say or if it would be wiser to be silent.

Peter said gently, "You know, sir, I have a personal stake in it.

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