inches. Ropes were twisted around them, both above and below the rail. "That's the one that held up the fire curtain," Curt told the policeman.
Munro knelt and examined the wooden pin that lay on the floor. "So somebody pulls this pin, the curtain falls down?"
"Yes. With the other pins, you're really not supposed to pull them. You just loosen the rope until you can bring it down easily. But with this fire curtain, you want it to come down as fast as possible." He went on to explain the mechanics of the curtain to Munro, who nodded.
"So all somebody had to do was wait until this gentleman was out on the stage in the right . . . or the wrong place, and pull the pin."
"That's right," Curt said, "except that there was nobody back here but Tommy.”
“How could it have happened then?"
Curt took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "What could have happened was that he was getting ready to drop it — that's what was supposed to happen next — and maybe he pulled it out partway. Then he heard Dennis, came out onto the stage, and the pressure on the rope yanked it out the rest of the way."
"Wouldn't that have been kind of careless?" Munro asked, and Curt nodded. "You think Mister Werton would've done something like that?"
Curt thought for a second, then shook his head. "No. I don't. Tommy Werton was one of the most efficient techies I ever knew. He wasn't afraid of anything, but that was because he always did everything safely."
"Techies?" Munro asked.
"Technical people. Backstage types."
Munro nodded. "So the only way that curtain would've dropped is if somebody pulled the pin."
"Or," Sid put in, "if it was defective in some way." He looked at Curt. "Couldn't that be? A rope broke or something?"
"Doubtful," said Curt. "If it broke up above there'd still be rope around the pin, and the pin would still be in the rail. But we can check it."
"We'll take care of that," Munro said. "Now, you say the victim came out on stage when he heard Mr. Hamilton?"
Curt nodded. "Through the speakers."
"What did he want?"
"You'll have to ask him that."
"There was something peculiar about that," Sid said. "It was Dennis's voice . . . I think. But I don't think it was coming from the speakers."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, the speakers are fairly primitive in terms of placement. You can hear the directionality real easy, can point above to where the sound's coming from. It sounds artificial, as though it's not really from the stage. It's so bad Dennis is going to have a new system installed. But when I heard that voice calling Tommy on stage, it sounded . . . better somehow, like we already had a new system in, and the sound was coming from the front." Sid smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "I don't know what that means, but it just struck me as odd."
"Okay," Munro said. "Fine. Now, where was everybody when this happened?”
“Everybody was sitting down front," Curt said, "except for me and Tommy. He was backstage, and I was up in the projection booth."
"At the time the curtain fell? Everybody was down in the seats?"
Curt frowned. "No . . . I'm not sure. The power started going crazy, the lights and sound system went on and off — at random, it seemed."
"Why?”
"I have no idea. I couldn't do a damn thing about it up there. I was checking connections as fast as I could, and then everything went off but a follow spot.”
“What's that?"
"A big spotlight up in the booth. It went on by itself. Next thing I knew the curtain had fallen, and when I looked down . . .” he shook his head. ". . . I saw Tommy.”
“Then what happened?" Munro asked.
"Robin came into the booth."
"What was she doing there?"
"She came up when the lights started going crazy."
"Anybody else?"
"Yes. Dennis came up too."
"How much later?"
"I don't know. A minute or two? Time seemed to do funny things. I guess it was a minute."
"After Mrs. Hamilton got there?"
"I guess. Maybe. I'm not really sure."
Munro turned to Sid. "Mr. Harper, you were in the
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