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Shaut nodded, and Chu and he went backstage to collect the performers. Pro knew that her partner would make sure they didn’t touch anything or put anything away.
She walked through the curtain, and several people stood. One man shouted, “You can’t keep us here!”
She held her shield up again. “Yes, I can! This theater is now a crime scene and you are all witnesses.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we need you to cooperate with us,” Pro loudly pleaded. “All we will probably need is your name and contact information. We should be able to let most of you go very soon. But until the building is secured, we must ask you to follow instructions from myself or other officers, as well as Mister Ardoin, in the back.”
Luther raised his hand as he walked back into the room.
Pro looked over the crowd one final time. “Thank you.”
The three close-up magicians were already in the audience and moved to sit in the back row. The other performers began to file out through the curtains one by one: Sam Lovell, followed by Adrianna Gray and Malcolm Shaut.
Luther was helping people to their seats and came down the aisle to Pro. “I should sit?”
“Please, Luther. Thanks for your help. I’m sorry I—”
“You’re on duty, I know that. I’m just glad I got to sit next to you is all.” He gave a nod and a quick squeeze to her arm before returning to his seat.
Red and blue lights flashed in the glass doors out front as two police vehicles pulled up and four uniformed officers stepped into the theater, one older white male, two Hispanics, and an African-American woman.
Pro held up her shield as the silver-haired officer with stripes on his sleeve strode over to her.
“Sergeant Carson, Sixth Precinct,” he said simply.
“Detective Thompson, Midtown North Homicide.”
“You’re a long way from home,” he observed.
“Protecting a wit,” Pro spoke quietly. “Looks like a suicide, but we’re working a series of murders in our neck of the woods. The suicide might be the killer.”
“Whaddaya need, detective?”
“If you could secure the site. We’ll need someone to get people’s contact info, and we need to know if they saw anything unusual.”
“Is CSI on its way?”
“We’ve called them, and the ME. Sorry to cause this mess on your beat, sergeant.”
“No problem, detective. I will have to call it in to our homicide division as well.”
“Whatever you need, sergeant. We’re guests here.”
“I’ll call for reinforcements.”
“We also need someone to be on the back door.” Pro pointed at the curtain to indicate where it was. “It’s the easiest way in or out. I’ll show you if you like.”
“Just a second,” Carson said and looked back at one of the other men. “Hey, Quantos!”
One of the Hispanic men joined Pro and Carson, and the three of them went up the stairs and through the curtain. They moved to the back hallway, and finally reached the door. Pro hit the crash bar and the door opened onto a Greenwich Village side street.
“Can you keep an eye here, Juan?” Carson asked. “We’ll send the ME and forensics this way. Where’s the DB?”
“Second floor dressing room. I’ll show you,” Pro said.
Pro and Carson walked up the stairs and she took him down the dark hallway and into the third dressing room, where Brent still hung suspended.
