Third Half (2 page)

             
"What?"  Liane looked aghast, her green eyes, wide, sparkling
with an emerald-like gleam.  "A quarter of a million dollars in cash,
through the mail!"

             
"Special Delivery, but still through the mail.  There was also a
very cryptic note offering little in the way of an explanation." She
marched back to the chair and sat again, leaning forward in her seat as
she rushed through the rest of the story. 

             
"The note was so vague.  Just that I was to keep the money
until I heard from him.  And, that in the event something happens I
was to see that the mission school, where I'm going in Peru, gets the
money.  He said I wasn't to worry, that he was sending you a letter
too.  He was going to explain more in that letter, and that it was
important that we do only what he instructs us to do."

I

             
That had been only the beginning, Liane thought as a young
flight attendant brought a cart.  She ordered a gin and tonic, hoping it
would help ease her tension.  More memories of the previous day
were still fresh in her mind.

             
Later that afternoon she and Mary Catherine had made a trip to
Jack's farm in Connecticut, hoping to find some clues that would
explain what was going on. 

             
He wasn't home, but his manager's wife left them inside to
look around, admitting she, too, was worried; Jack had been due home
days ago. 

             
They searched for anything that might look out of the ordinary,
both uncertain exactly what that might be, but hoping they would
know it when the found it.  When they did find Jack's empty suitcase
in the back of his closet it made them certain he hadn't been planning
a trip.  It also made them wonder why his manager's wife said he
hadn't returned from his last trip.

             
On his desk they found his red address book, by the phone,
open to the D's.  Liane scanned the listings.

             
"The way he organizes things would be a secretary's
nightmare. . . .  Dentist, Doctor, Domino's Pizza, Devereaux, Debbie,
Donna . . ." Liane read. 

             
"Devereaux," Mary Catherine repeated, her bright blue eyes
narrowed in concentration.  "That's familiar."

             
"Devereaux, R," Liane read.  "Another girlfriend, maybe?" 
She looked at the number.  "Area Code 213."

             
Mary Catherine looked around the room, and found what she
was looking for near the bottom of a pile of magazines.  She opened
the huge phone book and paged through the first few pages before
stopping.  She ran her finger down a list of area codes.  "Los Angeles,
California," she read, looking back at Liane.  "I know I remember that
name."

             
"Since you've never be to L.A. you must have heard it from
Jack," Liane said.  "Try to remember."

             
"I am trying."

             
"Wait, there's another way to find out." Liane reached for the
telephone, but paused, glancing at the many buttons.  A slow smile
spread across her face as the idea occurred to her.  "This always works
on television." She laughed and pressed the auto-redial button.

             
They heard the telephone ringing over the speaker.  It rang
once, twice, three times.  After the fourth ring the connection was
made.

             
"
You have reached the office of Ralph Devereaux, Talent
Agency,
" the pleasant feminine voiced recording sang through the
speaker.  "
There is no one in the office at this time . . .
"

             
Liane made a face, glancing at her watch.  "What do they do,
take siestas in L.A.?"

             
"I think that's Mexico," Mary Catherine replied.  "Perhaps
they're at lunch."

             
Liane nodded, jotting down the number so they could try again
from home.

             
By the time they had returned to New York Mary Catherine's
illness had grown worse.  Her face was flushed, and it was obviously
taking all her strength just to keep moving.  Still she was determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with their brother.  "Please
try calling Mr. Devereaux again," Mary Catherine asked her sister.

             
"All right, but please, at least lay down for awhile," Liane
insisted, unable to disguise the worry in her voice. 

             
Mary Catherine willingly submitted to the request, stretching
out on the sofa in the living room.  She pressed her head against the
pillow, and closed her eyes, but Liane knew she would not really rest
until she knew what happened to their brother.

             
This time when Liane dialed the call was answered
immediately by the same pleasant voiced woman as on the recording.

             
"I'd like to speak to Mr. Devereaux," Liane said. 

             
"Mr. Devereaux is very busy just now," the woman replied.
"Could I take a message?"

             
"Please, this is long distance.  It's very important," Liane
squeezed the telephone, looking over to her sister.  She hoped
everything would be settled soon so she could set Mary Catherine's
mind to rest.

             
"Whom should I say is calling and what is it concerning?" the
woman asked.

             
"Liane Spencer, I'm Jack Spencer's sister," she replied.  "I'm
calling to discuss my brother.  He's one of your clients."

             
"Hold on please."  Only seconds later she came back on the
line.  "Mr. Devereaux has no clients by that name," the woman
explained.  "Perhaps you have us confused with another agency."

             
"Devereaux is not a common name," Liane persisted.  "I'm
certain it is your agency.  May I speak to Mr. Devereaux?"

             
"I'll ask him," the woman said with a sigh.  A moment later
she came back on the line.  "Mr. Devereaux will speak to you now."

             
"Devereaux here," a man's gruff voice sounded in irritation. 
There was a lot of background noise.

             
"I'm trying to locate Jack Spencer, one of your clients," Liane
said.  "It's an emergency.  I need to tell him that our sister, Mary
Catherine, isn't well."
             
Liane looked toward the sofa and knew her
statement wasn't entirely a fib.

             
There was a moment's hesitation, more noise.  "I'm sorry, I just
double checked my roll-a-dex and I have no Jack Spencer as a client."

             
Liane apologized for bothering the man, knowing it would get
her no further to call him a liar. 

             
"He has to be lying," Mary Catherine said, trying to sit up, but
weakly submitting as Liane pushed her back against the pillow.  "Why
else would Jack have called him?"

             
"Maybe he was just calling for information about the man's
agency," Liane sought for an excuse.

             
"Then why did I remember that name?  Why bother putting his
name in his address book if he was only getting information?" Mary
Catherine asked, her voice trembling shrilly.  "There has to be
something wrong!  And why would the man lie?  Liane, we have to do
something."

             
"First things first.  I'm calling your doctor," Liane insisted, as
she returned to the phone.  But it was too late, the doctor had already
left the office.  Her concern growing by leaps and bounds, Liane tried
to coax her sister to go to the hospital. 

             
"I do feel terrible," Mary Catherine admitted.  "But as much
from worry about Jack."

             
"Look, if it will set your mind at rest, I'll get to the bottom of
this," Liane promised, knowing that she also had an ominous feeling
about her brother.  "Somehow I'll find out what's going on.  Now, will
you go to the hospital?"

             
Finally Mary Catherine agreed.  As she helped her sister to the
door, Liane wondered about her promise, and what her next step in
finding her brother should be.

             
They were nearly to the door when her intercom sounded,
letting her know she had a visitor downstairs. 

             
Liane pushed the button and heard the familiar voice of her
friend and producer, Martin Sloane.  "Martin, I'm so happy you're
here," she said.

             
"We had a date, of course I'm here," he replied cheerfully.

             
"There's been a slight chance in plans," she said, biting her lip
and looking at her sister.  "We'll be right down."

             
It seemed like a long night.  Two doctors examined Mary
Catherine and both were in agreement her reaction was exactly as she
thought, an allergic reaction to her inoculations.  Still they wanted her
to be admitted.  Liane and Martin stayed with her until she was finally
settled into her room, but before Mary Catherine dozed, she reminded
Liane of her promise.

             
She wouldn't have had to.  All the while they waited a plan
was already forming in Liane's mind.

             
After Martin and she returned to her apartment, Liane
explained their predicament and asked for his help. 

             
As a producer, Martin was well known.  She had no doubt his
popularity stretched from coast to coast
–
  at least she was banking
that it did.  She asked him to call Ralph Devereaux and make an
appointment for her the following day.  "Make up a name," Liane
said, then explained about her previous unsuccessful call to the man.

             
She was certain that no agent in the country would deny
Martin Sloane a few moments of their time.  Ralph Devereaux proved
to be no exception. 

             
Liane felt certain once she saw the man he would recognize
the photo she carried of her brother.  There was also the actors' union. 
Nearly every entertainer belonged to one.  She was sure her brother
also could be traced through them.

             
When her flight landed she was more confident she'd soon
know where to find her missing brother.  She had gone over all the
facts during the long flight and knew exactly what she was going to
say to Mr. Devereaux.

I

             
She felt secluded standing in the lonely corridor as she
knocked on the door of the second floor office.   The old brownstone
building was smaller than she had expected, older too.  Certainly not
possessing the glitz she would have expected for an agent. 

             
There were very few other offices on the dingy upper floors. 
"Doesn't anyone work on Saturdays around here?" She mumbled as
she knocked again.  There was certainly no hub-bub of activity going
on around here.

             
Her parting words to her sister returned to her as she waited. 
Mary Catherine laid weakly in her hospital bed, worried about their
brother and the mysterious package of money he had sent her, yet too
ill to continue trying to locate him herself.