Echoes of Sherlock Holmes: Stories Inspired by the Holmes Canon(75)

“Nooooo.” A heartrending cry.

Angela pushes the door open. Ruby is sitting in the chair, facing the mirror, her hands covering her face. She’s wearing the wig, a ton of Medusa curls.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Angela says.

Peering at Angela through her fingers, Ruby says, “I want to die.” She lowers her hands. Her face is swollen and covered with bumpy red blotches. Her eyelids are puffy. She takes a tissue, blows her nose, and leans into the mirror, running her index finger across her cheekbone.

“Oh, honey,” Angela says, crouching beside her. “You’re having an allergic reaction. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Ruby’s voice is a wail.

“I’ll be right back,” Angela says and rushes off to find a gofer to fetch some Benadryl and hydrocortisone cream. When she returns, minutes later, Lancaster and actors and crew members are crowded around Ruby. The group goes silent and they all turn to face Angela.

Angela breaks open the Benadryl, shakes out a tablet, and offers it to Ruby. Ruby stares at it. Then at Lancaster. Lancaster takes the pill and the container and eyes the label. He nods and passes the pill to Ruby. Then he offers Ruby a bottle of water.

Ruby puts the pill in her mouth and then tilts back her head and swallows some water. But a moment later she drops the bottle, choking and sputtering.

Angela picks up the bottle. Half of it has spilled on the floor. She sniffs at the open neck. The smell is familiar, medicinal. Vodka?

Lancaster takes it from her and sniffs, too. Takes a tiny taste. “Jesus Christ.”

“Wasn’t that your water?” Ruby asks Angela. “And that cream Briana used on my face. It’s got your name on it.” Sure enough, there’s a jar of face cream with CASSANO written in black marker on its tape label. “You left it for me, with a note.”

“Me? I most certainly did not—” Angela starts.

“The note was right here.” Ruby looks around but she doesn’t come up with one.

“And that,” Angela says, pointing to the jar, “is not mine. Here’s what I use.” She picks up her own makeup bag and forages for her own cleanser. Realizing even as she’s showing it to everyone that it proves nothing.

Ruby looks betrayed. Lancaster furious. And for a moment Angela flashes back to high school when she played Elizabeth Proctor, unfairly accused of witchcraft in The Crucible. There be a thousand names, why does she call mine?

“You need to go home,” Lancaster says to Ruby. “Take care of yourself and we’ll pick it up tomorrow, first thing.” He turns to Angela. “You go home, too. I don’t know what’s up here. Truly, I’m stumped.” He shakes his head. “Everyone else, back to work.”



That evening, Angela is sitting in her kitchen, picking at takeout sushi. Ruby hadn’t even looked her in the eye earlier as they’d both gotten their things together and left the building. Word of what had happened must have traveled because everyone she encountered, including the security officer at the studio gate, gave her the stink eye. She doesn’t blame them. She gets how bad it looks. Log line: a jealous harridan, about to be eclipsed in her own best role, sabotages her young rival. If it were a movie, it would be called All About Eve: Payback.

But really, what audience would buy it? Itching cream? Spiked Evian? If Angela were going to sandbag another actor she’d be far more creative. For heavens sake, that jar of skin cream had her name on it. An obvious setup.

But if Angela didn’t do it, then who did? And to what end?

She’s volatile. That’s what Lancaster said about Ruby. Was that code for paranoid? Manipulative? Psychotic?

Just watch me. Ruby said that just before Angela left the dressing room.

Did Ruby ink Angela’s name on that jar of cleansing cream and plant it in the dressing room herself? Spike the water and then wait until she was surrounded by witnesses to drink from it? Was that allergic reaction a sham? Angela saw the blotchy red patches and the swelling with her own eyes, but modern makeup could be extraordinarily realistic.

Angela finds herself smiling. If so, then BRAVA! Brilliant performance. Ruby Lake is one hell of an actress. But why would she go to all that trouble?

One possible answer: to get Angela booted off the film. Angela has no idea why Ruby would be determined to do that, but Angela’s not about to let it happen.



The next morning, Angela arrives on the soundstage early, ignoring the disdain broadcast her way by actors and crew members. Even her buddy, Anthony Fox, gives her a stiff chilly smile. Only Lancaster greets her warmly.

Ruby shows up minutes before Lancaster is ready to run through the opening scene. If there’s any residual blotchiness or swelling, her makeup covers it. She seems so tiny under all that hair.

Ruby and the actor playing her manservant huddle with Lancaster, then take their places behind the closed drawing room door. The burglars crouch among the upended furniture. They begin to rehearse the scene.

Lancaster pronounces the first run-through “not bad.” He adjusts the camera positions. Tells the burglars to raise their knives higher so the blades catch the light. Asks Ruby to lean in and wait a few beats before she fires. He takes the pistol and demonstrates.

Angela is impressed. It’s not exactly the way she would block the scene but it works.

They run through the scene again and again. Each time Ruby’s performance gets better, her look more doe-eyed and vulnerable as, after the burglars leave, she lowers the gun and resolve drains from her face.