'You're not going to tell me?' She couldn't believe it. She reached out, took hold of his jacket sleeve and tugged at it. 'C'mon.'
'No.'
'No fair…' Her eyes were as large as any he'd ever seen, and dark again, with a spark. She tipped her head, a tiny smile on her face. 'I'll show you my tits if you tell me.'
'What?' He was surprised and amused. Amused, he thought, watching himself.
'Out there in the lobby, you were doing everything but feeling me up, so… tell me, and I'll give you a look.'
Lucas considered. 'This is embarrassing,' he said finally.
'I don't embarrass very easily.'
'Maybe not, but I do,' Lucas said.
Her eyebrows went up. 'You're embarrassed? That shows a certain unexpected depth. Do you play the piano?'
She was moving too fast. 'Ah, no…'
'Quick, Davenport, make up your mind…' She was teasing now.
Lucas put her off: 'What do you do besides act? You said you don't get the good parts.'
'I'm one of the world's great waitresses. I learned in the theater restaurants in New York…'
'Hmph.'
'So how about it?' she pressed.
'You'd have to keep your mouth shut,' he said severely.
'Sure. I'm very secretive.'
'I'll bet… All right: The Times guy is in Micronesia, on a skin-diving trip. Micronesia's in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.'
'I know where it is, I've been there,' she said. 'Then there's no way in hell he could have been here last night.'
'No.' Lucas glanced around. There was no one else in the theater area, and the booth was even more isolated. 'So…'
'If you're waiting to see my tits, forget it,' she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
'Ha. Rat out on a deal, huh?' he said, grinning.
'Of course. When you want to find out something, first you try treachery-that wouldn't work in this case-and then you make weird sex offers,' she said calmly. 'Usually, you'll find out what you want to know. I learned that from dealing with agents.'
'Fuckin' women,' Lucas said. 'So casual about the way you break a guy's heart.'
'You look thoroughly destroyed,' she said.
Lucas took a short step toward her, not knowing exactly what he was planning to do. Whatever it was, she didn't back away; but at that moment, a man walked out on the stage below them, and Lucas stopped and looked down. Without a word, and apparently unaware that they were in the booth, the man hit a light switch, stepped to the center of the stage and began juggling. He'd brought a half-dozen baseballs with him, and they spun in a circle, smoothly, without a miss, and then, just as abruptly as he'd begun juggling, he started to tap-dance. Not a simple tap, but a dance almost baroque in its complication, and all the time the balls were in the air.
The man was in blackface. There was something about his head… An effect of the makeup, the wide white- greasepainted lips, the strange flat nose?
Cassie caught Lucas' interest and stepped close behind him and whispered, 'Carlo Druze, one of the actors. This is one of his routines.'
Druze began to sing, a phony black accent, minstrel-show style, in a shaky baritone, 'Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far away…'
'We're doing a thing called Whiteface, it's like a racial-satire thing…' She was whispering, but Druze apparently heard. He took down the balls in a swift, coordinated sweep.
'I've got an audience?' he called, looking up at the booth.
Lucas applauded and Cassie yelled, 'Just us, Cassie and a cop.'
'Ah…' Was he startled? Lucas wasn't sure. Was there something wrong with his face?
'That was really good, Carlo,' Cassie said.
Druze took a bow.
'If only Miz Cassie wuz runnin' d'show,' he said, going back to the accent.
'We'll get out of your hair,' Cassie said, leading Lucas out of the booth and down the steps toward the exit light.
In the hall on the way back to the lobby, Lucas asked, 'Was what's-his-name here last night?'
'Carlo? Yeah. Most of the time, anyway. He was working on the set. He's the best carpenter in the company. And he does great voices. He can sound like anybody.'
'Okay.'
'He's a tough guy,' she added. 'Hard. Like his face.'
'But he was here?'
'Well, nobody was taking names. But yeah. Around.'
'Okay.' Lucas followed her down the hall, watching her back and shoulders in the dim light. She looked delicate, like most slender redheads, but there was nothing fragile about her, he realized. 'You're a lifter, right?' he said.
'Yeah, some,' she said, half turning. 'I don't compete or anything. Do you lift?'
'No. I've got some weights in my basement and I've got a routine I do in the morning. Nothing serious.'
'Gotta stay in shape,' Cassie said, slapping her stomach. They stepped into the lobby, and Cassie stopped suddenly and caught Lucas' arm: 'Oh, no,' she groaned.
'What?'
'Deep shit,' she said.
A man stood over the garbage on the rug. He was dressed all in black, from his knee boots to his beret, and his shoulder-length auburn hair was tied in a stubby ponytail. His hands were planted on his hips, and one foot was tapping in anger. Cassie hurried toward him and he looked up when he heard her coming.
'Cassie,' he said. He had a goatee, and his teeth were a brilliant white against the beard. 'Did you do this? One of the ticket women said you were looking through the garbage…'
'Uh…'
'I did it,' Lucas said, his voice curt. Cassie flashed him a grateful look. 'Police business. I was looking for information involving the Armistead killing last night.'
'Well, are you going to clean it up?' the man asked, nudging a wet ball of paper with the toe of a boot.
'Who are you?' Lucas asked, stepping closer.
'Uh, this is Davis Westfall,' Cassie said from behind him. She still sounded nervous. 'He is… was… the co- artistic director with Elizabeth. Davis, this is Lieutenant Davenport of the Minneapolis police. I was showing him around.'
'She's been a help,' Lucas said to Westfall, nodding at Cassie. 'Mr. Westfall… Miss Armistead's death would put you in sole charge of this theater, would it not? I mean, in one sense, you'd be a… beneficiary?'
'Why… that would be up to the board,' Westfall sputtered. He glanced at Cassie for support, and she nodded. 'But we're a nonsexist theater, so I imagine they'll appoint another female to take Elizabeth's place.'
'Hmp,' Lucas said. He studied Westfall for another moment, skepticism on his face. 'No major disagreements on management?' he asked, keeping Westfall pinned.
'No. Not at all,' Westfall said. Now he was nervous.
'But you'll be around?'
'Well, yes…'
'Good. And don't move this garbage right away. Our crime lab might want to look at it. If they're not here by…'-Lucas glanced at his watch-'six o'clock, you can have somebody pick it up.'
'Anything we can do…' Westfall said, thoroughly deflated.
Lucas nodded and turned to leave. 'I'll show him to the door,' Cassie said. 'I'll make sure it's locked.'
'Thank you,' Lucas said formally.
