Stop the Music; He's Dead: Puzzle Man

STOP THE MUSIC; HE’S DEAD

Chapter 1 

He sat there in his loud sport jacket and bow tie smiling at the irony of it. How did he, an ad man, a marketing expert and a writer of jingles wind up as Editor-in-Chief of a stodgy old newspaper? ‘The Daily Lowdown’s’ circulation was down, and the conglomerate that owned the New York City paper wanted a change. Why not take a chance with a marketing guy like Miles Walker, reasoning that he could give the newspaper some pizzazz and boost circulation? ‘Quite a task considering that they also wanted him to cut costs. Prior to Walker, the newspaper had had more than its share of editors, who for a variety of reasons, hadn’t worked out. Walker, after spending weeks studying the operation, decided he would begin by making some changes with the staff.

Today was the day for implementing the staff changes. The first person to be called into his office was Belinda Dunbar, the ‘Advice to the Lovelorn’ columnist. His secretary announced Belinda’s arrival, and Walker asked that she be escorted in. Belinda was an attractive redhead in her mid-thirties. ‘A bit eccentric, a free spirit. ‘Kind of a throwback to the hippies of the 1970s. How she got involved giving advice to the lovelorn was anybody’s guess.

Thanks for coming in, Ms. Dunbar. Please sit down. I’ve been following your column for the past few weeks. It pains me to say it, but I have a stack of letters from our readers complaining that your advice has ruined their relationships.  Our surveys indicate your readers do not trust your advice. Some people write for your advice just so they can do the opposite. It has even been rumored that divorce lawyers recommend your column.

You can’t please everyone, Mr. Walker. You know that. Besides, it’s only a column, it’s not like I killed someone.

Actually, we did have one suicide.

Okay, one in ten years. Big deal.

Actually, one since I’ve been here. What I’m getting at, Ms. Dunbar, is that readers who ask for advice, expect good advice, which they apparently are not getting. I’ve decided to do away with the ‘Advice to the Lovelorn’ column.

You can’t do that, Mr. Walker; I need this job. More than that, I need the medical benefits.

Yes, I see in your file you have had some emotional issues which require medication. I’m not going to fire you, but I am doing away with your column. I must admit though, I like your style of writing: very polished, very refreshing, and it has flair. If only the actual advice you give to our readers didn’t cause such chaos in their life, there wouldn’t be a problem. I’ll tell you what, since our crime reporter just retired, you can be his replacement—at a lesser salary than your predecessor, of course. Your writing has an edge to it, so it might just work out. Crime has been slow in the city lately; it will give you time to break in. What do you say?

I’ll take it! Thank you, Mr. Walker.

Belinda was excited, and couldn’t wait to tell her ex-husband, Jason Pelski. Pelski authored puzzles for the same newspaper. Crosswords, Sudoku, you name it, he designed it. They’d met at the paper years ago, and after a whirlwind romance, at least on Jason’s part, they married. Belinda had always had trouble with relationships. Jason’s was her second marriage. She probably relied on her own advice, because her first marriage lasted only three days. Her marriage to Jason lasted a bit longer. Their divorce was civil; they even dated on and off after the divorce. Much to Pelski’s dismay, it morphed into mostly a friendship.

Due to the nature of Pelski’s job, he could come and go as he pleased. ‘Didn’t matter if he wrote the puzzles on the premises or at home, as long as he met his deadlines. A converted closet with a small desk was made available for him to use when he was in. There were no vents in the small space, consequently his door was usually half open so that at least he could get some fresh air. The coat hooks still hung on the walls. In her excitement, Belinda burst into his office.

Guess what, Jason.

Pelski was in the middle of a Sudoku calculation, and the interruption threw his calculations off. He still had feelings for her, though, so he smiled, and stopped what he was doing. 

What?

I’m the newspaper’s new crime reporter.

What about the ‘Advice to the Lovelorn’ column?

Oh, that. According to Walker, the interest in the column is down. Something or other about spurned lovers, breakups, divorces and lawsuits... Anyway, it’s a blessing in disguise. This is what I’ve always wanted to do.

I’m happy for you, Belinda.

Even though they had been divorced for a number of years, Pelski was still smitten by her. She was unconventional, complex, his own personal unsolvable puzzle.

Tell you what, Belinda. Let’s celebrate.  I happen to have two tickets tonight to the new Broadway play, ‘Burr.’ Interested?

Didn’t that play get panned by the critics?

That’s why a friend gave me his tickets. 

Sure, why not. Pick me up at six.

After she left, Pelski went back to his puzzle. He was interrupted a few more times when some of the newspaper’s employees came into his office to hang their coats.

Chapter 2

Jason and Belinda sat in the balcony of the Roberta Katz theater, leafing through the playbill. It was an old theater, and Pelski’s six-foot frame was cramped in the undersized seat. For some reason, every time he went to the theater, he always had an overweight person in the seat next to him. Tonight, was no exception. The gentleman to his left swelled over into Pelski’s seat. The lights dimmed, the audience was seated, the cell phones were muted, and the curtain rose for the First Act of the musical, ‘Burr.’ The play was about the life of the third Vice President of the United States, who served under Thomas Jefferson. Burr was infamous for the killing of another of America’s founding fathers, Alexander Hamilton, in a duel.

The play had opened on Broadway a month earlier, and had received below-average reviews from the critics. Rodney Fawn, the play’s author and an investor, had put up his own money to finance a portion of the play. He’d been having trouble getting backers since he hadn’t had a hit in the last several years. The critic, Dag Swift of ‘The Daily Mirror,’ another one of New York City’s newspapers, had always been a staunch critic of Rodney Fawn’s work. Swift was especially harsh on ‘Burr.’ After attending the opening night performance, he wrote:

When it came to the dueling scene in the Second Act, I wanted to jump onstage, grab one of the guns, shoot both lead actors and the director, as well, and, if I had any bullets left, kill myself so I wouldn’t have to sit through it.

The theater was half empty, and the First Act played flat. The Second Act was indeed the dueling scene between Hamilton, played by Lance Ruggles, and Burr, played by Hedley Corsair. Fawn, after the initial harsh criticisms he had received, reworked the dueling scene. He hoped it would play better if done in the rain. The scene began in a dim light with a misty rain falling from the theater’s overhead sprinklers.

Both Hamilton and Burr emerged with their pistols from under the umbrellas of their seconds. The orchestra’s music was somber. Drums imitated the sound of thunder, lighting simulated sporadic lightning.  Hamilton and Burr stood back to back, then walked off ten paces. They turned and fired. Hamilton fell. While Hamilton was lying there in the rain, Burr advanced to center stage and sang ‘That’s How It Goes,’ one of the play’s more okay songs. The audience responded with light applause, which was milked by Corsair, who had a tendency to overact. After momentarily stepping out of character to smile and bow, he and the other actors stood like statues as the stage began to rotate to the next scene.

Two minutes into the next scene, one of the stagehands bolted out onstage and called out over the mic:

Is there a doctor in the house?

A puzzled audience wasn’t sure if this was part of the play. In a half panic, the stagehand called out again:

Is there a doctor in the house?

An older gentleman rose from his seat on the aisle, and walked towards the frenzied speaker. He was quickly taken backstage where an unconscious Lance Ruggles lay—barely breathing. An ambulance was called and he was rushed to the hospital. He died on the way there. The doctors in the