Dexter's Final Cut (31 page)

“Well, what have we got here?” came the loud and frightening
voice of Sylvia the costume witch. I turned around, prepared to draw a sword and slay her before she could eat my kids, but instead I found her beaming.

“These are Dexter’s kids,” Robert told her. “You know, my technical adviser.”

“Well, they are
beautiful
!” Sylvia gushed. Her face split into something that was probably supposed to be a fond smile; it was hard to say, since Sylvia’s face was clearly not made for such things. But she smiled and looked at Cody and Astor with maternal affection, and I could not have been more amazed if I had seen a balanced federal budget.

Sylvia knelt down between Cody and Astor with that same fond and phony-looking smile on her face. “Hello, little man,” she said to Cody. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, my—you’re very strong—are you a football player?”

Cody was trying very hard not to look pleased. “Soccer,” he said in his too-soft voice.

“That’s a wonderful sport,” Sylvia cooed at him. “What’s your name?”

“Cody,” he said. He was clearly torn between resentment at being treated like an idiot and delight at having someone pay him that much attention, but it looked like delight was winning.

“My name is Sylvia,” she told him. “I’m in charge of all the clothes that the actors wear for the show.”

Cody nodded. “Costumes,” he said.

Sylvia clapped her hands in delight. “That’s right!” she said. “So you’re smart, too!”

Naturally enough, Astor didn’t like being left out. She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, brother,” and Sylvia glanced her way.

“And what’s your name, dear?” Sylvia said.

“My name is Astor,” she said. “I’m going to be an actress.”

“Well,” Sylvia said, “all little girls think that.”

Astor made a sound that was almost a Sylvia-like hiss. “I’m almost
twelve
,” she said.

“Hey, she could do it,” Robert said, pushing his way in next to Astor. “I mean, she’s got the looks for it; that’s for sure.” And Astor looked up at him even more adoringly, if possible.

“So, Dex,” Robert said, “great kids, and glad you brought ’em—but what are you doing here on a Saturday? Um—and with
her
…?” He nodded toward Jackie, and although I had never before seen a nod of the head express contempt, somehow he managed it. But after all, he was a working actor. “I mean, uh …” he said, raising an eyebrow, and clearly waiting for a reasonable explanation.

“Oh, well,” I said, hoping something brilliant would occur to me.

“Has Dexter really been working with you all week, Mr. Chase?” Astor said.

“Robert,” he said with a grin that showed more gleaming white teeth than any three humans should have. “Just call me Robert.”

“Robert,” Astor said, trying it out and liking the sound of it.

“Hey, you want to be an actress.” He nodded to the far end of the suite. “I have to go get my shirt—you want to see what an actor’s dressing room looks like?” he said.

“Sure, Robert,” Astor said, not sounding quite as mature as she thought she did. She glanced at me with cool aloofness and added, “I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll just be a second, Dex,” he said to me, still showing too many teeth. “That okay?”

“Um,” I said, with a vague notion that this was skating close to some kind of a line. But before I could frame an objection, Astor rolled her eyes.

“It’s
fine
,” she said. “Come on, Robert.” And she gave me her best adult stare and said, “Robert and I will be right back, Dexter.” She took him by the hand and the two of them went off to the short hallway at the far end of the suite, where there were three doors, presumably into bedrooms and bathrooms.

Robert glanced back at me; his face was aglow in a way I hadn’t seen before, and I remembered that he did have a crush on me. He probably thought he could please me by showering attention on my sweet and innocent little girl. Well, he couldn’t, and he would soon find out just how sweet and innocent Astor was. As soon as she got over her hero worship and started to act like herself, we would see how he liked it. I waved at him; he waved back and they disappeared together through the far door, and as I turned away from them I saw Jackie hurrying over to me.

“What did he say?” she said quietly but urgently. “Did he ask why you’re here with me?”

“Well, actually—” I said.

“God
damn
it,” she hissed. “What did you tell him?”

“We got distracted,” I said. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Well, he’s going to ask again—we have to think of
something
,” she said. “He’s the one guy who really can’t know about … Patrick.” She bit her lip and looked very worried. “Robert is … He would love nothing better than to spread it around that there’s a psycho after me and get me fired.…”

She grimaced and looked around to see whether anyone had heard her; no one was close enough. Cody stood a few feet away with Sylvia, sticking pins into the dress dummy. No one else was near. “Damn it, I don’t know. We could say …” She trailed off, frowning, and looked around. “Got it,” she said, as inspiration and relief visibly flowed onto her face. “Where’s Kathy?”

A door slammed, and Kathy came hurrying out of the hallway where Astor and Robert had gone. Jackie raised a hand to signal her, but Kathy didn’t see her; she just chugged rapidly out the door to the suite and vanished.

“What the hell …?” Jackie said.

“Maybe she ran out of coffee,” I suggested, but Jackie just looked at me, and then at the outside door where Kathy had gone, frowning, and then Robert and Astor came trotting toward us. Robert was buttoning his shirt, and he looked flustered. I wondered what Astor had said to him. As I knew very well, she was capable of saying some very surprising things. Judging by Robert’s expression, this one had been a doozy.

Like Cody, Astor was turned away from Normal forever. Cody enjoyed killing things, and with proper guidance he would grow up to be like me, a well-adjusted monster. But Astor—I didn’t really know. Girls were different, even if the form her difference would take was not yet clear. From what I knew of the subject, she was at the age where we would soon find out.

Like me, and her brother, Astor could not feel empathy for others. She did not really have emotions, unless you count overwhelming crankiness. I’d done a little research, just to be ready, and it was most
likely that Astor would find some career path that let her manipulate people somehow, and then work her way to the top by doing whatever it took, regardless of the consequences to others. She would learn to make people do exactly what she wanted them to do, sometimes merely because she could, just to see them squirm.

Beyond that, I didn’t really know what she was going to be capable of someday; she hadn’t shown any interest in much, other than clothes and making boys suffer, which was almost normal for a girl her age. Mostly she just seemed angry, and a lot of her anger came out verbally; she sometimes said and did things that could be quite surprising to the unprepared. From the look on Robert’s face, I had to think she had done so with him.

“That’s— See? We were only one minute or so, and, uh … where did your assistant go?” Robert said, sounding bewildered as he looked around. Astor stood beside him with a kind of superior smirk on her face.

“Don’t you have an assistant of your own, Bob?” Jackie said, much too sweetly.

Robert scowled. “You know, we have to work together, so—”

“Robert wants to show me the makeup room, but he said I had to ask
you
first,” Astor said. “Can I go see it? Please, Dexter?”

“It’s just down the hall,” Robert said quickly. And when I didn’t answer, he went on. “And hey! You didn’t tell me—how come you’re down here? With the kids and …” He glanced at Jackie and then stumbled on. “And you know. On a Saturday?”

“Dexter is getting an under-five,” Jackie said. “So I said I’d show him where wardrobe is.” She smiled at Robert, not a happy smile. “Is that okay, Robert?” she said, as if his name was in quotation marks.

“What’s an under-five?” Astor demanded.

“Well,” said Robert, looking right at Jackie and showing her his teeth, “he can’t be any worse at acting than some people who do it for a living.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jackie said sweetly, showing her own teeth right back. “He’s almost certainly better than … some actors.”

“Mee-ow,” said Sylvia, stepping over and pushing between them. “Are you two still at it? After all these years?”

“Some things are forever,” Robert said, scowling. “Like herpes.”

“Robert has such trouble letting go,” Jackie said lightly. “And it was such a
small
thing, too.”

Robert turned bright red and clenched his fists. “I guess you’re the expert.”

“Well,” Jackie said, with that same acid-coated sweetness, “
you
certainly aren’t any expert.”

Robert opened his mouth to say something crushing. But he never got the chance; Sylvia took him by the arm and said, “Enough, you two. Let’s get your pants fitted.”

“He’s going to show me the makeup room,” Astor said.

“Work comes first,” Sylvia said. “Come on, Bob.”

“Robert,” he said automatically. He smiled at Astor and added, “It’ll just take two minutes.” Sylvia tugged at his arm, and with a last glare at Jackie, Robert allowed Sylvia to drag him away.

Astor watched him go, pouting heavily, and then, with a sidelong glance at me to see whether I was going to stop her, she followed along.

I looked at Jackie, hoping for some hint to what was going on. This had gone beyond the normal sniping between her and Robert. It was clear from the venom, as well as the words, that they had some kind of history together, and equally clear that it was unpleasant. I waited for Jackie to say something that might fill me in. But she just watched Robert’s back, and when he was finally gone into one of the suite’s bedrooms, she turned to me at last and said, “Well, now we have to get you an under-five.”

“Isn’t that some kind of tuxedo?” I said.

Jackie smiled and patted my cheek, and even though it was a very clear statement that I was an adorable moron, her hand felt very good, so I concentrated on the “adorable” and forgave the rest.

“So much to learn,” she said. “So little time.” She left her hand on my cheek for just a moment, and I could smell that same faint scent of perfume coming from her wrist. Then she dropped her hand.

“With Kathy gone, I’ll have to do this myself,” she said. “But the director owes me a favor. So—”

She smiled and then, very much like Astor had led Robert away, she took my hand and led me out the door.

M
Y FOSTER MOTHER
, D
ORIS, USED TO SAY THAT YOU LEARN
something new every day. I had always taken that as a subtle threat, but in this case what I learned from Jackie was harmless and delightfully useless. It turned out that I had been thinking of “plus fours,” and that was not a tuxedo but a kind of Three Stooges golfing outfit. An “under-five,” as it happened, was an acting part, so called because the actor in question—and in this case he was highly questionable—got to say
under five
lines. I wasn’t completely clear on why that number was so important; something to do with the unions, I think. The more I learned about show business, the more it seemed that almost everything was about one union or another.

In any case, giving a speaking part to a forensic geek with no acting experience—at least, not in front of a camera—didn’t seem to be a big deal to the director, Victor Torrano. He just sighed and said, “All right, what the hell, fine, stop batting your eyelashes at me.” And I was relieved to see he meant Jackie, not me.

Victor turned and looked me over, head to toe. “Huh. Okay, I got a few parts I was gonna cast local anyway. Um, not butch enough for a cop. Not evil-looking enough for a drug dealer …” He looked at my face and squinted. “Yeah, sorry, what’s your name?”

“Dexter Morgan,” I said. I hoped it was all going to be this easy.

“Dexter, right. You know anything at all about forensics?”

I could not stop myself from smiling just a little as I said, “As a matter of fact …”

And lo! He spake the word, and Dexter was an actor.

Jackie led me back to Sylvia’s lair, a note from Victor clutched in my hand, stating that I was now and henceforth for all time, or at least for one episode, Ben Webster, scene forty-nine, and was to be garbed appropriately.

“Ben Webster,” I said to Jackie as we left Victor’s Presence. “Wasn’t he an Elizabethan playwright?”

Jackie patted my hand. “I don’t think so,” she said. “You’re not nervous about this, are you?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Not at all.

She turned those huge violet eyes on me and gave me a crooked smile. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

In fact, I was not really worried about acting. After all, I had been acting my whole life, playing the part of a human being and a very nice guy, two things I certainly was not. And since I had never yet been flung in jail or shot dead, I have to say I must have been doing a pretty good job.

We got back into the wardrobe room in time to see Cody helping Sylvia run the tape measure down Renny’s arm. Renny stood there, shirtless, and I do have to say, it was not an awe-inspiring sight. He was not fat, but he certainly wasn’t in the kind of shape Robert had flaunted. His muscles were all soft and rounded, clearly the body of a man more interested in eating than exercise.

“Miss Forrest?” said a musical voice at my elbow, and one of Sylvia’s assistants was there.

“Yes?” Jackie said.

The assistant smiled. “Hi, I’m Freddy? By the way, I
love
your work—and Sylvia wants me to get you fitted, for the dress blues? For the funeral scene?”

Jackie nodded. “And whatever Sylvia wants—”

“Sylvia gets,” Freddie finished. “Believe me, I know, I work with her a lot? Anyway …” He smiled and waved toward the small hallway. “If you could come with me?”

Jackie turned to me and said, “This might take a while—there’s coffee over by the couch?” Then she smiled and walked away with Freddie.