“Two reasons. For starters, someone tried to run Rick over tonight.”
“No!” Mattie exclaimed.
“I’m afraid so. Don’t try to tell Rick that—he insists it was a hit-and-run accident. But I was there, Mattie. The cab never blew its horn, never slowed down—and the license plate was covered over with mud. This all may be circumstantial evidence, but still . . .”
Mattie was silent, taking it all in. “And then,” Nancy said, continuing, “there’s the photograph of Rick, the one that was all scratched up. It wasn’t just a publicity shot, the kind he might autograph for a fan. There was a résumé of all the shows he’s been in stapled to the back of it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but actors don’t just give out their résumés to the general public, do they?”
“No, of course not. But lots of people would have them.”
“Like who? A producer?”
“Sure. When an actor auditions for a job, he always brings a picture and résumé,” she said, sitting down. “Pappas would have them. So would the director, and Lillian, of course. His agent would have hundreds. I suppose even Dwayne might have a few left, unless he cleaned out his files recently.” Mattie stared at the wall with a faraway look. “But Dwayne is harmless. I’m sure—”
“Wait. Why Dwayne? I thought Rick said he was with International Management.”
“Yes, but when Rick was first in New York, Dwayne was his agent. The summer I first met both of them, we were in an acting company doing Shakespeare in Oregon. We were so sure of ourselves,” she mused. “Anyway, that fall, we set out for New York and the ‘big time.’ Rick and I did all right, but Dwayne, who was trying to make it as an actor still, ran into trouble getting parts. He was the wrong type somehow. So, he decided to open a talent agency instead. He really got our careers moving, too.”
Just then Bess stepped into the room, a terry bathrobe wrapped around her. “I thought I heard somebody! Hi, Mattie,” she chirped. “Did Nancy tell you about our day? Kind of wild, huh?”
“I read about part of it in the paper,” Mattie said. “It was—” The telephone rang, interrupting her.
“That’s probably for me!” Bess said as she dove for the phone. “Oh, hi!” she purred into the receiver. “Yes, I thought you might— Really? Hmmm—” Suddenly Bess turned a deep crimson and let out a wild giggle. “Umm, just a minute,” she said. “I think I’ll take this in the other room.”
Carefully putting the receiver on its side, Bess gestured wildly at Nancy and then the phone. “It’s Rick!” she whispered excitedly. “Hang up for me, okay?” With that, she ran into the bedroom.
Nancy turned to Mattie. She was pale and her glamorous face was drawn tight. Staring vacantly toward the bedroom, her enormous eyes began to fill with tears.
Nancy replaced the receiver. “Mattie . . .” she murmured gently, “you still love him, don’t you?”
Mattie collapsed back into her chair. “Yes, I do. Heaven knows why,” she answered. “Just a habit, I guess. I’ve loved him since I first saw him. We’ve been through a lot together.”
Nancy put her hand comfortingly on Mattie’s arm. As they listened to Bess giggling happily in the other room, Nancy could feel Mattie’s grief. If a girl were talking with Ned like that, she’d be crushed, too.
“But then,” Mattie said with a sad smile, “Rick obviously doesn’t feel the same way. Well, I’d better go. I might as well get some sleep. We’re still having brunch tomorrow morning, right?”
Nancy nodded and walked Mattie to the door, watching as she went down the stairs to her garden apartment. Just as the actress was about to disappear, Nancy remembered what she had been thinking before the phone rang.
“Mattie! Wait!” she called.
The actress looked up from the stairwell. “Yes?”
“How could I get into Dwayne Casper’s office? I’d just like to take a look around.”
“Well,” said Mattie, her brow wrinkling as she thought, “I suppose you could set up an appointment and say you were an aspiring actress. You could even say we did a show together once.”