“There were several other pieces of antique-looking furniture, a chair, table, trunk; another chair, and all of them, including the bed, were pushed forward, almost to the edge of the stage, as Ruthy and another member of the repertory company, a lumpish female in curlers and workshirt and rolled-up jeans, painted the light blue “walls” of the set, which had a doorway off to the left and a window to the right. It was mid-morning and the front doors of the Candle Lite Playhouse had been open. I w...alked up the short flight of stairs onto the stage, where day before yesterday I had filled a plate with food, and my footsteps clumped hollowly on the floor of the stage. Ruthy, on her hands and knees painting, turned and looked up at me and said, “Hi! Where’s Lucille?” “The apartment,” I said. “She kicked me out. She had a bunch of cleaning to do.” (Which made it convenient for both of us, as I could go do the snooping I needed to, and Lu could continue her surveillance of Tree, without either of us getting in the other’s way.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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