An Evil Guest (23 page)

“I’ll keep it in mind. Would she know where you kept it when you weren’t wearing it?”

Cassie shook her head. “I hadn’t decided—wait, she would, sort of. Last night I put it in the little safe in my hotel room.”

“And she knew that?”

“Yes, she . . . Yes, she did.”

“Sweet. The other possibility is that they were after you. You think Rosenquist loves you, and maybe he does. What’s for damned sure is you’re the star of a show he’s backing. Would he pay to get you back? Hell, yes! This Margaret who works for you could tell them a lot about you, things they’d like to know. You weren’t in the car, so why not take her?”

Aaberg rose. “You live here, so you must bank here. You and I are going to your bank. You’re going to rent a box in the vault and put that damned bracelet in it while I watch, understand? They’ll give you a retinal scan and two keys. After that, a police hopper will take you and Corby back to Springfield.”

“W
HERE’S
Dean?” Cassie asked.

“Dean’s history.” India looked as though she might kill Dean and eat him afterward. “He found out I was thinking of replacing him and quit, effective immediately. I said what about the show tonight, and he slammed down the phone. So history. He’ll never work for me again.”

“We’re canceling?”

“Hell, no! We’re going to do the show with Gil here as the mate.”

“What about the one-legged guy?”

“Gil
is
the one-legged guy. Didn’t he tell you?”

“It’s a prosthesis, Cassie. They have wonderful prosthetic limbs, and I’m wearing one.”

Cassie reached down to touch his leg.

“Not there. Below the knee. The doctors were able to save my knee. Of course I’ll wear the wooden leg Mitch and I made onstage.”

Nodding mostly to herself, Cassie glanced at her watch. “Have we got time to go over the big dance number?”

“Just barely,” India said. “I’ll get Pfeiffer while Gil’s changing legs.”

There had been time for the most difficult passages and nothing more, yet
her trepidation vanished as soon as Corby took her in his arms and they glided toward center stage.

“Ever waltzed with a cripple before, Mariah?”

“I’ve never waltzed with anyone,” she told him, “and I’m not waltzing now, Mr. Sharpy. I’m just walking in time to music.”

“What music?”

“The wind and the waves. You know. These lovely trees, the birds in them, and the sand beneath my feet. The moon.”

Their spotlight took a bluish cast.

“I thought the moon was in charge of lighting.”

“She sings her way through the sky.” They whirled, and Mariah spun alone across the stage, followed by the blue spot.

Sharpy pursued her in a series of leaps, at once incredible and clearly painful. When he held her again, she whispered, “Wally’s in the audience.”

W
HEN
she had taken her last bow and accepted a huge bouquet of orchids, India was waiting in her dressing room. “You were terrific, both of you.”

“Were we?”

“Yeah. You’re always terrific, and Gil’s a big improvement. Got a vase for those?”

Cassie shook her head.

“I’ll send somebody. Dammit, I miss Ebony.”

Cassie nodded.

“Don’t cry! Why’d I have to shoot my mouth off? You miss Margaret. I’ve got it. Oh, Cassie! Cassie!”

Suddenly the orchids were on the floor, and India (bigger than most men but far less rough) was hugging her. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Don’t cry, baby!”

“I’m sorry. . . .” There was a box of tissues on her dressing table. When India released her she got it, and sat in the black-wire chair in front of the mirror mopping tears.

“Hey, I’ve got big news. That’s why I’m here. We’re going home.”

The telephone rang, and when Cassie did not pick it up, India did. After two soft blowings of Cassie’s nose, India covered the speaker. “Some doctor. You want to talk to him?”

Cassie nodded, and the phone changed hands.

“Miss Casey? This is Dr. Chase.”

“Gid? Oh, my God! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?”

“Fit as a new fender. You don’t have to worry about me. You must be worried about Mrs. Briggs, though.”

“Oh, yes! Have you—did you . . . ?”

“I haven’t spoken to her, if that’s what you mean. Or seen her, either. But I know who has her, and I know she’s all right. She’ll be released in a few days.”

“They’ll let her go? That’s wonderful!”

“It is. This phone is being monitored, by the way, so both of us have to be careful not to say too much. The one in your hotel room, too.”

“Is it . . . our friend?”

“No. The people who’ve got Margaret. By the way, you’ve probably forgotten, but once I told you our friend had someone watching me. I’ve found out who it was.”

“So have I, or I think I have.”

“Really? Eventually we can compare notes, but not on this line. What I want to say now, before I forget, is that you’d better not go outside late at night for a while. If you have to, take somebody with you. Two people, if you can.”

Cassie felt a thrill of fear. “You mean they might take me, too?”

“No, this is something else—some things else. I don’t want you to see them. Just your seeing them would be bad, and it might even be the worst part. Don’t leave your windows open.”

“In the hotel? They don’t open. Tell me!”

“Face-to-face, later. Now here’s the big one. You haven’t forgotten you’re in for a cut of the money? One hundred thousand, minus the twenty thousand I’ve given you already.”

“I remember.” A slight sound made Cassie look behind her. A stagehand was picking up the orchids and putting them, one by one, into a blue vase encircled by sinuous yellow dragons. An envelope lay among them. She tapped his shoulder, pointed, and held out her hand.

“. . . the big one. The reason I called. Our friend is going to ask you to go somewhere with him. This could be it, our best chance to wrap this up. Will you go, Cassie?”

“I don’t know.” She accepted the envelope and laid it on her dressing table.

“You’ve taken some major risks already. You may not know it, but you have. This will be no worse. Will you? Please?”

She kept her voice down. “I’m going to have to know more, and I can’t even ask you questions. There are people in here.”

“Ask our friend,” the voice from the other end of the line advised her, and hung up.

“What was all that about?” India inquired when the stagehand had gone.

“A man I know has heard rumors about Wally. He wanted to know if I’d heard anything. I said I hadn’t.”

“You said you couldn’t ask him questions. I remember that.”

“About what he’d told me. He said this was what he knew and he didn’t have time for questions. Then he began quizzing me.”

“What was this about somebody taking you, too?” The chair squealed a soft complaint as India leaned forward.

“Wally. He’d heard that Wally and some of his people—I suppose a secretary and maybe his lawyer, people like that—that Wally and these staff people were going on a big trip, out of the country. He thought maybe Wally would want me along.”

“Wow!”

“Right. I’d be paying for the bracelet, I guess. Did I show it to you?”

India shook her head. “You didn’t, but I saw it. I was there when he gave it to you.”

Cassie let the misunderstanding pass. “Anyway, I don’t know. That’s what I told the doctor on the phone, and that’s the truth.” She hesitated, seeking to measure her own courage. “I—I’m no virgin.”

“I never thought you were.”

“Not for a long, long time. But I’m not a whore, either. . . .” She fell silent.

“Penny for thoughts?”

Cassie heaved a sigh. “I was just thinking that I’ve slept with some awful losers, and it might be nice to sleep with a winner for a change.”

“That’s the spirit! Your friends will be counting on you.”

“Yes, there’s that.” Cassie smiled. “I won’t forget you. What’s your news? You said you had big news. We’re going home?”

“Bet your ass! Everybody knows that Wally’s got a major hit here, and that includes Wally. So we’re getting new costumes, bigger and better scenery, and a bigger cast. It’s too late to take
Volcano
to Broadway this season, so we’re going home to work the kinks out of the new stuff at the Tiara.”

“That’s good.”

“You bet it is. It’s wonderful, and don’t you forget it. The ship gets ten more sailors, and Tiny gets twenty more natives. Fifteen girls and five boys. The whole damned show gets a humongous ad campaign featuring you. I figure a couple months to audition new people and rehearse. The new sets could make that three. Then we play the Tiara for the rest of the season.” India licked her lips. “We ought to be able to open a week or two before Christmas. There’s nothing like Christmas.”

Cassie, who had only half heard her, nodded. “I’ve been worrying about Margaret’s apartment. What if she has a cat?”

“She’d have gotten somebody to take care of it, that’s all.”

“I hope so, somebody to come in and feed the cat, clean the cat box, and water the plants. But sometimes people don’t.”

“Margaret isn’t people. I’ve seen enough of her to know she’d have done it. Aren’t you going to open that envelope?” India pointed.

“Not ’til you’re gone.”

“It’s probably from Wally.”

“I’m sure it is.” Largely to herself, Cassie nodded. “It’s probably just personal, though. If it says anything you ought to know about, I’ll tell you.”

“Got it.” India grunted and stood up, a moderately lengthy operation. After a final curious glance at the envelope, she went out.

Cassie herself rose as soon as she was gone, and bolted the door.

My Darling, do you know how much I love you? You will close in Springfield in two days. In three you will be the Queen of Paradise. I will send a friend to you. Three times he will use a word to remind you of me. Go with him. He will take you to me and I will bring you to Paradise, where you will see how much I love you
.

W.R
.

Cassie laid the note aside, wishing desperately that she had someone to talk to. Margaret was gone, only God knew where. Gid was gone as well. Much of what Gid said might be rubbish, but . . .

Should she burn it? She had no matches, and might set fire to the theater if she tried. She picked the note up again.

Do you know how much I love you?

Someone was rapping on her door. Cassie called out, and a familiar voice answered, “It’s me, Norma. Want to split a cab back to the hotel?”

“Just a minute.” She opened the door. “I haven’t changed yet, but . . . but I hope you’ll wait. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“I’ll help.”

The help included holding Cassie’s navy-blue wool coat while she slipped into it. “Cold out there, Norma?”

“It’s bound to be, this late. The rain’s stopped, though. I looked out the window.”

“So did I, but I didn’t even notice the rain. I’ve got a problem. A big one so complicated I don’t even know if I can tell you about it. Make it clear, you know? It’s not clear to me.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Just like that?” Cassie realized that she was miss-buttoning her coat and started over. “I thought maybe you had something.”

“I do, Cassie, but you first.” Norma smiled, warm and friendly. “You’re our star.”

“All right.” Had she worn her beret? She glanced around and decided she had not. “Let’s start with this. Wally scares me.”

Norma nodded. “Me, too. He scares everybody.”

“Can you love a man who scares you? I feel as if I shouldn’t be able to do that, but . . .”

“You like him.”

“You’re right.” Cassie sighed. “I do. He’s a stand-up, no buckshot guy. That’s how he seems to me. Is it all right if I say
buckshot
? Everybody else says
bullshit
.”

The smile became a grin. “They talk it, too. Sure. Say whatever you feel like saying.”

“He wants me to go someplace with him. He’s promising a lot, but it sounds crazy.”

“Go where?”

“That’s it. Or part of it. I don’t know.”

“Some terrible place, right? Death Valley in the summer.”

“Please don’t make jokes. He says it’s paradise.”

“That means a resort. Great weather, surfing, maybe scuba diving. You know. Great food and a spa. You’re not married, are you, Cassie?”

“Not now. Divorced.”

“Me, too. I used to be married to the volcano god. Did you know?”

“Vince? I’m ready to go if you are.” Cassie gestured toward the door. “That must have been weird.”

“We were both younger then. It wasn’t too bad. After a couple of years I explained that what he really wanted wasn’t a wife, it was a servant who screwed. We split, and there were no hard feelings.”

For a moment, Cassie gnawed her lower lip. “Are you sorry now?”

“Sometimes.” Norma finished buttoning her own coat; it was black wool and a little longer than Cassie’s. “But not mostly.”

The theater was silent, the audience gone. Where it had been, the ushers would be cleaning up—collecting programs, and the plastic cups in which the cash bar served drinks between the acts.

“I’m sorry about Herbie, sometimes. Never about dumping Scott.”