What does it mean? Will Saint Sonny rise from the dead? And where is Spencer Martin, as he does not appear to be on the set? The mind reels. As we get so little satisfaction and have such sad offline existences, we are considering showing up. Would you like to join us?
It had taken her a while to get that wording exactly right, and she was proud of the result. Spies of New York got a lot of e-mails, so she had to make sure to get their attention and make it seem legitimate. They had posted it at eight o’clock, just an hour before the episode aired.
Scarlett and Mrs. Amberson stood at the base of the steps of the courthouse, waiting. Forty or so other people were milling around, and more people were dribbling in in groups of two or three. The courthouse wasn’t a big attraction, so Scarlett assumed that they were there for the event. She hoped that none of these people were crazy, but there was no way of telling.
“You don’t think that anyone’s going to…kill him, right?” Scarlett asked. “I know this was my idea but…”
“It will be fine, O’Hara,” Mrs. Amberson said confidently. “The police are on top of the situation.”
The three police officers nearby were leaning against a collection of the stray crowd-control barriers that litter the New York streets, and a cruiser was parked nearby with no one inside. They probably just happened to patrol this area. They had one half-interested eye on the group, but their main concern looked to be their conversation.
“Where did you tell your parents we were going?” Mrs. Amberson asked.
“To see A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I told them I was reading it for school and it counted as doing homework.”
“Ah. Well, I don’t approve of lying to your parents, but this case might be an exception. They’ve had a very hard week, with too many surprises.”
“If they knew about this,” Scarlett said, nervously wrapping her arms around herself, “they’d start chaining us to the radiators.”
Murray was along for the ride, watching the action from the safety of Mrs. Amberson’s purse. Every once in a while, his little head would appear just under her arm and the terrified, marble-like eyes would take in the scene. Then he would sink back down into the depths of tea-tree sticks and notepaper, convinced once again of the horrors of the world.
“And Spencer didn’t tell you exactly what was going on?” Mrs. Amberson asked.
“Just that they figured out a way in and out, that it will start at 10:02, and we should meet them afterward at the meeting place two blocks from here.”
More people came from the direction of the subway. Among them was a familiar figure, half hidden by a hoodie. But by now, Scarlett knew every inch of Max’s outline.
“It’s Max,” Mrs. Amberson said, as he came closer. “Really, O’Hara, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty with that one. I remember when you were reluctant to spy on him…”
“I don’t spy,” Scarlett said.
“Yes, of course. You know what I mean.”
They quieted as Max approached. Mrs. Amberson pulled out her phone and stepped off to the side to talk. Scarlett got the feeling she was just doing that to give them some room, which was disconcerting.
“You always post where you’re going to be,” he said. “Stop flirting with me.”
Before the kiss, that would have had a totally different meaning. It would have just been snide. Now, it had some real weight. Max seemed to catch on to this a moment too late, and his voice trailed off. Scarlett tried to come up with some kind of witty rebuttal, but finding nothing in her mind, decided to act like it had never been said.
“We just have to wait a few minutes,” she said. “Then it starts.”
“What’s it?” he asked.
Before Scarlett could explain, a black Mercedes pulled up to the curb next to them. It was a car Scarlett knew well.
“Oh crap,” she said.
Marlene got out first, followed quickly by Lola and her parents. Marlene’s finger was pointing at Scarlett even before she left the car. She walked right up to Scarlett and jabbed it in the direction of her face.
“Told you!” she said. “I told you!”
“Aren’t you at a show?” Scarlett’s mom asked.
“I…”
“You!” Marlene noticed Max standing there. “Are you guys, like, dating now?”
There was obvious disgust, and maybe a little bit of jealousy in her voice. Mrs. Amberson had turned around and seen what was going on. She quickly concluded her conversation and hurried over.
“You’re here!” she exclaimed. “We just this moment walked out of the show, and someone sent me a message saying that we had to get down here right away.”
Scarlett’s parents didn’t appear to think much of this story.
“So,” her mom said, “what is going on here?”
“Beats me,” Scarlett said. “We just saw the…you know…thing…and we…”
“Let’s try that again,” Scarlett’s dad said. “What is going on? If it involves Spencer, you know. In fact, this sort of looks like your handiwork. You’re the one who brought Hamlet home, right?”
“Me? I…”