“He is that. Which reminds me.” He fumbled through the papers on his desk and then found the one he wanted. “I got a letter of complaint today. Someone threatening to sue Caerphilly Days for discriminating against her in our selection of entertainers.”
“Discrimination?” I exclaimed. “Good grief, we let nearly anyone perform who can walk, crawl, or roll onstage, and if they’re at all noisy, we ask them back. And we go out of our way to be multicultural. I can see the audiences suing us for harassment over some of the acts but the entertainers? Who is it?”
“Lady named Heterodoxia Jones,” Randall said. “Name ring a bell?”
“Oh, God,” I said. “The mime.”
Randall winced.
“Yeah, here it is,” he said. “We’re guilty of holding a disparaging attitude toward the ancient and honorable profession of the mime, and also restricting her right to self-expression. And she wants a hundred thousand dollars in compensation or she’ll sue us for a cool million.”
“Let her sue,” I said. “Last time I heard, mimes were not a protected class under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Or would they fall under the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission?”
“Whatever,” Randall said. “Wouldn’t hurt to let her perform. Not that I’m eager to see another mime on our stage, mind you. Just between you and me, I don’t consider shooing mimes away discrimination—more like pest control. But that’s my personal taste. Speaking as mayor of Caerphilly, I’d like to think we’re a mime-friendly town.”
“Save the mime, apple pie, and motherhood speech for the voters,” I said. “We’re as mime-friendly as the next town. What Ms. Jones doesn’t mention is that in addition to being a mime, she’s also an ecdysiast.”
Randall’s brows furrowed.
“A stripper,” I explained. “And while I’m more than a little curious to see what a combination of mime and striptease looks like, I thought we were trying to keep our entertainment at least PG rated.”
“I agree,” Randall said. “Okay, I’ll figure out how to get rid of the naked mime. Keep up the good work.”
Chapter 16
Back at the bandstand, an actor was delivering Winston Churchill’s “We Shall Fight on the Beaches” speech in a remarkably good imitation of the prime minister’s marvelous voice while the stage crew put on a montage of wartime scenes that included short scraps of film, strobe lights, canned sound effects, bits of martial music, small but real explosions, and occasional small parties of live actors in assorted military uniforms storming or retreating across the stage with famous battle sites rear-projected behind them. As a dramatic piece, it was short on plot and long on noise, but as cover for opening and closing the trapdoor, it was a resounding success. In fact, the whole pageant was. I resolved to speak to Michael about arranging an encore as part of the July Fourth program.
I spent the remaining sixty or seventy years of American history on the phone, making sure our entertainment lineup for the next few days was solid. We were already expecting good crowds for the Fourth of July, and I had a feeling news of the murder would attract more people than it scared away.
The Caerphilly Cloggers. The Clay County Marching Band. A chainsaw sculptor who claimed he took audience requests. Bollywood Live. A troupe of performing house cats.
“I could do that,” Rose Noire said, peering over my shoulder while I was busy with the clipboard and my cell phone.
“What, training house cats?” I asked. “Yes, by now I should think we’re both experts.”
“Doing all that calling,” she said.
“Help yourself,” I said, handing her the clipboard. “I’ve marked the ones I’ve confirmed. If you can’t confirm any of the others, I’m sure some of the ones who have confirmed would be thrilled to do two shows.”
“And there’s always the bagpiper,” she said.
“There is that,” I said. “And if you don’t mind, I do plan to leave you in charge tomorrow.”
“Taking a day off to spend with the boys?”
“I wish. Caroline Willner’s bringing up some animals from her wildlife sanctuary.”
“Noisy animals?”
“As noisy as possible,” I said. “And she says not to bother with her, she’ll entertain herself while she’s here, but you know someone’s going to end up chauffeuring her around, and I could use a break from this place. If the weather’s nice, maybe I’ll take the boys with me to the zoo.”