Speak Now (15 page)

“When was this?” If she said it was in the time between my meeting Jack and coming home, I thought I’d scream.

Eileen looked even more miserable. “That’s the awful thing. Charley, if we’d known you were going to be back for the season…”

“Eileen, when did he give you the money?”

“We finalized the deal about a week before you came home. Charley, if I’d known you were coming—that you’d have to deal with him—”

Surprising myself, I didn’t scream. But I admit I tuned out their apologies for a few moments as a hundred other questions presented themselves. I started with an obvious one. “How did Rix know you were looking for funding?”

“Aren’t theaters always looking for money?” Simon asked. “I assumed it was a given.”

“No,” Eileen said, speaking slowly. “That’s true for most theaters, in fact for most of the arts, but anyone who knows anything about the Rep knows that Charley always financed it one hundred percent.” She looked at me. “What are you getting at, Charley?”

“I’m not sure.” I knew I was looking for signs of Macbeth everywhere, but I honestly didn’t see how he could fit in to the reappearance of Rix Begley in my life, despite the suspicious timing. How could the vicious killer and the smarmy playboy be connected? And why?

Those were not questions I was comfortable asking Eileen and Simon. Particularly since I had no intention of telling them about Macbeth.

“Okay, here’s what I want to know,” I said. “One, how did Rix know that we’d need money and know the exact time to offer it? And two, why would he have wanted to offer it? Since when does he want anything to do with the Rep? Or me?” I remembered the look on his face when he’d first seen me that morning and realized that he had been as unpleasantly surprised as I had. I held up a third finger. “But most important is three. Where the hell did he get the money?”

They didn’t have any answers, and no matter how long we stayed and speculated, we weren’t going to be able to figure it out. I wanted to talk it over with Jack. Maybe he’d see a pattern or a signal that we’d missed. But I wondered if it was really appropriate to discuss the professional complications caused by an ex-lover’s finances with my new husband. Perhaps Miss Manners has a chapter for just such questions.

“Well, you can count on one thing,” Eileen said. “Rix won’t come back to the theater. Not for rehearsals, not even for opening night. I’ll get a court order if I have to.” She was making furious notes in her little electronic organizer.

“He was only there today for Regan,” Simon said.

We both stared at him.

“It’s the only part of this I’ve been able to figure out. Why he came to the theater.” He looked at me. “Rix obviously didn’t know you were back in town. He wanted to bring Regan in personally and see that her audition went well.”

“Simon, you didn’t make him any promises, did you?”

He looked genuinely shocked. “Charley, of course not. I may be a complete balls-up as an artistic director, but I still have some integrity.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said. “I’m just a little—”

“Excuse me,” Eileen interrupted. “But who’s Regan?”

Simon answered. “Oh. She’s…that is to say…she…”

“She’s Rix’ girlfriend. She’s an actress,” I finished for him.

“Uh huh,” Eileen said. “And Mr. Investor brought her to the auditions today to get her a part in the show.” She grimaced. “At least some things never change.”

“Casting the money man’s girl is a time-honored theatrical tradition,” Simon agreed.

“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about her.” Eileen snapped her organizer shut. Then she saw our faces. “You didn’t.”

Simon shrugged nonchalantly. “She was very good.”

Eileen turned to me. “Tell me you didn’t cast her.”

I followed Simon’s example and shrugged. “She was brilliant.”

Eileen slumped back in her chair. “Shit.”

I decided I’d let Simon do the explaining. Suddenly I was very thirsty. “Another round?” I asked, and without waiting for an answer I grabbed my purse and headed for the bar. The back room had filled up since we’d arrived, and I had to squeeze past two pudgy stockbroker types who were arguing loudly over whether Bono’s portrait should be added to the pantheon of Irish heroes decorating the bar.

When I popped out on the other side of the twosome, I was propelled into a tall man who suddenly turned his back on me. I nearly knocked him over.

“Sorry,” I said, recovering myself and gesturing vaguely behind me. “It’s a madhouse in here—” and that’s when I saw it. The red motorcycle helmet in the man’s hand.

He was already several steps away from me. I didn’t stop to think. I ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Hey—”

He shook me off and kept moving. If the bar hadn’t been so crowded, he’d have gotten away. But just as he got within reaching distance of them, the double doors burst open with the force of an entire sweaty, filthy, victorious rugby team.

A cheer went up from the crowded bar as the team poured in, calling to friends, swearing at one another, slapping and hugging and punching and generally basking in their sporting glory. The motorcyclist didn’t stand a chance. He was thrown back into the room and spun around until he stood directly in front of me.

“Mike!”

Chapter 17

Once he realized he’d been caught, Mike tried a pathetic bluff. “Charley!” He assumed a look of surprised delight. “What are you doing here?”

The wave of rugby players crested around us, then left us in a sudden calm by the door.

“Don’t bullshit me, Mike.”

He looked around at the mayhem of the bar, but a clever answer failed to appear. When he looked at me again it was with an apologetic grimace. “I was only trying to make sure nothing happened to you.”

After my initial shock, it all made sense. “Jack?”

He nodded miserably. “Charley, don’t—”

“Don’t you—” I snapped, intending to finish with
dare tell me what to do!
But I suddenly hadn’t seen the point in arguing with him. “Go home, Mike.”

I ducked past him out of the bar and hopped into the first cab I could find. It wasn’t that far to the hotel from the bar, but with one-way streets and Union Square gridlock, I had plenty of time to work myself into a first-class fury.

In the cab, I called him names that would have made a drill sergeant blush. After I’d finally escaped from a lifetime of Harry’s private detectives, Jack had done the one thing that was guaranteed to make me crazy. I didn’t care that he’d done it out of concern for me. I didn’t care that he’d used his best friend and not some impersonal agency. He’d sent someone to spy on me.

Of course, what did I expect? He’d admitted that he’d sent Gordon to check me out when we’d first gotten serious. Why wouldn’t he think it was perfectly reasonable to have Mike shadow me all over town? Well it
was
different! Doing a background check on a new lover is one thing, but spying on your wife is not acceptable—not to this wife.

And to think I’d been afraid I was getting paranoid! I hadn’t told Jack about the feeling that someone was following me because I didn’t want him to worry! The bastard!

I went on in that vein, muttering profanities and occasionally punching the front seat or slapping the door, causing looks of concern from the driver. “You okay, miss?” he asked.

“Fine,” I barked, and he kept his eyes on the road for the rest of the trip.

I would kill him. I would scream bloody murder at him. I would tear his head off. I would rip him to shreds. I would turn him into a quivering pile of apologies. I would kill him.

When I stepped out of the cab into the night air, I felt like I’d been doused with ice water. Suddenly I wasn’t angry anymore. Suddenly I was terrified. Because I knew what I’d do.

***

I heard Jack as soon as I opened the door.

“Here she is,” he said into the phone, relief clear in his voice. “Charley, where have you been? Eileen is on the phone and she’s worried sick. She’s—”

I took the phone from him and spoke into the receiver. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I hung up. I looked at my husband.

“What the hell were you doing?” he demanded. “You had us frantic, disappearing like that. What were you thinking?”

I didn’t answer.

“What the hell is going on? What happened?” The balance was swiftly shifting from concern to anger.

The phone rang.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” I asked.

“To hell with it. What’s going on?”

I picked up the receiver and held it out to him. “It’s for you.”

He grabbed the phone “What?”

It was Mike. I was only surprised that Eileen had gotten through first. I watched Jack’s face as comprehension dawned. He hung up without saying another word. He met my eyes. “Charley—”

“Jack,” I cut him off. “I will say this once.” I stood directly in front of him and, when I was sure I had his complete attention, I spoke quietly. “If you ever have me followed again, for whatever reason, by whatever person—” I swallowed hard, but knew what I had to say. “We’re finished.”

I don’t know what I expected—explanations, apologies, justifications. He didn’t say anything. He just kept his eyes locked on mine. I could see the exact moment when he understood I was serious. Slowly, he nodded. “I will never have you followed again.”

I took a deep breath. “All right, then.” I sat down, dizzy suddenly.

“But,” he said.

My chin snapped up.

“You have to agree to a bodyguard. At least until I can figure out whether…Macbeth…is still a threat.” He stumbled on the name I’d given his former colleague, but he was deadly serious.

“I’m already carrying a gun,” I pointed out.

“That isn’t enough.” He sat beside me. “I promise you, I swear to you, that I will never ask your bodyguard where you’ve been, who you’ve been with, what you’ve been doing, anything.” He took my hand, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not Harry. I will never spy on you.” His face hardened. “But I won’t have you unprotected.”

“You realize how patronizing that is,” I said. “The implication being that I’m incapable of taking care of myself?”

“Charley, I believe you’re capable of damn near anything,” he said. “But I also know what Macbeth is capable of.” He swallowed. “I won’t have you unprotected,” he repeated.

I leaned back into the cushions and thought about it. Of course I didn’t need a bodyguard, but it wouldn’t be the first time in my life I’d had to put up with one. And it wasn’t really the fact that Jack didn’t think I could take care of myself that had made me crazy, it was the fact that he’d had me watched. Having me protected, with my full knowledge, was a different matter entirely. And I felt I’d made my point.

Finally, I spoke. “I hear Brenda knows a nice man named Flank.”

***

“Charley, how could you say something like that?” Brenda’s face bunched into a mask of concern. “You didn’t mean it, did you? You wouldn’t leave him?”

We were at Harry’s house, drinking iced tea on the terrace overlooking the pool. I was telling Brenda all about the events of the night before. Well, not all about them. Not about the extremely satisfactory way in which we’d sealed our new agreement. But pretty much everything else.

The poolside setting would have been downright idyllic if it hadn’t been for the occasional glimpses of armed men through the trees. God only knew what the golfers thought, catching sight of the large unsmiling men who observed their drives from the fifteenth hole with studied disinterest. At least Harry had kept their presence to the “perimeter.” So far there were no mercenaries in the breakfast room.

I sighed and answered Brenda. “I did mean it. I think I would leave him.” I closed my eyes briefly. “That was the scariest thing.”

She gave me a silent, reproachful look.

“Brenda, I will not be spied on,” I said firmly. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask my husband to respect that.”

“Oh, Charley,” she said sadly. “He was only trying to take care of you.”

“Never mind, it’s all worked out. Jack is probably asking Harry for the use of one of his bodyguards right now.” I gestured toward the game room with my glass. “Maybe you and I can work out a time-share with Mr. Flank.”

“Just Flank, no Mister,” she said absently. “Charley, if I understand you correctly, you’re not upset because Jack thought you needed protection, you’re upset because he was secretive about it. Yes?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s my husband. I expect him to be honest with me. If he thinks I’m in danger he should tell me, not have me watched like I’m some sort of child.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Full disclosure.”

“Why not?”

“Uh huh.” She sipped her tea.

“What?” I demanded.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I was just wondering if you might be just the slightest bit hypocritical on that point.” She gave me an apologetic look. “About full disclosure.”

“What?” I said again, this time as a protest of innocence.

“Well.” She bit her lip. “I could be wrong, but I’m guessing you haven’t told Jack about Rix Begley.” She waited for my reaction.

Damn.

“Have you been talking to Eileen?”

“Of course I have,” Brenda said. “She called me this morning. She was furious with you for disappearing like that. She wanted to know if I knew what was going on.”

“Oh.” I’d called Eileen that morning to explain, but apparently I hadn’t been early enough.

“And then she told me about Rix showing up at the theater.” Brenda’s face returned to the look of concern she’d been wearing most of the day. “Charley, how awful for you.”

“I’ll admit it was a something of a shock.”

She nodded. “Don’t you think you should tell Jack?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Why make a big deal about it?” Thinking things over in the night, I had pretty much resolved not to have the Rix discussion with Jack until I could figure out if there really was a connection between my bastard ex-boyfriend and Jack’s bastard ex-partner.

“Isn’t it a big deal?” Brenda asked. “Eileen said the three of you were going crazy trying to figure out why he’d shown up offering funding right when the Rep needed it. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

“Well, yes,” I shrugged. “But—”

“And don’t you think it’s a good idea to tell Jack about anything suspicious?” she pressed. “And anyway, don’t you think you owe it to Jack to tell him about Rix anyway? In the interest of keeping your relationship honest?”

“It’s not the same thing,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows just the slightest bit.

“It’s
so
not the same thing,” I stated firmly.

She pursed her lips.

“Is it the same thing?”

She raised her glass. “To full disclosure.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell Jack about Rix.” Ugh. But maybe he’d be able to see the connection that I couldn’t.

She beamed. “Oh, Charley, you’ll be so glad.”

Maybe. “Anyway, how are you?” I changed the subject before she could make any further suggestions. “You look fabulous.”

Brenda was wearing a linen sundress in a shade somewhere on the border between raspberry and orange sorbet. It made her skin glow and the slit up the side showed a lot more leg than usual for her.

“Do you like this?” She looked down at herself. “Harry seems to think shopping and going for spa treatments are the only acceptable pastimes for Cece and me.” She smoothed out a wrinkle on the dress. “Can you believe this is a Calvin Klein? I’m sitting poolside on a weekday afternoon wearing Calvin Klein.” She shook her head.

“And unless I miss my guess,” I commented, “those are no Birkenstocks on your pedicured feet.”

She looked down at the two thin straps of buff leather holding a high heel on her foot, wiggled her bright orange toes, and sighed. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“Mmm,” I agreed.

“They’d probably get me blackballed from the faculty lounge.”

“A small price to pay.”

“Maybe.” She contemplated her footwear.

“Charley,” she said after a while.

“Um hmm?”

“When do you think I can go home?”

“What’s the matter?” If Harry had done something to upset her, I’d kill him.

“It’s just that…” she gestured, taking in the pool, the grounds, the house. “I’m getting used to all this.” She turned to me. “I think wealth can be dangerously addictive.”

Oh. As long as it was the lifestyle she was getting used to, and not the company of a certain bad-boy uncle of mine.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” I said. “Jack and I have some leads, but I don’t know when…things…will be safe again.”

“You and Jack?” Brenda replied skeptically. “You and Jack have some leads?” She leaned back in her chair, letting the sun hit her face. “If you don’t mind my saying so, it’s no wonder Jack wants to borrow Flank.”

I decided not to be insulted. Brenda had been through a lot, most of it—okay, all of it—my fault.

“Do you only take him to school?” I asked.

“Who? Oh, Flank,” she said. “I only have one more class. We were supposed to have two, but I decided to make the final a take-home assignment that they can email me when they’re done. So the last class is on Monday, but I’m not bringing Flank.”

“Won’t Harry freak out?”

“I’m bringing Harry.”

Oh?

“He’s such an idiot,” Brenda went on. “He’s convinced we’re all going to bring cupcakes or something for the last day.”

I stared at her. Did she just call Harry an idiot?

She saw my look and made a face. “I know he’s your uncle, Charlie, but really. He insists on believing that Women’s Studies is another term for Home Economics. He thinks I’m teaching girls how to cook and sew.”

She did call Harry an idiot! “Brenda,” I said, grinning so hard I thought my cheeks would split. “I’m so happy! What’s the last lecture on?”

She smiled slyly. “Well, it was scheduled to be a survey of feminist ethical issues as portrayed in the mainstream media.” She paused and rattled her ice cubes. “But I’ve decided to substitute a session on media representations of subversions of the patriarchy.” She looked at the pool and stretched contentedly. “What do you think?”

I beamed. “I think it’s just what your students deserve.”

“I thought so too. Oh, look, here come Jack and Harry.”

They were squinting in the sunlight after the darkness of the game room. Harry, in his trademark cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirt, moved as though he’d just gotten off a surfboard, taking wide strides and holding both arms up to wave hugely at us. Jack, beside him, looked like a sleek thoroughbred in his dark gray tee-shirt and black jeans.

“Pour me some of that tea, Baby Doll,” Harry said, pulling up a chair to join us. “Um, I mean—” he shot a look over to Jack. “I’ll have a glass of tea,” he cleared his throat. “Charley.”

I stopped in mid-reach and stared at Harry. He glanced again towards Jack, who kissed me lightly on the cheek before folding himself into the chair next to me, the slightest of smiles on his face.

“I’m about as parched as an old man can get,” Harry announced, pouring his own tea.

I looked at my watch. “Really? I’d have thought the sun was over the yardarm somewhere in the world.” Harry had never really been a stickler for which time zone he was in when he declared it the cocktail hour.

“Ah, but Baby—um, Charley,” he said, grinning broadly, “it’s the new Harry!” He swallowed the drink in one gulp. “Clean and sober!” He patted his not inconsiderable midsection. “Never felt better in my life!”