Walking Shadow Read Free

the accompaniment. The actor took a silent step backwards and a red stain began to soak through the costume. I got up and started for the stage as the actor sank to his knees, and then fell backwards onto the floor, his legs bent partially back under him. Still the audience didn't get it. The other actors were motionless for a moment, and then one of them, a tall actress in blackface, lunged forward and dropped to her knees beside the actor just as I reached them.
    There were people standing in the wings. I shouted at one of them.
    "Call 911," I yelled.
    "Tell them he's been shot."
    I felt for the actor's pulse. I couldn't find it. I tilted his head, blew two big breaths into his mouth.
    "You know CPR?" I said.
    She shook her head. I pushed her gently out of the way with one arm and started chest compression. The front of his shirt was slick with blood. A pair of tan slacks appeared beside me as I pumped his chest. Allan Edmonds loafers. No socks.
    A voice said, "I'm a doctor."
    "Good," I said.
    "Jump in."
    He said to someone, "Get me something, towels, anything."
    He said to me, "Pulse?"
    "No," I said.
    I saw his hand reach in and take the actor's arm and feel for the pulse in his wrist and hold it, feeling. Then some towels came into view and he said, "Stop for a minute."
    I did. He ripped down the front of the actor's shirt and wiped the chest with a folded hand towel. There was a small entry wound, directly over the heart. The flesh was puffed slightly around the edges of the puncture, from which the blood welled as fast as he could wipe it away.
    "Shit," he said, and folded the towel one more time and put it over the wound.
    "A rock and a hard place," the doctor said. He seemed to be talking to himself more than to us.
    "The chest pressure will increase the bleeding, but if his heart isn't started he's dead anyway."
    "Bullet should be right in his heart," I said, between breaths.
    "Given the location of the entry wound."
    "Probably," the doctor said.
    "Which makes it pretty much academic."
    He paused for a moment. Then he shrugged.
    "It's the best we can do," he said.
    "He's not going to start up," I said.
    "I know," the doctor said.
    But we kept at it for what seemed forever long after the actor was gone, long after anyone thought he wasn't.
    The ambulance arrived and the EMTs took over the futile effort.
    I stood up feeling a little dizzy, and realized that the theater was still full, and entirely silent. The cast ringed us in a motionless circle.
    Susan had come up on stage, and a nice-looking, black-haired woman wearing a big diamond and a wedding ring was standing by the orchestra pit, apparently waiting for the doctor. Two Port City cops had arrived. One cop was talking into his radio. Soon there'd be many cops.
    "Any chance?" Susan said.
    I shrugged.
    "He's got a hole in his heart," I said.
    Susan looked at the doctor. He nodded.
    "Not my specialty," he said.
    "I'm an orthopedic surgeon. But I'd say he was dead when he hit the floor."
    I looked at the tallish actress standing beside us in her ridiculous black makeup. Her face was vacant. The pupils of her eyes seemed big.
    "You okay?" I said.
    She shook her head. More cops arrived. Uniforms and lab guys and detectives. I recognized DeSpain.
    "I know you," he said.
    "Spenser," I said.
    "How are you, DeSpain."
    "You used to work out of the Middlesex DA's office."
    "Long time ago," I said.
    "I'm private now."
    DeSpain nodded.
    "You did some work up here five, six years ago," DeSpain said.
    He looked at the doctor.
    "Who's this," he said.
    "Steve Franklin," the doctor said.
    "I was in the audience I'm an MD."
    DeSpain nodded. He was a big blond guy with bright blue eyes that seemed to have no depth at all.
    "DeSpain," he said.
    "I'm Chief of Police here. He going to make it?"
    "I don't think so," the doctor said.
    DeSpain looked back at me.
    "So," DeSpain said.
    "Tell me about it."
    "Shot once," I said.
    "From the back of the theater. I didn't see the shooter. Probably