The actors entered from the large arch to the front hallway, brushing away imaginary snow from the shoulders of their coats. By the time The Mousetrap went into final rehearsals there would be snow on the coats, even if it was fake. For now they followed the lines taped on the floor and pretended.

Dennis had auditioned just like the other sixty-three students at Cabot, each looking for one of only nine roles. Taffy Borden had chosen him for the role of the erratic young man, Christopher Wren. His character in the play was immediately under suspicion for the murder of a certain Mrs. Lyon, at least that's what the audience was led to believe.

The Mousetrap had opened in London back in 1952 and was now considered the longest running play in theatre history. It was still selling tickets, and after twenty-four thousand performances it was still quite popular. Taffy had given them the historical background as she handed out the scripts.

Dennis had never acted before, and was just a little bit nervous even if it was just a read thru of the script. But he would work on the scenery and lighting as well, and be proud that he had managed to convince Brady to give Brandon the master electrician's slot for the show.

The set was a single large interior, Monkswell Manor, a new guest house in an old mansion. There was a grand fireplace stage left with a mantel for the candlesticks and clock which were important props. Stage right was the main entrance from the front hallway, and there on a side table sat the old radio, an even more important prop. On stage left was another entrance and stairs to the upper part of the house.

By tradition the set was of wooden paneling molded in the Tudor style, with a large bay window by which the audience could look out at the snowy landscape. The window was large enough to open and allow characters to climb in and out, which happened several times during the play. This was a period piece and Taffy had chosen to update the furnishings a bit along with some of the dialogue, there was no way these high school students would do well with British accents.

The play was still under copyright which meant the school paid a modest royalty to present the piece, but once past that the director had free reign to change things. This was going to be a thoroughly American version of the play.

There were nine main characters and several non-speaking servants' roles. Marsha and Dennis were the only two technical students in the play, but even that had caused some grumbling. Marsha had been given the role of Miss Casewell, a strange woman which allowed Taffy to ask the girl to keep her dyed hair.

The auditions for The Mousetrap had been held the week before Bus Stop opened, Cabot's first play of the spring semester. As Brady had noted, this was an actor's season, the scenery for that show would evolve into Monkswell Manor. The good thing was that it snowed in both plays; the crew would be well practiced in sweeping up the plastic mess.

Taffy Borden had become quite a friend after they all left Tahoe. Ted was invited to chronicle her time as guest director, but he didn't think the Fremont student newspaper would publish what he would write. Taffy made a phone call and then told Ted he should go ahead and write it all up, the Sacramento Bee would print his story.

Going from student journalist to getting his work printed in a daily paper was an astounding leap, it would remain to be seen if he could meet the challenge. Taffy had been serious about casting Dennis in the play, and she reiterated it had nothing to do with being friends.

Those final hours at the Brown Bear Lodge had opened up a whole new bunch of opportunities for the boys, and it had all begun at the breakfast table. Taffy had conjured up the idea of asking Ted to write about her experience working with high school students.

"And not just any high school, Cabot is an exceptional melting pot of talent," Taffy said to anyone who would listen.

Gloria patted Dennis' hand. "I agree with her. What you did last night was exceptional."

"Thank you," Dennis replied.

"At some point every boy steps out of that role and assumes his place in this world as an adult," Gloria said. "I don't say that just because you have a better memory than Taffy. You weren't watching how those lines were delivered, but we were. For all we know, in your mind you could have been standing in front of an audience, the delivery was very special."

"I don't want to be an actor, really I don't," Dennis said.

"Just having that connection to acting will serve you well as a designer," Taffy said. "Acting is little more than role playing, defying the real to bring out the sublime. All actors submerge their real selves to assume that of the character, at least the good ones do."

"And there's the fun," Jim said. "No matter the part you are asked to play it will have certain results depending upon your real personality. If I was asked to play Superman I could, the body of knowledge about that part exists, I could study it. But I'm no Superman and so the result would be comical, absurd. If that's what they want then they get it, but I could never be believed as a superhero."

"Casting a show is the director's surest way to present the concept of the play," Taffy said. "I have to turn an English classic into a vaguely American story. The mystery of the play will still be there if we follow the script, it's the way the story builds to the conclusion that can't be altered. Did you know that at the end of the play the audience is asked not to reveal the plot to anyone?"

"No…that's cool," Ted said. "How does it end?"

"I can't tell you," Taffy said, and everyone laughed. "You'll have to read the script."

The Sunday breakfast was their last gathering, and Mike stood up to thank them all for coming, and to announce he would like to do this again next year. There was applause; most of them would be back. Jim got up and said he would have to leave if he was to make it back to Los Angeles in time for an afternoon meeting. Ted and Dennis got up to shake his hand and Jim handed them both his business card.

"My private numbers on there so don't lose it. I'm serious; call me before graduation and we'll arrange something. I think you both have what it takes and I'm always on the lookout for talent."

"I guess we won't see you next Christmas," Dennis said.

"I don't know, my life is not my own anymore, I'm a corporation," Jim said. "But this has been fun, I needed some fun. It's been a pleasure to meet both of you, and we'll pick up on this friendship somewhere down the road…OK?"

It was Gloria who put all that in perspective. "I think he enjoyed your company," She said. "He's been surrounded by phonies and fools for years, you're real people. I hope he can help you with your careers when the time comes, seems like he'll try."

She left right after breakfast, leaning on Macy's arm as she stepped into a limousine for the ride back to Santa Barbara. Ted stood sadly in the lobby doorway and waved as she left, then he leaned on Dennis' shoulder.

"I really love that lady. Thank you," He said.

"Thank you, for what?" Dennis asked.

"For all this, the weekend with you…and all these people. I've had the best time of my life, I'm glad you shared it with me."

"Aw Ted, I wouldn't have shared it with anyone else. We'll have to do this again."

But first they had another year of challenges ahead, and they both knew it. Ted went back to school and found himself appointed assistant editor of the school paper, the first sophomore to hold that honor. The faculty advisor for the year was Mrs. Clump, one of the English teachers. Like most of the overworked educators at the school her interest in the paper was lukewarm, but that was about to change.

Articles in the paper ran the gamut of school life. Reports on the cheerleading squad, the basketball team and the upcoming senior prom abounded, Ted could tell the woman was bored with it all. Their first staff meeting opened her eyes.

"I'm already aware of what Veronica and Martin are going to write, what about you, Ted?" Clump asked.

"Cabot Performing Arts has a guest director this spring, Taffy Borden, the comedienne. I'm planning to write a series of articles about her role as director, her thoughts on the project and add progress reports as it develops."

"Um, how nice…but I don't know if the Fremont students will want to read about that," Clump said.

"Oh, it's not for publication here. The Sacramento Bee is going to print the story," Ted replied.

Clump looked stunned. "Oh my, how did you manage that?"

"Taffy set it up, we're friends."

"Ah well…um, good luck with that. What are you going to write for us?" Clump asked.

"I thought an article about the concert choir would be nice, Mr. Osgood has agreed to be interviewed," Ted said.

"Now that I like," Clump said.

Dennis rolled back in school and found Vince in the shop office pouring over catalogs from a kitchen supply house.

"I have to find all these kitchen gadget thingies, Brady wants the lunch counter to look real in Bus Stop." Vince pointed at the drawings on the drafting table. "Period piece, 1950's Kansas. My grandfather grew up in a small town in Kansas; I bet that place hasn't changed in a hundred years."

"I know Marilyn Monroe was in the movie," Dennis said.

"Yeah, I saw that once. So how is Corky's brother working out?" Vince asked.

"Real good, he's all ready to fly solo. I think he should be given Mousetrap."

"That sounds about right, is Terry taking the dance lighting this semester?"

Dennis nodded. "I sure hope so, Jimmy will work with him. I'm gonna try my hand at acting."

Vince sighed. "Good luck with that. If you recall I was in Of Mice and Men last year, which gave me my credit. Thank God that's over."

"I hear Lynch is thinking about techies taking dance classes now," Dennis said.

"What! You're joking I hope."

Dennis laughed. "Almost got you with that one."

"I will not dance," Vince said. "I would be embarrassed to even try."

"Ditto."

Even as the auditions for The Mousetrap loomed, Dennis worked on the lighting for the dance show and helped with Bus Stop. At Cabot the technical students remained engaged in everything and that produced pressure, just like in the real professional world.

Bret had pulled the position of master electrician for Bus Stop, leaving Terry and Steven to handle the lights in Twinkle Toes Hall. Bret had been Neil's number two for R and J and had taken Jimmy in as his number two for this show. Jimmy had opted out of the dance show to meet his technical requirements.

"Who's your number three," Dennis asked that afternoon.

"Don't know if I need one," Bret replied.

"Take Brandon, I want him to have some more grunt work experience before Mousetrap."

The real reason behind that request was to allow Brandon some time in a working environment with Jimmy. Not that Dennis had any ambitions as a matchmaker, but it might get something started.

In short order several things happened that semester. Dennis turned seventeen and was cast in The Mousetrap. Bus Stop opened and Brandon started dating Jimmy. Ted thought they made a great couple, Dennis decided to wait and see what would happen.

True to form the only disaster on Bus Stop happened at the dress rehearsal, the snow machine malfunctioned or maybe it was their lack of experience with such a device that caused the uproar backstage.

There were three such devices, built from scratch by the scene shop. Eighteen inch round drums of chicken wire eight feet long and driven to rotate by a small electric motor. In theory the snow fall was controlled by the speed of the motor. To keep the snow at a minimum they wrapped the drum with canvas and cut small slits in various places to allow a trickle of snow.

In practice it worked pretty well, once activated the snow tricked out and gently fell. The only view the audience would have was through the large window of the diner and through the door as it opened and closed. The prop department jazzed it up by sprinkling snow on the cast members before their entrances.

Only two issues had to be addressed, and that took patience. Plastic snow doesn't melt so the cast had to immediately brush the stuff off after their entrance, and preferably close to the door. Most of them would remove their coats and hats upon entering, but a few didn't and that was fine. But the major issue with the snow turned out to be that the damn stuff was slippery.

Over the course of the first act, backstage and outside of the audience's view, there was quite a buildup of the white plastic. The prop crew kept it swept away from the door into the diner, but the pile grew a foot or so deep near the window. In all with the gray coloring of the buildings seen through the window and with the lighting back there the snowfall looked quite real.

The sheriff made his entrance at the end of act one and slipped on the snow, going down on his rear end. The cast all but gasped and Dennis had to give it to Sam, he didn't miss a beat.

"Grace, you better get that walk shoveled off before someone gets hurt," Sam the sheriff said right in character, and they went on.

And while several other characters went about their business, Martha, in her character of Grace the diner's owner, picked up the straw broom in the corner and swept up the plastic snow by the door. It was all adlib but by then the cast was used to one another and made accommodations for such activity. Neither the stage manager or the director said a word, they had to respect the cast adapting to situations without losing control.

The rehearsals for The Mousetrap finally began. The show would be fun to produce because Taffy's directing assured it would turn out that way. That and Dennis could see Ted sitting at the production table watching everything. They were both in a new role here, the actor and the journalist, both novices.

After reading through the script Dennis was a bit shocked at the shear volume of words in his part of the dialogue. It seemed that in the very first scene the character had these long rambling monologues, it would be a bitch to learn all those lines by heart. He was sitting at his desk reading the lines when the phone rang and he let his mother answer it.

"Dennis…the phone is for you," His mother yelled from the kitchen.

"Hello?" Dennis said.

"Dennis, Tony here. How has your school year been going?"

"Just fine, Tony…are you getting ready for another season?"

"Spring Grove will be up and running next month…only I won't be there," Tony said. "I'm going to Ohio."

"What? Uh, who is going to manage?" Dennis asked.

"Arthur is working on it, but he wants you back. Mike and Pat are all lined up so it doesn't matter who occupies the front office. You know your stuff, they need you," Tony said.

"It won't be the same without you," Dennis said.

There was a moment of silence. "That's very kind of you to say, Dennis…thank you. Did Mike give you his phone number?"

"Yes, he did."

"Arthur will be in touch with him about the schedule, so you call Mike and see what he wants to do. I leave for Cincinnati next week; it's a much bigger management job. Have you ever been on a riverboat?"

Dennis laughed. "No, never…is that what you're doing?"

Tony laughed in return. "Yeah, it's really a good opportunity. Look, you hang tight with Mike. The company is trying to renegotiate the union contract and that's always a mess. Arthur has been in trouble with them before so who knows what will happen.

"Just listen to Mike, and if I may be allowed to make a suggestion, don't let Arthur get you in trouble with the union. One of these days you may want a union job and they have a long memory for people like Arthur. If you have to choose sides I'd stick with Mike. The Grove just might be on its way out; I don't know what will happen."

"Thank you, Tony…I'll keep my eyes open," Dennis said.

"Hey, if you ever get to Cincinnati look me up, who knows what the future will bring? OK, I'm gone, good luck with your career," Tony said.

"Bye, Tony…" But as always the man had hung up, he never said goodbye.

OK, this was something Dennis had to share with Ted, but after he talked to Mike. As expected he got voice mail when he called Mike's cell phone. The man was probably working on something, or out to dinner, it was already six o'clock.

The Mousetrap rehearsals were running full on now that the set was on stage and in place. By becoming a member of the cast Dennis put aside all thoughts of the technical details that surrounded him and focused on his part. At seven o'clock every evening he became Christopher Wren.

Ted sat out by the production table and watched, he was attending every evening as well. To understand the director's point of view he felt like he had to be there as an observer, even if he didn't write a thing. Watching Dennis on stage also gave him insight to the play as the actors developed their characters.

He could see Dennis went from reading the lines to absorbing them, and with two weeks of rehearsal behind them the actors had put aside the scripts. Taffy had spent that time in blocking the scenes, giving the characters their movement in and around one another.

Knowing the lines allowed for character development. Each individual had a personality, small quirks delivered along with the dialogue. Taffy told Ted one evening that an actor immersed themselves in the part and then swam on alone. She said Dennis would come to a point of complete familiarity with his character and then begin to play with it just to see how far he could take it.

Another interesting thing about the play was the author, Agatha Christie. She was well known for this play and others, but her forte was murder mysteries. The Mousetrap was loaded with misdirection, leaving the audience in a quandary about who the guilty party might be. That confusion lasted up until the final minutes of the play, a real who-done-it.

"So tonight we run the whole thing for the first time," Taffy said one evening. "One of the attractions of this play is the mystery, and so if you want to fill the house during the run you must promise me you won't tell anyone how it ends."

She looked over at Ted. "And that applies to you as well. What I've read of your work so far is excellent; it's going to be a real boost to our ticket sales. Chronicling my directing and how an actor comes to realize their part is one thing, but now you get to see the mystery unveiled, don't give it away."

Ted smiled. "Not a word, I promise."

And so they ran the entire play and the pieces fell into place. At the end Ted wasn't even sure he could begin to describe how it all worked, but it did. Just handing the readers the answer to the mystery would be insufficient, it had to be seen…and that's what he wrote.

"The brilliance of Agatha Christie's Mousetrap, and the mystery it contains, can only be appreciated by a seat in the audience. With only nine players on stage the play focuses attention on the minute details each actor brings to the scenes. Somewhere in this cast a murderer is hidden. Monkswell Manor is in the grip of a fierce snowstorm as the fear builds from the first moments of the opening scene…"

This is how Ted began his final article on the show which would be published the week before the play opened. Dennis was sure it would boost ticket sales and they would find out before the week was out. Ted was just relieved the series was finished; now he could move on to other things.

Dennis finally made contact with Mike the week before The Mousetrap opened. The only concern he had was that The Grove would have something going before he was finished at Cabot.

"Nope, no problem," Mike said once he had been asked about the schedule. "The schedule is running late this year thanks to Tony leaving. Arthur passed up on the comedy tour which is too bad, but he has a new manager on the way."

"Oh? I hope he made a good choice," Dennis said.

"Guy's name is Bob Gillette, I don't know him," Mike said. "But he comes from Los Angeles, I'm gonna check him out."

"That works," Dennis said.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Mike asked.

"We have a play in rehearsal," Dennis said.

"How about Saturday morning, you want to see a load in at the ARCO Arena?"

"Wow, can I?" Dennis asked.

"Sure, we're loading in the Cirque du Soleil. My part of it won't happen until late afternoon, but the call is eight in the morning."

"So how do I get in?" Dennis asked.

"Just walk down the loading ramp where you see all the trucks and ask for me, I'll tell Milton to be on the lookout for you. Wear work boots and jeans, I'll get you a hard hat in case the inspector is around," Mike said.

"I'll be there," Dennis said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"About time you get to see the real thing. I'll introduce you to Mark Johnson; he's the business manager for the local."

"The boss, huh?"

Mike laughed. "Sorta, I'm the shop steward for the local at ARCO, and technically that makes me the boss. OK, see you Saturday morning. Maybe I'll know something about Gillette by then, or at least enough to know how our summer will play out."

"Thanks, Mike," Dennis said, and they hung up.

Oh wow, it was just like Mike had invited a kid into his candy store. Dennis had seen a rock concert and two basketball games at ARCO, but never anything like this. The union local, better known as the International Alliance of Theatrical and Stage Employees Local 50, or IATSE 50, was part of the national organization of AFL-CIO employees.

Dennis had no interest in working for them, at least not at the moment. Cabot and Spring Grove were enough of a commitment towards a career in theatre. Pat had suggested that he might get on the list for part time union work once he graduated high school, it would give him something to do while he attended college.

College bound technical students would be focused on learning the methods of designing everything for the stage. The BA in Theatre, or the MFA following that would allow Dennis to either teach or seek employment in the myriad of small theatres across the country. But competition was fierce and as in most jobs, the salary was commensurate with experience.

Painters and designers assembled a portfolio of their work, a visual journey through the various levels of their experience. Dennis knew having work experience in a number of theatres would count in his favor. It didn't mean he had to join the union, but working for them without that final ticket for membership would say a lot about his abilities.

Saturday morning meant Dennis would have to give up his breakfast plans with Ted, but then this was a real opportunity that couldn't be missed. Since the beginning of The Mousetrap rehearsals they had been spending more time together and that was a lot of fun. It had also given Dennis ideas about the summer.

"I want you to work crew with me this summer and forget the usher business." Dennis had just let that pop out to see what Ted thought.

"OK, you're the boss," Ted laughed. "Being an usher is kinda boring; I always thought you guys had all the fun."

Now Dennis laughed. "You saw the crap we endured, you call that fun?"

"Yes, and with Kathy coming back I don't want to usher. So I'm jealous, you get to go see ARCO this weekend."

"I have no idea what I'm walking into," Dennis said.

On Saturday morning Dennis parked in the lot and walked past the tractor trailers loaded with equipment. The truck ramp led down to the basement level of the arena, a vast area for staging just about any kind of performance. The large roll up door was open but Dennis went to the personnel door beside it and found a guard desk inside.

"Dennis King, I'm here to see Mike Brewer," He told the guard.

"King, yeah, I have you on my list. I'm Milton, he told me to look out for you. It's early, go over to that stairwell and up two levels, he's probably in the office, you'll find him."

Milton handed over a laminated pass on a lanyard which Dennis slid around his neck. On it was the IATSE logo and the word 'backstage guest,' that was all he needed. Dennis entered the stairwell and walked up two levels, ending in a broad hallway filled with lighting instruments.

"Dennis, glad you could make it," Mike said. He was standing with a coffee cup in hand talking to three other men. "Mark, this is Dennis King, our right hand crew chief at The Grove for the summer."

Dennis shook hands with the man while the other two walked down the hall towards an open door. Then he remembered, this was Mark Johnson, the union's business manager.

"Good to meet you, Dennis. Come to see what we do?" Mark asked.

"Yes sir, I might learn something."

"Dennis is at Cabot High School. From what he's shown me they must have a damn good program there," Mike said.

Mark nodded. "My nephew graduated from Cabot about three years ago, he's at UCLA this year." He smiled at Dennis. "Things change; all the new guys are college bound. Mike and I did it the hard way, we had to work and attend night school whenever we could."

Mike nodded. "So, you want some coffee before we start this little tour?"

He led Dennis into the office and got him a cup of coffee, picking up a large set of keys off the desk.

"I want to show you the scope of the operation first, let you see all the equipment and then we can watch the load in," Mike said.

"Sounds good," Dennis replied.

"Every time this circus shows up they have a new show, but the gimmicks are pretty much the same. Let's go look at the floor."

The hallway led them to an open doorway and thru it they stepped out into a short tunnel which took them out to the arena floor. The fixed seating was above and behind them and the arena floor stretched away into the distance.

"The overhead catwalks are about a hundred and fifty feet up, feels like it once you're up there," Mike said. "The place seats like seventeen thousand and when it's full the noise level is incredible."

He looked back up over his shoulder and Dennis followed his gaze.

"Is that the control booth up there?" Dennis asked, looking at a couple of windows virtually in the rafters.

"Yeah, I suppose we could start there. Are you afraid of heights?"

"Don't think so, long as the catwalks don't move," Dennis laughed.

"They do when there's a concert, the whole frame of the building moves, takes some adjustment to put up with it," Mike said.

He led Dennis back down the tunnel, turned left away from the offices, and then they came to an elevator door. Mike pushed the button and they waited. The elevator opened up and they stepped inside.

"We have a freight elevator on the other side. That's about the only way to get large things up to the catwalks." And then the doors opened into a carpeted hallway. Mike stepped across the hall and in through another door. Now Dennis could see the windows and a huge control board.

"Four hundred dimmers on two hundred channels, thank goodness for computers," Mike said. "Arena lights are configured for different events, right now we have the basketball setup installed. Two man operation in here, next door is the sound console."

"So you have a standard hang out there, but all that changes if it goes from basketball to rock concert," Dennis said.

"Something like that. Most of what we do is event lighting, that's a fixed series of lights…for instance to illuminate a basketball court. The Kings get the most attention, but they're just part of the almost two hundred events held here each year.

"You see there at the far end, those are temporary seats…that all comes out for concerts. But rock shows travel with lights and sound, we have twelve feeder panels back there to handle the power requirements for the dimmers and amplifiers. And then in comes a show like the Cirque and we have to rig them from the rafters."

"I imagine they have quite a bit of rigging, I've seen them on television," Dennis said.

"Tiny Johnson is our rigger; he'll start with the Cirque people in just a short while once the trucks get unloaded. That's him standing out in the middle of the floor," Mike said, pointing thru the window.

The man Dennis saw out on the floor was dressed in bright red, and he was anything but tiny. As they watched guys started rolling in long metal sections, the grid for the circus rig.

"OK, let's go back to the floor," Mike said.

They stopped in the office for a couple of hard hats and a rolled up set of plans. Mike led Dennis out to the edge of the arena floor where the large man in red stood.

"Tiny…this is Dennis," Mike said.

"Hey there, young fella," Tiny said, but Dennis could see he was busy as he turned back to the crew at work. "Freddy, take that T-section over to the front at twenty-two, that's where we'll begin."

Mike pulled Dennis over to the edge of the floor as four rolling units were pushed to the far end of the arena.

"Heads up on the floor," Came a call from overhead.

"Incoming," Tiny yelled and everyone stopped to look up. A long section of rope dropped down from above.

"This is the boring part," Mike said. "You remember the chain falls that hold up the ring at The Grove? This rig is a very large version of that."

From up above a winch lowered a cable down with a hook on the end and it stopped about six feet above the floor. Dennis looked at the flooring and realized that the basketball court had disappeared.

"What happened to the court?" He asked.

"This is the cover, the court is underneath. We'll probably take it out in a few weeks after the season ends. That's when we get those monster truck shows and stuff in here. Everything is movable here, nature of the beast," Mike said.

A small crew unbolted the sides of a crate to reveal a huge chain hoist hung inside. The hook was attached and the rig started to rise.

"The whole Cirque rigging hangs on a dozen of those," Mike said. "It's overkill but then the rig can't move at all, that's what they're after."

"I imagine that scoreboard gets in the way," Dennis said.

"It does, we have to work around it. But when we're stuck in here working on a Sunday we can cue up the football games. Biggest damn television in town."

Dennis watched the riggers for a while. "Who designs all these rigs?" He asked.

Mike shrugged. "I don't know, probably an engineer someplace. Tiny has been rigging stuff like this for twenty years or so, he's seen every kind of setup. Do you know your theatre history?"

"Pretty well…about what?"

"Stagehands evolved from sailors who used to rig sailing ships a hundred or so years ago. It was all rope back then, it only seemed logical to ask a sailor how to rig something that hangs. Guess the biggest problem is we don't always get asked if something will work. I'd trust Tiny to know if something is dangerous."

As Dennis watched a section of the metal truss was hoisted in place and other things began to happen. Elements of the show were unloaded, pieces that would sit on the floor or be hung at a later point. Mike consulted the drawings he had and made some notes. By now there were at least thirty men working on the floor and several more up on the catwalks overhead.

Dennis sat quietly for almost three hours and when it reached eleven-thirty Tiny walked over and spoke with Mike. A short discussion after which a break was called, they would resume work after lunch.

"Sorry, this isn't very entertaining," Mike said.

Dennis smiled. "I'd rather be working on it…someday."

"So we have a break until one, do you want to stick around?"

"I probably ought to go home, we have rehearsal at three. Thanks for letting me watch," Dennis said.

"Anytime. Oh, I talked to a friend in Local 33 down in Los Angeles about Bob Gillette, our new management at The Grove. He got into a fight with the local there last year; Tommy said to watch out for the guy. What he really said is that the guy is a prick."

"Oh great, that will make for a bad summer," Dennis said.

"Look, if he fucks with me I'll close him down, even Arthur Pierce knows that. Don't worry, if it all goes to hell I'll find something for you to do…OK?"

"I don't think I'm ready for a union gig," Dennis said.

"Maybe…maybe not. I know lots of people; it won't be hard to find you some shop work. I built scenery and repaired lighting instruments when I was sixteen." Mike looked out across the arena. "There's a lot more to working union than this place. Start small and work your way up to this. We'll just have to keep an eye on Gillette."

They shook hands and Mike walked Dennis back out to the ramp. Mike said he would call when he heard from Gillette, then they could hold their first production meeting. Dennis drove home thinking about what kind of a summer he would have. Things changed, but he was hoping The Grove didn't.

The Mousetrap went into the final week of rehearsals with the set in place, props and the all important costumes. Dennis looked good in his suit and tie, although the overcoat was a bit warm to wear onstage. Their final dress rehearsal went well with a heavy blanket of snow falling through the large bay windows.

Taffy had turned over the show to Carol their stage manager. The poor girl had seemed overwhelmed in the beginning by working for a famous personality, but she managed the show quite well. Now it was hers to run from the stage manager's desk off stage right.

Brandon and Dennis had worked on the lighting design, giving Taffy just what she wanted. But Dennis had made sure the boy got the program credit for design, Brady had kept his nose out of this production. It was a small tight crew, just the right way to end the semester.

Ted was still a part of the company, sitting in the house with Taffy and taking down her final words about the show. They would give seven performances, three of which had been sold out already. That was a good average for a show this old and Taffy gave Ted a good deal of the publicity credit.

The lights on the main drape faded as the first sound cue was called. The strains of the children's song Three Blind Mice played quietly over the sound system as the curtain rose in darkness. The nursery rhyme gave way to police whistles, a distant siren and a few screams, which faded as the sound of a door closing filled the theatre.

The radio on the table lit up and a voice could be heard saying: "…and according to police the crime took place at twenty-four Culver Street earlier this evening." And then the lights came up on the rest of the set to reveal the living room at Monkswell Manor.

The radio report continued as Mollie Ralston made her entrance, brushing the snow off her coat and removing her gloves. "The murdered woman was a Mrs. Maureen Lyon. The police are anxious to interview a man seen in the vicinity wearing a dark overcoat, light scarf and a soft felt hat.

"In other news, motorists are warned against icy roads and a heavy snow that is expected to continue…" Here Molly shut off the radio and went about her business. She pulled the curtains shut over the windows and turned on a few table lamps.

Backstage Dennis watched the snow machine drums stop turning. He smiled at a snowman the prop crew had made which sat off to one side out of the audience's view. When little things like this appeared it meant the crews were involved in the show, a good sign.

Onstage Giles Ralston had arrived and dropped his things on the couch. He went through the dialogue with Molly about running a guest house. Giles made his exit stage left and Molly turned the radio back on just in time for a repeat of the earlier broadcast.

"…the police are anxious to interview a man seen in the vicinity wearing a dark overcoat."

Molly picked up her husbands overcoat, which is dark.

"…light scarf…"

She picked up the beige scarf Giles had tossed on the couch.

"…and a soft felt hat."

She picked up his hat and exited through the archway stage left.

"In other news, motorists are warned…"

And here the doorbell rings as the news plays on. Dennis stood outside the door as the prop girl sprinkled plastic snow on his coat. "Break a leg," She whispered and Dennis nodded.

Molly hurried across the set, switched off the radio and stepped out into the hall. The front door was out of sight and was used mostly to add sound to the comings and goings of the cast. Dennis took a breath and opened the door to see Molly standing there expectantly.

"How do you do?" Molly said.

"Thanks so much," Christopher Wren replied, and then Dennis stepped on stage into the light and began his rambling monologue.

Dennis had thought about this moment for weeks. Not exactly stage fright, but he was still nervous. Once the lines had been memorized it had been much easier to assume the role of Christopher. Taffy had told each of them to think of their character as a box, something they opened before making an entrance. For the next three hours Dennis King ceased to exist, he was in the Christopher Wren box.

Act One was a get comfortable with the characters situation, although there was always an undercurrent of suspicion. One by one the characters enter the guest house and are swept up in the activities of the others. Mr. Paravicini, Miss Casewell, Mrs. Boyle, Major Metcalf and finally Detective Sergeant Trotter have made an entrance.

Outside the snow keeps falling and by the second scene it has pushed up against the glass of the bay window. The play unfolds and the audience begins to feel the tension on stage. As the act comes to a close and the radio becomes the focus. The program is integral to the action and when the audience hears Three Blind Mice yet again they know what is about to happen to one of the characters.

The act had run perfectly, and Ted was backstage when Dennis came off to give him a big hug.

"That's from me and Taffy," He said.

Dennis grinned. "Thank you. This singularly ill-mannered and neurotic young man thanks you," He said, quoting Mrs. Boyle's line regarding his character.

The prop crew was backstage with a ladder and buckets filled with plastic snow. The drums needed to be reloaded between acts to keep the snow falling. Ever since the sheriff's little slip and fall in Bus Stop they had kept a close eye on the stage floor. Now there was an anti-skid mat laid out beneath the window so Sergeant Trotter wouldn't fall when he climbed out.

Act Two was where the whole mystery came together. When Dennis had first read the play he had reached the end of Act One without a clue as to the murderer's identity. It wasn't until he reached that 'ah ha' moment when the plot twisted that he realized how clever Agatha Christie had been. Tomorrow night they would open the show and see how many in the audience were fooled.

Being cast in the play had given Dennis a whole new outlook on theatre. He could memorize the lines, wear the costume and become Christopher Wren, but there was only one thing wrong. The whole time he was out on stage he had come to realize something; he was standing on the wrong side of the lights.

Acting was a learning experience, but it didn't match the thrill he got from being a techie. It was that cloak of invisibility he missed; he longed to be surrounded in darkness. Being a solitary character in a play didn't bring the same satisfaction. Off stage he could be in charge of a whole range of things that made the performance what it was, he could control the magic. He didn't know if Taffy would understand his feelings, but Ted would.

The Mousetrap ran all seven performances without a major flaw and everyone was ecstatic. The Sacramento Bee sent their best media critic to the show and the review was broad and welcome news. The writer said she rarely saw such dedication and talent in a high school performance, but then declared that Cabot was a special place for talented kids.

Dennis was still riding the high on Monday after the show closed, and that's when Mike called.

"Saw your name in the paper, good going," Mike said.

"Yeah, we had fun and I got an "A" for one of my requirements," Dennis said.

"Wonderful. OK, Pierce sent me a list of the shows for the summer. Gillette will be here on Thursday afternoon for a meeting, three o'clock, can you make it?" Mike asked.

"I'll be there," Dennis said.

"Remember when I said if we had an ice skating show I'd go out sick? Well guess what? We have a show called Paradise on Ice."

"No way ... Pierce booked an ice show?"

Mike laughed. "Almost, we can handle it. There is no ice rink; they skate on a plastic surface."

Dennis joined the laughter. "Paradise on Plastic…where do they find these people?"

"I suppose we'll find out on Thursday. I'll see you then," Mike said.

Dennis had the feeling it wasn't going to be a very good summer. But then he'd be working beside Ted, how bad could that be?


On to Chapter Thirteen

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