Delta40
02-09-2012, 07:07 PM
Rose Thornton took a step back to admire her latest handy work. The costumes she had spent most of the night working on looked almost good as new and she was confident nobody would notice the small tears she had so diligently stitched back together by hand. The cast at the little company theatre did not always appreciate the skill it took to bring their costumes up to scratch, especially materials involving lots of tulle. Silk was also difficult to mask, but Rose did her best and after 40 years on the job as wardrobe mistress, she had become almost part of the stage scenery. Anything likely to go amiss in wardrobe and the actors immediately called for Rose, who seemed to magically solve whatever their grievance might be. ‘Have a cup of tea, love while I try to fix it’ was her stock reply. It had a soothing effect somehow. Rose’s features were soft and kindly also. The cast felt as if they were under the warm, loving care of a doting grandmother when they brought their cares to Rose.
The assistant who worked under Rose, was a young woman called Rebecca. For the past two years, she had run assorted errands for Rose, helped with basic repairs and kept the wardrobe in smooth running order. After a recent failed theatre romance, it was her hope that some day, she would become wardrobe mistress. Retirement was not too far away for Rose and Rebecca was happy to be guided by the older woman and step into her shoes when the time came. Until then, she worked faithfully and like other members of the theatre, was soothed by the maternal presence of Rose Thornton when things seemed to go wrong.
Things really started to go wrong before the production of Pride and Prejudice commenced in August. The stage manager, Bob Sanders and his final cast of 12 were scheduled to commence rehearsing in two days time when a problem with the stage door exit arose. The lock had been jimmied and several costumes were torn beyond repair. The door got fixed immediately, but the vandalism seemed vindictive and personally aimed. The following day, despite her protests, Rose sent Rebecca home for the day while she and Bob discussed how best to manage the costume issue. Bob asked Rose if she knew of anyone who would want to upset her. Rose chuckled.
‘What me? Gosh who would do a thing like that? Somebody who didn’t like the way I sewed their tights?’
Bob laughed too, suddenly feeling how ridiculous his question was. Everybody loved Rose. For the last 40 years, she had held the hands of anyone that had an artistic fit. Anytime someone had a problem, Rose was there to mend it or at the very least, make a person feel better. It was just her nature.
‘Well I’m sorry about the costumes, Bob.’ She suddenly brightened and said in typical catch phrase fashion ‘Lets have a nice cup of tea and see if we can fix it.’
Rose made the tea and put the tray on the round table. ‘Oops I forgot you take sugar, I’ll just get it’.
Bob fingered the torn Victorian dress that Elizabeth Barrett would have worn and wondered about the replacement. Rose returned and ever the problem solver, immediately read Bob’s thoughts.
‘I have just the thing back here. I won’t be a moment.’
Bob called out ‘Come and have your tea Rose’ but she replied it wouldn’t take long. Bob shoveled sugar into his tea absently mindedly and thought about the multitude of tasks if this production were to be a success. Rose appeared finally with a lovely burgundy gown.
‘What do you think?’ Bob stood up and scrutinized it closely. He wasn’t sure if the gown was appropriate for the leading lady and said as much.
‘I can spruce it up.’ Rose shifted the chairs aside and moved the tray so she could show Bob how the gown would look. After some discussion, it was finally agreed that Miss Elizabeth Barrett, dark hair and all would be resplendent in burgundy. Rose hung it up and they sat back down. Bob pushed the tray forward and Rose picked up her cup.
‘Don’t you worry, love. It will all work out for the best’ she said reassuringly.
Bob found comfort in the elderly woman’s words. He took a sip of tea and felt further soothed by the hot liquid. It was a bit strong but still felt good. He looked over at Rose expecting to find her warm smile but did not. Instead, her face was strangely contorted, a gasping sound alerting Bob that something was terribly wrong.
‘Are you alright Rose?’ Bob leaned forward in a weak attempt to pat her back as if Rose were choking but her facial features had turned to an alarming purple as she struggled for breath, her tea slipping from her hand.
‘Jesus! Rose! Rose! Hang on!’ Bob laid the fast ailing Rose on the floor and reached for his mobile and dialed 000. By the time the ambulance arrived 8 minutes later, Rose Thornton was dead.
Everyone at the theatre was devastated. Not only had they lost their beloved Rose but she had been murdered. The coroner’s report stated unequivocally that Rose had died from cyanide poisoning. The Police wasted little time in arresting Bob Sanders who protested his innocence immediately. The theatre didn’t know what to think.
At the station, Detective Morrison conducted his first interview with Bob. He was rather paunch and balding and eyed the stage manager with suspicion. Once in the interrogation room, however he tried a friendly strategy.
‘I’m sorry about the inconvenience Bob. Can I get you a hot drink or something?’
Bob, head in hands, still reeling from the shock of where he was and the death of Rose, welcomed the offer.
‘Tea thanks.’
Detective Morrison made two cups and sat down opposite the suspect. He waited. Silence was another strategy. Just observe them in a non-threatening manner and see what they say and do. So he did. This suspect did not seem to notice any discomfort. Instead, he sat and just stared intently at the steaming beverage before him. Morrison continued to wait expecting any moment that the suspect would explode under the suspense. Bob Sanders remained oblivious to the Detective, seemingly only interested in his tea.
Finally Morrison said, ‘So Bob, what drove you to kill a sweet little old lady?’
Slowly, Bob looked Morrison square in the face. He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. Morrison lifted an enquiring eyebrow as he witnessed a dawning expression on the suspects face. Bob suddenly laughed hysterically.
‘There’s no sugar in this.’
Morrison waited as Sanders twirled the cup of tea in his hands, a puzzled look knitting his brows together.
‘I’ll just get some sugar’ said Morrison, rising from his chair.
‘No!’ exploded Sanders as he joined the dots together.
An officer at the door came forward at the ready in case Bob went berserk but he only looked confused and frightened.
‘I don’t understand.’ he said finally. ‘Rose made us tea and got the sugar since she knows I have mine sweet. I swear I stirred it in while she went to get a costume. But afterwards, there wasn’t any sugar in my tea’.
Bob paced the interrogation room as his rising panic took over. The realization that Rose had tried to kill him caused him to wretch uncontrollably.
Morrison had conducted many interviews in his career and he thought he knew an act when he saw one. He also knew he would have one hell of a time proving motive. Why would Bob Sanders want Rose Thornton dead?
Although no forensic evidence linked Bob to the cyanide, which was found in the sugar bowl, he was eventually convicted of murder. Bob’s only defense was Rose intended to kill him but through mishap had poisoned her self. There seemed no earthly motive however, for a sweet 70 year old to commit such a crime albeit the jury was hard pushed to convict Sanders for the same act.
Shortly afterwards the theatre company engaged a new stage manager and Rebecca stepped into the shoes of Rose Thornton. The production of Pride and Prejudice was scheduled for the following month and the place was abuzz with activity. Like Rose, Rebecca was a natural at her job. Being younger, she had a bit more pep and over time, she had adopted many of Rose’s mannerisms and found she too could calm troubled waters at a pinch. Especially with the famous catch cry of: ‘Have a cup of tea love, while I try to fix it.’
Rebecca stitched a hem and recalled other philosophies worth hanging on to. Rose had always said what goes around comes around and now Bob Sanders had got his just desserts for breaking her heart. Rebecca sighed and sipped her tea, white with no sugar. She realized all too well, things don’t always go the way you plan. However, they often work out for the best - just like Rose had told her. Rebecca cut the thread. It certainly wouldn’t be the same without her though.
The assistant who worked under Rose, was a young woman called Rebecca. For the past two years, she had run assorted errands for Rose, helped with basic repairs and kept the wardrobe in smooth running order. After a recent failed theatre romance, it was her hope that some day, she would become wardrobe mistress. Retirement was not too far away for Rose and Rebecca was happy to be guided by the older woman and step into her shoes when the time came. Until then, she worked faithfully and like other members of the theatre, was soothed by the maternal presence of Rose Thornton when things seemed to go wrong.
Things really started to go wrong before the production of Pride and Prejudice commenced in August. The stage manager, Bob Sanders and his final cast of 12 were scheduled to commence rehearsing in two days time when a problem with the stage door exit arose. The lock had been jimmied and several costumes were torn beyond repair. The door got fixed immediately, but the vandalism seemed vindictive and personally aimed. The following day, despite her protests, Rose sent Rebecca home for the day while she and Bob discussed how best to manage the costume issue. Bob asked Rose if she knew of anyone who would want to upset her. Rose chuckled.
‘What me? Gosh who would do a thing like that? Somebody who didn’t like the way I sewed their tights?’
Bob laughed too, suddenly feeling how ridiculous his question was. Everybody loved Rose. For the last 40 years, she had held the hands of anyone that had an artistic fit. Anytime someone had a problem, Rose was there to mend it or at the very least, make a person feel better. It was just her nature.
‘Well I’m sorry about the costumes, Bob.’ She suddenly brightened and said in typical catch phrase fashion ‘Lets have a nice cup of tea and see if we can fix it.’
Rose made the tea and put the tray on the round table. ‘Oops I forgot you take sugar, I’ll just get it’.
Bob fingered the torn Victorian dress that Elizabeth Barrett would have worn and wondered about the replacement. Rose returned and ever the problem solver, immediately read Bob’s thoughts.
‘I have just the thing back here. I won’t be a moment.’
Bob called out ‘Come and have your tea Rose’ but she replied it wouldn’t take long. Bob shoveled sugar into his tea absently mindedly and thought about the multitude of tasks if this production were to be a success. Rose appeared finally with a lovely burgundy gown.
‘What do you think?’ Bob stood up and scrutinized it closely. He wasn’t sure if the gown was appropriate for the leading lady and said as much.
‘I can spruce it up.’ Rose shifted the chairs aside and moved the tray so she could show Bob how the gown would look. After some discussion, it was finally agreed that Miss Elizabeth Barrett, dark hair and all would be resplendent in burgundy. Rose hung it up and they sat back down. Bob pushed the tray forward and Rose picked up her cup.
‘Don’t you worry, love. It will all work out for the best’ she said reassuringly.
Bob found comfort in the elderly woman’s words. He took a sip of tea and felt further soothed by the hot liquid. It was a bit strong but still felt good. He looked over at Rose expecting to find her warm smile but did not. Instead, her face was strangely contorted, a gasping sound alerting Bob that something was terribly wrong.
‘Are you alright Rose?’ Bob leaned forward in a weak attempt to pat her back as if Rose were choking but her facial features had turned to an alarming purple as she struggled for breath, her tea slipping from her hand.
‘Jesus! Rose! Rose! Hang on!’ Bob laid the fast ailing Rose on the floor and reached for his mobile and dialed 000. By the time the ambulance arrived 8 minutes later, Rose Thornton was dead.
Everyone at the theatre was devastated. Not only had they lost their beloved Rose but she had been murdered. The coroner’s report stated unequivocally that Rose had died from cyanide poisoning. The Police wasted little time in arresting Bob Sanders who protested his innocence immediately. The theatre didn’t know what to think.
At the station, Detective Morrison conducted his first interview with Bob. He was rather paunch and balding and eyed the stage manager with suspicion. Once in the interrogation room, however he tried a friendly strategy.
‘I’m sorry about the inconvenience Bob. Can I get you a hot drink or something?’
Bob, head in hands, still reeling from the shock of where he was and the death of Rose, welcomed the offer.
‘Tea thanks.’
Detective Morrison made two cups and sat down opposite the suspect. He waited. Silence was another strategy. Just observe them in a non-threatening manner and see what they say and do. So he did. This suspect did not seem to notice any discomfort. Instead, he sat and just stared intently at the steaming beverage before him. Morrison continued to wait expecting any moment that the suspect would explode under the suspense. Bob Sanders remained oblivious to the Detective, seemingly only interested in his tea.
Finally Morrison said, ‘So Bob, what drove you to kill a sweet little old lady?’
Slowly, Bob looked Morrison square in the face. He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. Morrison lifted an enquiring eyebrow as he witnessed a dawning expression on the suspects face. Bob suddenly laughed hysterically.
‘There’s no sugar in this.’
Morrison waited as Sanders twirled the cup of tea in his hands, a puzzled look knitting his brows together.
‘I’ll just get some sugar’ said Morrison, rising from his chair.
‘No!’ exploded Sanders as he joined the dots together.
An officer at the door came forward at the ready in case Bob went berserk but he only looked confused and frightened.
‘I don’t understand.’ he said finally. ‘Rose made us tea and got the sugar since she knows I have mine sweet. I swear I stirred it in while she went to get a costume. But afterwards, there wasn’t any sugar in my tea’.
Bob paced the interrogation room as his rising panic took over. The realization that Rose had tried to kill him caused him to wretch uncontrollably.
Morrison had conducted many interviews in his career and he thought he knew an act when he saw one. He also knew he would have one hell of a time proving motive. Why would Bob Sanders want Rose Thornton dead?
Although no forensic evidence linked Bob to the cyanide, which was found in the sugar bowl, he was eventually convicted of murder. Bob’s only defense was Rose intended to kill him but through mishap had poisoned her self. There seemed no earthly motive however, for a sweet 70 year old to commit such a crime albeit the jury was hard pushed to convict Sanders for the same act.
Shortly afterwards the theatre company engaged a new stage manager and Rebecca stepped into the shoes of Rose Thornton. The production of Pride and Prejudice was scheduled for the following month and the place was abuzz with activity. Like Rose, Rebecca was a natural at her job. Being younger, she had a bit more pep and over time, she had adopted many of Rose’s mannerisms and found she too could calm troubled waters at a pinch. Especially with the famous catch cry of: ‘Have a cup of tea love, while I try to fix it.’
Rebecca stitched a hem and recalled other philosophies worth hanging on to. Rose had always said what goes around comes around and now Bob Sanders had got his just desserts for breaking her heart. Rebecca sighed and sipped her tea, white with no sugar. She realized all too well, things don’t always go the way you plan. However, they often work out for the best - just like Rose had told her. Rebecca cut the thread. It certainly wouldn’t be the same without her though.