Lynne beamed. “I told you, Mom.”
“Yes, you did, Lynne. But there are other things to talk about now.” She looked to Evie, then David. “You came with a question about the Music Hall?”
“Your daughter has worked there for a long time,” David began. “And I was there that night when Maggie sang, with her onstage briefly at the end of the performance. It struck me that the Music Hall’s pretty expansive the way it’s laid out. I’m curious, Lynne, if there’s been any remodeling done, like new exits added as the fire codes changed, more office space, or new configuration to handle updated electronics to enhance the concert experience—that kind of thing.”
“Why ask Lynne rather than the building owner or manager?” Nancy interjected.
“Mom . . .” Lynne protested.
“We’re not implying anything or suspecting anyone, Mrs. Benoit. It’s simply easier to ask questions about the Music Hall when we’re not actually standing in it. Working backstage like she does, Lynne would have seen the changes as they happened.”
“There used to be a stage trapdoor—you mean things like that?” Lynne asked.
“Yes, just like that.”
“They had to board it over for a few years because it opened to a ladder underneath the stage. Then they took that whole section of the stage out and put in a motorized lift. Now the entire section of floor can be raised or lowered by four feet. And they took out offices rather than add them, so the Hall could have an official standing-room-only section.” Lynne gazed at the floor for a moment, thinking, then looked up in relief. “They put in more restrooms. And the place used to have pretty uncomfortable seats, but they’ve replaced them all, twice now since I’ve worked there. Not that anyone sits once a concert is under way, but you do notice before things start that it’s more comfortable than before.”
She glanced between them. “It’s not a complex building—just the entrance halls with concessions for intermission and restrooms, the backstage area for performers, and offices upstairs for security and management. The sound and lighting guys have lots of storage rooms tucked around all over the building, and the janitors need big equipment to work on the floors and carpets to keep them clean. But they mostly rip out the carpet every couple years and repaint everything. Rather routine, you know, how stuff is done. Does that help?”
“It sure does,” David replied.
Evie, busily taking notes, nodded her agreement. That hall was a labyrinth for people who knew it well. If Jenna had gone back to meet someone, there were ways around getting noticed. Something bad happened with the manager, just schedule the carpet to get ripped out since it was getting worn, put a repaint job on the schedule, and watch the crime scene disappear.
“You’ve noticed a lot of bands come and go, the equipment they bring in, how they like to configure things, practice,” David commented.
“Sure. Sometimes I go in early so I can watch the stage configuration. Mike—he’s the electrician there—sometimes he’ll see me in the seats watching and send me for the cables he needs, or call out the connections he wants made, because I know where everything’s stored. I keep the dressing rooms neat and everything arranged in its place, but it’s nothing compared to Mike and his cables and cords. It’s everything put back where it belongs, and everything checked to be there, before you leave wrap-up. Sometimes it’s two a.m. before he’ll release the crew. He’s a good teacher. I can put the dressing room back in shape and have its inventory checked in under an hour now, when it used to take me almost two.”
“You stay after the concerts to straighten up, put things in order—it’s not a job for the next morning?”
She shrugged. “You wait until morning, then the next band comes in early, and they suffer in the chaos because you weren’t ready for them. The Music Hall has a reputation for taking care of its performers, and it would be bad if I was the reason for something less. Every band deserves an excellent dressing-room experience.”
“My daughter takes her job very seriously,” Nancy said with a smile.
Lynne shot an embarrassed look across the room. “Mom wants me to be a bank teller or work for an insurance broker, because I’m careful with the details. But the Music Hall is better than any other job around. There are great perks besides just getting to meet great people and hear all the concerts. They constantly have new posters going up and others coming down. I’ve got dozens and dozens of band posters in my collection, and some are worth serious money as collectibles.”