The Final Curtain

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That’s not all true, Jake,” Dani said swiftly. “You’re too intense a man to throw your heritage out the window. You know you are!”

  “All right, say I am,” Goldman admitted. “What’s wrong with me going to synagogue and you going to church? People do it all the time.”

  “I couldn’t do it,” Dani asserted. “A man and wife have to be one. How could they be that if they didn’t even agree on the single most important thing in human existence?”

  Goldman said nothing for a time, then nodded. “I knew you’d say that. But there’s more to it than that.”

  She stared at him. “Like what, Jake?”

  “Like maybe you already got a guy lined up.”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “I say yes,” he insisted. “And I could put a name on him—Ben Savage.”

  “That’s—that’s not true!” she cried out too loudly.

  “Ol’ Jake hit a nerve?”

  “We’re just business partners. Naturally we see a lot of each other. But I’d never marry him, Jake. Not unless—”

  She broke off suddenly, and he said only, “Here’s the theater.” He got out and walked her to the door. Taking Dani’s hand, he said seriously, “Watch yourself.” Then he turned and walked away, getting into the car and driving off without a backward look.

  The scene upset Dani so much that she walked by several people without speaking, which made them turn to stare at her curiously. She changed into her costume, then had a cup of tea with Victoria before curtain time.

  “What is it, Danielle?” Victoria asked. “You seem upset.”

  “Oh, I don’t know—nothing really.” Dani patted the older woman’s hand. “I’m going to upstage you tonight if I have to eat the scenery! You’ve been stealing my fans!”

  She kept the conversation light. When Tom’s voice came, announcing the five-minute warning, she went to her usual position. Mickey stood beside her. “You’re getting better all the time, Danielle,” he encouraged her.

  “Thanks, Mickey.” She looked for Ben but didn’t see him before the curtain rose.

  The play went smoothly. Dave Tolliver was no Sir Adrian Lockridge, but he was satisfactory.

  As they passed in the wings once, Ringo said, “No guards tonight, you notice?”

  “I know, Ringo. Have you seen Ben?”

  “He was over by the light switches a few minutes ago.”

  “Tell him I want to see him.”

  The second act started and ended and still no Savage. Dani grabbed Jonathan by the arm, “Where’s Ben?”

  Ainsley, always totally immersed in his role, answered vaguely, “I don’t know. Better ask Earl or the other one.”

  She saw Julio lifting a chair onto one of the movable stages and asked directly, “Julio, where’s Ben?”

  “I dunno, Miz Danielle,” he answered. “Me and Earl are having to make all the changes by ourselves. He better show up soon, or it’s gonna be a big mess around here!”

  Lyle suddenly appeared beside her, whispering, “You missed your cue! Get out there!” He practically shoved her out onto the stage into the arms of Jonathan, who staggered and ad libbed, “My dear! We’ve got to stop meeting like this!”

  The audience laughed, and Dani made it through the scene. As she went offstage, there was still no sign of Savage. Had the killer gotten to him? The thought that he might be lying dead, in his own blood, chilled her and paralyzed her movement.

  Carmen Rio stared at her, then grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong with you? You sick?”

  “No—it’s just that I can’t find Ben.”

  “You don’t have time to look for him,” Carmen snapped. “Come on, you’ve got to change for the bathing scene.”

  It was the scene Dani liked least, but she went with Carmen to the dressing room. Stripping to the skin, she pulled on the flesh-colored work-out suit, with Carmen urging her on. “Hurry up! You only have a minute. Here’s your robe!”

  Dani slipped into the floor-length robe and drew it around her as she walked rapidly toward the east wing, where Earl had maneuvered the big bathtub set into position. There was room enough in back for one person to squeeze through. Going around the hidden wing, she found that Earl had the tub bubbling over. “It’s okay, Miss Danielle,” he said, rising. “I got the water just right.”

  She took off her robe, tossed it into the wing, then got at once into the tub. The water was all right, not too hot, but the rubber mat she sat on was as rough and bumpy as ever. She sat there with only her head and arms out of the water, picking up a dainty white scrub brush.

  The curtain rose, and she forced herself into her role—a woman who shows complete contempt for a man. She lifted the brush, then raised one soapy leg and began to scrub it. Carmen entered, followed by Mickey, saying, “Miss Marian, here’s Mr. Charles. I brought him in, just like you said to.”

  “Thank you, Rosa,” Dani said in a disinterested voice.

  Mickey began his line, “You can’t treat a man this way, Marian!” and stood in front of the tub, tense with anger. It was his best scene, and he did it well. Dani continued to brush her toes from time to time, languidly, for she was to give the impression of a woman who could enjoy tormenting men.

  Suddenly, for the first time, Dani realized that Mickey stood farther back than was his habit—and she knew that Trask was a nitpicker about positions and small things. His back was to the audience, so she alone could get a full view. At first, she had felt amusement at the small actor’s ability to pour a vitriolic stream of words at her as she lay in the tub—while his baby face looked like a cherub’s! Naturally he let his face match his words whenever he was in a position to be observed.

  But as Trask said his lines tonight, she saw that his face was twisted with hatred! His lips were pulled back, and his eyes were wide and staring. Suddenly, a sense of danger swept over her, and her muscles tightened. She wanted to run, but she was in full view of an entire audience. Modesty had been ingrained in her, and the thought of scrambling out of the tub—work-out suit not withstanding—was abhorrent to her.

  Frantically she searched for a solution—but nothing came. Trask had raised his voice to a scream, and she suddenly knew that he had done something! He was going to kill her, and there was nothing she could do about it!

  At that instant, she heard a crash and swiveled her head to see a flat to her left suddenly give way, wood and paper collapsing! A giant cannonball shot through the hole in the set, hit the floor, and suddenly unfolded into the form of a man dressed in dark clothing.

  Savage came out of the fall in one smooth motion. Dani saw his hazel eyes ablaze, and he drove himself right at her, where she lay in the tub. He reached down, one arm beneath her legs, the other behind her back, lifting her free.

  “Ben!” she screamed. “What is it?”

  But he didn’t pause. Taking three steps away from the tub, he practically threw her down! She caught her balance, then stared at him as he went straight for Trask, his arms held in the classic position of a master of the martial arts.

  Trask at once fell into the same position and, with the skill achieved by hundreds of hours of practice, avoided Savage’s chopping left hand. At the same time he launched a vicious kick that would have destroyed Ben if it had landed where he intended. Savage took part of the force of the kick on his thigh, and it drove him to his left. As Trask aimed a kick at Savage’s face Ben swerved. The kick missed.

  Dani heard the cries from the audience, and she thought she heard Jake Goldman, shouting. But just at that moment, Trask threw his whole body into a pile-driving jab, his iron fingers aimed right at Savage’s eyes. Ben caught the hand in mid-air, made a sudden twist, and suddenly the floor shook as Trask hit flat on his back. Instantly Ben yanked him to his feet. With a few short steps, holding Trask’s arm behind his back, Ben brought him to the edge of the tub.

  “No! Don’t!” Trask shouted. He arched his body backward, but the power of Savage’s grip forced him forwar
d until he was poised over the soapy water.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like bathing, Mickey?” Ben demanded. He looked up and caught Goldman’s eye. The policeman had mounted the stage and now had his gun in his hand. “Just one little dip, Mickey!” Ben suggested.

  He forced Trask downward, until it seemed impossible for the smaller man to keep from falling in. “No! Don’t do it! It’ll fry me alive!” Mickey whined.

  “Did you rig the thing, Trask?” Ben demanded and gave the man a small push.

  “Yes! I did it—I put the wire in it! Don’t let me fall in there!”

  Savage pulled him back, whirled him around, said, “You need a bath, Mickey!” and shoved him full length back into the tub.

  Trask loosed a great scream as he fell in the water. But his head hit the end of the tub with a solid clunking sound, and he seemed to go limp.

  Ben reached down and pulled his head up, then looked at Goldman. “He had a live wire rigged into the mat inside the tub. It was set to go off at nine forty-two. I found the timer at nine forty-one plus.”

  Suddenly Dani realized what Savage was saying. The thought that she had come within seconds of being electrocuted hit her hard. Ben darted a glance at her and saw her face wash as white as the tub she’d been sitting in. Her knees began to buckle.

  Savage moved in time to keep her from falling. As he stood with her dripping form in his arms, a flashbulb went off in his face, blinding him. He stood there, blinking and uncertain, while Goldman watched. When Ben made no attempt to put Dani down, the suave policeman asked slyly, “What are you doing, Ben? Trying to guess her weight?”

  Becoming professional, Jake took a pair of cuffs from his pocket. He snapped them onto Trask’s wrists, turned, and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the end of the play. Everybody go home.” Then he turned again to where Ben stood, holding Dani. “When you get her dried off, Savage, I’d like a few words with you—if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Ben looked down at Dani’s face for one moment, then shook his head. “No trouble at all, Lieutenant.”

  18

  The Guilty

  * * *

  Bright sunlight streamed through the high windows banked along the west wall of the large conference room that Goldman had commandeered. A long table with seven chairs on each side, plus one at each end, dominated the room. Ordinarily various law-enforcement boards and committees used it, but this was the most convenient room Goldman had been able to find on short notice.

  Goldman came in at precisely nine o’clock, accompanied by Chief Flannery. The two men walked to the head of the table, and Goldman quickly scanned the room, counting noses while Flannery sat down in the end chair.

  Goldman glanced to his right, where Lady Lockridge sat, and down the line. He counted off Lyle Jamison, Lily Aumont, Jonathan Ainsley, Dave Tolliver, Tom Calvin, and Carmen Rio. Shifting his gaze to his left, he saw Danielle Ross, Ringo Jordan, Ben Davis, Earl Layne, Julio Garcia, Trey Miller, and Simon Nero. Just as he completed his survey, a side door opened, and Mickey Trask was ushered in by two armed guards. “Put him at the end of the table,” Goldman ordered, and Trask took his place in the single chair. He had not shaved, and his eyes were bloodshot, but he said nothing to anyone as he sat down.

  The two guards stepped back against the wall, and Goldman briskly commented, “The chief thought it best that all of you be here for this meeting. Some things have to be cleared up, and before we leave this room they will be.” He spoke positively, his voice filling the room. “This is not a trial or even a hearing. Call it an interrogation or anything you want. Formal charges have been filed against Mickey Trask, and bail will be set today.”

  “You won’t keep me in your rotten jail, Goldman,” Trask stated angrily, his face pale with strain. “You can’t prove a thing!”

  “Trask, you’ll have a lawyer and all the time you want to defend yourself, but this morning, you’ll speak when spoken to.” Trask started to interrupt, but took a second look at Goldman’s face and slumped in his chair sullenly. “Very well. Now, I am going to turn this meeting over to Danielle Morgan—though we will use her real name now, Danielle Ross. By now you all know that she has been working with me very closely on this case, and since she’s been on the inside, I’ve asked her to present the facts in the case.”

  Goldman sat down, and Dani got to her feet. “I really feel that Lieutenant Goldman should be doing this,” she admitted quickly. “Without his assistance—and that of Chief Flannery and his entire staff—solving this case would have been impossible. I’ve made this very clear to the press, and now I want to thank you, Chief, for your fine work.”

  Flannery’s face flushed with pleasure. “Not at all, Miss Ross, not at all! We’re always glad to work with reputable private investigators such as yourself.” The chief had seen the morning papers’ glowing quotes, praising him, and was euphoric. He had met with Denton Cranston, and the two of them congratulated each other over the victory they had forged.

  “Now, then,” Dani said, “there are a number of crimes that we will have to consider. I’ve made a list on this board—” She walked to one wall, picked up an easel with a large board on it, and set it down to Goldman’s right. “Not that I think you’ve forgotten any of these incidents, but I want you to see them in perspective.” The board read, in large block letters:

  Attempt to run down Jonathan Ainsley.

  Attempt to shoot Jonathan Ainsley.

  Attempt to drop chandelier on Lyle Jamison.

  Death by shooting of Amber LeRoi.

  Bomb attempt to kill Jonathan Ainsley.

  Attempt to stab Lily Aumont.

  Poisoning of Sir Adrian Lockridge.

  Attempt to electrocute Danielle Morgan (Ross).

  Six letters threatening Jonathan Ainsley.

  Dani read the list slowly, then turned to face the group, her face intent. She was wearing a simple gray skirt, full and very long, and a long-sleeved blue blouse with ruffles down the front. The wide black belt matched the high-heeled shoes, and a single cluster of deep-blue sapphires at her breast caught the light, flashing as she moved.

  The room was silent, still as a candle in a crypt, as she went on, “I want to leave the two homicides for last. The least serious matters, although they are punishable by law, are the threatening letters.” She moved to the desk and picked up some papers from a small stack. “There were six,” she said, “and they were not alike. Obviously they could have been written by the same person, but Lieutenant Goldman and I felt that they were not.” She did not look at Jake. If she had, she would have seen a slight look of surprise on his face; he quickly covered his surprise by firmly nodding.

  “The first two letters came directly to Mr. Ainsley and were typed on an older model Royal typewriter. As most of you probably know, every typewriter quickly develops its own peculiarities. No two typed pieces are alike, and it is much easier for the police to match a message with a typewriter than to match a bullet to a specific gun—as Lieutenant Goldman will testify, won’t you, Lieutenant?”

  “Certainly, Miss Ross.”

  “We have located the typewriter; the lab has positively identified it as the typewriter belonging to Carmen Rio.”

  “It’s a lie!” Carmen Rio leaped to her feet, her olivetinted face pale. “I never wrote such notes!” She looked at Jonathan Ainsley and began to tremble. “You gave me that typewriter! Tell them!”

  Ainsley stared at Carmen, then shrugged. “That is true, but I gave her the machine at least two weeks before the letters came. I’m very sorry to hear this, Carmen—very sorry indeed.”

  A hum went around the table, but Dani broke in, “The lab report shows that the machine we’re speaking of has two obvious flaws. One is a half-raised capital E, the other is a half-raised capital O. But when additional studies were made with other material typed from the same typewriter—letters written by you, Mr. Ainsley, when the machine was in your possession—the letter O was not raised. In
other words, the letters you offered were typed on the typewriter before you gave it to Carmen Rio.”

  Every eye turned to Ainsley, every ear waited for his answer. But Ainsley sat still, apart from his eyes blinking. Finally he haltingly tried to weasel out of it, “Well—it’s rather—I mean, she must—she must have typed the notes when she was—well, when she was at my house quite a lot.”

  “But she would have had no reason for typing the notes at that time. Would she, Mr. Ainsley?” Goldman interjected. “It was only after you dumped her for another woman that she would have had a motive.”

  Dani waited for Ainsley to answer, but when he only sat there, sallow faced, she continued, “The next pair of threatening letters were completely different—letters and words pasted on a sheet of paper, in the old manner of kidnappers. The tone of the letters was so different! The latter were filled with quotations from Shakespeare, for example. Obviously it’s hard to find the words you want in printed copy. Common words, such as and or the are easy, but others are harder. In these letters, the lines from Shakespeare are clipped in their entirety, from a single book. This is the book they were clipped from.” Dani picked up a thick, brown volume and opened it. “No question, the clippings came from this book.”

  “And whose is it?” Lily asked.

  Dani hesitated. In the silence, Lady Victoria Lockridge’s voice sounded clear and steady, “It is my book. I sent those two letters.”

  Goldman objected, “Lady Lockridge, you must not incriminate yourself! The court could call this entrapment.”

  “I freely admit I sent the letters,” Victoria insisted. Her head was held high, and she looked directly at Jonathan Ainsley. “I have despised that man for years. When I heard he had received threats, I did what I could to make his life miserable. And I would do it again.” Then she looked at Dani. “I know that you found that book in our apartment.”