Shadow and Light by Jonathan Rabb

Author:Jonathan Rabb [Rabb, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Fiction
ISBN: 9780374261948
Google: g1Qpi39UFfEC
Amazon: B005Q6BLME
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2009-04-30T07:00:00+00:00

SOMEONE HAD WASHED the lobby carpets last night, leaving the smell of wet wool and lye as Hoffner’s first impression of the Deutsches Theater. It might have been worse. There might have been singing coming from behind the wall of doors.

Instead, the theater was dark as Hoffner stepped through. The rows of seats looked like a legion of silent dwarfs readying for attack. The only thing keeping them from the stage was the presence of a barebulb lamp, whose glow was casting menacing shadows all the way down into the orchestra pit. The effect was a little sinister for merry widows and student princes, but maybe that was what lunch breaks were all about.

The security man out front had told him to head for the Kammerspiele, the small theater where the real dramas rehearsed and performed. It was a quick march under the balcony overhang, past the left flank of dwarfs, and over to a door where a flight of stairs led down. Half a minute later, Hoffner heard the telltale sounds of acting.

He pulled back a door and found himself the focus of perhaps twenty pairs of eyes. With them came an instant silence. The stage was directly to his right and up half a meter. In front of him, fifteen rows of seats climbed to the shadows of the back wall. Most of the eyes were positioned in small clumps throughout the house. No one seemed to move until a man stood and said, “This is a closed rehearsal, mein Herr. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

For the second time today, a voice from the darkness reached out for Hoffner. “My fault, Max.” It was Lang. “It’s up here, Nikolai.” A bit of light caught the reflection of a cigarette case somewhere near the back, and Hoffner headed up.

This time, Lang was in the back row.

“Coward,” said Hoffner.

Lang laughed a quiet, throaty laugh and offered Hoffner a cigarette. “That’s films, Detective. This is the theater. The farther back, the better.”

Hoffner took the cigarette and sat. “So what are we watching?”

“Actors.”

“You don’t sound all that keen.”

“Just because I have to use them doesn’t mean I have to like them.”

“Actresses, on the other hand . . .”

“Very different, of course.”

The three men onstage were back to whatever it was they were working through. One of them was perched on a ladder with a large bucket in his hands.

Lang said, “Do you like Brecht, Detective?”

“I don’t go to the theater much.”

“Most of the people who like him don’t go to the theater much. The ones who’ve never been adore him.”

Hoffner lit up. “Is the one with the bucket meant to be cleaning the ceiling?”

“I’ve no idea, and I’ve been watching him for over an hour. What is it I can do for you, Detective?”

Hoffner placed his hat on the seat between them. “You might be getting a telephone call from a young producer. He was just let go from Phoebus.” Hoffner expected at least some recognition, but Lang continued to stare at the stage.

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