Cast An Evil Eye (13 page)

The last scene of “Déjà Vu” finally finished. The cheering audience demanded curtain call after curtain call. It seemed endless. Courtney counted up to fifteen curtain calls, and then lost count.

The curtain finally came down for the last time, and the audience began to leave. The Stuart family would be going for a private midnight snack. But not to Sardi’s.

Although the cast would be going there, Jeremy had made reservations at a private club for their after-the-show celebration. No sense taking the chance that they might run into Manny. Sardi’s was the first place he would head for. So far Jeremy hadn’t seen him. If Manny did attend the performance, he wouldn’t be able to get into the club.

The limousine was waiting by the stage door, and he rushed them all into it. Guess Manny didn’t come, he mused. But as the limo drove off, he looked out the back window and spied him standing on the steps just outside the stage door talking to one of the ushers.

Whew! That was close. He took a deep breath. They had managed to escape tonight, but what about the next night—and the next—ad infinitum? They couldn’t go on avoiding him forever. If only Zack were here! he thought. But Jay had informed him that Zack might be away for longer than he had originally planned. One thing was certain. Manny had no idea where Courtney was staying in New York. Jeremy was determined to keep it that way.

CHAPTER XVIII
 

A
s Zack entered the hospital foyer in Paris, he found himself praying as he never had in his life. He couldn’t shake the guilt he felt about what happened to Gus. Why didn’t I come over here and do the investigation myself? he muttered in remorse. Then Gus wouldn’t be in the hospital with a bump on his head and amnesia.

He didn’t know what he was going to do if Gus didn’t regain his memory. Where would he start? How grateful he was that Renee was here to help him, and had the same gift of intuition that he had. Between the two of them he was sure they would find some sense of direction.

They went immediately to Gus’ room. The nurse and doctor were both there, and Gus was sitting up.

“Gus.” Zack spoke hesitantly, not sure what he would find.

Gus turned and looked at him. His eyes were full of fear. He stared vacantly at Zack. “Who am I?” he asked. “Why can’t I remember? What happened to me?”

Zack’s hopes sank. He walked over to the doctor and motioned for him to join him outside so he could talk to him privately.

Renee stayed in the room with Gus.

“How long will this go on?” Zack asked the doctor.

“It’s hard to tell,” the doctor replied. “It may be days—months—maybe years.”

“But he will remember eventually—won’t he?”

“I certainly hope so. In the meantime, be as encouraging as you can. That’s the best thing you can do for your friend. He mustn’t be aware of your discouragement.”

Zack looked desperate. “His memory is so important,” he mumbled.

“What is the urgency?” the doctor asked him.

“The lives of many people are at stake. It’s a long story. He was talking to me on the phone about to tell me something vital when he was attacked. If he doesn’t remember soon, I’ll have to start over.” He paused. “How soon can he be released from the hospital?”

“Probably tomorrow. He’s in perfect health except for his loss of memory.”

“Is he okay to be on his own, or should someone be with him?”

“Where does he live?” the doctor asked him. “Is he married? Does he have any relatives?”

“His wife died several years ago,” Zack told the doctor. “He was in Spain teaching a course to the Spanish police on how to be a detective. He came here to investigate something for me when this happened.”

“There’s no one else?” the doctor asked.

“He has a sister in Westport, Connecticut. She’s a widow. I’ll call her and see if she can come here and take Gus to her home. I’ll feel a lot better knowing he has a close relative to look after him. I need to know that he’s taken proper care of before I can continue with the investigation.”

At this point Renee came out to them. “Zack, he’s asking for you.”

Zack jumped. “Does he remember—?”

Renee shook her head. “I wish I could say yes, but—no. He seems to be reaching out to you. He must feel instinctively that he was close to you.”

“That’s a good sign!” the doctor exclaimed. “Something is prodding his memory!”

Zack rushed back into Gus’ room. Then he remembered what the doctor said—he mustn’t show his discouragement to Gus if he wanted to help him. He must also be careful not to push at Gus to regain his memory. Force never accomplished anything. He must remain calm.

He went over to the bed. “Gus, you wanted to see me?”

“Did you send me to Paris?” he asked Zack.

Zack’s hopes rose. “Yes. Did the doctor tell you that, or did you remember it?”

Gus was silent for a moment. He looked at the doctor. “I don’t think you told me. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t. You remembered that all by yourself.”

Gus rubbed his head. “Why can’t I remember the rest?”

“You will,” the doctor told him. “You’re showing signs of it already. But you must be patient. Don’t push at it. That will delay the healing.”

“Gus, do you remember—” Zack hesitated, making sure he worded this just right—“just before I asked you to come here to investigate something, you were in Spain teaching a class of policemen how to be detectives?”

Gus looked in a fog. “No—no, I don’t remember. I was a detective? Where?”

“In Los Angeles. You were my partner.”

“Was I a good one?”

“The best!” Zack assured him. “We were successful in almost all our cases.”

A look of awareness shone in his eyes. “Los Angeles! That’s in California!”

“Right! Do you remember any of the cases we worked on?”

Gus pondered Zack’s question. “A name keeps coming to me. Hil—uh—Hil—” He stammered and tears came to his eyes. “I almost had it. Why can’t I remember?”

Zack looked at the doctor, wondering if he should tell Gus the name he was trying to think of. The doctor nodded encouragingly. “The name you’re trying to remember is Hildy. Hildy Stuart. Does that ring a bell?”

Gus’ eyes lit up in recognition. “Yes! Yes! I remember! And another name—uh—Gre—uh—Gregory Wil—” He stopped, looking to Zack for help.

Zack’s heart leaped with hope. “Gregory Wilcox!” Zack interrupted. “Do you remember anything else?”

The light in Gus’ eyes faded. “No. Did your sending me to Paris have anything to do with them?”

“It has to do with Hildy’s granddaughter, Courtney. Are you sure you can’t remember any more?”

Gus shook his head. He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

The doctor came over and spoke to Zack. “I think that’s enough for now. He’s getting tired. You’d better leave and let him rest. Come back tomorrow. You’ll call his sister?”

“Yes. Right away,” Zack replied. “And I’ll call the Police Academy in Madrid and tell them what happened. Obviously, Gus is in no condition to teach. I’ll take care of it.”

A much encouraged Zack, with Renee, left and went down to her patrol car. It seemed to Zack that the sun was shining a bit more brightly, and the accordion player on the corner was playing with a gaiety that matched the newfound gaiety in Zack’s heart—for two reasons: He felt a lift to his spirits that Gus’ memory was showing signs of returning, and now with Renee at his side life was taking on a new meaning.

“I’ll drop you off at your hotel,” Renee broke into his thoughts. “I think we can be very grateful that Gus is beginning to remember a few things. It’s a good sign.”

“Yes, it is,” Zack agreed, “but we don’t know how long it will be before he recalls what he found out before he was attacked. I feel an urgency to try and uncover what I can by myself. I can’t wait for Gus. As soon as his sister gets here I’ll start looking into it. But I have to make sure Gus is okay first. I’ll have to prepare him to accept the fact that he has a sister who’ll be taking him to her home in Connecticut.”

They had reached La Grande Veue Hotel, and Zack got out. “I’ll call you tomorrow around seven in the morning and we’ll plan to meet somewhere. In the meantime, I’ll call Spain and ask them to pack Gus’ things and mail them to his sister in California.”

“Why don’t we meet here for breakfast?” Renee suggested. “That way we can go to the hospital together and pick up Gus. By that time we’ll know when his sister’s plane gets in. We can take him to the airport, and she can take over from there. She may want to fly right back to the States.”

“Good idea. I’ll see you here tomorrow in the dining room at—say—” He looked at his watch. “Eight o’clock?”

“Perfect.” Renee started the engine. “See you tomorrow morning,” she said as she drove off.

CHAPTER XIX
 

C
ourtney Stuart Dubonnet was the toast of Broadway. People from far and wide came to see her star in the musical she wrote. Many of them had seen Cammie years before, and contrary to her fear that she wouldn’t live up to her mother’s talent, Courtney was being hailed as just as great a performer as Cammie.

After each show they went to the same private club where they had gone the night of Courtney’s debut.

Manny came to the stage door after every performance asking for Courtney, but Jay and Jeremy had given strict orders that no one be allowed back stage. After each performance they took Courtney down to the basement and out a side door where a limousine was waiting. They told her it was to protect her from all the autograph seekers, and she didn’t question it.

Courtney had all but forgotten Manny. She and Glen had become very close. There was a bond that involved more than just working together. Glen was hopelessly in love with Courtney, and she had developed feelings for him that were far deeper than mere friendship. At her tender age of twenty she had never experienced such depth of emotion, and she found it puzzling and a little scary.

One night after returning from their midnight snack, Glen and Courtney decided to take a moonlight drive through Central Park. It was a beautiful starlit night. The moon was so bright it seemed almost like daylight.

Glen drove the car in by the small lake. The car stereo was playing one of the beautiful songs from “Déjà Vu.” He gazed at Courtney, his eyes full of love, and took her in his arms. The passion that flared up between them swept them up in an emotional tide so strong it was almost unbearable.

“Courtney,” Glen whispered, “I love you. I want you to marry me.” He kissed her deeply, passionately, until they seemed to breathe as one. “What do you say? Please marry me.”

Courtney pressed against him and wound her arms around his neck. “I love you, too, Glen—with all my heart.”

Glen reached into his pocket and handed her a small, velvet box.

She opened it and looked at him, wide-eyed. Nestled in the fold was a clear three-carat diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds set in an antique style. “Oh, Glen,” she gasped, “it’s beautiful!”

“I know you’ve always loved the ring your grandfather gave your grandmother when they became engaged,” he told her, “so I had it duplicated.”

Courtney began to cry.

Glen was puzzled. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“Glen—I love you—really I do. It’s just that—that—”

“What, Courtney?”

“I have to think about it. It’s so sudden—I didn’t expect this—”

Glen turned his head away. “It’s okay, Courtney. You think about it.” He closed the box and put it back into his pocket. “I think we’d better get back to the hotel. You need your rest.” He turned on the ignition and headed back. They reached the hotel and he let her off. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and left abruptly.

I hurt him, Courtney realized. Why did I do that? She was unable to explain it, even to herself. She stared after him as he drove away.

She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. Cammie and Jeremy were staying in the same hotel with Courtney, in a room right next to hers. She walked down the corridor and knocked on their door. “May I come in?” she pleaded. “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Cammie ushered her over to one of the comfortable chairs by the window. The lights of Broadway could be seen twinkling gaily, and as Courtney looked out she could see the marquee with her name on it—not only as the writer and composer, but as the star of “Déjà Vu.” She was basking in the throes of success, but for some strange reason there lurked in the back of her mind a fear that it could all come suddenly crashing down. Why do I feel this way? she wondered. Where do these thoughts come from? Why didn’t I accept Glen’s proposal? I love him! Why didn’t I just say “yes”? She felt that something was terribly wrong.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Cammie asked her.

“Mom—” She hesitated. How do I explain this, she fretted to herself, when I don’t understand it myself?

“What is it, sweetie?” Cammie persisted.

Courtney spoke shyly. “Mom—how do you know when you’re in love?”

Cammie thought for a minute. “Well, dear—uh—you just know.”

“But how do you know?”

“Who are you talking about? Glen?”

Courtney nodded.

Jeremy had just come out of the bathroom wearing his robe after taking his shower. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You two look so serious.”

Cammie turned and posed the question to him. “Maybe you can answer Courtney’s question,” she said. “She wants to know how you can tell if you’re really in love.”

Jeremy walked over to Courtney and held out his arms.

As she stood up and faced him, she lost all control and began to sob.

“Is this about Glen?” he asked, consoling her. “He’s a fine man. They don’t come any finer. Nothing would make your mother and me happier. What makes you uncertain?”

Courtney wiped her eyes and sat down again. “I’m in love with him. I know I am. He’s so great. I think I feel the same way you two do toward each other, but—”

“But what?” Jeremy asked.

Courtney frowned. “I don’t know. I want to be with him the rest of my life—I really do, but—something is making me wonder—something in my head keeps talking to me. It’s as though someone is dictating to me and I’m not thinking my own thoughts. I can’t explain it.” She became quite agitated, and began to cry again. “What’s the matter with me?” she asked in a panic.