Rehearsing the Truth

The morning light spilt through the windows as George, and I sat in Eleanor's office at the theatre. The air inside was stale, heavy with a sense of abandonment. It had been days since Victoria's murder, and yet the theatre felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for the curtain to fall on the mystery surrounding her death.

"I've cleared it with the cast," Eleanor had said curtly when I'd called the day before. "Talk to whomever you need. Just... be discreet. We have a reputation to uphold."

George and I weren't sure whether Eleanor's cooperation stemmed from genuine concern or a need to control the narrative. Regardless, it was an opportunity we couldn't pass up.

The theatre, now eerily empty, carried a kind of weight that only seemed to grow as we walked the halls. Each step echoed faintly, bouncing off the crimson walls. George broke the silence.

"Feels like the set of one of those old noir films, doesn't it?"

"Let's hope the dialogue's better," I muttered.

As we approached the stage, I spotted Ryan Maxwell, the leading man, leaning against the edge of the set. His tailored jacket and carefully tousled hair screamed effortless charm, the kind that seemed ready for an audience at all times.

Ryan glanced up, his expression shifting to mild recognition. "William, right? And George." He gave a small smile. "Didn't expect to see you here again."

"I didn't expect to be here," George admitted. "Long time, Ryan."

"Too long," Ryan replied smoothly, before shifting his attention to me. "So, what's this about?"

I stepped forward. "Victoria. We're trying to piece together what happened. Anything you can tell us about her might help."

Ryan's smile faltered just slightly. "Victoria was... determined. She had a way of getting under your skin, but she was also incredibly focused. If she wanted something, she made it happen."

"What if she couldn't?" I asked.

Ryan hesitated, glancing at the empty seats in the auditorium. "She had dirt on people. Don't ask me how she got it, but she always seemed to know exactly where to push."

"And if charm didn't work?" George added.

Ryan smirked faintly. "Let's just say Victoria thrived on control. She wasn't the kind of person you wanted to cross."

As Ryan excused himself, we didn't have much time to digest Ryan's words. I caught sight of Jessica Lane, one of the chorus members, lingering near the backstage entrance. Her petite frame and nervous fidgeting gave her away immediately.

"Jessica," George called out, his tone warm but curious. "Still running late to rehearsals?"

She blinked, recognition flashing across her face. "George? Wow, I didn't even realize you were back. It's been forever!"

"Yeah, I'm helping William with something," he explained, gesturing toward me.

Jessica nodded politely before glancing around. "Is this about Victoria?"

"It is," I confirmed. "Anything you can tell us might help."

Jessica hesitated, chewing her lip. "I don't know. She could be nice, but it always came with a price. And lately... she wasn't herself. There were arguments, especially with Eleanor."

"What kind of arguments?" George asked.

"She accused Eleanor of sabotaging the play. Said she was cutting corners to make her look bad. It got heated—Eleanor even told her to quit if she didn't like it. But Victoria refused. She said she couldn't afford to leave."

As Jessica left, George and I exchanged a look. "Doesn't sound like a lead actress who had everything together," he said.

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "And Eleanor's starting to sound more involved than she let on."

The theatre's shadows seemed to stretch as we walked back toward the exit. George stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression thoughtful.

"You worked with these people, even if you didn't know them well," I said, breaking the silence. "What do you think?"

"I think they're good actors," George replied dryly.

"Not exactly comforting," I muttered.

As we stepped out into the cold evening air, a sense of unease settled over me. Victoria's world was unravelling, and the people closest to her were pulling at the threads.