Am/Dram - Chapter One

The opening chapter of a murder mystery novel I wrote in 2010 and am currently editing.

Chapter One

Marlee Grainger finally won the tug of war battle with her car door, prizing her coat from its clam-like grip as the wind howled her on and the rain drove frozen needles into her face. It was high time that she got her lock fixed, but the frequency with which it acted up was so low that she would normally forget their was an issue, until she was caught out once more. As was the case at that moment, those occasions when it did cause her problems, the timing could not be worse. While she pulled and tugged and wrenched the coat tail up and down in an attempt to jostle it loose, she realized that perhaps it was a karma thing; when things were going to go wrong for her, then it would make sense that the car door would also be affected by the pocket of bad luck. As the coat broke free with a slight tear, she sighed partly with relief and partly because this was, perhaps now had been her favourite coat.

It was, as usual, her turn to set things up. If truth be told, she wasn’t unhappy to be doing it; some would call it being taken advantage of, but how could she justify that expression when she did like to be in control, to be depended on? Of course people would expect her to be the one to do all the trivial work - it wasn’t her nature to stand up for herself being a firm believer in not being confrontational and all �" but secretly while she moved the plastic chairs out from the sides of the room and arranged them in the most pleasing order or set up the tea and coffee things on the old Formica topped table in the corner beside the stage, she knew that they couldn’t do without her. These people, loosely termed as friends, and the future of the group were completely dependant on her and while this meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, she did feel a little powerful. She was the glue that held everything together, and without her the community would have no theatrical outlet.

As she trudged through the rain, juggling the heavily soaked cardboard box full of scripts, some basic props and biscuits, she frantically fished inside her coat pocket for the keys to the main door. Of course this being Tuesday, as well as having her car, house and the Church hall keys, she also had those of the shop, her neighbour Janice and the veterinary surgery; more who depended on her good nature and reliability. She finally reached the large wooden doors where at last she could find some shelter under the awning and took the opportunity to drop the box onto the ground so that she could pull the coat pocket around in front of her and use both hands to try and help in her search. That gave her the opportunity to pull out two sets of keys at once, but it didn’t quite work out as she would have hoped as a further set became entangled and as she fought to pry the two apart, the thread used to keep them together gave way and snapped, causing six keys to fall from her grasp and dance around in a puddle of rainwater before scattering around her feet. Marlee sighed again. Of course, the key would have to be one of those.

As she bent down to retrieve the wayward keys, a single icy drip of water fell from the rafters and hit the back of her neck, her crouching having now exposed an area of flesh to silent attack. She winced as the shiver began and shot down her spine, while the splash of water began its slower and more purposeful journey the same way.

 

She closed her eyes tightly and grimaced, her whole body locked up in the grip of numbness. She hated the rain and the cold and there was nothing more that she wanted at that moment other than being curled up on the couch with a glass of Pinot Noir, a half eaten box of chocolates and something from the Hallmark channel. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that there was no one else who was going to do it and, damn it, the town needed the twice yearly productions they put on otherwise what else did they have? The local cinema had shut down almost 2 years ago, and the oft promised multiplex had gone the way of the ice rink; the sports centre and the new kids play park. All that was needed now was for someone in the council to have the bright idea of pulling down the Village Hall and building some more flats for people who wouldn’t move into the area because there was nothing for them or their families to do, except spending hours wandering from the half empty shopping centre. An afternoon wandering around Asda should be tempting for no-one.

 

Which was why, despite the crappy weather and the horrendous hours twice a week on top of her day job and looking after the kids, she was determined to do whatever she could to keep the amateur dramatic society going.

 

With steely determination, and the thought of hot chocolate spiced with grand maurnier upon her return home, she thrust her hand out and grabbed the keys from the puddle. Of course the wet immediately sliced into her fingers, but by then she was upright once more and had put the key in the lock, turned it and with a grunt, pushed open the door into the surprisingly warm hall.

 

In a few moments she had navigated through the corridor, expertly shrugging off her coat whilst still balancing the box from hand to hand. She shook her wet hair and reached up to the light box and with a few flicks of her index finger, knocked them all on and filled the corridor and the hall itself with bright light. She kicked the heavy swing doors open and stepped purposefully into the main hall, before striding across the open space towards the stage, where at last she was able to dump the boxes on top of the stage.

 

Then she dipped her shoulder slowly and realised - as her coat slid down her arm and onto the floor - that she hadn’t had to disable the alarm.

 

“Hello?” she called out to no one in particular. “Anyone here?”

 

Of course she realised that, more likely than not, the janitor had forgotten to set the alarm before he left for the day, but it was the first time in the numerous nights where she had opened up that she didn’t have to turn it off.

 

She tried again.

 

“Hello?”

 

After a few seconds of silence, she decided that the janitor must have forgotten, shrugged her shoulders and started to unpack.

 

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