(Lights down on ELSIE and up on PATRICK, who huffs.)
PATRICK: I made no secret of that opinion. Reviving Deathtrap was a bad decision. It was a sentimental favorite of Klein’s, but it has zero chance of connecting with a contemporary audience.
WONG: And why is that?
PATRICK: It’s dated, for one thing. Carbon copies? Electric typewriters? Home phones?
WONG: You don’t think a modern audience knows what a home phone is?
PATRICK: Well, of course they do. But it marks the piece. It makes it feel stuffy and small. I told Klein, let’s do something that matters. I told him, you want to do a thriller, let’s do Martin McDonagh. Or let’s do a Belber. Let’s do a Sarah Ruhl. Let’s do Hamlet, for God’s sake!
(Lights switch back to ELSIE.)
ELSIE: (rolling her eyes) Does he think there’s no outdated references in Hamlet? When was the last time you ate funeral meats, Detective? When was the last time you were hoisted by a petard?
WONG: What?
ELSIE: Exactly. Just for the record, I’m not surprised that Patrick killed him.
WONG: I didn’t say that he did.
ELSIE: What?
WONG: Do you think that artistic differences constitute sufficient cause for murder, Ms. Woodruff?
ELSIE: No. (suddenly feeling cornered) Why?
WONG: (turning a page in her notebook) How was your working relationship?
ELSIE: With Klein? Why? What have you heard?
(Lights down on ELSIE and up on LEWIS CANNON. He peeks over the top of his sunglasses, as if relating a great secret.)
LEWIS: Did they get along? No, ma’am, they did not get along. They certainly did not. And listen, I’ve seen a lot of friction on a lot of sets over the years, and this was bad. This was very bad.
WONG: Sorry, wait just a moment. Your name is Mr. Cannon, is that correct?
LEWIS: (incredulous) Uh, yes? That’s a joke, right? (Off WONG’S look.) No? God, that’s embarrassing. For you, I mean. Embarrassing for you. But okay. That’s fine. Yes, my name is Lewis Carlin Cannon. I have won Obies. I have won Drama Desk Awards. (Off her look, again.) You do not know what those things are, and I am horrified. Listen, darling, I was Nicely Nicely last year.
WONG: What is that?
LEWIS: Guys and Dolls? Roundabout revival? (sings a little) “I got the horse right here …” No?
WONG: I don’t like theater.
LEWIS: Oh, no?
WONG: Whenever I watch a play, I think that if these people were really good, they’d be on television.
LEWIS: You better be careful, sweetheart. Someone around here might kill you.
WONG: So. You said that Mr. Klein’s relationship with the director, Ms. Woodruff, was a bit tense.
LEWIS: Tense? Tense is not the word. This was brutal. This was like—well, I’ll tell you, one time I was working at the Public, with Tony—that’s Tony Kushner—and we’re rehearsing, and I’m giving him some little suggestions—
WONG: Excuse me. (WONG takes out her phone.) Hello?
LEWIS: And George—George C. Wolfe, that is—he gets very agitated by this side conversation, and things are getting very hot—
WONG: Sorry, Mr. Cannon, just a moment—
LEWIS: And then Stritchie comes in—that’s Elaine Stritch, I called her Stritchie—
WONG: Please, stop talking now.
(WONG listens to her phone for a moment while the lights dim on LEWIS and find PATRICK.)
WONG: My officers are having some trouble locating your husband. Can you give us more of a description?
PATRICK: He’s a six-foot-tall man with a beard, singing “Poor Little Buttercup” on the A train. I think you’ll find him.
WONG: We’re doing our best, sir.
(Lights down on PATRICK as WONG turns to ELSIE.)
ELSIE: We didn’t have a bad relationship. He just had a bad presence, okay? That’s all.
WONG: What do you mean by a “bad presence”?
ELSIE: I mean, when he was present, everything was bad. He would stand behind me while I was trying to direct, making these small agitated noises. Actors are tiny people. They are fragile. They need to be brought along gently, like ponies. I would say, “You’re doing great, you’re almost there …” And there would be Klein, standing behind me, huffing on an unlit cigar, making everybody palpitate. He was ruining the show, and when a show tanks, the producer goes on to another show. But the director? The director is the captain. The director goes down with the ship.
WONG: So, the production was going poorly?
(ELSIE opens her mouth to answer, and the lights switch over to LEWIS.)
LEWIS: Yes. A disaster! That’s why I was trying to get out.
WONG: Excuse me?
LEWIS: This was the worst train wreck I’ve ever been involved in, and I was once in a musical about a train wreck called Train Wreck! which was a total train wreck. Although Alan—that’s Alan Cumming—
WONG: Mr. Cannon?
LEWIS: Alan brought his usual joie de vivre to the role of the coal shoveler. He and Sutton—
WONG: Mr. Cannon? What did you mean by “get out”?