Tabitha looked at Peter who nodded. He set his lap top computer on the table, then handed Tabitha and Cabot a two-page paper. "This is a generic contract. Read though it and tell me what changes you want made."
As Tabitha read through the contract, she realized that far from being a generic contract, Peter had drafted it with her interests in mind. She wondered if Leland would insist on a lot of changes.
"It looks okay to me." He looked at Peter for a moment. "I really don't think this is a generic contract. I think you already drafted it for Tabitha. I probably should have my attorney read and comment on this, but since my main concern is to get the paintings finished in time for our grand opening, I'll sign this contract and expect Miss Black to hold to the agreement."
He picked up a pen from the desk and signed his name to both contracts with a flourish, then he handed the pen to Tabitha who also signed her name.
"Good. Let's get on with our planning," Cabot looked like a kid in a candy store.
As Peter turned to leave, Cabot pulled his checkbook from his pocket. "What do
I owe you?"
"150 pounds."
Without another word, Cabot wrote out the check, then handed it to Peter. "Thanks, Peter." Tabitha’s voice was grateful as she gave him a hug. "I appreciateit."
"You're welcome," he said as he pulled the door shut behind him.
Leland sat down at the table where they had been working. "The next painting will be Claudia Mercier in Swan Lake. Claudia has black hair and eyes. She will be doing the death scene. Her costume is made of white feathers."
Tabitha bent over a new sketch. "I was thinking of placing her on green grass with a lake in the background. There would be swans on the lake, like this."
"I like that idea, also. I would like to have Raelynn Renell in Sleeping Beauty with Francoise Fabre as the prince. I think that one will be difficult because I want them dancing rather than asleep."
"I could paint a castle in the background, overgrown by vines and briars." "An enchanted castle with turrets and battlements?"
"Yes, but I think perhaps idealized, after all, this is a fairy tale."
Then I want to do something with the Nutcracker, but I can't decide if I want to use the dancer that is the Sugar Plum Fairy or the young girl who plays Clara."
"The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' has been painted a lot. If you decide not to use Clara, I think it would be better if you picked another part of the ballet, one less known."
"How would you do Clara, if I picked that one?"
"I like the idea of Clara, in her night dress, dancing with her Christmas
Nutcracker."
Suddenly, there was a great deal of noise in the hall. Tabitha could hear a strident voice demanding Leland Cabot. The door was literally thrown open, slamming back against the wall. Tabitha cringed as she heard the plaster crack. A tiny, sleek, Asian whirlwind entered the room.
"Leland, I told you I wouldn't stand for this! You walk out on me. You leave me in London alone, abandoned. I am crushed. Devastated! Now, I see you go behind my back with another woman. No! And no! And no! How could you do this to me!"
Chapter 4—Ghost Haven
She dropped into a black leather chair and burst into tears."
"Liu, I didn't abandon you. I wanted to come here. You wanted to stay in London and shop. I told you to join me when you were finished. You knew I wanted to get Miss Black to do the paintings for the foyer."
Ignoring him, she continued, to moan and cry.
After watching this display for a few moments and noticing that there were no tears on her cheeks, Tabitha grinned. "I think you ought to throw water on her. I think that's the standard treatment for hysterics."
She picked up the carafe of water from the desk. "Or if you don't want to make her mad at you, I'll do it."
Angrily, Liu jumped to her feet. "You dare throw water on me-I'II--I'II-"
"I thought that would stop the hysterics." Tabitha glance said she understood Liu’s feelings.
Liu looked sharply at Tabitha. "Who is she?"
"Darling, this is Tabitha Black. She painted those haunted scenes that you liked so much. We have been working on the designs for the paintings. Tabitha needs to get started immediately or she won't be able to get such large pictures done by our grand opening."
Liu picked up Tabitha's sketches and notes. After examining them carefully, she said, "Darling, these are good. I must admit that I wasn't excited about these paintings because it is what everyone does, however this woman is very innovative but-"
"But what?" Tabitha asked cautiously.
"The dances-they are what everyone would have. I hate the Nutcracker.
Everyone does it. I know it is popular around Christmas time-but, darling, why not use some of the more lavish ballets--Pefrouchka, or Scheherazade, or maybe Firebird."
She snapped her fingers. "I think La Slyphide would be wonderful and so would Giselle or perhaps Harlequinade. Think of the costumes we could use. Real costumes instead of the simple ballet tutu. They could be lavish and exciting."
"But, my little bird, no one would know what ballet they represented."
Tabitha looked thoughtfully. "You could have a small, gold plaque at the bottom telling the ballet."
"Dancers hate La Slyphide because they must wear the wire to float through the air."
"Once I saw the dance done for the first time, then I could use the pictures we were talking about. When I was close to finishing, I could watch the dance again to make sure I caught the feeling."
Cabot was silent for nearly five minutes while both women watched him. "Alright. 1 like the idea."
Liu beamed. "Which ballets should we do then. There are so many wonderful ones."
"I would suggest keeping Cinderella and Swan Lake because people know them and are comfortable with them. Then the other four could be the more lavish productions." “
"I want Firebird and La Slyphide," Liu voice was emphatic. "They are my favorites. I
want her to paint Elise doing the grand jete in that rich yellow and orange costume I designed
for her." "Does Scheherazade have an Arabian Nights theme?" Tabitha asked.
Liu nodded.
"Then let’s do that one. I can think of several wonderful backdrops."
Quickly, she sketched three backgrounds. The first showed a night sky with Scheherazade doing an Attitude Derriere with a fire and the outlaw under her outstretched back leg.
The next one showed the dancer doing a Croise Devant but holding the magic lamp above her head. The background was an Arab tent. The third one showed a dancer doing a Battement with the outlaw chief standing behind her, his arms on her waist. The background was a huge Persian carpet which started under the dancer's feet and extended up the tent wall behind her. The carpet seemed to float in the air.
Liu touched the first sketch. "This one I like. What do you think Leland?"
He picked up the first sketch, then looked at the others. "I like this one but there would be no scene from the ballet that showed an outside setting."
"If that bothers you, I could put a tent as the background but I liked the contrast between the night sky, the fire and the dancer," Tabitha said.
"Darling, I don't really think it matters if the background is from the ballet at all. It is the overall feel of the painting that matters."
He paused for a moment. "I see what you mean. We want to give them the desire to come to the ballet when we perform Scheherazade rather than be meticulously accurate as to the stage set."
"I think this sketch does that, don't you?" Liu looked at her husband.
"Yes, I tend to agree with you."
"I need to do some research for Firebird and Le Sylphide before I can figure out the backgrounds." Tabitha said. "I don’t remember seeing either of them."
Liu opened her computer, saying, “I can show you the costumes. That would help you more than watching someone else’s ballet.”
Tabitha walked arou
nd to stand behind her. After watching for a minute, she said, “Stop. I want to use that one in the painting. It’s so unusual that people won’t be able to not look at it, especially in that pose. It’s wonderful.”
Cabot walked over to look at the screen. “But that’s Jess.” He looked at his wife, his face flushed a bright red. “I don’t want to use her.”
Liu said calmly. “Nonsense. You must not let your personal feelings interfere with business. She would be perfect and she was very popular in that role.”
Tabitha could feel Cabot almost vibrating with tension. She felt an urge to move away from him.
Liu looked up at him frowned but stayed silent. She was pushing her will on him.
Suddenly, Cabot capitulated. “Have it your own way. But remember what a virago she is when you try to work out her fee.” He yanked open the door, then slammed it shut behind him.
Tabitha turned back to Liu who was watching her. “Is there going to be a problem using this Jess?”
“No. My husband had an affair with her. She wasn’t happy when I found out.”
“I see.” Tabitha picked up her sketches. “Mrs. Cabot, I only have five months to do more than a year’s worth of painting. If she is going to be difficult, then I would rather you picked someone else.”
“She will not be difficult, I promise.” She shut her laptop and walked to the door. “I think it would be good if you could see the theatre. You won’t know what you need until you do. I will need a list of supplies.”
She opened the door. Cabot was standing just outside. She looked at her husband who was looking deflated. “What is wrong?”
To Tabitha’s surprise, her voice was gentle.
When he didn’t say anything, she raised an eyebrow. “You want your Nutcracker.”
She looked out the window at a cloud outlined by the sun. The cloud was almost black, but the outline was a clear, crisp gold against a bright spring sky.
Her eyes dark, she turned to Tabitha. “Could you do something different with the Nutcracker? Not the normal frou-frou?”
Cabot’s face brightened like the sun coming through a cloud. “But which ballet would you cancel?”
“None of them. There is another place we could hang the Nutcracker. Outside your office on the mezzanine. We could do one on each side of the door. They would not need to be as big, possibly eight feet tall by six feet wide.”
Tabitha swallowed. That meant that the six paintings would be bigger. What had she signed up for? Cabot hadn’t specified size other than full size which would have been five feet by eight feet.
Cabot looked at Tabitha. “You’d better get your solicitor friend back in here. We’ll need another contract.
Yeah, I think I need to talk to Peter. This project is getting out of hand.
Tabitha felt a shudder run down her spine.The dread she had been fighting all weekend slammed into her like a freight train starting to derail.
Chapter 5—London—6 months later
The falling snow covered the sidewalk, adding a fantasy feeling to the streets around the nearly finished Marylebone Theatre. It covered the ugly piles of lumber making them seem like wonderous hills in the heart of London.
Tabitha, having been sick with the flu for a week wasn’t able to enjoy the beauty surrounding her. Wearily she unlocked, then pushed open the door to the huge theatre. The new varnish smell nearly overwhelmed her, gagging her already sore throat.
She realized that the foyer lights were on. At nine o’clock on a December night, the theatre should be dark. When the theatre was empty, only the safety lights were on.
“Is anyone here?” She called.
When no one answered, she shook her head. Come on, Tab, obviously someone forgot to turn them off when they left. You’ve only need to do a couple of touch ups then this canvas will be finished. Then you can go home. Thank heavens she wouldn’t have to work with Jess Duval ever again.
Unlike Liu’s optimistic promise, Jess Duval had been a nightmare to work with. She couldn’t work in the mornings because she said she was sick. Tabitha suspected that she just didn’t want to get up early. Some days she didn’t show up at all. Other days, she came but looked like she’d died but hadn’t been buried—no make-up, hair uncombed, attitude in need of an adjustment.
Tabitha pulled her coat around her as she walked down the cold, dark hall to her studio. The air moved as if someone had opened a door. She knew she’d locked the front door she’d entered by.
She stopped, listening. The hall was empty. She wasn’t sure about the foyer.
She opened her mouth to call out, but something froze her voice.
Her hands went clammy as she scanned the shadows.
It was so quiet that it pressed on her ear drums, then on her eyes. The quiet seemed almost alive.
Quickly, she hurried to her studio. The small Christmas tree she had put on the table lay on its side, its ornaments shattered across the desk, its lights glowing eerily in the dark. It hadn’t been that way when she’d gone home a week ago.
A tremor ripped through her body.
Stepping inside, she flipped on the light switch and gasped.Her beautiful, almost finished painting had been slashed, once through the face and twice through the body.
“I’m going to kill someone.” She could feel the anger surge from her feet, up her back to her shoulders then down her arms as she thought of all the time she’d spent on that painting. All the time working with a witch, a nasty, foul mouthed, sordid diva.
An icy cold seemed to blossom in her heart. Shivers began running down her back, at first slowly, then faster and faster.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
She could feel the tension. It didn’t come from her. It vibrated through the air, slamming against her like a football player tackling an opponent at the goal line.
Someone was in the empty building with her. There were sounds, not the sounds the building made as the new construction settled, but stealthy sounds. Sounds she couldn’t identify.
With shaking hands, she locked the door she had just come through, then flipped off the light.
There was a dragging sound. A flickering light shown under the door. The doorknob moved, stopped.
She could hear a scratching at the lock.
She heard the lock click as she crept into the tiny bathroom. Noiselessly, she slipped behind the door, leaving it open a crack.
Before she could close it completely, a tiny light shown around the room. Drawing away from the crack, she waited until the light moved past. With her eye to the crack, she couldn’t see who was holding the light, but the figure was distorted, misshapen, like the hunchback of Notre Dame, only different. The figure walked softly to the big closet that would become a closet where costumes were stored, where her huge blank canvases had been stored.
There was a slight thump, then a few rustling sounds. Tabitha looked between the door and the frame. She jumped when there was a loud crash, but it was a funny crash—muted almost.
Then a dark figure hurriedly backed out of the closet, turned, leaving the room, locking the door behind him.
She took several shuddering breaths, waiting until she was sure he was gone. The she tiptoed out of the bathroom. As she walked past the painting, she kicked something metal, sending it rolling into the corner. Reaching in her tote, she pulled out a torch.
Tiptoeing across the room, she reached for the closet handle. Before she could grasp it, she shook her head and moved back. Picking up a rag hanging from the easel, she carefully grasped the knob, turning it gently.
She opened the door, using the webs of her fingers, trying hard not to smear any fingerprints, then she stepped into the enclosed space, pointing her torch at the floor. For a second, she smelled leather and musk and something else.
Then the air moved. The smell dissipated. There was something propped against the wall in the back of the closet. Something dark with a white oval. Something faintly obscene. Something with
a vicious red line at the bottom of the oval.
She reached out to touch it. It was soft with a vaguely vile warmth. She pointed her light in that corner. Jessica Duval’s eyes sparkled in the light as her face came into focus. She was dressed in her normal black dress and coat. The coat was open and showed a thick red line across her throat.
Tabitha stepped back. A scream ripped from her throat. Suddenly, remembering the grotesque figure she clapped her hand over her mouth. Reaching her other hand into her pocket, she pulled out her cell phone.
With trembling fingers she dialed the operator. “I need to report a murder.”
After she had given the information to the woman who answered the phone, she unlocked the door and left her studio, locking the door behind her. She felt her way through the now darkened hall. There was barely enough light from the snow whitened skylights so that she didn’t run into anything.
When she reached the foyer, she stood in the darkest corner. When she saw the flashing lights through the windows on either side of the doors, she stepped forward, unlocked them and pushed them open.
Two tall men in dark blue uniforms walked toward her. “Are you Tabitha Black?”
Her throat froze up so she just nodded.
He could see that she was shaking. “You said you found a body?”
“Yes” She could barely force the word out her mouth.
She turned toward the hall.
“Miss, do the lights work?” The youngish inspector whose name tag read Jarret asked.
“Yes. The switches are here.” She reached past the officer to flip the switches with her fingernails. Tabitha blinked as the foyer was flooded with light.
He noticed that her face was so white that her pale makeup stood out harshly. He reached out and touched her hand. It was cold and clammy. Her breath was coming in little gasps.
Jarret looked at his partner who was watching Tabitha intently. “Miss Black.”
She turned to look at him. “What?”
“I need you to take three deep breaths. Right now.”
“No. I want to get this over with.” Her voice was failing.
He stepped in front of her. “We aren’t going anywhere until you take three deep breaths. It won’t help matters if you pass out from a lack of air.”
The Ghost Dances the Nutcracker Page 5