Backstage with a Ghost by Joan Lowery Nixon Page A

always a gentleman, and his spirit is an inspiring presence.”
    The boys all turned and stared at her openmouthed.
    â€œHoratio?” Sean asked. “The ghost’s name is Horatio?”
    â€œThat’s correct,” the woman said. “The ghost of the actor, Horatio Hamilton. Horatio was in very poor health during one of our productions back in 1940. Or was it ’41? But he was quite considerate about waiting to die until after the final curtain.”
    â€œI am Miss Nora Ann Beezly,” the woman declared. The faded red silk poppies on her straw hat bobbed up and down as she nodded. “I’m a former actress, director, and occasional playwright.”
    Brian, Sean, and Sam introduced themselves to Miss Beezly.
    â€œHey, look!” said Sean suddenly. The paramedics were wheeling a man with a heavily bandaged shoulder out of the theater and loading him into the ambulance.
    â€œCool!” shouted Sam as he watched the ambulance speed away with lights flashing and siren blaring.
    Then the bystanders began drifting away. Miss Beezly sighed. “I’m sure all this frightful commotion at the theater has quite unnerved poor Horatio.” She turned to Brian. “You know, of course, that some perfectly dreadful man is planning to tear down the theater? Horatio is awfully upset.”
    Brian whipped out his notebook and pen. “Miss Beezly,” he said, “are you saying you actually believe in this Horatio?”
    â€œWhy, of course, dear.”
    â€œYou’ve actually seen him?” asked Sean.
    Miss Beezly shook her head. “No. Not seen. But I’ve felt his presence many times. I regret not visiting the theater to pay my respects to Horatio. I’ll try to find a nice quiet time soon to come by and chat.”
    â€œYou probably won’t be able to get in,” Brian said. “They must keep these old buildings locked.”
    â€œOh, yes. I know they do,” Miss Beezly answered, “but that doesn’t matter. I still have the key I was given years ago when I worked day and night on our wonderful productions.”
    Sam said, “Our junior high drama teacher told us that actors believe all theaters are haunted by ghosts.”
    â€œ Most theaters,” Miss Beezly corrected. “By the way,” she said, frowning at Sam. “Young man, that description you gave of Horatio having claws and burning eyes is utterly ridiculous! The truth is that a ghost who is in residence in a theater is considered by actors to bring good luck.”
    â€œWhy would a ghost bring good luck?” Sean asked.
    â€œIt’s like having someone on hand to watch over the performers,” she explained, “to keep them from coming onstage at the wrong cues, or flubbing their lines, or tripping over the scenery.” She shook her head. “Theater ghosts certainly don’t cause accidents,” she said. “If you ask me, that terrible man who wants to demolish the theater is responsible.”
    â€œMr. Marconi?” asked Brian. “Why do you think that?”
    â€œYeah,” added Sean. “He’s the one who hired our dad to investigate all the accidents.”
    â€œAccidents, smackcidents…” Miss Beezly blurted out. “I don’t trust that Mr. Marconi one bit.”
    â€œWhy not?” asked Brian.
    â€œHe didn’t tell the truth when he informed the city council and the press that the theater building is unsound,” she said. “The Culbertson was built to last forever. Just like me. You tell your father not to trust him, either.
    â€œAnd would you be so kind as to ask him to please be considerate of Horatio,” she added. “If he’s treated with respect, dear Horatio might even lead your father to whoever is responsible for the accident.”
    â€œHow would he do that?” asked Sean.
    â€œWhy, through a ghostly message, of course.”
    â€œWe’ll tell my