Danny blinked but did not ask questions. “Let’s get started then.”
* * *
“Is this all the music you have?” Jada asked.
She and Danny were sitting side by side with their backs against the piano legs. Sheet music was strewn all across the small stage. Between them sat a pile of three sheets, which they saved as possible songs to perform. But three, out of nearly a hundred? Surely there was more than this.
Danny rubbed his face and looked around them. “Perhaps we are being too picky. Where is that one about the blue-eyed man? That one might have potential if we spruced it up.”
Jada snapped her fingers. “That is what these songs are missing!”
“What?”
“Where is that song I found on the piano a few weeks ago?” Jada got to her feet and shifted through the sheets on the ground.
“The night we helped that girl find her scarf?” Danny asked.
“Yes.”
“You won’t find that number among these sheets.” Danny tried to pull the mess into one big pile. “That song was mine, I wrote it. And last week, I gave it to Bert to look at.”
Jada pouted. “Darn. We could have done something with that.” She sighed. “Oh well, let’s keep looking.”
Danny put his messy pile on the back of the piano. “Well, we could see if he left it in the back room.”
“Back room?” Jada put a pile on top of Danny’s. “Why would it be there?”
“I don’t know. Roger lets me keep music in one of the back storage rooms, and sometimes Bert works in there. Something about the muted noise of the nightclub inspiring him. I think he worked in there the night I gave him the music.” Danny shrugged. “It’s worth a look.”
Jada hesitated. “Will he mind us looking through his private things?”
“They aren’t his. That is a public room. He understands that. If he leaves things behind, he knows they might get moved.” Danny took her hand and nudged her toward the hallway.
“Very well.” Jada grinned as she pulled her hand free from his grasp.
They crept up the narrow staircase and into the dark hall. There were three doors, all shut. The light from downstairs gave them just enough light to see their way, but not much else.
“That one there is my room.” Danny gestured toward the door at the far end of the hallway. “And this here is Roger’s.”
“You live here?” Jada asked.
Danny shrugged. “It is better than some cramped apartment far from work. I help with the cleanup after work and Roger cuts me a deal on the rent.”
“Roger is a good man,” Jada said. Sally was lucky to have found such a good gentleman.
“One of the best.” Danny took a step toward the last door and jiggled the latch. It was locked. He reached up and tapped the top of the door until he found the spare key. Then he unlocked the door.
The room smelled of leather and wood. A tall bookcase covered one wall, and a fine dark leather chair sat in front of it with a gaslight hung overhead. The whole room was soothing and quiet. Jada could see why he wanted such a room. From the little she knew of the man, this felt like him. She could see him sitting in the chair reading or meditating on life.
Danny walked over to the bookshelves and started fingering through the top shelf’s contents. Jada blinked as she realized that the shelves were not all filled with books. Some of them, like the one Danny was working through, were filled with sheet music.
“Gosh,” Jada said, looking around in amazement. “I can’t imagine having so much music.”
“Isn’t it glorious?” he exclaimed. “This top shelf is yet to be published, but you can look through the pile on the table if you want.”
“That whole shelf is unpublished?” The very idea made her feel small in comparison. So many artists were trying to break into the performance world and she and Suzanne had done it. Or at least Suzanne had. A tickle of pride poked her into smiling. Whatever else happened, she and Suzanne had accomplished something big together.
The pile on the table was tiny compared to the shelf, but Jada looked through it carefully. Not one of the sheets had Danny’s name on it. She put them back on the table and plopped on the chair, disappointed. Danny was only a quarter of the way through his shelf. She looked around the room, hoping for another place to look. The trunk.
The latch was open on the trunk, so it opened easily for Jada, but instead of sheet music, she found it to be mostly empty except for a box of spiced nuts, an envelope of square paper, and a shawl. The shawl was red and covered with delicate embroidery. Jada pulled it out and held it up to the window to see it better.
“Why is this here?” Jada asked.
Danny looked over his shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Bert did say he was storing some things in the trunk for an upcoming anniversary with Lottie. She likes red, perhaps he bought it for her.”
“It is the shawl Laura came back for, isn’t it?” Jada smoothed the ends of the garment, looking for any signs of the stains, but she didn’t see any.
Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Jada frowned. She folded the shawl carefully and put it back in the trunk. Then she pulled out the envelope of paper. She flipped through them.
“These are all notes written to him. Horrible notes.”
She handed the envelope to Danny. He took it and flipped through the pieces of paper. He handed it back and returned to looking for his music.
“Bert gets a lot of disagreeable mail. It is part of the job.”
“No, this is more than just hate mail. Others have been getting notes just like this.” She unfolded another. “This is not normal.”
“Everyone knows Bert gets hate mail. He is a black man onstage with some of the most beautiful women on the planet. People are going to complain. Don’t go reading into it. It makes people feel important to try to tear another down.” Danny glanced over his shoulder and his eyes perked up. “Are those nuts?”
“That is what it says on the canister,” Jada said as she continued to read through the notes.
Danny put a marker in his spot on the shelf and sat on the floor next to Jada. The canister of nuts was easy enough to open, but neither moved once the spices permeated the room.
“What is that?” Jada asked.
She put the envelope down and took the nuts from Danny. The open canister smelled wrong. She put the lid back on them and shuddered.
“What is that smell?” she asked again.
Danny took the jar back from her and sniffed. “Ipecac. I’d know that smell anywhere.” He pulled out a nut and pressed it to the tip of his tongue. He instantly shuddered from the taste. “Yes, ipecac.”
“Why would nuts have ipecac on them . . . ? Oh no!”
“Someone poisoned them,” Danny said, reaching the same conclusion as Jada.
“Well, of course they were poisoned,” she replied. “But the point is that they were sent to Bert. The notes, the nuts, the grease—it all has to do with Bert.”
She dropped the box and jumped to her feet. She had to go to Suzanne.
“I have to go,” Jada said. “To Boston. I have to go now. I’m so sorry. I think my friend is in danger.”
Suzanne was never one to turn down free food. Half the chocolates she received as gifts were gone before they reached home.
“Can I take you?” Danny asked.
Jada shook her head. “No, tell Sally where I’ve gone so she won’t worry, and explain to Roger I will be back as soon as I can. I’m sorry. Bye.”
She squeezed his hand in thanks before she fled from the room. She didn’t stop to pack a bag, but rushed to the train station. The quicker she got to Boston, the quicker she could return.
CHAPTER 27
A tray of half-eaten scones sat between Ann and Suzanne. The girls were lounging on the two sofas in Ann’s sitting room, their rehearsal attire strewn about the room and robes tied loosely around their waists. Suzanne’s feet were curled up under her and she sip
ped her tea.
“I thought Julian’s head would explode at that last rehearsal.” She laughed.
Ann coughed on a bite of scone. “If Josephine isn’t rehearsing that turn all night, she is a fool. Did you see the vein in Julian’s forehead?”
“It was purple!” Suzanne took another sip of tea. “Bert was in rare form.”
“He gets that way during rehearsals. Focused.” She put down her sandwich. “Did you hear Lillian during lunch?”
Suzanne shook her head. “You would have thought he tried to kiss her or something. The way she talks about him . . . I’m amazed she got Ruby’s part in our number.”
Ann’s whole body tensed as she shook her head in frustration. “It is not right. He is one of the best men in this production. He doesn’t sleep around and is happily married. Why Lillian continues to hammer on about his inappropriate stares is barbaric. I don’t think we will ever see eye to eye.” She harrumphed and grabbed another sweet off the tray.
Suzanne shifted uncomfortably. “I think I’ve eaten too much.”
Ann looked at the sandwich square in her hand. “I am still hungry.”
The two laughed. It felt good to enjoy some time one-on-one after such a long day of rehearsal. Julian ran them through the first act three times. Not only did Suzanne open the show with the Rose quartet, but she closed act one with her tango number. Luckily she wasn’t in too many of the chorus numbers, so she had plenty of time to change backstage.
A knock came from the door.
“Come in,” Ann called.
A maid entered, pulling a cart laden with silver pitchers. “Shall I draw your bath, ma’am?” she asked.
“Yes, please, Hilde. Thank you.” Ann took one last bite before placing it on the tray.
“Yes, ma’am.” Hilde walked into the bathroom.
Suzanne stood up and leaned over to stretch her back. From her angle she looked into the pitchers and laughed.
“Oh my! The rumors are true?”
Ann blinked. “What rumors?”
Suzanne peered again into the pitchers to confirm what they contained. “You bathe in milk? Does it really keep your skin soft?”
Ann laughed. “Well, not every bath, but often enough to keep up the glamour.”
Hilde walked back into the room and pushed the cart into the bathroom.
“If you want to capture the imagination of audiences, you’ll have to find something to take their imaginations by storm.” Ann eyed Suzanne up and down. “Ha, I’ve got it.”
“Got what?” A note of panic fluttered in Suzanne’s chest.
“Hilde!” Ann called.
She lifted her finger to her lips and winked at Suzanne. A feeling of dread settled in Suzanne’s stomach at the same moment butterflies of excitement bloomed. She set her tea down and steadied herself before she got ill.
“Yes, ma’am?” Hilde rushed out to them.
“Has anyone brought Suzanne her tea?”
“Tea?” Hilde repeated. The tray of tea and sandwiches seemed to glow between them.
Suzanne’s head spun. What did Ann have planned?
“Yes, for her hair.” Ann sounded exasperated. “Surely someone told you.”
Hilde glanced at Suzanne, pausing at her hair. “Tea for hair?”
Ann sighed dramatically. “How else does her hair retain this luminescent brown shine?”
Hilde paused, then said, “Oh my! Of course. That beautiful color must be protected. Tea does that?”
Both women looked to Suzanne. This was it. This was the moment Suzanne had waited for since joining the Follies. This was her chance to make her mark. She ran her fingers through her hair.
“The tea is a family secret. I rinse my hair with tea every night to keep it healthy.” She thanked her lucky stars that her hair looked so good today. The curl sat on her shoulder just right, and her pins were in place without any frizz.
Hilde fingered her own graying bun and nodded. “I will be sure you have pitchers of tea in your room every night.”
“Thank you, Hilde,” Ann said. “I knew we could count on you.”
The maid stood a bit taller as she smiled back. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Would you like your bath now?”
Ann glanced apologetically at Suzanne. “If you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” Suzanne stood up and dusted any remaining crumbs from her gown. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ann retired to the bathroom as Suzanne left the room and went across the hall to her own suite. She went to turn the key, but the door was already ajar. Her heart beat a bit faster as she pressed her hands to the door and pushed it open.
“Hello?” she called out. The maid must be delivering something or was still cleaning the room. “Who is in here?”
A clatter came from the back bedroom. Instead of fear, Suzanne felt instant frustration. Who was causing chaos in a place that was to be her home for the next few weeks? This was intolerable! She stormed into the back bedroom, but stopped in the doorway.
“Wh-What is this?” she demanded.
Jada was seated in front of Suzanne’s pile of treats, tossing everything into a canvas bag. From the looks of it, everything that was sent to Suzanne was being thrown away. She glanced up at Suzanne with a defiant look on her face.
“Bert was sent poisoned nuts.”
“And?” Suzanne replied. “He gets such mail often. Why are you tossing my gifts out?”
“You get mail too,” Jada said, cutting her off.
“I know I do. Same old, ‘Don’t dance with Bert or else’ nonsense.” Suzanne forced her tone to be light.
Jada looked up at her. “You got some at the house too. One referring to a dark secret.”
“A dark secret?” Suzanne wasn’t sure how she felt. “That could mean anything.”
“Or it could mean more. It was a threat no matter what else.” Jada shoved another box of chocolates into the bag.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Suzanne crossed her arms.
“At first I didn’t think they were anything; then there never seemed to be time between all the parties and dress fittings. And then, well, other things clouded my mind and my judgment.” She stopped her cleaning and looked up at Suzanne. “I am sorry. I should have told you.”
Suzanne sat on the soft white bed. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t think I’m that brave.”
“You are braver than you think.”
An awkward silence passed between the two girls. Suzanne scratched her arm as she tried to think of something to say to her friend that would make things less awkward, less thick between them, but nothing came to her. She pulled a box of sweet cakes from her vanity drawer and handed them to Jada.
“Better safe than sorry. How did you find out about the poison?”
“Danny and I found in the back room a box of nuts someone sent Bert. They reeked of ipecac.”
“Ipecac?” Suzanne glanced over her shoulder toward Ann’s room. “Ann had a bout of food poisoning on the train ride here. She couldn’t keep anything down.”
“And now you wonder if it was poison?” Jada asked, finishing Suzanne’s thought.
“She kept asking me if the sandwich had onions in it since it tasted funny.” Suzanne bit her lip.
“If Ann was poisoned on the train, then Bert is surely in trouble.” Jada shoved her bag of food in the corner. “We need to find him. Do you know where he is staying?”
Suzanne thought for a moment. “I don’t, but I don’t think it is here. Ann will know.”
Jada followed Suzanne out of the room and across the hall. “Has Ann had any problems?”
“I asked her about the notes and she didn’t know anything about them. I suspect she isn’t a target.”
“Interesting.”
Her thought was interrupted when Hilde answered the door.
“Yes?” she said.
“Hi, Hilde, I know Ann is probably in the bath, but I must speak with her.” Suzanne nearly pushed Hilde o
ut of the way as she entered the room. “Ann?”
“Suzanne?” Ann’s voice was just audible through the closed door.
“Where is Bert staying?” Suzanne asked. She cracked the door open slightly. She couldn’t see Ann in the bath, but it still felt invasive. She’d explain her behavior after.
Water sloshed in the tub. “I’m not sure. I think it is somewhere downtown. Do you need him? I think he and Leon were staying late at the theater to practice tonight.”
Thank goodness, Suzanne thought. “Thanks, Ann. Enjoy your bath.”
“Milk soak, dear, and thanks,” she called back. Suzanne tried to hide her grin from Hilde.
Hilde held the door open for them. Jada was out the door when she turned and met Suzanne’s eye. The look of concern said it all.
“Hilde?” Suzanne said. “Miss Pennington has a weak stomach. Could you get rid of all the goodies that were sent to her room so she avoids becoming ill.”
The maid looked around at the table of gifts and said, “Very well. I will dispose of them.”
Jada made a face and then stepped toward Hilde. She leaned over and whispered, “Be sure no other hands touch them. Mr. Ziegfeld dislikes when treats are passed around. A box of chocolates is not worth a job.”
Hilde’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Thank you. They will go straight to the trash.”
* * *
The theater was a few blocks from the hotel. The evening air was warm, but Suzanne still hugged her shawl around her shoulders. It felt like a layer of protection from whatever was happening around them.
“How many letters did I get?” The question left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Their pace was brisk, but Jada didn’t miss a beat. Suzanne wondered if she’d even heard the question. “Six maybe? Not as many as Ruby, but they were a bit more graphic. They definitely came quicker once you were working with Ann in Bert’s number.” Jada tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.
“I visited Ruby before we left New York. She hasn’t gotten any letters since her accident.” Suzanne shrugged.
“So the accident achieved what the sender wanted?” Jada thought out loud. “But that can’t be right, or Bert wouldn’t have gotten those nuts and I wouldn’t be here.”
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