Chapter Text
One thing the article didn't mention was a stuffy bellboy, hellbent on getting him away from the theatre.
He seemed cordial enough at first, asking Inference how he was, but quickly turned firm once asked about seeing Lady Bella.
"Another fan? I'm sorry mister, but no. Lady Bella won't meet with just an ordinary fan."
Inference rolls his eyes, and takes the scarf out of his pocket. If this doesn't get him in, he really doesn't know what will.
"Perhaps this will make me less ordinary?" Inference says smoothly, letting the bellboy take the scarf. He turns it over in his hands, inspecting the embroidery closely.
"This does seem to be Golden Scissors' work…" He mumbles absentmindedly, the scarf draped in his hands. The bellboy shakes his head, and addresses Inference once more, handing the keepsake back to him.
"I do believe you're no ordinary fan, mister. Perhaps you can have this invitation to the celebratory party after the first performance." He suggests while pulling out a pristine looking letter, "Lady Bella will be there."
Inference shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but no can do. I have something to discuss with Lady Bella in private." Obviously D.M. and Lady Bella's relationship should be kept secret. However, this alerted the bellboy.
"Oh, no. Sorry, mister 'not-so-ordinary', but this scarf isn't as special as you had hoped for." He stood his ground after that, and Inference felt like tearing his hair out. He needs to get in to converse with Lady Bella, and if he doesn't, D.M. will surely–
"Look who it is! I was going to look for you when rehearsal was over!"
No… No way. Inference knows that voice.
"Ronald?" Inference stands incredulous, wide-eyed. Ronald is here? Like, the "Ronald of Ness" back in his army days? This case might be much more troublesome than he thought. "Wait, what do you mean you were going to look for me?" Why did Ronald know he was coming?
Ronald blinks once, and that broad smile takes over his face once again. "Whatever are you talking about, Colonel? I just heard all this commotion from 'Jingle Bells' outside and decided to check it out."
Inference flushed, pulling his hat down over his eyes. "It's not Colonel anymore. Just call me Inference, okay? I'm a detective now." Inference felt frenzied at the sound of his old comrade-in-arm's voice after all these years, so the bullshit excuse Ronald makes plays off as perfectly sound to him. "So, what are you doing here?"
"Don't you know? I'm the leading actor at the Golden Rose Theatre." Ronald flashes him a charming smile that makes Inference want to roll his eyes; he knew that the man has always been into theatrics, but he didn't realize it went far enough for him to pursue a career in acting. After all, Ronald isn't someone easy to befriend, and they didn't spend a lot of time together in the army to be close enough for Inference to know how far his talent in acting went.
"I truly had no idea." Inference tells Ronald, antsy, wanting to get back to his case. "If I did, I might have visited under different circumstances."
"Different circumstances?"
Inference explains why he's there, to talk to Lady Bella in private. The mention of the actress has Ronald going cold, but he seems to want to help Inference nonetheless, thankfully.
"Just let me talk to Jingle Bells and we can be on our way." Ronald says, but Inference stops him.
"Why exactly do you call him that?" Inference asks, curious.
Ronald laughs and waves a hand. "It's just a nickname. We tend to do those here. His real name is Victor Grantz." Inference nods, and watches Ronald go off to talk to Grantz, flashing a smile over at Inference while Grantz remains thin-lipped. Eventually, he nods at Ronald, and Ronald comes back to Inference with a thumbs up.
"Jingle Bells gave us the OK. Shall we?" The actor holds out a hand, that smarmy smile still plastered on his face. Inference scoffs, but takes it anyways.
"We shall." It's silly, but Inference is a little put off by the change in demeanor from the Ronald he knew to now. Everyone changes, and Ronald must've just grown more comfortable in a boisterous, charming actor's persona, but something in Inference misses the blunt, no-good attitude he used to carry with him.
Ah, well. No use missing the past.
...
The lobby was meticulously decorated, flourishing bouquets of flowers lining the hall in large vases and golden curtains frame the windows. It's a little too gaudy for Inference's style, but it works. Ronald lets go of Inference's hand once they stop in front of a lanky man with buck teeth.
"Afraid I'll have to leave you for rehearsal, detective, but you might get some information from Rusty Penpoint here. Or Freddy Riley, if you're not keen on nicknames. Rusty, this is Mr. Inference. Play nice while I'm gone, yeah?" Inference is most definitely not a nickname person. He thanks Ronald before he manages to vanish onto the stage.
"So, Riley, what is it that you do here?" He isn't at the rehearsal, so Inference surmises that whatever role he has isn't necessary to the current play.
Riley pushes up his glasses and speaks. "I'm a playwright here. Well–assistant playwright." Inference nods thoughtfully, mentally taking down notes. "A majority of our repertoire was composed by old Scrooge. I actually joined the troupe to work under him but, ah, well…" Riley trails off, looking uncertain.
"What is it?" Inference presses, feigning some sort of concern.
"Money and twisted love have corrupted his talent." Riley says ominously, and it doesn't seem like he's going to elaborate.
Inference nods again, but less certainly this time. Money is obvious, he himself tends to work more for money than for the case itself, but twisted love? He isn't sure how that could "corrupt" someone's writing. He'll have to keep it in mind for when he gets to speak to Scrooge himself.
In the same vein of things, Inference brings up D.M., and how he was trying to contact Lady Bella directly. Apparently though, trying to bring gossip into it was a horrible idea, as Riley kept going and going, but something he said piqued Inference's interest.
"Did you know? Lachesis fell to her death in her last performance, and old Scrooge received a sum of the money out of the ruins."
"Really?" Inference wondered.
Riley nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. And the current play, Atropos' Ropes, is basically a swan song to her."
"I see." Inference says lamely, unsure on what else to say. He filed the information in his head regardless. "Do you have any other information?" He could tell the man loved gossip, but upon pressing further Riley seemed to stammer and sweat.
"You should see the 'Commander' if you want to know more. She knows everything." The aspiring playwright tells him.
Inference nods, satisfied. Although it's strange he's unwilling to share. "Where may I find this commander?"
"Down the hall to the left, there should be a conference room. That woman always holes herself up in there."
With an awkward goodbye, Inference makes his way down the hall, passing flowers, cards, display cases, and more. It seems the theatre is growing more popular by the day, if the displays have anything to say about it.
The girl he finds reading away at a playbook, most certainly of the theatre's current production, startles him more than it should; while her hair and eyes were brown like oak she held herself the same as Truth, right down to the freckles on her nose. It was shocking, but Inference is sure that Truth had no siblings in the orphanage, so he chalks it all up to just being extremely uncanny.
Either way, this mousy girl seems to be the commander.
"Pardon me, but might you be the commander of this theatre?" Do theatres have commanders? Inference does not know.
She giggles, closing her book. "That is what they call me, yes! But I'm afraid in title I'm just a logistics manager. And you are?"
"Mr. Inference. Detective. I'm here on account of my client. How much do you know about the past of this theatre?"
The commander thinks, hiding the bottom half of her face behind the playbook. She sets it down before she speaks. "Pretty much as much as anyone!"
"So you know of Lachesis?" Inference asks.
The commander nods, kicking her feet under the table. At the mention of Lachesis, she gets this far away look in her eye. "Mmhm. Who doesn't?"
This doesn't seem to be going anywhere. She's spacy and kind, which reminds him even more of Truth, so Inference resolves himself to asking what exactly her name is.
"I see. I hope this isn't rude of me to ask, but what is your real name? No one seems to have told me."
"Oh!" She laughs, "It's Emma. Emma Woods."
Not Lisa Beck. No matching last name. Inference lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I see. Thank you, Miss Woods. Is there anything you could tell me about Lady Bella, then?"
Woods seems to mellow out from her cheery personality when mentioning Bella.
"Bella isn't likeable, nor is she that close with the other members of the troupe. Yet, the men from town will flock to her like bees to honey and bring her all sorts of gifts, as if she's queen. Well, she is like a queen most of the time on stage, anyways." Woods tells him in one fell swoop as Inference begins to file the information away once again.
"What do you mean 'most of the time'?" Inference asks.
The commander sighs, twirling her hair. "Lately, the quality of her performance has been fluctuating. That might be why the director considers her inferior to Lachesis. After all, she did pass away, but she delivered a flawless performance…" Woods trails off, a solemn expression on her face, almost as if she lost herself in a bad memory, "Yet, essentially they are the same. Bella has even said something along the lines of… oh what was it… 'If I can't deliver a flawless performance, I'd rather die before the curtains are drawn.'"
"That's rather morbid, isn't it?" Inference comments. "Thank you for the information. It should greatly benefit my client's commission."
The commander giggles. "Of course!"
They spend the time chatting away, Inference finding himself at ease with the woman who reminds him of Truth. The rehearsal took longer than anticipated, but once he heard voices stirring outside in the lobby, he knew they had finished. He bid farewell to Woods and stepped out of the conference room, trying to seek a familiar face in Ronald.
It was easy to find him in that bright red suit. Inference rushed over. Once Ronald noticed him, his expression shifted from anger to something more apologetic.
"Apologies, detective. It seems her highness isn't interested in her subjects today." Ronald scoffs, "Perhaps the crown isn't suitable for her anymore. She isn't Lachesis, even Kroto may be better than her!" The anger in his voice was palpable.
This outburst reminds Inference more of the Ronald he knew in the army; less flirty and charming, and more prone to anger and wild mood swings.
Before Inference has the chance to speak up, a well-dressed older man comes up behind Ronald and sets a hand on his shoulder.
"Perhaps she only needs more time." He says gently, and reaches out to shake Inference's hand. "Pardon my interruption, detective. I'm the director of this theatre."
Ronald rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, petulant like a child. He seemed to gravitate closer to Inference, shoulders brushing.
"Hello, it's great to meet you. I'm Mr. Inference. A detective, of course." Inference introduces himself back, taking Lapadura's hand and shaking it.
"Ronald told me why you're here. I'm sorry you've come all this way for nothing." Lapadura says apologetically, "I had no idea Bella was admired by that gentleman. Bella has been overwhelmed by those crazy love letters lately, so she had no choice but to cancel all of her dates.
"But, anyways, inform that gentleman that she will get better soon. And…" Lapadura produces a framed ticket holder from his coat. "We will, of course, await his visit with the most perfect performance."
Inference thanks Lapadura genuinely. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lapadura. I'll make sure this letter gets to him."
As the director leaves, a shrill voice cuts through the crowd. Inference has to avoid the urge to cover his ears at how loud it is.
"The love letters had nothing to do with it!" The voice sounded frenzied, like they were desperate to prove something. Turns out, the voice belongs to a small man with curly blonde hair.
Ronald leans down next to Inference's ear, hands behind his back. He speaks in a low voice that rings clear to Inference over the chaos.
"That's 'Sparrow', Mike Morton. He's our stuntman. He really admires her highness, if you couldn't tell."
Inference wouldn't have guessed that he was a stuntman from first glance, but he makes a note of it anyways.
Morton is still preaching when he tunes back in. "If at the beginning Scrooge didn't provoke her with Lachesis' talent and put so much pressure on her, she wouldn't have hit rock bottom! And when she desperately needed help," Morton looked around the room, glaring at everyone, " you all chose to support that– that imposter! You bunch of f–"
A modest looking girl with short hair and overalls next to him slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. She looked mildly annoyed, but mostly apologetic to the crowd. When she speaks, it's like a hush goes over everyone. For good reason too, as the girl is a lot more soft-spoken than Morton.
"Sparrow is just agitated. He didn't think before he spoke and meant no harm to Kroto."
Her eyes roamed the faces of the crowd until Ronald grumbled something under his breath and spoke up.
"Don't worry 'Smarty Pants', since you've helped me before I won't rat him out to old man Scrooge."
"Smarty Pants" nodded appreciatively before dragging Morton away from the crowd. He didn't protest, letting himself get dragged away by the girl.
Ronald turns around to look back at Inference and smiles apologetically. "Sorry about that, detective. That was Tracy Reznik, our theatre's stage control. She's a pretty good friend of Sparrow's, but she's easier to get along with."
An older looking woman shakes her head, hand on her chin. She sounded far away and mystical when she spoke. "That poor boy still doesn't understand. It's the goddess of destiny who gave up on his queen, not us."
"This is 'Encore'." Ronald introduces her, less subtly this time now that the crowd has thinned out. "Fiona Gilman. She's a stand-in."
Gilman smiles demurely. "And who's this, Ronald? Surely you're not bringing strange men into the theatre. That could very well have upset the energy balance of the rehearsal."
Ronald's face goes red at the implication and Inference has to force himself not to gawk at Gilman's forwardness. Before Ronald has the chance to exclaim in anger, though, Inference steps forward.
"I'm a detective. I'm here on behalf of my client. I assure you, it is not Ronald's choice that I'm here."
Gilman giggles, twirling her hair. "If you say so. I'm sure this man could very well fend for himself, though. No need to introduce everyone. Ah, where was I…? Kroto has cleaned up Bella's messes time and time again, but thanks to her, Kroto's performance has improved splendidly from the extended rehearsals. When I was waiting offstage today, I didn't even realize it was Kroto and not Bella on stage."
"Art ain't imitation, it's creation." A woman with streaks in her hair and an apron tied around her walks up to Gilman, getting in her face and glaring at her with her hands on her hips.
Ronald, in the midst of the argument, whispers to Inference. "Demi Bourbon. Phonograph. She's the maid."
Gilman doesn't recoil, but instead smirks in her face. "Art? Oh, that's hilarious coming from a maid. Or did Bella say that, 'Phonograph'?"
A tired looking woman, clad in a black costume that looked more like lingerie than anything, stopped the two of them. Her hair was done up immaculately, and Inference could tell that this was the other subject of their discussion–Kroto. "That's enough, Encore. I'm exhausted from rehearsal; perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me for a late afternoon tea?" The tension dissipated as Kroto cut in. Gilman looked almost ashamed, but not quite, while "Phonograph" stood her ground. "Either way… it's the director that gets to choose who stands in the center of the stage, not destiny."
Kroto glanced meaningfully off toward the side to a woman daintily holding a perfume bottle, who was keeping her wits about her. If Inference had to describe how her voice sounded when she spoke, the word that came to him first was snooty.
"Get changed and have a good rest, Kroto. You very well don't smell like the leading actress at all right now. Everyone else should get home as well. The performances are about to begin and we don't want any more episodes."
"They're starting tomorrow?" Inference butts in, curious.
She looks at him like he's slime, but nods anyway. "Yes. Today was the final dress rehearsal."
The woman ignores Kroto's hostile glare, and herds everyone out of the theatre, save for Ronald and Inference. Once out of earshot, Ronald whispers in Inference's ear once again, keeping his voice as low as possible.
(Pretty hard for an actor who needs to project his voice on stage.)
"That's our stylist, Vera Nair. We all call her the Fragrance Queen. Her sense of smell is… incredibly strong, to say the least. More importantly, she's old man Scrooge's confidant. They knew each other even before Lachesis was in the picture. I'd say she's the true queen of this theatre."
Inference couldn't put his finger on it, but Ronald definitely seemed wary of Nair, if not a little scared of her. She definitely seems like a force to be reckoned with, with how she commandeered the remaining troupe members in the lobby.
If only he got to talk to Lady Bella. Inference, while gathering a lot of intel on the theatre itself, didn't manage to do the most important thing–get in contact with Bella.
As Ronald was going to escort Inference out, a man stopped them near the lobby's entrance.
"Excuse me, I heard from Jingle Bells that you have one of my scarves in your possession." He must be the "Golden Scissors" Grantz mentioned. Inference digs out the scarf and hands it to him.
While he's inspecting it, Ronald leans over to introduce him in Inference's ear. "Jack. Our costume designer."
Inference nods to Ronald, and addresses Jack. "Unfortunately, it didn't give me the honor of meeting Lady Bella."
"Hmm… No wonder." he says after intensely inspecting the scarf. "It really is one of mine. But it doesn't belong to Bella. At least, not now." Jack says, carelessly handing the scarf back to Inference. "Bella has phased out red from her wardrobe as she no longer adores it."
…That is unexpected. The scarf isn't Bella's?
Jack sounds gleeful as he continues, as if he's ignoring the look of confusion on Inference's face. "Kroto likes red and covets what doesn't belong to her. I didn't mind feeding her vanity a little bit with a fair trade."
Inference looks at the scarf in his hands and nods, slowly. "I… I see. Thank you for your information. It's truly helpful."
He hurries out of the theatre, lost in thought about the scarf until he feels a hand grab his shoulder. It's Ronald, of course, flashing him a charming smile as Inference slows his pacing to a halt. However this time, it seems like Ronald has shed his stage costume before leaving; all he's carrying on his person is a white button up with the tie undone and black slacks. He looks almost strange without his mask after seeing him with it all day, but this Ronald reminds him of the one he knew.
"It was great to see you today, detective." He says earnestly. "We should definitely catch up sometime, yeah? Phonograph works part time at this bar down the street."
Inference blinks. That's not what he was expecting to hear at all. The two weren't that close in the army, occasionally sharing night vigils and passing the night away cracking jokes, but enough to interest him into wanting to become part of his life? That's unexpected, but… Definitely not unwelcome.
There was always something about Ronald that drew him in. Maybe it was the detective instincts Inference didn't know he had yet, but there was always something there.
So Inference nods. "Sure. How about after your performance tomorrow? Celebratory drinks, on me."
Ronald laughs, loud and boisterous. "And where was this generous colonel when we were in the army? Never change, Subedar. Don't forget to come to the performance yourself, alright?" He says, slipping a ticket out of his pocket. "Here, from me, detective."
If Inference blushes when he takes the ticket from Ronald, no one has to know.
This wasn't in his plans, but maybe getting out and doing something will be good for him. Truth often calls him a workaholic, after all.
With plans made and spirits high, Inference finally returns home when dusk begins to settle in the sky.
Tomorrow, he'll visit the opening performance to Atropos Ropes at the Golden Rose Theatre and talk to Lady Bella once and for all.