An Evil Guest

THREE MONTHS LATER VOLCANO GLOWS WITH PROMISE

Dating the Volcano God kicked off the fall season at the Majestic. Rev. Brownlea and his long-suffering sister were visibly nervous as they discussed what effect the family’s move from Enterprise, Kansas, to the South Pacific might have on the reverend’s daughter. The audience was nervous, too, and your intrepid reporter made a mental note: “This volcano has DISASTER stamped all over it.”

After three minutes that seemed more like ten, the daughter appeared in the form of Cassie Casey, an auburn-haired actress about whom I have had good reports. As she floated onstage, the audience fell deathly quiet. All of us were looking at her — “staring” might be a better word — and I doubt that there was even one among us who could have said why.

She spoke, and the plywood tree outside the Brownleas’ window had become a real palm; an intangible breeze carried the scent of tropical blossoms. There is such a thing as magic, no matter what the materialists may say.

Most especially there can be magic in the theater.

THEY had opened in Springfield. As Cassie stood in the wings waiting for her first entrance, Mickey the stage manager whispered, “You’re the only one who’s not nervous, Cassie. How do you do it?”

She grinned. “I’m jumpy as a cat. It’s just that I’m good at hiding it.”

The curtain rose, the Reverend Brownlea and his sister exchanged worries, and very soon after that it was time for her first song:

Behind Mariah, the grass house on a nameless tropical island was wholly real. Before Cassie, the men in pink and mauve dinner jackets and the women with hair-fantasies and pearls were equally real, her people, her audience to be loved and cherished. The song filled her and poured forth of its own volition. It filled the theater, too, although she did not know it — filled it, and a thousand hearts.

Brian Kean and Norma Peiper joined their voices to hers in the chorus. As the last note faded, Brian said, “We’ve been talking about you, Mariah, and your aunt Jane is — ”

At which point the applause began.

MARGARET recognized India’s knock and let her in.

“Congrats, Cassie. You were simply wonder-fuel. You set the damned place on fire.” An old wooden chair groaned beneath India’s weight.

Cassie handed Mariah’s long green gown to Margaret. “Congratulations to us all. Standing ovation? It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Standing ovation for you when you came out to take your bow.”

“For us all, when we bowed at the end.”

“What did you think of our dear sailor?”

“Dean? He was all right.”

Margaret shook her head ever so slightly.

“His tenor isn’t what I was hoping for. His dancing isn’t what Pfeiffer was hoping for, either.”

“He’ll come around. Pfeiffer’s good, and...”

The telephone rang. Margaret answered it, and after a momentary silence handed it to Cassie. “I believe you had better talk to him, Miss Casey.”

Cassie said, “Hello?”

“This is Agent Martin, Ms. Casey. I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Ms. Casey. Really. We’ve been trying to catch up to you.”

“I’m afraid I can be difficult to reach. I’m sorry about that.”

“No offense, ma’am. We have an office at Third and Grand. I wonder if you could be there at ten tomorrow?”

Cassie took a deep breath. “No, Agent Martin. I couldn’t be. Not unless you tell me what it’s about.”

“Is there anyone there with you, Ms. Casey?”

“Our director and my dresser.”

“If they can overhear you, it might be better if you didn’t call me ‘agent.’ Better if you didn’t use my name, too.”

“All right, I won’t. But I’m not going to lie in bed tonight wondering what I’ve been accused of and who has accused me.” Another deep breath. “And I’m not coming to your office. Not voluntarily. If you want me down there, you’ll have to arrest me.”

“We will if we have to. I was hoping to have your cooperation as a good citizen.”

“I doubt that I am one, and I’m darned sure nobody’s going to think I am by the time you’re through with me.”

“Can I explain why I wanted you to come to our office?”

Cassie said, “Do it,” then covered the speaker with her free hand. “Will you wait, India? This could be important, but I’ll wind it up as fast as I can.”

India nodded.

Agent Martin was saying, “People don’t always believe us when we present our credentials. That happens often. I want you to come downtown so you can see for yourself that I’m who I say I am. I’ll still show you my badge and ID when we meet, even if you don’t.”

“Are you there now? In that office?”

“I am. Three of us are working late.”

“Something hot. I’ve got it.” Cassie hung up, and immediately dialed Directory Assistance, giving city and state. “I’d like the office of the FBI.”

Behind her, India stirred in her chair.

On her line, the phone rang once. “Agent Martin.”

“This is Cassie again. I believe you now.”

“Good. When can you meet with me?”

“I can’t.” Cassie’s grin was inward only. “You’ll have to catch me. I hear you’re good at that.”

She hung up. “Unplug it, will you, Margaret? He’s calling back. See if you can find the thing.”

“Yes, Miss Casey.” Margaret threw an anguished glance toward India and hurried to comply.

“The FBI wants you?” India asked.

“They want me to cooperate in an investigation. I didn’t ask what it was about because I wanted to talk to you. He probably wouldn’t have told me anyway.”

“I’d like to know.”

“You will, as soon as I do.” The chair in front of the dressing table was wire-backed, and rather too large for a doll’s house. Cassie sat, taking care not to miss the seat.

“Are you going to go along?” India sounded as worried as she looked.

“Depends. Maybe, if I like what he’s doing. Maybe even if I don’t like it, if he’s got some kind of an arm lock.”

“Tell me when you know. What I want to talk about... Cassie, my job’s to bring the rest of the cast up to your level.”

“You want the false humility?”

“Hell no. Here’s the straight shit. I can’t. Nobody could, not even if you helped. You dance like — I don’t know. Like you’d been starring with the Ballet Russe for the past three years. Dean stumbles around after you and looks ridiculous. I’ve had words with Pfeiffer already. He goes...” India shrugged and sighed like a vacuum cleaner. “So if you can do anything, please do.”

“I’ll try,” Cassie promised.

“That’s all I ask. Vince wants to ham it up. In his part that’s okay up to a point, but we’ve got to keep him on a short leash. You’re onstage and I’m not, so snarl at him anytime he gets out of control.”

“I’ll be your bitch, but I thought he was fine.”

“He was, tonight. He was maybe one-tenth as good as you were, and if I could get the rest up to that I’d be a happy broad. Only he’ll be worse tomorrow night if we let him.”

“Norma was fine, too.”

“Norma was lousy. She was nervous until you came on, and after that she couldn’t stop smiling. Aunt Jane smiles once during the whole stinkin’ show. Once!”

When India had gone, Margaret said softly, “It didn’t really stink, Miss Casey. It was good. Everybody loved it. You had to do all those encores.”

“Oh, did I? Tell me about it.” Cassie kicked off her dancing shoes. “I’m so tired I may pass out.”

“THERE are three critics here from New York tonight, Miss Casey. That’s what everybody says. The Times, The New Yorker, and Channel Something.” The gingham gown had been hung away as Margaret spoke. Cassie’s bra followed; it would be replaced by one that vanished at a distance of eight feet, save for plastic blossoms over her nipples.

Cassie said, “Full house. Did you notice?”

“I did, Miss Casey. Everybody did.”

“I keep looking for an empty seat down front. I haven’t seen one.”

“No, Miss Casey.”

“Body powder, Margaret. More body powder.” The skirt of faux grass hung low on Cassie’s hips, and as she studied it in the long mirror she found herself recalling something Margaret had told her while taking measurements. It left — how much? Ten inches of bare waist, Cassie decided. She turned to get a side view.

Onstage once more, she pulled Donny Duke out of the line of prancing sailors; they danced a wholly unrehearsed hornpipe to the deafening approval of the audience.

TWO days later, Margaret asked, “Were you expecting company, Miss Casey?”

“No, but company might be welcome.” Cassie was still radiant from her final bows. “Who is it?”

“He wouldn’t give his name, Miss Casey. He wouldn’t get out of your dressing room, either.”

Smiling, Cassie threw open the door; the man inside was a stranger, much taller than Gideon Chase.

He rose and took what appeared to be a black leather wallet from a pocket of his ash-striped gray suit coat. Flipped open, it revealed a gilt badge and a photo ID.

Striving to hide her disappointment, Cassie sat down. “Good evening, Agent Martin. Did you enjoy the show?”

“What I saw of it, yes.”

“That’s good. Well, you’ve caught me. What is it you want?”

“To speak to you in private.” The tall man glanced at Margaret.

“I have no secrets from my dresser, Agent Martin.”

“Maybe not, but I do. Let me make my position clear, Cassie.” He sat again. “I haven’t caught you in the sense of wanting to arrest you. I don’t. Just the same, I’ll arrest you if you make me. We need to speak privately. I can do that by putting the cuffs on you and taking you down to my car. After that we’ll drive to some nice quiet spot, and after that we’ll see.”

Something savage had crept into the tall man’s face. He reached behind him; and his hand emerged with a pair of handcuffs, still shiny but not quite new. “Here — or the quiet spot. Which is it?”

Cassie motioned for Margaret to leave, and Margaret did.

“Thanks.” The tall man was replacing his handcuffs.

“I could sue you for false arrest,” she told him, “and if you arrest me, I’ll do it.”

“You could sue the federal government, Cassie.” His grin was almost a snarl. “Not me. It’s your right as a citizen — if they let you — and I wouldn’t deprive you of it.”

“But it doesn’t worry you, Marty?”

“Hardly. The Department of Justice has billions of dollars and a thousand lawyers, including me. Let me get to the point.”

“I wish you would.”

“You’re on good terms with a college professor from Rhode Island, a Ph.D. named Gideon Chase. That’s public knowledge. Do you know where he is now?”

Cassie shook her head. “I wish I did.”

“I hope you’re telling the truth, Cassie. There’s a law against obstructing an investigation. Did you know that? Most people don’t, but you can be sent to prison. Want to try again?”

“If I knew where he was, I don’t think I’d tell you,” Cassie said, “but I don’t.” The telephone rang, and she added, “All right if I get that?”

The tall man nodded, and she picked up the handset and said hello.

“This is Gid. Can you talk?”

Cassie looked annoyed. “Not now, Norma. I’m busy. I’ll meet you for a drink later if I can, but I may not make it. Don’t wait for me.”

“Our friend is back in the U.S. I think you’ll be seeing him soon.” There was a click as Gideon hung up.

“Don’t worry about that — it’ll be all right. See you later.” Cassie hung up, too.

“I won’t keep you,” the tall man said. “We can get through this in two or three minutes. What do you know about William Reis?”

“I’ve heard of him.” Cassie looked thoughtful, and felt the same way. “Very, very rich. He used to be our ambassador to that planet. The one that’s got people on it.”

“Woldercan.”

“Right. Wasn’t he the ambassador there for a while? Other than that...” She shrugged. “He’s a big financier and knows politicians.”

“He’s a master criminal,” the tall man told her. “His legitimate businesses — and you’re right, he’s got a lot of businesses, construction, shipping, and God only knows what else. He has those businesses to launder his money. We want to get him, and now we think we’ve finally got enough evidence to put him away for life. It’s taken us years to collect it.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“I wish you could, too, Cassie. Did you know he’s trying to kill your friend Professor Chase?”

Cassie’s mouth opened, and closed again without a sound. At last she said, “I knew somebody tried. They shot him and he called the police and reported it. He wasn’t there when they came, though. Sharon Bench told me, and I saw it on the news later. Most people seem to think he’s dead.”

“But you don’t.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Suddenly she smiled. “Because they tried to kill him and screwed it up, Marty. He got away, and he was still alive and safe enough to make that phone call. Have you ever met him? Met Gideon Chase?”

“Not yet. I’d like to.”

“He pulls rabbits out of hats. Sometimes I like him and sometimes I want to strangle him, but he wouldn’t be easy to kill.”

“He’s not easy to find, either, Cassie. I know it because I’ve been trying to find him. Either the man who tried to kill him was working for William Reis, or it was William Reis himself. If it wasn’t Reis, we think it was one of his top aides. Dr. Chase’s testimony could be helpful in both cases.”

“You said you had enough on this William Reis to get a conviction, Marty. Why don’t you arrest him?”

“Two reasons.” The tall man cleared his throat. “I’m going to open up for you and give them both. The first is that there’s no such thing as too much evidence in a case like this. Reis is as slick as they come and rich enough to hire the top legal talent in the country.” The tall man hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t have started talking about this, Cassie. I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” She grinned to prove it. “What’s the second reason?”

“We can’t find him. He’s seen here and he’s spotted there, but when we get there he’s gone. We’d love to pick him up and sweat him, but thus far we haven’t been able to do it.”

“You can’t find Gid either.” Cassie switched on a small black fan, wishing she could take off her costume instead. “Maybe they’re together.”

“Chase and Reis? I doubt it. Reis is seen all over, as I said. Chase isn’t seen at all.”

“You want me to tell you if I see him.”

“Exactly. Where you saw him and where you think he might be going. I’ll be out of the office pretty steadily this week and next, so I’ll give you my cell phone number.” The tall man scribbled on the back of a business card and handed it to her.

By the time she had found her purse, Margaret had returned. “Miss Dempster’s auditioning understudies for Mr. Heeny.”

“At this hour?” Cassie cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, Miss Casey. She and Mr. Pfeiffer. I thought you might want to watch.”

“I do. I’ll be there as soon as I get into my street clothes. What about you?”

Margaret nodded.

The last set was still in place on the darkened stage. Before it a young man bobbed and spun to the music of Jules Pfeiffer’s Hyper-Deeper iPod.

Cassie took the seat next to India’s. “Understudies?”

India nodded and said firmly, “Understudies.”

“In case something happens to Dean?”

India nodded again. “Right.”

“Like he might get fired? Something like that?”

“Holy snot, Wanton Woman!” Cramped in the narrow theater seat, India turned enough to face Cassie. “I hadn’t thought of that. But yeah, he might. Like, the first time Wally sees him onstage. Even sooner than that. Could be. You never know.”

“Would it help to see them dancing with me?”

“It might.” India turned to Ebony. “Go ask Pfeiffer. Tell him Cassie’ll dance with them so he can see it.”

When it was over, India said, “You must be ready for a teddy, but if you’d like a drink, I’m buying.”

“No drink, I’m swearing off. What I’d really like is some hot tea.”

“Yeah.” India licked her lips. “You know, I could go for coffee and a cheeseburger.”

Ebony said, “There’s a little place down the street that’s open all night.”

It was all white save for polychrome plastic stools, and self-consciously old-fashioned. “Pfeiffer didn’t like any of them,” Ebony said as they found places around a small white table.

“We know.” India sounded gloomy.

“Well, what about you? What about Cassie?”

The counterman said, “What about four Doubleburgers?”

Cassie and Margaret asked for hot tea, India a Giant Doubleburger and coffee, and Ebony a grilled cheese on whole wheat with bacon and a glass of milk.

“I’m swearing off grilled cheese sandwiches, too,” Cassie announced. “I just decided. No more grilled cheese. Nothing but cooked veggies, raw veggies, bottled water, and maybe a little fruit.”

“You look great,” India told her. “Tired, sure. But great otherwise.”

“No more ice cream.” Cassie sounded pensive. “Hit me over the head, Margaret, anytime I look like I might order ice cream.”

“You’re not fat, Miss Casey.”

“If I get any fatter that grass skirt’s going to slide down to my knees. Live and onstage.”

India muttered, “We should all be that fat. You can’t go much over a hundred pounds.”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid to get on a scale. I kind of liked the blond one.”

India shook her head.

Ebony said, “The thing is, Cassie — India explained it to me. We need somebody who will make you look as good as possible. That doesn’t mean somebody who’s as good as you are, which we couldn’t get anyway. It means somebody who’s pretty good, but in a mix-and-match way. You’re female. Very, very female, but in an energetic sort of hoydenish tomboy style. He ought to be a supercharged bad boy, and very male. Isn’t that right, India?”

“Exactly. That kind of a tenor, who can act a little and dance a little, too. The blond guy you liked was a scarecrow. A good scarecrow but a scarecrow, and that’s not what we need. Dean’s just bad. Male, but a second-rate tenor and a third-rate dancer. Donny Duke can dance the paper off the wall, but he’s not male and he can’t sing for shit.”

“So what are you going to do?” Cassie asked.

“Keep looking. That’s all I can do. I’ve buzzed all the agencies.” India heaved a sigh that bid fair to blow the chrome napkin-holder off the table. “If it gets any worse, I’ll put an ad in the paper.”

As he set her coffee in front of her, the counterman said, “There was a guy in here earlier. I bet he could do it.”

“Send him over,” India told him. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Ebony tittered, and pretended she had not when India glared at her.

A stocky man in a Delft sack suit was chatting with the desk clerk when Cassie got to her hotel. He followed her to the elevator and flipped open a badge case as soon as the doors had closed. “I talked to you on the phone, ma’am. Remember? I’m Agent Martin of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”