“Ben’s got that sort of mind. He rebuilt an old biplane from scratch, and he’s always coming up with nutty inventions—which always seem to work. Give him two days and a couple of rehearsals, and he’ll do it as well as Trey. But I want him to come undercover. Don’t tell anyone he works for me.”
“That might be best,” Jonathan agreed. “Call right now.”
She nodded. “All right. I’ll have him here tomorrow, now let me get busy.”
As soon as Ainsley left, she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the agency. She expected Angie to answer, but Savage picked up the phone. “Ross Investigations,” he said.
All at once Dani couldn’t think of a way to speak to him. The little speech she had made up suddenly deserted her. She said slowly, “Ben? I need you!”
After a slight pause, he spoke in a peculiar tone that she had never heard from him, “All right, Boss.”
7
The New Man
* * *
The interior of the Pearl Theater was oppressive to Dani as she stood with her back to the flat that made up the first set. She tried to shake off the almost palpable gloom that had risen in her from the moment she had walked onto the stage, but could not do so. It’s too soon after Amber’s funeral—only two days, she comforted herself as Simon continued to recite his speech about the performance. Glancing at the spot on the stage where Amber’s body had lain, Dani involuntarily checked for dry blood stains. They were not there, of course, but the memory of the dead woman remained clearly etched in her brain.
I still feel guilty for not having said more to Amber, she realized.
The rest of the cast seemed in little better shape. Summoned to appear at the Pearl for a walk-through rehearsal, most of them, Dani saw, were still edgy and in bad spirits. None of the usual rough joking was in evidence, and by the dim lights their faces looked tired and fearful. She tried to make herself pay more attention to Nero as he tried to stir them out of their dullness.
“I know it’s hard,” he was saying in his quick manner of speech. “But it would be hard if we waited a month, wouldn’t it?” He glanced around and saw that none of them was really listening. In despair he finally gave up. “Well, Jonathan, I don’t know what I can do. Everyone looks like a zombie!”
Jonathan nodded. “Can’t blame us for that, Simon. I feel pretty sick myself.” A cynical twist of his lips signaled his thoughts, and he said, “It’s like the old movie, isn’t it, with Ronald Reagan? Remember where he died saying to Pat O’Brien, ‘Someday when the team is losing, tell them to win one for the Gipper.’” He seemed to ponder that. “Well, Amber was no saint, but she was one of us. And her life was acting. I know better than to say, ‘Let’s win this one for Amber, gang!’ and expect you to rouse up like a football team. I guess we’ve gotten too subtle and smooth and sophisticated for any sort of emotion like that, but I guess that’s what I’m saying, in a way.” He shook his shoulders and his words came out clipped and short. “I guess Amber didn’t care about too much in this world, but this was her last performance. I believe I’d like to see us make it work for her—and for all of us.”
He lifted his head, looked around, and said, “Well, let’s go through it. I know you’re all worried and down, but let’s do it anyway.”
Dani quietly broke in, “I have to say this, Jonathan.” She turned to face the cast. “All of you must think I’m crazy to even think about doing this role. But none of you think that as much as I do!” She attempted a smile that never came off, then fell silent.
Lyle Jamison roused himself. “Hey, don’t talk like that! You can do it, Danielle!” He came over to stand beside her, put his hand on her shoulder, and looked around at the others. “Come on, let’s do the play!”
“Yeah!” Mickey Trask echoed, a smile on his smooth face. “Let’s win this one for Danielle, you guys!”
The mood grew lighter, and Nero said quickly, “That’s it! Now, from the top!”
In this strange rehearsal, they used no props, and made no set changes. Jonathan had promised that a new set man would be on the job soon, and they performed the entire play right in the center of stage number one. The lack of scenery and props made the entire play seem surrealistic to Dani, and for the entire two and a half hours she was horrified to find out that she could do nothing right!
Always she had been a gifted actress, a quick study and able to fall into the mood of a character. This had been her strength in college drama, and more than once she had been pressed into service when an actress had to be replaced. She had taken pride in her ability to take over a tough role and do a competent job.
But tonight she could not fall into the attitude of the character she was to portray in the drama—Marian Powers. She knew the script, had studied it for long hours, and had seen Amber’s interpretation. Yet all she could do was say the lines automatically. She felt exactly like a zombie!
As she fumbled through the role, Simon had a brief word with Jonathan. They were standing in the wings, waiting for Jonathan’s next entrance, and the director nervously objected, “It’s not going to work, Jonathan!”
Ainsley shook his head stubbornly. “I think it will. Give it time, Simon. She did the role much better when she was just walking through it, filling in for Amber. Now the pressure is on, and she just needs a little time to settle down. I’ll talk to her later, try to get her settled down.”
Finally the last line was said, and Simon called out, “All right, that’s it. Everybody be here at noon. We’ll go through the whole thing until it feels right.”
Humiliated by her own performance, Dani ducked her head as the others tried to say words of encouragement. It was a relief when Jonathan said, “Come on, Dani, I’ll run you home.”
She almost fled the Pearl, slumping down in the leather seat beside Jonathan. Neither of them said much on the way to her place, and he got out and came to open her door, saying, “Let’s talk a little, Danielle.”
“Oh, not tonight, Jonathan!” she exclaimed. But he took her arm and, ignoring her protests, accompanied her up the steps. Inside her apartment, Dani pulled her coat off and hurled it at the couch. “All right, let’s face up to it,” she told him bitterly, her lips twisted. “You had a big idea that didn’t come off.”
He tried the light touch. “It’s not unusual for even a professional actress to have trouble getting into a role, Danielle. And you’re not only new to the role, you’re emotionally upset. It would disturb any woman, Amber’s terrible death. . . .”
He kept talking, but it did little good. Dani’s lips remained stubbornly pulled together, and she listened with only partial attention. She walked the floor nervously, then finally interrupted him, “Jonathan, go home. I don’t want to listen to you.”
“All right,” he quickly agreed. She was finely drawn, close to throwing the whole thing in. “I’ll call you early. Let’s have breakfast.”
Dani wanted only to be alone, and as soon as he left, she went at once to the bath, stripped off her clothes, and got into a tub of water as hot as she could stand it. Lying in the steaming water, she tried to forget her miserable performance, with little success. Finally she got out and was drying off, when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Jonathan come back to try and persuade her, she refused to answer it, but the bell continued to shrill persistently. Throwing on a wooly blue robe, she went to the door and threw the lock. Leaving the chain lock in place, she opened the door slightly saying, “Go away.”
A male voice came back, “Come on, Boss, let me in.”
“Ben!” she exclaimed, and slipping the chain free, she opened the door and stood back as he sauntered in. He gave her a grin then plumped down on the couch, saying cheerfully, “Well, the first team is here. You look pretty good, Boss. Don’t think I ever saw that robe before.”
Suddenly Dani felt so glad to see Ben that she could have hugged him—but at the same time she was furious with herself for feeling that way. She prided herself on being independent, yet a
t that moment felt like a little girl who’d scraped her knee and needed a pair of strong arms to run to and a soothing voice to tell her that everything would be all right! So instead of seeking comfort, she drew herself up, glaring at him.
Savage looked back innocently. His squarish face, more Slavic than anything else, held deep-set hazel eyes set below a bony ridge. He had a short nose that had been broken; his mouth was wide with a thin upper lip resting on a full lower one. A scar on his forehead traced its way into a dense black eyebrow. He was usually poker-faced, but as he stared up at Dani, a glint of humor lit his eyes. It further angered her to know that no matter how she tried to hide her moods, Savage was somehow able to read them.
“Did you have to come here in the middle of the night?” she demanded sarcastically.
Savage studied her thoughtfully, one black eyebrow lifted quizzically. “I take it you’re not happy with your work.”
Dani glared at him, but was in no mood for word games. “It’s a washout,” she finally admitted. “In the first place, we’ve got as much chance of turning up the killer as we have of—of finding Noah’s Ark.”
“If you’ll make me a cup of coffee, I’ll let you tell me all about it.”
“Oh, all right—I’m not going to sleep a wink anyway!” She moved to the tiny kitchen, and he perched on one of the dinette chairs while she brewed the coffee. By the time she had finished running through the whole story, he had drained two cups of coffee. She finally put her elbows on the table, rested her chin in her hands, and muttered, “It’s no good, Ben. Not enough clues.”
He studied her, his lean face solid in repose, but his mind cast in all directions. Suddenly he asked, “How are you doing with the acting bit? That going all right?”
Dani glanced at him, stung, and responded stiffly, “No. I’m rotten! I can’t do the job, not the acting, anyway. I can’t act!”
Savage looked down at the dregs in his cup, drained the coffee off, then put it down. “Sure you can, Dani. You’ve been acting ever since I first met you.”
“Don’t start on me, Ben!” she snapped angrily. “I know you think I’ve lost my ‘identity’ as a woman, but after tonight’s rehearsal, I’m in no mood for your cut-rate psychological treatment! I’m quitting!”
Savage seemed unimpressed by her anger. He grinned at her and asked, “Do you know you’re beautiful when you’re angry?”
She jumped up, shouting, “Get out of here!”
Savage rose and nodded. “You won’t quit, Boss. Because you know I wouldn’t quit—and you can’t let a man be tougher than a woman.” He moved toward the door, then turned to add, “And you can do the acting all right. You just needed me to drop by and give you a little encouragement.”
Dani glared at him, her fists clenched. She was so angry she wanted to pound on his face with her fists, but Ben merely grinned again and continued, “Now, can we make a few plans? Like—what time do I show up tomorrow? Who do I watch the closest? You know, detective stuff.”
Suddenly struck by the ridiculous picture they made—Ben languid and grinning, she bolt upright and white lipped—Dani felt the tension drain from her. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Good old Doctor Savage,” she said. “I thought the treatment for hysterical women was to slap them across the face?”
“That’s what I was planning next,” he admitted. “Now, what’s the master plan, Boss?”
They sat down again, and when he left half an hour later, Dani went at once to bed. The darkness of the room closed in on her, and when she thought briefly of the rehearsal the next day, it was without strain. Her last thought was of Ben: I hate it when he’s right and I’m wrong! But her lips curved up in a smile as she drifted off.
Julio Garcia was small and fast. He could move around the complicated world of ropes, pulleys, props, and staging gear quicker than a cat. His hands were nimble, and he had taken over the sophisticated aspects of the settings. Usually his light-olive face bore a smile, but as he sat slumped in one of the upholstered chairs behind the curtain, discontentment drew his mouth into a scowl. “I bet we don’t have no jobs when the new dude comes.”
“You got that right!” Earl Layne snapped back. He was six feet tall and very muscular. His skin was so dark that he gave the impression of a black panther, which he had been for a time. Unlike Julio, he was short-tempered and touchy. He had been thinking along the same lines as his partner. “After all, me and you know how to move the sets. Wouldn’t be so easy to break in two new guys. They’re going to open in a couple of days, I hear, but they’ll want white guys. I knew this was too good to last.”
The pair sat there, waiting, for Nero had told them that the new set manager would be there at eight. At the sound of approaching footsteps, they looked up to see Simon Nero coming down the aisle. Both men stared at the man with him, and Julio muttered, “He’s white. Sure hope he’s got a heart for us minority groups!”
“This is Ben Davis,” Simon said. “Julio Garcia and Earl Layne.”
Layne and Garcia nodded and made no other movement, but Ben stepped forward and put his hand out. “Glad to know you, Julio.” He shook the hand of the smaller man, then turned to the other. “Earl,” he said. Then his hand was suddenly swallowed by the massive hand of Layne—and the black man suddenly put forth all his strength. The bones in Savage’s hand were crunched, but he instantly threw his own strength into a grip and stood there, smiling at the other, with no sign of strain on his face. Layne’s eyes opened in shock; he threw every ounce of power into his grip, trying to crush the hand of the smaller man—but nothing happened.
“I appreciate having two experienced men to help me out,” Savage said, his hand suddenly tightening over the larger hand of the other man. Layne felt as if a band of white-hot iron had been forced around his own hand and was contracting with a relentless power. He felt his bones giving way, and his nostrils flared as he fought silently.
But as soon as Ben felt Earl’s hand collapse, he instantly reduced the pressure of his own grip. “I hope I can count on you to be patient with me, Earl—and you, too, Julio?”
Julio said, “Sure, Mr. Davis.” Earl took his hand back, his face a study in disbelief. He stared down at his fingers as if they had betrayed him, then nodded slowly. “You’re the man, Mr. Davis,” he agreed woodenly.
“Just make it Ben, will you, guys?” Then he asked, “How much time have I got?”
“Cast is coming in at noon. But you can’t learn the sets by then. You’ll probably have to work tonight.”
Ben looked at the two men, who watched him carefully. “Can I get you to stay a little late tonight? Don’t like to ask, but I’m a slow learner.”
Julio looked at Earl with a question in his eyes, and Earl nodded at once. “Sure, we can do that—Ben.”
Nero shrugged and left at once. “I’ve read the script—but it doesn’t help much,” Ben admitted. “Only way I ever learned much was by doing. So if you’ll go over the whole bit—very slowly—I’ll try to keep up.”
Earl nodded, and his eyes went to Ben’s hand. “Sure, Ben. It ain’t so hard.” After seeming to struggle with his thoughts, he finally added cautiously, “Me and Julio thought maybe you would want to bring in your own guys.”
Ben’s hazel eyes glinted, and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “And you thought they’d be white guys?”
Julio looked at him nervously, but Earl had read his man. He grinned, his teeth gleaming against his smooth ebony face. “I heard that kind of thing happens. But you’re a minority yourself.” He held his thick hand up and commented, “Matter of fact, you’re a minority of one. Didn’t never meet a dude with a better grip than mine.”
Ben shrugged. “There won’t be a boss here. Just show me the best way the three of us can get this job done.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll take it slow, Ben.” Earl nodded.
The three of them spent all morning going over the play scene by scene. Once, when Ben stepped outside, Julio grinned and said,
“I told you this dude would be all right, didn’t I now?”
The three of them left at eleven, to get a sandwich. When they returned, they found the cast milling around the stage. Nero looked up. “All right, everybody, this is Ben Davis.” He explained, “He’ll be taking Miller’s place. It’s a big job, so let’s be patient. Do you think you’ll be able to go through the play tomorrow, Ben?”
“Earl and Julio have been pretty good teachers this morning. Far as I’m concerned, we can try it now,” Ben suggested.
A wave of surprise swept over Nero’s face, but he nodded. “Sure, why not?”
Jonathan was standing close enough to whisper to Dani, “I’m not sure he can do it, but he’s a stubborn fellow, isn’t he?”
“He says I’m stubborn, and he’s firm.”
Nero got them into their places, and once the play began, Dani realized that her nervousness was gone. Like the rest of the cast, her mind was on the setting, for it called for close timing to make the drama work. She found herself thinking more about Ben and his two helpers than she did about her own work. As a result, by the time the play was well launched, Jonathan whispered to her, when they met in the wings, “I knew you could do it, Danielle!”
The final curtain fell, and the cast gave a sudden cheer. Dani found herself surrounded by them. “You were great! Great!” Simon exclaimed.
Dani quickly demurred, “I think it’s our set man who deserves an ovation.” She looked around and saw Ben talking with Earl and Julio, to the left of the stage.
“Right!” Nero said. “Hey, Ben, you did a great job! Just great!”
Ben looked up, shrugged, and responded, “You don’t need me. These two guys did the work. I just got in the way most of the time.”
Dani didn’t miss the appreciative expressions on the faces of the two stagehands, but they said nothing. It was a way Savage had, getting along with people—a quality she envied.
The Final Curtain Page 10
