Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (32 page)

Allison was never out of her sight. Charley offered to rehearse with her after hours, shared lunches and as many dinners as she could with her, made sure they left the rehearsal hall together. Thanks to Reese’s help, she even arranged to have her costume fittings at the same time as Allison’s. So much togetherness was beginning to get to Allison, and Charley knew it. It was meant to. An edgy, nervous Allison would be more prone to slipups. But although Allison was given to a lot of anxious chatter, she said nothing to give away the identity of her enemy contact.

By Friday afternoon there was so much nervous energy in the rehearsal hall that it fairly crackled in the air. Chalmers’s tongue had never been sharper. The cast had never been more exhausted. After one particularly grueling musical number, Charley sank down next to Reese on the far side of the front row. She draped a towel around her damp neck. The dress that the costume department had provided for her to rehearse in was limp and damp with perspiration.

“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” she asked, keeping her voice low as the rehearsal continued.

“Looks terrific from where I sit,” Reese murmured.

She didn’t have to glance at him to know that his attention was not on the stage. “I meant the show,” she hissed, hiding a smile.

Chalmers gave her a murderous glare that she pretended not to see.

“That too,” Reese whispered. “You sing and dance well,” he added after a pause.

“So do you,” she said, remembering the day he had taken over for Chalmers. She turned to face him. “You never told me you could sing. Or dance.”

A smile curled the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at his lapboard. It was his job to see that all the cues were met on time and that no one ad-libbed any lines. “I guess we both had things we didn’t tell each other.”

“Why did you give it all up, Reese? You could have been a big star.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it takes more than talent,” he said honestly. “You know that. At the time, when I got into stage managing, I thought I liked steady paychecks better than the uncertainty of trying to beat out twelve other guys who were just as good-looking, just as talented, as I.”

She doubted that there was anyone just as good-looking, but her attention was caught by another phrase. “ ‘At the time’?”

He nodded, taking her hand. “Stability doesn’t mean as much to me anymore. Frankly, I’m getting bored.”

Was he saying that just to please her? Charley wondered. Or did he really mean it? Just because he was a little bored with being a stage manager, she reminded herself, didn’t mean he was ready to leap into her way of life.

“Charley. . .,” he began.

The way he lowered his voice made her alert. “Hmm?”

“You know what you told me the other night, in the prop room?”

“Yes?” What was he going to say? Was he going to demand that she give up her job? She knew she didn’t want to confront that issue. Not yet. After this assignment was over, then she could sort out her feelings about her job, about Reese, about everything. But not yet.

“Well”—he went on slowly, still looking down at his lapboard—“something happened that evening I took Allison out. Something that didn’t make much sense. At least I didn’t think so at the time. But now”—he looked at her—“maybe it does.”

“What?” she asked eagerly.

“We’d gone out for coffee after the show, to this little restaurant in the Village.”

She nodded. “The Peacock Caffe.” He looked startled, and she added, “We have a tail on Allison.”

“Oh. Well, then you probably already know that when we were there we met Chalmers and he gave Allison some papers.”

“Chalmers?” she echoed. She kept her voice low, but her surprise was evident in the stunned whisper. “What was he—“

“That’s what I wondered. He told us he had just stopped in for a quick bite to eat. He and the playwright had been working on a rewrite, and he had some new pages of dialogue for the second act for Allison. Said that bumping into her was a lucky coincidence.”

“Allison doesn’t have any new dialogue in Act Two.”

“I know. That’s what made it so odd.”

Charley fell silent, thinking. Why hadn’t Branigan reported this meeting to Max? she mused, trying to remember every detail of her conversation with Max. Of course! she thought suddenly. The unaccounted-for five minutes! Max had said that Branigan had succumbed to the effects of his hastily eaten chili dinner.

“Chalmers,” she murmured. Her eyes took on a brilliant shine. This confirmed her suspicions. The pages Chalmers had given Allison probably contained information about the new time for Graystone’s meeting with the Soviets. Maybe it was nothing, but she doubted it. She could feel it. Chalmers was the inside man. At least she had something concrete to report to Max when she met with him on Monday.

“Reese, I love you,” she blurted out, kissing him.

He let go of his lapboard, and it fell to the floor unnoticed as he put his arms around her.

Suddenly Chalmers’s voice rang out, and Charley jerked away from Reese. Had the director seen their embrace? she wondered fearfully.

“No, dammit, no!” Chalmers was yelling. “It still doesn’t sound right!”

“Look,” the playwright shouted back, “if you think I’m going to rewrite those lines right before dress rehearsal, you’re crazier than I thought!” He pushed his glasses farther into the tangled recesses of his bushy red hair.

An audible groan came from the actors onstage.

“Reese, I think your talents are needed up there,” Charley said.

He nodded wearily. “Reese the peacemaker to the rescue.” He picked up his lapboard and set it on his seat, then made his way to the center of the storm.

Charley would have liked to stay and watch Reese calm the quarreling men. She knew he could work miracles. Could his powers of persuasion be carried over to a different realm, she wondered, where there was more at stake than the success or failure of a play?

No, she had no right to push him into her world. Despite his earlier remarks, she was sure that he was happy in his chosen profession. Just as she had been in hers. Until she had seen him again. For the second time Charley entertained the idea of quitting the Bureau after this case was wrapped up.

Well, she would have to worry about that later, she told herself. Right now she had to find Allison.

The play was scheduled to preview for two weeks in Boston. Rehearsal ran late Friday night, and on Saturday morning everyone traveled to Boston. The technical crews had gone up a day early and set up the theater, then done a lighting run-through without the cast. On Sunday everyone rehearsed with all the lighting, props, and set changes, and the cast was in costume, but not made up. Like all first full run-throughs, the rehearsal was interminable. They seemed to have to stop every ten minutes to change a lighting cue or the blocking. Charley watched Reese as he patiently dealt with the never-ending problems. She was amazed at his calm, and at his ability to remember even the smallest details. He’d make a good agent, she caught herself thinking more than once as the long day turned into a seemingly endless night.

When the rehearsal was finally over and Chalmers had finished giving them their notes on their individual performances, Charley felt she could sleep for a week. Even Allison, who had seemed able to stay up half the night, said all she wanted to do was go to bed.

Gazing across the stage at Reese, Charley regretted for perhaps the thousandth time having to baby-sit Allison. She, too, wanted to do nothing more than go to bed, but she wanted Reese in that bed as well. He had agreed with her that they should stay away from each other until this was all over, but she missed being held in his arms, even just talking to him. She sighed. Oh, well, she consoled herself. Only twenty-four hours more.

If possible, Monday was even worse than Sunday. It was a time of nerves and doubts. Confidence was in short supply, though anxiety was in abundance. Empty chatter filled the air every time cast members met. No one listened to anyone else as they plastered indulgent smiles on their faces and stared at nothing with glassy eyes. Everyone worried about remembering lines, about opening night, about the future of the play. Critics could kill a production with a cold slash of the pen.

Two hours before they were due at the theater for makeup call, Charley had to meet Max. She left Allison in the hotel room they were sharing and took the elevator down to the lobby. The cast members were all paid a per diem to cover living expenses, and most were staying in the same hotel near the theater. It was also the hotel, Charley knew, that Congressman Graystone was staying in.

As Charley stepped off the elevator into the lobby she was relieved that no theater people were in sight. She was halfway to the door when someone caught her arm, stopping her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a low voice murmured in her ear.

She spun around. “Reese! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “I couldn’t resist.”

“You look exhausted,” she said, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “Are you going to make it through tonight?”

He nodded. “If I don’t strangle Chalmers first. Coming to the party?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” he said softly. “I’ll have my chance to ply you with liquor and have my way with you. Come closer”—he reached for her—“and I’ll give you a preview of tonight.”

“No time,” she said, laughing and backing away. “I’ve got an errand to run,” she explained, already turning to go.

“You’ve got to be at the theater by six-thirty.”

“I’ll be there,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried for the door.

Luckily there was a cab right outside, and she climbed in. Leaning back against the vinyl upholstery, she told the driver the address Max had given her, and the driver pulled out onto the street.

Automatically Charley looked out the rear window to make sure she wasn’t being followed, and gasped at what she saw. Reese was just getting into the back of a cab, and she watched in astonishment as the cab started following hers. What did Reese think he was doing? she wondered, growing angry. He could put both of them in a great deal of danger.

When her cab stopped in front of the restaurant where she was meeting Max, she hurriedly paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Less than thirty seconds later Reese’s cab stopped in front of her, and Reese clambered out of the backseat.

“Charley—“ he began.

She didn’t let him get any further. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice low but forceful. “I told you to stay away from me. This is not a game we’re playing.”

“I thought you might need protection.”

Oh, Lord, she thought. She knew she shouldn’t have told him. She had known it would lead to something like this. “Reese, I can take care of myself.” She bit her lip. That sounded too harsh. “I can, you know,” she added softly.

“But—“

She held up a hand to stop him. “I can’t get into this now. I’m meeting ‘Uncle Max’ inside, and I’m late already. Wait here for me, and for Pete’s sake don’t let Max see you.”

He nodded, and she turned and walked into the restaurant. Max was sitting at a dimly lit table in the back.

“How’s it going?” he asked as she sat down opposite him.

“I think everyone in the cast is going to have a nervous breakdown before the week is out.” She ran her hand along the faded checkered tablecloth, then stopped. Max would notice that she was nervous. She put her hands in her lap.

“I understood your phone message about the new time for the exchange,” he said, twirling his fork in a large plate of spaghetti. “Any other news?”

“Yes, but I have something else to tell you first.”

“And that is?” His voice was mild, but she knew that she had his full attention.

“I told him.”

Max didn’t need elaboration. He knew who and what she was talking about. “Why?” he asked with studied patience.

She might have known that he wouldn’t explode. In some ways his patience was worse than an explosion. She looked up at him, trying to make him understand her turmoil. “I had to.”

There was nothing further to be said. She expected Max would understand. He knew the inner workings of her mind too well not to. He would also realize it would do no good to lecture her now. The deed was done.

“We’ll take him into custody,” he said quietly.

“No,” she cried. “He can be trusted. Do you think I would have told him if he couldn’t be?”

“I think that you think he can be trusted, but—“

“I’d stake my life on it, Max.”

“You may already have.”

Charley shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. Besides, he gave me a lead.” She told him about Chalmers and Allison and the exchange of papers in the restaurant.

Max looked thoughtful, as if he were deciding whether or not he chose to believe this piece of information.

“The missing five minutes,” she said, hoping to convince him. “And remember, Chalmers was the only one who refused to be photographed for my ‘scrapbook.’ No wonder we didn’t have any luck when we checked the photos against FBI files.”

Max nodded, apparently willing to allow the possibility that she was right. “We’ll put a tail on him,” he promised. He took another forkful of spaghetti. “I have some news too,” he went on. “When we contacted Congressman Graystone to confirm that the exchange was to take place tonight rather than tomorrow, he told us that he expects to be contacted after the dress rehearsal, at the party.”

“Good,” Charley said. “It would be next to impossible for someone to keep an eye on Chalmers during the rehearsal without attracting attention. If he’s like most directors he’ll move around from seat to seat, orchestra to balcony, to get different perspectives of the show. But there shouldn’t be any problem at the party. With all the angels and their families around, a stranger won’t be noticed. In the meantime I’ll stick close to Allison, though I don’t think that’ll do much good. My guess is that Allison will slip away after the rehearsal so that I’ll be kept busy following her on a wild-goose chase while the exchange is taking place.”