Kitty Rocks the House (Kitty Norville 11)
“That shouldn’t be at all surprising,” Eret interjected. “This isn’t time travel, the book didn’t land on us straight from 1620. It was written by someone living in the modern world for a modern audience. Well, perhaps ‘living’ isn’t the right word.”
I remembered something Ned said about accents. That a vampire who lived for a long time had to change his accent if he wanted to continue to blend in with the world around him. Language didn’t stagnate. Rick was born in sixteenth-century Spain, but he sounded like a modern American. Ned himself cultivated a modern, dramatic voice that was probably quite different than the one he’d used on stage during his prime.
Smiling at the microphone I said, “Am I right in thinking that both of you are writing scholarly essays either refuting or defending the book?”
“My refutation has already been published online,” Professor McAdams said. “I’ll be happy to write a rebuttal of any published statement Professor Eret cares to make on the subject.”
“My essay is appearing in The New Yorker next month,” Professor Eret said.
I could imagine the glares they’d be exchanging if I’d had them both in the studio. I almost wished I’d been able to arrange it. I moved the conversation on. “What if I said I’d met the author and I’m absolutely certain his claims are true? He really is Edward Alleyn, the actor, and now vampire. I mean, he’s got a near-mint First Folio sitting in his living room.”
Professor McAdams said, “All you need to get a First Folio is a lot of money. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“He quoted Marlowe from memory.”
“Any decent actor from the Royal Shakespeare Company can do that,” she added.
Eret said, “This man you met, who claims to be Edward Alleyn—is he involved in the theater at all? I notice that this memoir deals very little with his life currently.”
“He’s protective of his privacy,” I said. “But I believe he owns at least a couple of West End theaters.”
“You see, that rings true to me. The origin
al Edward Alleyn made his fortune in the theater and in spectacle. I have to believe that some of that impulse would still exist. But more than anything I offer this: of all the historical figures a vampire could claim to be, why on earth would anyone pick an Elizabethan actor who, apart from appearing as a secondary character in a popular film a dozen years ago, is virtually unknown to anyone outside the field? If this is a wild bid for attention, why not impersonate Walter Raleigh or Francis Drake, or even Shakespeare himself? If you’re trying to be famous, impersonating a celebrity hardly anyone remembers is not the way to go about it.”
When she didn’t respond right away, I prompted McAdams. “Professor? What do you think about that?”
“I have to admit, you have a point there.” She sounded thoughtful rather than disappointed.
Eret said, “Then you concede—I’m right, and the memoir is real.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. “There’s still a reputation to be made in establishing myself as the professional skeptic on the topic.”
I said, “All right, level with me—that’s why the Shakespeare debate’s still out there, isn’t it?”
“Because there are people who are professional skeptics on the topic? Of course.”
“Well, I have to respect your honesty, at least.”
Eret said, “Professor McAdams, would you be interested in staging a series of public debates on the subject?”
“That’s a wonderful idea. Maybe we could even co-present at the next MLA conference?”
“Splendid! Each of us ought to be able to get a book or two out of this. Are you tenured yet?”
“No—I could really use a high-profile book. Maybe even for a popular audience…”
“Then a formal rivalry could help both our careers,” Eret said cheerfully.
Are you kidding me? I wondered if they even remembered that I was here. “You guys do realize you’re still on the air, right?” They both made polite affirmative noise. “Do I dare ask about any conclusions on the subject of In the Blood and its author?”
“We’ll obviously never be able to come to some kind of consensus,” McAdams pronounced decisively. Nay, happily even.
“Right then. Thank you both for speaking with me this evening. I’m going to wrest control of my own show back and open the line for a couple of questions. Hello, Arthur from Spokane.”
“Hi, yes, I just wanted to say that you really can’t be so cavalier in dismissing the argument that the front man purportedly known as William Shakespeare did not write those plays. The actor Edward Alleyn may not have even been aware of the cover-up, as many contemporaries were not—that’s why it’s called a cover-up—”
God, I really needed to check the monitor more closely. “I’m sorry, that’s a little off topic tonight. Can you tell me if you think Edward Alleyn is really a vampire?”