Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One

by Marie Ferrarella

  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.”

  Max sipped his wine. “We’ll put an agent on all the exits just to make sure Chalmers doesn’t decide to leave early.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  There was a pause. Then Max asked unexpectedly, “You nervous?”

  “No, why?”

  He nodded at her hands. “You’re turning that piece of bread into confetti.”

  She glanced down to see that she had torn apart the slice of Italian bread. “Maybe I am a little nervous,” she confessed.

  “Don’t be,” Max said. “Just be good.”

  She nodded and rose, leaving the food he had ordered for her untouched. “You’ll be at the rehearsal, and at the party afterward?” she asked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. Then he shook his head. “It’s a wonde
r you don’t pass out on your feet, Charley. You never eat anything.”

  She grinned, and leaned over and patted his stomach. “You do enough eating for both of us,” she said, and turned to leave.

  Well, they were into the homestretch now, she thought as she walked through the restaurant. And as soon as this was over, she was going to tell Max that she needed some time off to sort things out. She’d take it all one step at a time. Right now, though, she had to deal with Reese.

  He was waiting for her, standing nonchalantly by the restaurant door. He dropped the attitude of disinterest the instant he saw her, however.

  “Well, what did ‘Uncle Max’ have to say?” he asked eagerly.

  “He agreed that Chalmers was a likely suspect,” she said. “And something else. The exchange is to take place tonight, at the party. I’ve got to follow Allison. And, Reese, I won’t be able to concentrate if I know you’re following me.”

  “All right,” he said. “You win. I’ll ride this one out.”

  She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her and, for a moment, held her close.

  Chapter Ten

  Backstage at the theater, preparations for dress rehearsal were in full swing. It was like walking into a tornado, Charley thought as she entered the large communal dressing room. Nervous chatter filled the air. The room was crowded with actors and dancers and technical people. The head of wardrobe was going to each actor in turn to remind him or her about last-minute costume changes; the props person was following in her wake, making sure each actor knew which props he or she was responsible for. Some cast members had clustered in various spots around the room to go over their lines. Others were wandering around, doing vocal exercises. Charley could also glimpse some of the dancers warming up in the green room across the hall.

  She made her way through the dressing room, weaving among the various people, to the long makeup table that lined one wall. Almost all the chairs were taken, but she spotted a free one at the end, right next to Allison. Waving to Carol, who was studying her reflection with despair, Charley walked the length of the table and sat down.

  “Hi,” she said to Allison as she set her makeup bag on the table.

  Allison flashed her a quick smile. She was obviously nervous.

  “How’s it going?” Charley asked, pulling her hair back in a ponytail in preparation for applying her makeup.

  “Okay,” Allison said.

  The slight tremor in her voice told Charley Allison wasn’t okay at all. This was Allison’s first crack at the “big time,” Charley thought, and undoubtedly all her energy was focused on her upcoming performance. Charley wondered if Allison was giving any thought at all to the potential repercussions of the evening. Probably not. The woman wanted to be a star. National security couldn’t hold a candle to fame.

  Charley felt her gaze harden as she looked at Allison. She forced herself to smile sympathetically. It wasn’t easy.

  “You’ll be great,” she said, squeezing Allison’s hand for good measure. That hand was ice-cold.

  As she waited in the wings, listening to the orchestra play the overture, Charley could feel the excitement and tension all around her. This was only a dress rehearsal, but it was as important as opening night to the cast. The show’s angels and their families and friends comprised the audience. Everything had to be letter-perfect.

  Although for Charley the real drama of the night was to take place after the performance, she couldn’t help but feel excited about the show. She hadn’t been on stage in front of an audience for a year, and the familiar adrenaline and stage fright were pouring through her. Maybe acting didn’t hold the thrill for her that detective work did, but there was still something electrifying about walking out onto a stage and creating an illusory world for an audience. She knew this show would never open, at least not with its present cast and director, and she wanted this performance to be spectacular.

  She glanced at Allison, who was waiting in the opposite wing. Charley would have liked to stand next to her, but that wasn’t possible. She tried to catch Allison’s attention to signal good luck to her, but she was looking over her shoulder. Suddenly Chalmers appeared behind her, and Charley’s eyes widened in consternation.

  What was Chalmers doing there? she wondered. He was supposed to be sitting in the house with the rest of the audience. He whispered something in the actress’s ear, and Allison’s expression changed from nervous anxiety to surprise.

  Dammit, Charley thought. What was he saying to her? Then she saw Reese walk past them, and decided the whole world had gone mad. Reese was supposed to be in the lighting booth, calling the lighting and sound cues.

  Before she could do anything, even gesture to Reese, the music stopped, the lights went up, and she had to go onstage.

  Charley wasn’t sure how she ever got through her opening lines. It was as if someone else had stepped into her shoes, mouthed the words, made all the appropriate moves. All she could think of was what Chalmers could have said to Allison.

  Maybe it was nothing, she told herself as Allison’s character launched into a rhapsodic monologue about the man she had just met. After all, Chalmers was the director. Maybe he had been giving Allison last-minute instructions. She needed all the help she could get.

  But something in the pit of Charley’s stomach told her that, whatever Chalmers had said to Allison, it had nothing to do with the play.

  Both Charley and Allison were onstage for most of the first act. Finally, though, Charley could make her exit. She had just reached the wings when a hand grabbed her arm. She whirled around.

  “Reese!”

  “I’ve got to talk to you,” he said, drawing her to one side. “It’s about Chalmers.”

  “What about him?” she asked in a low voice.

  “I overheard him talking to Allison just before the curtain went up.”

  Charley grabbed his arm tightly. “And?”

  “They’ve switched the time for the exchange. Allison’s out of it. They’re going to do it now instead of at the party.”

  “But isn’t the congressman out there?” She nodded toward the house.

  “It sounded as if they’d forced him to remain in his room. Then Chalmers saw me walk by and stopped talking.”

  Charley’s mind began to race. The FBI agent assigned to tail Chalmers wouldn’t show up until after the performance. But Max had said he’d post agents at all the exits, and she could only hope that one of them had spotted Chalmers and followed him. However, if the exchange was taking place now, that agent and the one stationed in Graystone’s room would need backup.

  She glanced back at the actors on stage. They were in the middle of a musical number. She estimated Act One would end in about ten minutes, and then there would be a ten-minute intermission. She was due onstage in the first scene of Act Two. She would have just enough time. Maybe.

  As she turned away, it struck her as ridiculous that she was worried about being late for her entrance, when the congressman and the documents he had were in danger.

  Reese’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To the hotel. Tell Max.”

  “What?”

  “He’s in the third row, aisle seat. You can’t miss him.” With that, she raced toward the dressing room. She was going to need her gun.

  “Charley,” Carol called in a loud whisper as she ran past. “Where are you going?”

  “The dressing room. My allergy is killing me.” She wiggled her nose slightly for effect. “If I don’t take my medicine quick, I’m going to wind up sneezing my way through the third act.”

  She didn’t wait to see if Carol accepted her excuse. In the dressing room she also ignored the startled looks of the few actors and dancers there as she dashed across the room for her purse. She grabbed it, made sure the gun was in there, and ran for the stage-door exit.

  The exit opened onto a clean but poorly lit alley. As she cautiously stepped o
utside, Charley saw that a fog was setting in. All she needed was a werewolf to complete the scenario, she thought, and shook her head.

  The stupidest things come into your mind when you’re nervous, she mused. And she was nervous. Very. She knew she would have been a fool not to be. The enemy agency played for keeps.

  There was no one covering this exit, so she hoped the agent had followed Chalmers to the hotel. With one hand on the gun inside her purse she started for the street. She had taken no more than five steps when a hand touched her shoulder. She froze.

  “Please come with me,” a gutteral voice instructed.

  She turned around slowly and looked into the roundest face she had ever seen. Small, deep-set eyes appraised her. In the dim light they looked as if they were black. A cold, feeling-less black. Her gaze darted around the alley, looking for some way to escape, then fell on a motionless figure lying on the ground. The other FBI agent.

  Charley made a quick decision and bolted for the street, thinking that perhaps she could outrun the man. He had at least two hundred pounds on her. She didn’t get very far. Two huge, powerful hands closed over her ribs, lifting her off the ground. She struggled, but it was useless. In this position she was no match for the man holding her.

  “It is not polite to cut a visit so short,” he said, panting slightly.

  “Where are you taking me?” Charley demanded.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he half carried, half dragged her to an empty car. But as he threw open the door, Charley grabbed the roof and hung on, bracing her heels against the bottom of the car. She screamed for all she was worth.

  The man clamped a hand over her mouth and she bit down on the fleshy palm. This time the man screamed. In a reflexive action, he let her go.