Dead By Dusk

"Check with Arturo in the morning!" Carlo told him. "I'll let him know if they've opened the dig back up to us!"



"I'll do that. Thanks!" Grant called.



He turned the car around on the little road and started back. Looking in his rearview mirror, he was momentarily blinded. It seemed that a swatch of black had settled over the sky.



He pulled the car to a halt, stopped, got out, and looked back at the dig. An eerie sensation he couldn't fathom gripped him.



The dig.



It all had to do with the dig, he thought.



He got back into the car, very anxious to return to the resort.



Danielo rose, feeling the back of his head. As he came to his feet, stars appeared before his eyes, and he thought he was going to black out again.



How strange!



He'd never had such an occurrence before in his life.



What had happened?



All he remembered was walking into the embalming room and then…



He blinked, trying to regain his vision. Then a sigh left him.



Well, whatever he had done—struck his head? Inhaled too much fluid?—at least, it had happened when he had finished.



Amazing—he couldn't remember a minute of it. And yet, what an outstanding job he had done!



There was Maria. Oh, she was so beautiful! Her hair curled around her shoulders, onto her breasts. Her mother had given them a beautiful blue dress for her burial. And her makeup! He had done an outstanding job.



She was truly so lovely. He had succeeded well.



She did look as if she slept. As if any moment…



She might awake.



Chapter 9



The rehearsal went so well, Stephanie was amazed.



A lot of it had to do with the simplicity of their plan. Arturo had been sent ahead of time to acquire the set and props Stephanie had requested, and by the time she arrived on Friday, everything was set.



Giovanni had taken care of it all, Arturo told her. She made a mental note to thank him, since she had seen very little of him since her first arrival. It was almost a pity that it seemed they kept losing their women players—had a man gotten ill, she mused, she would have been tempted to give him his time on stage.



Grant had come back early. Stephanie had actually been nervous about seeing him, but he gave no indication that there had been anything between them other than the usual, and they had made an easy segue into the day's work after he explained to her that there was to be no digging that day. He told her briefly that the area was still cordoned off.



For the show, it was all the better.



Lena was actually looking better as well. She was still weak, but much better. She made it out of bed to come and sit in the rear of the café with Arturo, and though she was naturally a bit suspicious of Liz at first, their newest player won Lena over as well, asking for her advice on character, and listening with an intense respect that seemed to please Lena.



They were due to welcome their first crowd at eight. They finished by five, and decided it would be a good time to have dinner. They were all exhilarated, on a high from the success of their work. The place was filled with tourists—most of them American military men and members of their families, but some were Germans who had civilian jobs at the base. In the restaurant, they were talking, laughing, eating, and drinking in very good humor.



There was a lot of laughter, and Stephanie realized that it was actually too easy to forget that a young girl had just died a savage death, and that the town was in mourning.



Arturo rushed by their table, just a little flustered for once. Stephanie called him, he stopped, and rushed back. "Did Reggie come with these guys?" she asked him.



"Reggie… no. I don't think so, anyway. I haven't seen her," he said. "Tonight, you'll excuse me, please?



It is our first evening with this kind of crowd," he said.



"Certainly, do what you need to do!" Stephanie told him. He smiled, and went on.



"Why wouldn't Reggie come in with this group?" Grant murmured.



"Maybe she is here—maybe he just hasn't seen her yet," Clay suggested.



"And where would she be, then?" Suzette asked.



"Could I have more of that Florentine steak?" Lena asked. "My God, suddenly, I'm just ravenous. And the meat… I wish it were just a bit more rare."



"Lena! It's mooing all over the plate as it is!" Drew told her, passing her the meat. Lena smiled.



Stephanie was glad to see that she was so much better.



"I'll bet Reggie just got tied up booking more trips," Doug suggested.



"It's strange, though. You'd think she'd want to see her opening night," Suzette said. She looked around.



"I haven't actually met her, you know." .



"None of us has," Drew said. "I never even sent in a resumé—she pulled mine off the computer. I received the offer by e-mail, and then my contract by Federal Express."



"That's how she hired all of us," Suzette said. "I think. Well, except for Steph, right?"



"She's some kind of a distant relation," Stephanie told Suzette. "But actually, even I agreed to this over the phone. I figured she'd show up sooner or later."



Lena giggled. "Well, the rest of us won't know her if we see her."



"Oh, you can't miss Reggie," Grant told them. "She has a certain way about her… she walks as if she's royalty."



Stephanie frowned. "What did you mean by that?"



"I meant what I said—and nothing bad. Reggie is tall, slim, has coloring a lot like Stephanie's, and she's traveled the world and has a certain elegance about her. She has a certain way," Grant repeated, staring at Stephanie, and almost daring her to contradict him. He hadn't said anything bad, not really. She just hadn't liked the way he'd said it.



Stephanie pushed back her chair. "Let's take our coffee backstage and get into costume."



"If you ask me," Suzette said, rising, "this show should be great. Look how happy these people are! And they're drinking, so all the jokes about booze should go well."



"Yeah, thank God they're not driving," Drew muttered.



"Thank God," Liz agreed.



As they exited, Arturo came breezing through again. He caught Stephanie's arm, and said, "Can you take a minute, please? I'd like you to meet Captain Mallory."



She had no idea who Captain Mallory was, but she quickly found out. Even as Arturo stopped her, the young man with the buzz haircut was standing by the next table.



"Captain Mallory, this is our young director for the club—director, producer, actress, I should say—Miss Stephanie Cahill," Arturo said, introducing her with a certain pride. "Stephanie, Captain Thomas Mallory."



"How do you do?" He offered her a handshake and a smile. "I'm afraid I'm in charge of this expedition, so if there's any difficulty with folks getting rowdy, I'm the one you complain to."



Stephanie smiled. "I'm sure we'll be fine, but it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you'll enjoy our show."



"I know we will."



"Well, then, excuse me. You know, you all are the audience for our opening night."



"We may all go down in history," he said wryly.



She smiled, starting to leave, but then she hesitated. "Captain Mallory, did Reggie come with you all?"



"Reggie?"



"Victoria Reggia—the real producer of the whole enterprise."



"Oh, I'm sorry—Vickie."



Reggie was suddenly going by Vickie?



"Right, Vickie. Did she come with your group?"



"No, no, she was moving on. To The Hague, I believe."



"Ah, well, thank you, and I'll see you in there."



He gave her a wave. As she walked away, she heard his friends at the table teasing him, commenting that it was too bad that he seemed to have such an "in."



Hurrying backstage, she found that the others were already in costume. Lena was helping Liz with her makeup.



"Do you think you ought to be back in bed?" Stephanie asked her.



Lena shrugged. "I seem to be okay. Since last night… I honestly think I'm gaining strength every minute.



I'll stay with Grant in the booth, sitting, and I know I'll be all right."



"Okay, but… you get right back into bed if you start feeling worse."



"Yes, ma'am!" Lena promised.



There were two large dressing areas, one for the men, another for the women. Stephanie quickly changed into her costume, a crimson getup with a side slit and a feathered hat. In costume and makeup, she joined the others in the eaves stage left.



Since Grant was in the booth, managing the lights and sound, he'd set up a mike system that warned them of their cues.



"Five minutes." His voice came softly out of the wire.



"Well, guys, have fun. That's always the best direction," Stephanie said.



"Break a leg, everyone," Suzette said cheerfully. The group quickly went through the motions of offering one another hugs and kisses.



Clay Barton offered her no more than anyone else. And yet…



His touch seemed more magnetic. There it was, she mused, that strange power about him that seemed to make him more…



More. Just more. Intriguing, strange, and, oddly, he seemed to offer a sense of leashed power.



"Sixty seconds." The house lights dimmed, the stage lights came up. They were all aware that drinks would be served throughout by the restaurant staff, and that they couldn't allow themselves to be distracted—unless they did so on purpose because they were playing with the audience.



"Curtain," came Grant's voice.



Suzette went out on stage with her feather duster.



Her costume alone was a hit. And she played to the applause and the catcalls, then began to explain that she was the maid for the World Traveler's Club, but really, she was much more; she'd probably been far more places than any of the members, but then she'd hit Monte Carlo, and since she was broke…