File M for Murder by Miranda James Page B

what’s the use of that?”
    Toby gulped air again before he spoke. “That girl’s enough to give a
healthy
man spasms, much less me. I tell you I’m not giving her—or you—any more money.”
    Another young woman, a chubby blonde, entered the conversation. “But Papa, we can’t put her in jail. All you have to do is pay back what she stole. Surely you don’t want to see your child behind bars?” She emitted a muffled sob. “You can’t do that to my baby sister.”
    “Quit your caterwauling, Lisbeth.” Toby spoke sharply. “You’re so goldarned concerned about Sadie,
you
pay back the money.”
    “Lisbeth” sobbed again. “I don’t have it. The rent’s way overdue, and it looks like Johnny might get laid off. Papa, please.”
    “Reckon you’ll be begging for money next, because that no-good bastard you married can’t keep a job.” Toby coughed so hard his face turned red.
    “Herb, calm down.” The note of panic in “Henrietta’s” voice sounded real to me.
    Based on what I was hearing now, I’d have to say these young people were reading well, although I was not in the least impressed by Lawton’s “genius.” Was this reading significantly better than what Lawton heard earlier? If that was the case, then perhaps his temper tantrum had energized them somehow. I’d have to ask Laura about that.
    What a shame, though, that what they were reading was so banal.
    “Herb” told his wife to shut up in a crude manner. “Henrietta” uttered his name in shocked protest.
    “I’m fixin’ to go lie down for a spell,” Toby said. He sounded exhausted, his patience at an end. “I don’t want to hear any more about Sadie’s problems. I’m done with her.”He mimed an old man, shuffling out of the room, leaning on a cane.
    “Lisbeth” and “Henrietta” exchanged glances, waiting until the old man left the room. Toby stepped back, and the two young women moved closer together as they continued the scene.
    “Mama, what are we gonna do?” Lisbeth practically sobbed the words out. “Sadie can’t go to jail, she just can’t.”
    I thought the young woman was overdoing the histrionics, and evidently Connor Lawton agreed. He held up a hand. “Hold on a minute.” He pointed at “Lisbeth.” “What’s your name again, doll?”
    The young woman blushed and swallowed. “Um, Elaine, Mr. Lawton.”
    The playwright walked forward, and when he paused beside her, he stood at an angle that allowed me a clear view of his face. I caught a grimace, but then his expression smoothed out. He placed an arm across Elaine’s shoulder. “Elaine, you’re giving me too much. Dial it back a few notches, understand? All that weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth this early on, you’ve got nothing left later on.”
    He paused long enough for Elaine to nod twice before he went on. “Lisbeth, now, remember she’s thirty-two, married, no kids, and Sadie’s like her own child because Mom and Pop are so much older, right? Lisbeth is emotional and not totally wrapped when it comes to Sadie, but you can’t let it all go in this scene. Dial it back a little, like I said. Can you do that for me?”
    Frankly I was surprised by Lawton’s patient tone and demeanor. It almost seemed like a different man had come back from the break.
    Elaine gazed at the playwright like Diesel mesmerized by a bird outside the archive window. After a long moment of silence, she swallowed and said, “Yes, sir.”
    Lawton patted her shoulder. “That’s great, doll.” He moved back downstage and faced the actors. “Right. Take it from where old man Ferris leaves. Hey, Tobe, excellent job by the way. You’ve almost nailed it.”
    Toby blushed and beamed as “Lisbeth” and “Henrietta” prepared to start the scene again. If Lawton kept up “slobbering sugar” like this—what my aunt Dottie would have called it—they’d all adore him and soon forget the earlier tantrum.
    “Lisbeth” repeated her lines in more restrained