by Gary Ruffin
I said, “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“Maybe we could say that I deleted the instant messenger from my computer, and can no longer receive messages.”
I thought for a moment, and said, “That might be hard to slip into an interview. And besides, our sick friend would only come up with an even sicker way to get his messages to you. And at least the FBI has a chance, no matter how slim, of finding evidence at one of the murder scenes.”
Cherry said, “I still can’t believe there’s someone out there murdering people simply to get my attention. It’s just not something one thinks can ever happen.”
She leaned forward in her seat and put her head in her hands again, clearly exhausted from the stress of it all. I wanted to comfort her, to give her a hug and tell her that everything would be okay, but I decided not to cross that boundary.
Instead, I said, “That whole ‘tell the media your computer died’ was a dumb idea, anyway. We can’t trick this monster into just giving up. I think we’re dealing with a much more intelligent and dangerous creature than I first thought. But you can’t allow it to get to you like this. There may be some really rough days ahead, and you hafta hang tough. I know that’s easy for me to say, but it’s true.”
She slowly stood up from her seat, and like a child, crawled into my lap. She put her head on my shoulder and her arms around my neck. Her famous red hair smelled of peaches.
So much for boundaries.
We sat in silence that way for ten minutes before a young female police officer came over and said, “Sorry to bother you, but someone has obviously told the news crews what’s going on with the stalker, because they’re asking about the threats and the murder victims.” She smiled weakly, and said, “I want to make it clear to you that it wasn’t me who told. I just thought you should know.”
“Thank you, Officer,” I said, and tried to gently pull Cherry’s arms free from my neck.
She was having none of that.
“Cherry. Listen, kiddo, we need to get outta here. The vultures have you in their sights, and if we don’t move fast, we could be under siege in no time. You really gotta help me out here; you’re the expert at avoiding crowds of fans. Got any bright ideas?”
She looked up at me groggily, and I realized that she had fallen asleep in my arms. I felt so sorry for her at that moment. It really made me aware for the first time how deeply she was being affected by the horror that was following her. The only escape she had from the constant pressure she was facing was sleep, and I felt her sadness as she could barely summon the energy to move.
There I was, sitting with a world-class beauty curled up in my lap, and all I could feel was sympathy. I selfishly wished that Penny was there to see it, so she’d quit being so jealous. Cherry was fast becoming like a little sister to me. At least, I guess that’s what I was feeling, being that I’m an only child. I do know that it felt really nice to be so close to a woman without wanting to without trying to … let’s just say it was a nice moment.
Yawning and releasing me, she said, “Cooper, did you say something about ‘avoiding fans and vultures’?”
“Yes, Cherry, I did. Somebody has leaked the information about the death threats and the murders to the newshounds. We need to get you outta here, and fast.”
She shook her head slowly. Thinking of her bright assistant, I asked, “What would Sally do if she was here?”
“Not to worry,” she said, suddenly clear-eyed and calmer-looking. She stood up and stretched before taking a seat next to me. “Put out a call for Will Underwood. He’s my secret weapon and my brilliant hair and makeup artist. We shall use a little trick Will and I keep up our sleeves for moments like this. He’s probably outside with the police, as far away from the danger as possible. Would you please go and see if Lynne can find him?”
I stood, and said, “At your service, m’lady.”
She groaned softly, and rolled her eyes.
“Sorry,” I continued, “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to say that to a beautiful British broad.”
This got her to smile, and even laugh a little. Cherry was looking at me and still smiling when I reached the aisle and checked backed to see if she was watching.
Maybe I was being a bit hasty with all that “little sister” stuff.
13
I FOUND LYNNE AND TOLD HER WE NEEDED THE MAKEUP GUY, AND SHE said to follow her. Cherry had been correct in her assumption regarding his whereabouts: Will Underwood was out front standing so close to a policeman that the two of them looked like Siamese twins. Except for the fact that the cop was about two feet taller.
I walked up to him and got Lynne to introduce us, then filled him in on the situation. In a heavy Cockney accent he said he knew exactly what Cherry wanted, and he walked over to a large SUV and opened the back.
He reached inside and brought out a substantial black case, and said, “This is where I keep what she’s looking for. I have it with me at all times. Never know when she’ll feel the need to disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“You’ll see what I mean soon enough,” he said. “Inside this case is all I need to do the magic; it’s mostly filled with the ‘disappearing act.’ Most actresses demand that their poor makeup people carry tons of stuff ’round with them, but since Cherry requires so little makeup, I don’t need a lot of cases for my tools and product. She also requires very little hair styling most days, so I do that for her as well. Two jobs in one.”
“Must be pretty nice doin’ those two jobs,” I said.
“Oh, it’s brilliant having these two jobs. The only thing that would make them better would be if she was a he.”
He took the case, which was nearly as big as he was, and we walked into the theater.
Cherry was waiting on the steps of the stage, and Will handed me the case before trotting down the aisle and giving her a bear hug. Well, maybe not a bear hug. The guy probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. More like a poodle hug.
They seemed to draw courage from each other as they held hands, and walking up the steps to the stage, they moved towards the backstage dressing-room area.
Cherry turned and called out, “Cooper! Hurry up with the case! Don’t you dare leave this lady-in-waiting!”
It was my turn to groan, and I followed the happy duo back to the dressing room area. Whatever it took to make her feel less afraid and more secure, I was going to do it.
Watching her makeup being done actually turned out to be a lot more interesting than I thought it would be.
Cherry, Will, and I made our way past the police and crime scene workers to one of the upstairs dressing rooms. It was a struggle for me to get the makeup case up the old iron spiral staircase that led to the second floor, but I managed.
Cherry seemed to have caught her second wind, emotionally, and reacted only slightly when we passed the ladies’ restroom before climbing the stairs. Will really had a calming effect on her, and he kept her mind off of the events of the morning by chatting and joking, telling her how terrible she looked without his handiwork. It was obvious that they were close friends, and watching her come back to life was a great relief.
As soon as we were in the dressing room, Will told me to place the case on a chair by the door, and he started to pull things out of it. A gray wig was first, followed by some tattered clothes and shoes, and what appeared to be a rubber or plastic mask.
The mask turned out to be an old lady’s head that had been made from a mold of Cherry’s face; when Will put it on her and applied makeup and the gray wig, she aged fifty years. Ten minutes later, Cherry was dressed in a padded suit that added sixty or seventy pounds to her figure. The end product was a shabbily dressed old woman that no one on Earth would recognize as Cherry Page.
Will looked at me and asked, “Now do you see what I meant by ‘disappearing act’?”
“I sure do. You’re a master of your craft, Will. She could walk out of here and look straight in the cameras and never be n
oticed. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would’ve believed it.”
Cherry said in an old lady’s voice, “Well, sonny, what’s our next move? I ain’t got a lotta time left in this world. Don’t wanna waste it sittin’ around in some musty old theater.”
“Amazing,” I said. “Okay, lemme think a minute.”
Will adjusted Cherry’s gray wig, and put a pair of gigantic, thick-lensed black eyeglasses on her prosthetic nose while I was planning our escape. The final touch was an old, battered hat with big flowers on top. It was clear that they’d done this many times before; Will had it down to a science.
Cherry would turn her head, or look up or down as he worked, knowing exactly what came next. It was an interesting thing for a Florida police chief to witness, that’s for sure. I couldn’t wait to tell Penny about it.
I came up with an idea, and said, “Will, you go out first, and get your SUV started and ready to go. I’ll walk Cherry out the door, and over to you. Drive her up to the grocery store at the end of the street. It’s called the Piggly Wiggly, you can’t miss it. Park in the lot and wait for me. I’ll get the Bentley, and come pick her up as fast as I can. Does that sound like a plan?”
Will said, “I love it when a man takes charge, don’t you, Miss Cherry Page?”
“I surely do. Especially this man.”
I carried the case down the spiral staircase for Will, and he kissed Cherry on the cheek and headed for the exit, case in hands. As Cherry and I made our way past the same officers and workers that we’d passed no more than thirty minutes earlier, not one of them gave her a second look. The transformation was absolute, and if it fooled the police, the news people would pose no problem.
Cherry had the walk down, too; she bent over slightly, and shuffled like an elderly woman, putting a hand on her back every few steps. It was good stuff.
When we got near the front doors, she asked, “Cooper, do you think I’ll be able to get work when I’m this age?”
“Cherry, I think you’ll be able to get work at any age—no wonder my girlfriend loves you so much.”
“Girlfriend? Why, Cooper, do tell.”
“Later, old lady. I promised her I’d introduce you to her, by the way, but for now let’s get you outta here and back to the hotel.”
“My, my. You young people. Always in such a hurry.”
I opened the door, and we stepped into the bright sunlight. The lot was packed with news vans, camera crews, a fire truck, cop cars, and a big crowd of onlookers. Everyone turned to see who was coming out of the theater, and Cherry began coughing and hacking, making a terrible racket. All eyes turned away quickly, no longer interested.
I held her arm as if she was on her last legs and we slowly walked and shuffled through the crowd without a single person saying a word to us. Cherry coughed and hacked the loudest as we passed right in front of a video news camera, and the poor cameraman backed away in disgust. It was hard to keep from laughing, but I saw Will’s SUV idling by the curb, and led Old Lady Page over to it. She played her part to the end, grunting loudly, and yelling at me in her old-lady voice as I put her in the car.
It was an award-winning performance.
14
IT TOOK AWHILE FOR ME TO LEAVE THE THEATER, AND BY THE TIME I got the Bentley down to the Piggly Wiggly, Cherry had taken off her disguise and was back to her gorgeous self. She jumped into the passenger’s side, and we waved to Will as I pulled into traffic.
She was quiet for the first few minutes, and I didn’t disturb her. I’ve had a lot of experience with real live killers, but I knew she hadn’t.
As we slowed for a red light, she finally said, “I’m sorry if I caused trouble for you today.”
“What? What trouble? You didn’t kill anybody that I know of.”
“I shouldn’t have pressed you to take me backstage with you. I acted like a real brat, and I’m terribly sorry.”
“Cherry. Get this through that thick red mane of yours. I’m here for you, not the other way around. You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have let you know what was going on until we were safely away from there. You have enough to worry about as it is.” I paused for a moment, and then said, “Tell you what. Let’s both forget about it, and move on. Whatta ya say?”
“I say that’s a fine idea, and let’s move on.”
The light changed and I said in my best cheesy British butler voice, “As you wish, madam. Will there be anything else?”
“That’s the worst excuse for an English accent I’ve ever heard.”
“Critics. You’re all alike.”
We rode back to the hotel, keeping the conversation light. Cherry had gotten over the gloominess that she’d shown in the theater, and was talking up a storm. We were discussing what we should order from room service for supper, when she sat up straight in her seat, and said, “Oh, no! I can’t believe it!”
“Can’t believe what?”
“I have to make an appearance tonight at a function for my charity foundation. I completely forgot about it until just this instant! Balls!”
Hoping to help, I said, “Looks like I’m not the only one who forgets stuff.” When she didn’t respond, I asked, “Do you really have to go? Can’t you make some lame excuse and bow out gracefully?”
“No, no, no! The foundation is very important to me. It’s one of the only things I do that makes me feel like my life has any real value. It’s a cause that’s very dear to my heart: children’s leukemia. You’ll hear this again later tonight, but when I was fourteen, my best friend died from leukemia after a horrible period of almost a year. Her name was Poppy, and she was the best friend I’ve ever had. It almost killed me, too, when she passed on.”
I said, “Now I see where your username on the instant messenger comes from.”
Cherry replied, “Exactly. And I’m sure you can also see why this evening means so much to me, yeah? The money we raise goes not only to research and development, but pays medical bills for children who’ve contracted the disease. It’s so much more important than some silly film or play that I might be doing. If I don’t show up there tonight, it would be like throwing money away that’s badly needed for research. It’s not an ego thing; it’s just that we make five to ten times more money when the ‘big movie star’ makes an appearance. I simply must go, there’s no getting around it. There’ll be makeup to put on, hair to be done, and a stupid designer gown to squeeze into as well. Bloody hell!”
Not knowing what to say, I tried the reality approach, “I sympathize, but I don’t know what to tell ya. Looks like we’ll hafta suck it up, and go to this deal. Where is it, by the way?”
She frowned, and said, “I’m not really sure. Some sort of museum that’s high, as I recall. Sally will know all the details and have everything under control, so there’s no worry there. She reminded me of it this morning over breakfast while you were in the shower, but it just completely escaped my mind.”
I said, “Well, with everything that’s been goin’ on—especially what happened at the theater—you’re allowed a brain freeze. Just take it easy, and we’ll get you through the night without too much pain.”
She stared out the window for a moment before saying, “This happens more than I’d care to admit, me forgetting things, that is to say. My schedule can be utterly ridiculous at times, and it’s just—I so wanted to have a nice, quiet evening in the suite. Maybe watch a DVD, or some telly. No cameras, no makeup, no people, no appointments. Just a few hours to myself, some quiet time, know what I mean? Sometimes I just wish—oh, I’m such an idiot at times! Forgive me, Cooper. You must think me a stupid, spoiled child to carry on like this, but after the events of today …”
She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath, no doubt trying to summon the strength it would take to put the day behind her and face the night ahead. I drove the next few minutes without speaking, waiting for her to calm down. I almost felt sorry for her, but this was t
he path she’d chosen, and all that other philosophical gibberish. And besides, she’d made a ton of money doing something millions of young women would kill to do.
Then I felt sorry for myself when I realized that if she had to dress formally, I probably had to wear a tuxedo.
Balls, indeed.
Cherry’s cell rang as we were pulling into our special parking spot in back of the Ritz.
“Hello? Yes, Sally, I just remembered. No, sweetie, it’s certainly not your fault. You told me this morning, don’t blame yourself. It just completely slipped my mind. Oh, good, that will do nicely; I love her designs. Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay, my love, we’ll see you there. Bye.”
She sighed deeply, and said, “Sally’s bought you a tuxedo and had it altered to fit. She took your suit from the suite, and gave it to wardrobe so they could make you look presentable. Everything you need is laid out on your bed for you.”
“Oh, joy, a monkey suit of my very own. This day just keeps gettin’ better and better.”
“At least you don’t have to wear hideous makeup and have your hair pushed and pulled for hours on end.”
“Says who? I’ll have you know I expect the full treatment from Will. Makeup, hair, the works. The hideouser, the better.”
Trying her best to look mean, she said, “Oh, let’s get on with it. Put me over your shoulder and carry me to my suite. I’m grown tired from all your silly demands.”
“No way, sister, carry your own self. Get your vacant, forgetful head out of the clouds, and let’s go make some money for Poppy.”
Cherry looked as if she might cry for a second, then a huge smile came onto her face, and she leaned over and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.
“You’re a darling man, Chief Cooper. And you’re absolutely right. This night’s for Poppy.”
Back in the suite, we found everything that Sally had promised. A tux for me on my bed, a gown for Cherry on her bed, and a full set of maps and phone numbers for the High Museum of Art, where the soiree was to take place. Cherry had been right, in a manner of speaking; it was “some sort of museum that’s high.”