Grace purchased a ticket and slipped into the theatre without a blink from anyone. Just another patron arriving to see the performance. She found a seat closer to one side at the rear of the auditorium and sat down to exam the layout.

According to her program, the woman she was after was the lead performer and likely in a dressing room of her own.

A large man came out onto the stage, hands up to silence the audience while he explained the technical problem, assuring all would be well and meanwhile for their entertainment, he introduced her other target, Parker Nevens.

Grace couldn't believe her luck. Both here and both would be backstage at some point, more than likely together. She stood and made her way unobtrusively down the side aisle and through the exit to the hallway leading to the rear stage door.

"Excuse me Miss, this area is restricted to theatre personnel only."

"Oh, I came through the door back there looking for the ladies."

"You have to go back through the main lobby, sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

The snick of the suppressed Beretta was barely heard and the Grace caught the man as he slumped forward. She jockeyed him behind some scenery boards and pulled a handy tarp over his body. Moving around behind the stage, Grace calmly walked past some of the dancers huddled together, watching Parker's performance. Just past them, three men were putting the cover back on an electric panel and gathering up their tools.

She slipped down the stairs below stage and into the corridor where the dressing rooms were. When she found Desdemona's name on a door, she boldly slipped inside. Empty. Fine, she thought. She'd wait.

******

Parker caught the signal from Frederick and wrapped up his bit with the audience, telling them how great they were and once again about the treat they were about to enjoy. He jogged off to appreciative applause, his face beaming as Des threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Why have I never heard that material, you were great, Parker."

"People laughed when I said I'd be a comedian one day, they aren't laughing now."

She punched him in the arm and hugged him again.

"Places people!" Frederick was still hands on and as he cued the orchestra, the lights dimmed and the first if the performers took the stage.

"Mr. Nevens, we need to talk. I see a great idea for us to make use of your talent in the show."

"I'd be thrilled to listen, and it's Parker. Mr. Nevens was my dad."

"Great. You can stay and watch from back here if you like, or wait in Desdemona's dressing room. Whatever you like."

"Thanks, I'll watch a bit from here."

***********

When the desk Sergeant passed on the message that a cabbie had picked a woman up from a downtown hotel restaurant that matched the description, Holt nearly clicked his heels. The driver had dropped her off at an intersection and then got a call from back in the direction he had just come from. Further down the block he made a U-turn and as he came back he saw the woman walk around the corner and into a small hotel.

Holt spoke to the desk clerk and with a hint of a threat of sanitation inspectors, saw the room Grace had used and found the discarded packaging from hair dye and other makeup articles.

Another canvass of cab companies netted Holt his next big break. A woman fitting the new description was taken to the same theatre where Grace had killed Mickey and the caretaker. He radioed for backup and made his way quickly to the theatre.

The first thing he noticed was the new production of Beat Street was already being performed and according to the marquee, with the original cast. He felt his heart tick. That meant Des was in the theatre now and that's why Grace came. He rushed inside, flashing his badge and assuring the manager he wouldn't cause any panic among the patrons.

Holt moved down the side aisle, scanning the audience carefully. He turned his attention to the stage and saw Des finishing a dance routine with four men, her lithe figure seemed to move like syrup, completely smooth and effortless. A twinge of jealousy nicked his mind and he grunted softly.

The exit door was ajar and he slipped through, following the hall backstage.

******

Parker watched Des cruise through her routine and decided that she definitely was the star that shone brightest in the original run. When her number ended she exited the opposite side and he sighed, turning and heading for the stairs to the dressing rooms. Frederick's offer popped into his head and he began imagining the possibilities of using the material he could never use at Gut Busters. Material he'd regretfully packed away for more sophisticated audiences.

He wandered down the corridor and entered Des' change room.

******

The door slammed shut behind him and Parker found himself staring at the elongated barrel of the gun in Grace's hand. Detective Holt was sitting at the dressing table holding a towel over the gash in his forehead.

"What the hell is this?"

"Meet Grace Purcell, Parker." Holt grunted.

"What! Why- how . . ."

"You forgot when and who, Mr. Parker."

"I'm not Mr. Parker, you have the wrong man so I'll just leave you two-" '

The gun came up level with his face and he stepped back, hands up defensively.

"Sit over there and just shut up. We are waiting for your friend the dancer and then we'll get this mess all sorted out."

"What mess?"

"A mess that began with one Earl Barkluster and tonight ends with you, your lady friend and unfortunately you too, detective."

"What do we have to do with that?" Parker squirmed on his chair.

"Enough to require action."

"Oh, now that all hope is gone, I feel much better."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"How would you know."

"Parker! Jesus. Knock it off, this is not a laughing matter." Holt held up a hand requesting patience from Grace.

They all fell quiet as the door knob turned and Des entered the room, her excited smile dropping like a jarred soufflé.

"Parker! Detect-"

"Over here, girlfriend." Grace grabbed her arm and pulled Des over beside her. "Right, now we get down to business. Is anyone else coming in here?"

"No . . . "

"Yes!"

"Other people-"

"Oh, very good, the three stooges all have an answer. Fine, you first, comedian."

Grace raised the gun toward Parker and Des wrenched her arm free. The bullet dug a groove in the ceiling and in the next few seconds the four occupants managed to stumble, crash and fall over one another trying to get control.

Holt tripped over Parker and fell into Grace, She cried out and fired a shot at him point blank then scrambled to her feet and tried to get another shot off but Des managed a kick into her leg from her position on the floor.

Grace yelped and swore, reaching back and opening the door. She paused and fired another shot then fled into the corridor pulling the door shut behind her.

"Parker! You're bleeding!" Des wriggled to her knees and held his head in her hands.

"It's just a scratch . . . I always wanted to say that." He fingered the hole in his coat sleeve and gaped at the blood on his fingers.

Des let him go and got up, leaning over Holt. "Detective Holt? Are you alright? Parker, he's unconscious."

"Call an ambulance, I'm going after her."

"Parker no!"

"Yes, Des. Yes. I'm not going to live in fear of that whacko now that our lives are getting organized."

"Parker, you're a fool! She has a gun and you're wounded."

"Call for help, Des." He struggled to his feet, opened the door and lurched into the hallway.

Parker bounced off the walls as he ran toward the stairs. He could hear yelling and the orchestra suddenly pounding out the signature song of the play. At the stairs, he paused, his head filling like a balloon and his legs becoming rubbery.

Two female dancers jumped down the stairs, gave him a quick glance and disappeared back the way he had come. He grabbed the rail and pulled himself up the stairs.

Backstage was a melee of people in costumes swirling about like leaves in the wind. Parker saw a uniformed policeman, gun drawn, pointing overhead and when Parker looked up he caught glimpse of Grace scrambling along a catwalk through the curtain ropes and lighting housings.

Another shout drew his attention to the paramedics shoving in through the stage door exit, and Des in the corridor waving them on. He glanced back up and realized that Grace was heading for the maintenance exit to the roof. Once out there he had no idea where she might go. He stumbled over to the policeman and shouted about the roof exit.

The officer spoke into his mic and then began the climb to the catwalk. Parker's initial heroics were dampened by the pain coming from the scratch he so offhandedly dismissed earlier.