A Farewell to Yarns

completely concealed the upper lip.

Albert Howard didn't sound like Richie Divine.

He was Richie Divine.

Twenty-three

It took all the self-control she had to keep from  turning and saying, 'I know who you are! I love your records.' Had they not been on stage in front of a lot of people, she would have.

As the last piece dragged on, however, she started having second thoughts. It was impossible. Richie Divine had been dead for years and years. He died when Katie was a baby. Fifteen years ago this month. Everybody knew that. But did they? Everybody knew his plane had crashed. She remembered her conversation with Mel about it. He'd said the plane and passengers were blown to so many pieces that nothing was identifiable. Was it possible that Richie Divine hadn't been a passenger on that plane?

If the man standing beside her actually was Richie Divine, he obviously hadn't died over the ocean when the plane exploded.

But why? How?

She almost missed her cue to step down. Albert Howard jiggled her arm, and she came to with a start and followed him down the risers. Trailing him, she noticed he was getting a bald spot on the top of his head. How sad that this golden idol of youth should have become paunchy and middle-aged in the obscurity of his own shadow. That was what he'd done--lived all these years as the pitiful second husband of Richie's wife. How terrible that must have been for him, to go from being an international superstar to an unknown nerd.

She almost spoke to him in the robing room, but didn't know what to say. It crossed her mind, too, that she had no business questioning him or even revealing that she'd inadvertently caught on to a very private secret. As she hung up her robe and went to repack the sample sale items, she recalled something Fiona had said about someone trying to get Albert to contribute to a project. The gist of the story was how insulted Albert had been at the implication that it was really Richie Divine's money, not his. Jane now understood the painful irony of the incident. Poor Albert must have felt the insult doubly.

The minute she got home, she phoned Shelley. 'I made coffee cake this afternoon,' she said seductively. 'If you'll come over and eat some with me, I'll tell you something that'll knock your socks off.'

“I'm not dressed.... Both socks?'

“Both socks,' Jane assured her.

A moment later Shelley came in the kitchen door with a long car coat on over her nightgown and robe. She was wearing a pair of Paul's big snow boots, and there were curlers in her hair. 'This had better be good.”

Jane peeked around the corner. Mike was watching MTV over the top of his chemistrybook. Todd was building a Lego space station. She knew Katie was upstairs on the phone. She put the coffee cake and plates on the table, and when they were seated, she said, 'The National Enquirer would set me up for life for this information, which neither of us are ever going to tell anyone. Agreed? I don't think anybody but one other person in the world knows.'

“Has this bazaar baked your brain? What are you babbling about?”

Jane lowered her voice and leaned forward. 'Richie Divine didn't die. He's Albert Howard.”

“What!'

“Shhh. I mean it. I stood next to him in the choir tonight, and since I wasn't supposed to sing, I just listened. Suddenly it hit me that I'd heard him before. I swear it's true, Shelley.'

“Jane, as your friend—'

“I know, you think I've gone bats. But I haven't. Listen, that plane crash he was in—the plane blew up in midair, and the bodies were never found. Mel told me. His sister had been to the last concert, and he remembered the details.”

Shelley leaned back, nonplused. 'But why pretend to be somebody like Albert Howard?'

“I've been thinking about that. There was a story that the mob was after him for testifying against them. Mel told me that, too. I'd either forgotten that or never known it.'

“That's why they planted a bomb or whatever on the plane,' Shelley said. 'I read about it in a magazine.'

“Well, if he'd missed the plane for some reason, it would have been logical to go along and play dead. It was the Only way to be safe from them in the future. If they'd known he'd lived, they'd have just kept after him until they succeeded.'

“Oh, Jane. I don't know—'

“Shelley, if you'd heard him singing, you'd believe it. His voice is deeper now that he's older, but I swear it's the same man.'

“But they don't look a thing alike.

“No, but neither does Sharon Kellick look like herself.'

“Who in the hell—? Oh, yes. That woman down the block who had the face-lift, and somebody called the police on her for housebreaking in her own house.'

“Remember that show we saw on PBS a year ago about the plastic surgeons who work on severely malformed children? They made perfectly grotesque faces look normal. Imagine how easily someone like that could make a handsome face look ordinary. Richie Divine could have paid for the best doctor and bound him to secrecy. Maybe there was even a federal witness program then.'

“I don't know, but they're not authorized to blow up planes.'

“I didn't mean they did, but after it happened, he could have asked for help getting a good plastic surgeon.'

“Okay, I'll give you that. But what about his hair? It doesn't look dyed, and I've never heard of a way to make your hair grow a different color.'

“But it sure looked bleached when he was a star. Nobody who isn't an albino has hair that'snaturally that blond. Maybe this is the color it was all along.”

Shelley nibbled some cake thoughtfully. 'Say, this is good. What about build? Albert Howard is sort of dumpy.'

“Come on, Albert Howard is fifteen years older than Richie Divine was. Anybody can put on weight, even if age doesn't do it for them. Especially if there's an incentive like saving your own life. I could look like a blimp in a month without nearly as good a reason.”

In spite of herself, Shelley was coming around to believing it. 'Think about poor Fiona. All the horrible things the press said about her for marrying again so soon after Richie's death. And she took it all in silence. Now we know why. She wasn't marrying somebody else. She was remarrying Richie. She knows that, doesn't she?'

“She must. They married only a year or so after Richie 'died.' “

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Shelley said, 'That's why Albert doesn't seem to mind that room you told me about. The shrine to Richie. It's a shrine to him.'

“Of course! I'd forgotten about that.'

“Do you suppose anyone else knows?'

“I'm sure they don't. Unless maybe a plastic surgeon. It's too big a secret to have been kept for so long by anybody but the two people most concerned with his safety. Albert and Fiona wouldn't dare let anyone know for fear they'd tell. It's like I said about The National Enquirer. You and I won't say anything about it, but lots of people would.'

“Oh, Jane. I'm almost sorry I know. It's going to kill me to keep this to myself. Just imagine, we know Richie Divine. It's like finding out your kid's guitar teacher is Elvis, risen from the dead.'

“Good comparison. I guess Richie could leave all the fame behind but couldn't stay away from the music. That's why he's in the choir.'

“That was taking a risk of discovery, wasn't it?'

“Not much. I don't think he ever does solos. And even though I'm absolutely bereft of musical talent, I've got an unusually good ear for it. I don't think many people could have made the connection. It's not as if the choir is ever going to do 'Red Christmas' and feature him. A different kind of music entirely must have seemed safe. And it has been.'