A mystery and a confession

We had two wonderful friends over for lunch this week, on separate days. Each of them are actors at a regional theatre in the area. Each of them, in separate instances, told us of an interesting mystery which occurred at their theatre. What makes their story even more fun is that it happened in the midst of murder mystery weekend, but which was totally unrelated to the script that was being acted out. Here's their story:

Early in the day last Saturday, someone had placed a very large bowl/vase/glass (depending on your point of view) in the middle of the table in our dressing room. This glass was very similar to the one used by one of our actors during the weekend, but shaped a little different.

Soon after, someone received a surprise package from home which included those little magic capsules which expand into foam shapes when placed in water. So, into the large glass went the capsules. They were left there for the afternoon and when the actors came back for the evening cocktails scene, no one thought much more about the glass and foam objects in the middle of the table. But when they returned at the end of the scene, lo and behold, there were three fish in the water with the floating shapes. And a bottle of fish food sitting next to them.

A week later they're still trying to figure out how the fish got there and no one's fessin' up.

Now here, as Paul Harvey would say, is the rest of the story, from my perspective.

I drove over to the theatre last weekend to drop off my daughter who was filling in as one of the actors. It's quite a short gig; show up, get dressed, die, then go home. But she loves it. We were the first to arrive in the dressing room and we noticed this glass vase in the middle of the table with those silly little capsule thingies that turn into foam shapes when placed in water. I looked at my daughter and said, "You know what that bowl needs? It needs some fish. Stay here. Have a great time. I'm going shopping. I'll be back soon."

Not knowing the area all that well, I drove to the one place I did know; Target. I wasn't sure if they sold fish with their pet supplies, but I figured it was worth a try. Boy was I bummed to find that they didn't have fish. Oh well, I thought, it was fun while it lasted but better luck next time. I did a little shopping, and left to return to the theatre. As soon as I walked out the door it came to me, "Wait a minute! This strip mall is pretty long, I wonder what's at the other end...Petsmart! What do you know?" So off I went.

Hello, ma'am. May I help you?

Yes. I'm looking for some plain old goldfish.

Do you want feeder fish or fish for pets?

Um...pets? (In retrospect, I probably should have said feeder.)

Okay, we have these over here

(Really, $2.99? For a joke?)

or these feeder fish over here which are 29 cents a piece and some people find they have more luck with these as pets than the more expensive ones.

Great! I'll take 3. And where is your fish food (in case the fish survive the night)?

Now I had the fish, but I still had to get them into the bowl unseen. I returned to the theatre with the fish in a Target bag, to throw off any witnesses, of course. I smuggled them into the dressing room only to find that several actors were still in there. So I turned around and hid them in the coat closet while I went into the dining room to photograph the scene (which was my real purpose for being there). After a little bit, I tried again. This time, the costumer was the only one there. So I left and tried again later. Each time, I found only the costumer in the room. It finally dawned on me that maybe she stays in there all night so I was going to have to figure out a way to transfer the fish without her knowledge.

I waited for just the right moment and thought I had it when she had her back to me, placing clothing on hangers, and hanging them on a rack. I quickly untied the fish bag and dumped them in. Sorry, fish, it wasn't the gentlest transition to your new home. And it made a loud pouring sound. I'm not sure why she didn't turn around just to see what that noise was, but thank you, Molly. Just as I was pouring them in, Yosef, one of the kitchen workers, walked through. I quickly stuck my finger to my lips in a shushing sign. He smiled and walked away. Failure averted.

Then I pressed my luck. I wanted a snapshot of the fish in their new home. But while taking their photograph, one of the actors walked in. "Nice fish," I said. "They put real fish in there now? Oh, those poor fish." Disaster averted, again. I calmly left the room.

A little later, who did I see leave the dressing room for the buffet line? The costumer. Oh well. The deed was done. At the end of the scene, I returned to the dressing room to find all of the actors staring at the bowl of fish and overheard someone in the room say, "No, it wasn't me. But I wish it was. It's brilliant."

The only mystery remaining, besides who killed Jack Diamond, is what happened to all of the fish after that weekend?