Stone sat on his kitchen sofa and waited for Marla to appear from across the garden. It was to be their first evening together since her show had opened, and she seemed to prefer dining at his house to going out.
She rapped on the garden door and let herself in. He rose to greet her and got a kiss on the corner of his mouth for his effort.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked.
“I think I’ll try some of your bourbon.”
Stone poured two Knob Creeks, and they sat down on the sofa. “So, is the show finally wrinkle-free?”
“There will always be ironing to do, but I had to make myself stop going to performances. I think we’re in for a good run. The advance ticket sales were light, but that’s picked up a lot since the reviews came in.”
“You look more relaxed,” Stone said.
“Relieved is more like it. Also, there’s always a letdown after a show opens and there’s nothing else for me to do.” She took a sip of her bourbon. “This is good,” she said.
“Were you going to say something else?”
“Well…”
This is where she ’ s going to tell me there ’ s another man, he thought.
“I have something of a problem.”
“Can I help?”
“I need some advice, that’s all.”
“Advice is what I do, mostly.”
“There’s this man.”
“Uh-oh. I was afraid of that.”
“No, I’m not dumping you.”
“Now I ’ m relieved.”
“I had a few dates with this guy a while back. It was nothing serious-at least, not to me.”
“But he took it seriously?”
“He seemed to. Then I started rehearsals for the show, and I used that as an excuse not to accept any more dates with him. Then, without my knowledge, he sought out our producer and invested some money in the show, apparently so he could attend some rehearsals and see me.”
“Sounds like it was a good investment. He should be pleased.”
“Yes, but now that the show has opened, he’s started a new campaign to see me. Flowers and gifts arrive, and the gifts were embarrassingly expensive, so I sent them back to him. I also wrote him a tactful letter explaining that, while I thought he was a nice fellow, I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
“That would have been my first piece of advice,” Stone said. “How did he take it?”
“Badly,” she said. “He called this afternoon and was very angry. How could I string him along? I didn’t. I finally said I wasn’t listening anymore, and not to call me anymore, then I hung up-right after he threatened me.”
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
“He said that I would soon learn that women don’t get away with ill-treating him, that I would regret it.”
“All right,” Stone said, “it’s time for your attorney to write the next letter.”
“I don’t have an attorney.”
“You do now,” Stone said. He picked up a pad and got out his pen. “What’s his name?”
“Ed Abney.”
“What does he do?”
“He has a publicity agency, specializing in Broadway and off-Broadway shows and theater people. He seems to be pretty successful.”
“What’s the name of the agency?”
“Bright Lights, Ink. He has offices on Eighth Avenue-I don’t know the number.”
“I’ll get the address and have a letter hand-delivered tomorrow morning.”
“What are you going to say in the letter?”
“That Ms. Marla Rocker would not like to see him or hear from him again, and that any further advances or gifts from him would be unwelcome, and that any further communication must be through your attorney.”
“And what if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we go to a TRO, a temporary restraining order.”
“Will that work?”
“If he ignores it I’ll haul him in front of a judge, and if he continues after that, he could end up in jail.”
“What’s to keep him from killing me?”
Stone put down his pad and turned toward her. “What reason do you have to think that he might become violent?”
“I didn’t tell you about this, but he was at our opening party, at Sardi’s. I saw him across the room with a woman who looked familiar, and when I went to the ladies’ she followed me. She told me that I should be careful with him, because he has a history of violence with women. I asked if that was the case, why was she seeing him? She said because she was afraid not to, and that she was leaving town, moving away from New York to get away from him, and she wasn’t telling anybody where.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Annette Redfield. She’s an actress. I looked her up and it seems that she has been working regularly for the past ten years or so, in supporting roles on and off Broadway. I suppose that’s why she looked familiar.”
Stone got up. “I’ll be right back,” he said. He walked down the hall to his office, then into Joan’s office, where he found a copy of that afternoon’s New York Post. He went back to the kitchen and leafed through the paper until he found the article he was looking for, then handed it to her.
ACTRESS FOUND DEAD
A popular supporting actress on Broadway was found late last night by a neighbor, dead on the kitchen floor of her apartment. Annette Redfield, 38, had been strangled, according to police sources, and it appeared that she had been trying to defend herself with a kitchen knife.
“Don’t read any more,” Stone said, taking the paper from her.
Marla’s face had drained of color. She took a pull on her drink and sat back on the sofa. “Now what? Am I going to have to leave town?”
“No,” Stone said, “and I’m going to see that he doesn’t bother you again. Do I have your permission to do that?”
“Whatever it takes,” Marla said, “short of killing him.”
“Don’t worry,” Stone said, “nobody is going to die.”
Marla sighed. “Someone already has.”