Command Performance (24 page)

“There’s nothing I would be prouder to give her.” He couldn’t open the box, but his hand gripped it as tightly as his father’s had. “Thank you, Papa.”

Armand looked at his son, as tall as he. He remembered the boy and all the years in between. He smiled and embraced the man. “Bring her to me when she wears it.”

* * *

Eve watched two stagehands, armed with spray cans, painting pipe. She stifled a yawn and made a notation. She was definitely going to have to invest in some new equipment once they were back in the States, which was in less than five weeks. In two days the first production would open; four weeks later the last production would close. They’d take a couple of days to break down the last set, then that would be that.

The company was already booked on a road tour through the fall. She was negotiating a three-week run in L.A. for January. And if she didn’t miss her guess, her desk would be piled with offers and inquiries after her return from Cordina.

Her return.

Eve walked to the stage manager’s desk at stage right and tried to concentrate on the rehearsal. The actors were in full costume and makeup. She couldn’t see a flaw. The big red urn she’d commissioned Pete to buy stood out like the beacon she’d imagined. The upholstery on the sofa was faded. The doilies were bright and stiffly starched.

It was perfect. She had organized it, and it was perfect. She wished she could find the pleasure in it that she’d always felt before.

“It looks great.”

The whisper at her ear had her jolting. “Ben.” She pressed her clipboard against her heart. “What are you doing here? This is supposed to be a closed rehearsal.”

“Of course that didn’t include me. I explained that to the doorman. Tell me, do you call him ‘Pops’ like in
the American movies?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” She glanced behind him and saw his guards hovering at a safe and discreet distance. “Shouldn’t you be out doing something official?”

“Don’t lecture. I’ve been slaving away for weeks. I stole a couple of hours.” The two precious hours he would have spent with his horses. “I just thought I’d stop by and see how things were going.”

“If you’re looking for Doreen,” Eve began dryly, “she’s upstairs in Rehearsal Hall B. We do have three other plays to deal with, you know.”

“Okay, I can take a hint. I won’t distract Doreen while she’s rehearsing.” The truth was, he hadn’t given her a thought. He scanned the stage as the play unfolded. “Most of your people have been with you quite a while, I suppose.”

“Some have, some haven’t. Look, let’s move down to the audience. I haven’t had a chance to watch from that angle today.”

Bennett went with her, settling in the center aisle, mid-theater. The guards moved in three rows behind. Eve didn’t notice there were two more. They had been assigned to her.

“It looks good,” she murmured. “I’ve sat all the way up in the back balcony and it still looks good. The acoustics in this place are simply incredible.”

“I guess you get to know your people pretty well,” Bennett ventured. “Socially, I mean, not just on a professional level.”

“When you take a play on tour you usually do. But, then, actors and theater people are just like everyone else.” She smiled as she looked at him. “Some are more sociable than others. Thinking of joining up?”

“Can I get an audition?”

“You might do better applying for a job as a stagehand. They have more opportunity to flirt with the ladies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Just how many people work for you?”

“It varies with the production.”

“How about now?”

Brows drawn together, she turned to him again. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“All of a sudden?” she countered. “You’re asking a lot of questions you never bothered to ask before.”

“Maybe I just thought of them. Ever hear of passing the time?”

“Ben, I know you, and since Reeve asked me some very similar questions yesterday, I have to figure there’s a purpose to them. What do my people have to do with the investigation?”

He stretched out his legs, insolently resting them on the seat back in front of him. “Hard for me to say, since I’m not investigating. Eve, I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to the lady onstage in her slip.”

“Bennett, don’t play games with me. I thought we were friends.”

“You know we are.”

“Then level with me.”

He hesitated only a moment. Because he was her friend, because he respected her, he’d already made up his mind. “Eve, don’t you think we should consider all the possibilities?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“The second call was made from inside the complex.” He watched her eyes widen. “I didn’t think they had told you. I thought they should.”

“You mean here, from the theater?”

“They can’t pin it down that specifically. They just know it wasn’t made from outside the building. There were guards on every door, every entrance. There was no sign of any break-in. The bomb had to be planted by someone inside. Someone who belongs inside the complex.”

“And you’re narrowing in on my people.” Her protective instinct came first. “Damn it, Ben, there are three other theaters in this complex. How many other actors, technicians, maintenance people?”

“I know, I know.” He placed a hand over hers to cut her off. “The point is, it’s very likely the person was someone who wouldn’t be questioned for being in this theater, backstage, even in your office. Who’d question
one of your own, Eve? It’s unlikely even you would.”

“And why would one of my people threaten your family?”

“I’m told Deboque pays very well.”

“I don’t believe it, Ben.” She turned back to stare at the stage. Her actors, her troupe. Her family. “If I did, I’d scrub this production right now and send everyone home. These people are actors, technicians, seamstresses, for heaven’s sake. They’re not assassins.”

“I’m not saying it has to be—I’m just saying it could be. I only want you to think about it, Eve.” His hand pressed down on hers. “And watch yourself. I love you.”

All the anger drained. “Ben, if I thought I’d been responsible for bringing someone here who would—”

“Wait, don’t even finish. Whatever the answer is, you aren’t responsible. Deboque is.”

Deboque. It was always Deboque. “I’ve never even seen him. I don’t know what he looks like, and he’s pushing into every part of my life. He has to be stopped.”

“He will be.” Bennett’s voice was mild, but she did know him well. The thread of violence ran through it. “Reeve’s already started something. It’s going to take time, more time than any of us would like, but he’s going to be stopped. I just hope I can have a hand in it.”

“Keep your hands in your pockets. I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.”

The touch of violence was gone as he grinned at her. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m more interested in women and horses than I am in glory.”

“Just keep it that way.” She rose, dragging her hair back with her hand as she did so. “I should go up and check on the other rehearsal.”

“You’re working too hard, Eve. It’s starting to show.”

“Gallant. Always gallant.”

“You’ve got to stop worrying about Alex.”

“How?”

“All right, so you don’t have to stop worrying about him. Try to trust the fates a bit.” He rose with her, then
reached out to toy with her hair. “He’s destined to rule Cordina. I’m not, thank God. Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

“I always believe that when I see him. I have a harder time when I can’t.” She kissed him, then decided it wasn’t enough and hugged him, too. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Play some gin rummy?”

“You already owe me fifty-three dollars from the last time.”

“Who’s counting?”

“I am.” She managed to smile.

He watched her walk down the aisle and back behind the stage. The two guards trailed after her.

* * *

Gabriella and Chris came by and tried to convince her to take the afternoon with them at a seaside café. Her assistant brought her coffee and sugar cookies and clucked her tongue. One of the actors offered his dressing room for a nap and one of the staff from makeup suggested a cream to help with the shadows under her eyes.

Eve was steaming by the time rehearsals were wrapped for the day.

“If one more person, just one more, tells me I should get some rest, I’m punching him right in the mouth,” Eve muttered to herself as she strode down the backstage corridor.

“You won’t hear it from me.”

Her heels skidded a bit as she stopped. Pete was crouched over one of his cases, locking up props. “I thought just about everyone had cleared out.”

“Just about have.” Keys jingled at his waist as he stood. “I’ve got a couple of more things to store. Couldn’t find a box big enough for that vase or whatever it is.”

“Leave it on the set. It’s too ugly for anyone to steal.”

“You said you didn’t want class.”

“And you delivered.” She rubbed at the tension gnawing at the back of her neck. “It’s perfect—really, Pete. So are the doilies. I know you’re conscientious, but the theater’s going to be locked up tight. With security the way it is around here, I don’t think you have to worry about anyone making off with the props. Why don’t you go get some dinner?”

“Thinking about it.” Still he hesitated, toying with his keys.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nope. Got something to say.”

Amused, Eve nodded. “Go ahead, then.”

“You got my dander up the other day when you ordered me out of here. Yanked on me, too, and threatened to fire me.”

“I didn’t think you were pleased.”

“Guess I’d have moved a lot faster if I’d known what was going on.” He scratched his chin and looked at his shoes. “Talbot told us how you were running around the place, making sure everybody got out, when you knew there was a bomb. Seems pretty heroic to me. Stupid,” he added, looking back at her. “But heroic.”

“It wasn’t stupid or heroic. It was necessary. But thanks for the thought.”

“Like to buy you a drink.”

For a moment she was speechless. It was the closest Pete had come to a sociable concession in all the time she’d known him. “I’d like that, too. I have someone meeting me here tonight. How about tomorrow, right after rehearsals?”

“Sounds all right.” Pete scratched his chin, shifted his belt, then started down the hall. “You’re okay, Ms. Hamilton.”

“You, too,” she murmured, and felt better than she’d felt all day.

She started down the opposite way, bypassing her old office for her temporary one. Six-fifteen, she thought with a look at her watch. Alexander was late. She’d waited throughout the day, edgy and short of temper, for six o’clock. She’d just have to wait a little longer.

Why did he want to talk to her? To break things off as cleanly as possible. He had to know how deeply in love with him she was. He didn’t want to hurt her. Hadn’t he said so? He’d want to break things off now, before things became even more difficult for her.

He still wanted her. She had no doubt about that. But there was his sense of honor. He could only offer her a few hours in the night in secret. His sense of right, of fairness, wouldn’t allow him to continue for long. Wasn’t that one of the reasons she loved him?

No regrets, Eve reminded herself. She’d known things couldn’t last and had accepted that from the outset. Princes and palaces—they had no place in her life.

With a sigh she opened the small book she’d put in her briefcase that morning. Inside was the flower she’d pressed, the one Alexander had tucked behind her ear. Two weeks ago? A lifetime ago. She closed the book, telling herself not all women had even that much to comfort them.

You’re okay, Ms. Hamilton
. Well, that was exactly right. She was okay, and she was going to go on being okay. Life was meant to be faced for what it was.

She would wait, but she wouldn’t brood. Going behind her desk, Eve took out one of the new files she’d started to compile.

The theater was quiet. Then she heard the bang.

Eve was halfway out of her seat by the time she heard the footsteps race past her door. Her only thought was to lecture whoever among her troupe was still in the theater, making a commotion, when they were supposed to be at dinner. The moment she reached the doorway she saw the body.

Everything froze. Then she was running down the hall, crouching over the unidentifiable man. There was blood already seeping through his shirt. A tray holding a water pitcher and some glasses had been knocked over. Shards of glass were everywhere. Thinking fast, she tore off the long cardigan she wore and draped it over him.

The phone. She had to get to the phone. Fighting for calm, she ran down the hall again and into her office. Her fingers were damp and trembling when she picked up the receiver and dialed.

“This is Eve Hamilton at the Fine Arts Center, the Grand Theater. A man’s been shot. I need an ambulance. The police.” Her breath caught as she heard footsteps coming softly toward her door. “Hurry,” she whispered. “Please hurry.”

She set the receiver on the desk and looked frantically around. There was no way out, no way but the door. The footsteps had stopped, but where? How close? Trembling, she edged around the desk. Whoever it was would kill her, kill her and …

Six-twenty. The face of her watch seemed blurred, but she remembered. Alexander. They were waiting for Alexander.

Moisture pearled on her forehead, but she inched closer to the door. She had to warn him somehow. She had to find a way. Even as she reached to pull the door the rest of the way open, it swung slowly toward her.

She saw the gun first. Black, deadly. Then the hand that held it. Biting back a scream, she looked at the face.

The man who had fenced with Alexander. The man who had smiled at her, whose face had seemed vaguely familiar. Now she remembered. He’d been at the theater before.

He wasn’t smiling now. His face was grim, set. She looked in his eyes, and knew he was a man who could kill.

“Mademoiselle,”
he began, and she acted.

She swung, using the back of her fist to connect forcefully with the side of his throat. As the gun clattered out of his hand, she brought her stiffened open hand down on the back of his neck. Panting, she looked down at him, crumpled half in and half out of her office. She wanted to run, just run, but forced herself to think clearly.