go beyond the “to be or not to be” stage. The main reason I enjoyed Macbeth the other night was for the opportunity to be close to Sheyenne, and thanks to the nice glove, we actually got to hold hands. I know that sounds like something a pimply teenager would say, but when it’s all you’ve got, it makes an impression. Apart from that, I wasn’t all starstruck by the Bard.
So, to me, Shakespeare’s ghost was just another potential client when he came in for a consultation. The ghost stood there in his full ridiculous outfit, complete with stockings, poofy pants, and silly hairstyle. “I am William Shakespeare,” he said in the stentorian voice he had demonstrated during the play, enunciating clearly and projecting his words out into the crowd.
“No, you’re not,” I said.
That startled him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re not William Shakespeare.”
He lifted his chin. “Very well. I am the ghost of William Shakespeare.” He seemed to think I would be impressed.
“No, you’re not,” I said again. “The Big Uneasy happened only ten years ago. We don’t have ghosts from medieval times running around the Unnatural Quarter.”
“Not medieval times. It was the Elizabethan Era, the Golden Age,” Shakespeare insisted. “And how do you know I wasn’t a natural ghost before that? Surely they existed. Vampires and werewolves did.”
“Because your performance isn’t convincing. A person who lived in the Elizabethan Era or the Golden Age wouldn’t ever call it that.”
“Perchance I learned the term afterward, Mr. Chambeaux.” He sounded defensive. “Why are you treating me like a criminal? I want to be your client.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” I said. “Look, you are not the actual ghost of William Shakespeare, and if you don’t start telling me the truth, how do you expect me to help you?”
He seemed flustered, then discouraged. “Oh, very well. It’s just a stage name, I admit, but I did have my name legally changed. I am William Shakespeare. It says so on my driver’s license.”
“You have a driver’s license?”
Robin joined us for the consultation. “Let’s just take him at his word, Dan. How can we help you, Mr. Shakespeare?”
“Someone burned down our stage last night. A very expensive set.”
“We saw the fire,” I said. “Somebody meant business.”
“We’re just entertainers, Mr. Chambeaux. My troupe tries to put on a good play for a good cause, bringing culture to the Unnatural Quarter. Shakespeare’s plays are eternal. All the more reason for us to bring them to an undead segment of the public. With our Shakespeare in the Dark program, we are doing exactly what the Bard wanted, delivering his works to a much larger audience.
“Our company has applied for grants, cultural subsidies, local sponsors. Alas, the arts foundations tell us they don’t have enough money to fund living actors and flesh-and-blood theater companies, let alone ours. Their goal, one of them said, is to keep starving artists from genuinely starving and becoming destitute ghost performers like us.” Shakespeare frowned in disgust. “But that was nothing compared to the vandals, the arsonists. How could anyone burn down our set, destroy all our props and costumes? We lost everything! That stage was a remarkable replica of the Globe Theatre!”
Robin said, “We enjoyed the performance of the Scottish Play very much.”
Shakespeare beamed. “Why, thank you, fair lady. I knew I came to the right place to seek restitution. I’m glad to be in the presence of such a perceptive attorney.”
“Wasn’t Shakespeare the one who wrote ‘First, kill all the lawyers . . .’?” I asked.
“Dan enjoyed the performance as much as I did,” Robin interjected. “And that Shakespeare quote is always taken out of context. He never actually advocated killing lawyers.”
The ghost smiled. “Thank you—a reader who pays attention!”
“I presume you want help tracking down whoever set fire to your stage?” I asked. “We saw the heckler from Senator Balfour’s organization—I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“Yes, if you please, Mr. Chambeaux. Were we done to death by slanderous lies? My troupe requires the services of a private investigator. While we go through the paperwork, fill out the insurance forms, and hope to reclaim some money from our very expensive set and all those lost props, I want to know who was responsible and bring them to justice.”
“If the senator or his minions were behind it, I’ll be happy to help nail them,” I said, and before Robin could volunteer to do this case on a pro bono basis, I explained our fee structure.