Wednesday, June 17, 1942
Robert’s leg jiggled up and down in the bouncy motion he hated. He couldn’t stop it, the energy bubbling through him. He had to get off the train and stretch his legs. Fortunately, in a few minutes the train would finally pull into Washington, D.C.’s Union Station.
This group wouldn’t visit the White House like the first group of Hollywood Victory caravaners. That would have been an incredible experience, but the powers that be had decided not to bother the president. Instead, they would head straight to the National Theatre instead. Since 1835 the theatre had hosted great performances and stars, making it a fitting place to launch the caravan.
Somebody pounded on his door. “Fifteen minutes.”
Dalia would take care of his tux. He just needed to make sure he had his shaving kit and other necessities. Getting ready was so simple, he almost felt like an interloper. How could he pull his own weight on a tour like this? Make the impression Artie was demanding?
The acts had pulled together in ways no one had anticipated at the beginning. The show would be a hit. And the good press they’d get out of tonight would carry them through the rest of the tour. Two more weeks. Fifteen performances. The adrenaline surges would spike up and down. He’d better watch for the fatigue that would be the natural result of a tour like this.
He yanked the blanket on his bed straight then tugged his shirt sleeves down until they peeked from the bottom of his jacket cuffs. He rolled his neck and took a deep breath. Tonight he’d focus the audience on the theme of sacrifice. If he did that, their pocketbooks would fly open. The war bonds would roll leading to a satisfied Uncle Sam and happy studio.
He rolled his neck again, fighting the building tension. It had been years since his days as a kid in live vaudeville. What trick had his dad used when everyone got antsy before a show? Whistling? That was it. He could do that. Even that tune from Snow White. He puckered his lips and went to town on “Whistle While You Work.”
“You coming, Robert?” Winston Portland’s nasal voice carried through the thin door.
Robert stopped whistling and wondered how much Winston had heard. “I’ll be right out.”
The train lurched to a stop, and Robert two-stepped to keep his feet. His head collided with the top bunk. “Youch.” He rubbed his forehead, wondering if the contact would leave a welt. Just what he needed on opening night. A growing lump on his noggin.
Guess it would be fitting justice for someone who had suddenly become so focused on himself. He forced a whistle out, trying to regain a moment of relaxation.
He opened his door and joined Winston in the hall. Winston wore the threads his role required. The ladies would love his get-up. Hobo pants, floppy hat, and holey boots competed with a bandana-red long undershirt. Winston even walked with a defined limp, a far cry from his typical rolling gait.
“Looks like you’re ready.”
Winston looked at him, then away. He peered at Robert from the corner of his eye. “You talking to me, mister?”
“Sure.” What was Winston up to now?
Winston pointed at Robert’s chest. “I’m sure I don’t know you.”
Robert chuckled at the act. “Getting into character already?”
“Method acting.” Winston straightened and clapped Robert on the back. “That’s what it’s called.”
Robert straightened his tie. “Must be another of your harebrained schemes.”
“You haven’t heard of it?” Winston stepped backward, a hand clutching his heart. “It’s the latest rage for actors in New York City. Mark my words, it’ll change the way we act.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” The train ground to a stop, and Robert staggered against the wall. “For now, we’d better get with the rest of the gang.”
“Time to get the show on the road.”
“At least off the train.”
“Say, what do you think of that Audra Schaeffer chick?”
The question caught Robert by surprise. He hadn’t had much occasion to run into Audra, and the last day she’d kept to herself. Any hopes he’d had to spend time with her had disappeared with the clack of the wheels over the rails.
Winston socked him on the shoulder. “Methinks you’re noodling a simple question hard.”
“She’s different.”
“Of course. She’s not a performer. But have you heard her grill folks about her sister?”
“Can’t say I blame her. I’d want answers too.”
“Why ask us? She can’t think we had anything to do with the murder.”
“I don’t know.” All Robert knew was he liked her hair down in that short fashionable cut but hated the way her mouth drooped. There might not be a lot to make her happy right now, but he wanted the chance to see her smile like she had at the USO fundraiser and occasionally since. She’d surprised him by letting a glimpse of joy escape.
“People are growing leery around her. What if the whole reason she’s here is to grill us?” Winston opened the door for Robert. “That’s just wrong.”
“Look, there’s the rest of the group.” Robert stepped off the car onto the station platform, relieved to have a reason to change the conversation.
Audra stood to one side, dressed in a simple suit. She held her bag and a stack of papers.
Mark called everyone together. “We’ve got a few limousines, enough for everyone to fit if you squeeze together as though you like each other.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got four hours until show time. Just enough time for rehearsals and setup. Let’s go.”
Letting everyone push into a limousine in front of him, Robert waited, hoping to board Audra’s. She caught his glance, and a rush of color warmed her cheeks until they resembled roses. The innocence of the color captured his attention.
“Garfield, climb in a car. We can’t wait forever.” Quincy’s words brought a chortle from the Lester twins.
“I’m coming.” But not in that car. Robert sauntered to the next vehicle and stooped to look inside. Fortunately, a couple of vacant spots remained. “If we all act as though we love each other…
“Like. I swear Mark said like each other.” Winston made a face that resembled a mask of horror. “If it’s love, you’ll have to go elsewhere, my fine man.”
“You’ll never grow up, will you?” Annabelle Kelly pulled her long legs away from Gene Costos. The action didn’t slow him down.
Robert winced as Gene edged closer to Annabelle.
“Stop it.” She pushed him away. “This won’t work if you don’t leave me alone.”
“My co-stars like to get cozy.” His words sounded innocent as the purest lamb.
“Not this one and not this time.” She leaned against Gene then scrambled from the vehicle. “You can have my seat, Robert. Maybe he’ll keep his paws off you.”
“I’ll be glad to give it a go.”
“You do that.” She huffed to the next car.
“How do you plan to dance with her tonight after acting like that? Think she’ll snuggle up for your cheek-to-cheek number?” Robert shook his head, disgust boiling in his gut.
Gene grinned wolfishly. “Ah, it’s just part of our warm-up. I get her mind off the fact it’s a live audience and there are no takes. She gets to call me a lecherous old man. We’re both happy.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to rub up to her, even if it only gets her ire up.”
“There are some things I’ll never understand.” Robert left it at that. What else could he say? He’d tried before to tell Gene that he should treat women better.
“Is this seat taken?” Audra leaned into the car and pointed at the seat across from Robert.
“He’s held it for you, ma’am.” Gene had transformed into a Southern gentleman, accent and all. He held his hand up to his mouth as if to share a secret then stage-whispered, “He’s got a thing for you.”
Robert shook his head. “Gene.”
“See, it’s true.”
“You’re way out of line.”
Gene ignored his warning, so Robert tuned him out. Once Gene got started, the only way to stop him was to take away his audience. Fortunately, Audra seemed even less inclined to listen to Gene’s banter. Instead, she stared out the car’s tinted window, a lost look cloaking her face. Her face looked taut, like she’d lost weight in the few days they’d been on the train.
Suddenly she startled. “Ouch!”
“Are you all right?” Robert leaned across the narrow space.
She rubbed her thigh a moment then pulled her hand away as she caught Gene staring at her. “Fine, other than the fact that one of you fine gentleman pinched me.” She wrinkled her nose, as if she smelled something foul.
The Lester twins and Quincy were in the other car. Winston didn’t seem the type to pinch. Jim Collins was the only other man in the car, but he wouldn’t do something like that unless it was scripted and in front of an audience. He was too happily married—a rarity in Hollywood—to risk doing anything with anyone not his wife.
Robert caught Audra’s eye and shrugged. She frowned then settled back against the window. In another moment they reached the National Theatre.
“Guess we’ll be back in plenty of time to catch the train tonight.”
Audra looked at Robert. “The train has to wait for us.”
So his attempt to engage her in conversation fell flat. He’d better find the charm somewhere or tonight would be a long one.
The cars pulled in back of the theatre and deposited the performers at that entrance. The stone facade befitted a building set on Pennsylvania Avenue. Audra climbed from the car and then pirouetted, a look of wonder on her face. She turned to him, seemingly unaware anyone else was near. “Do you think we’ll have any time to see the monuments?”
“Maybe.” Robert watched as her eyes widened in delight. “Have you been here before?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to see the sights. If I could catch a glimpse of the Supreme Court...” She stopped abruptly. “Well, it wouldn’t matter.”
“Let’s see if we can’t find time after the show to take a quick taxi tour. You’ve come this far. Seems a shame to not at least wave to Mr. Lincoln and drive by the Court.”
A faint smile curved her delicate lips. “I’d like that.”
“Then let’s get inside, make the show a hit, and break away for a few moments of freedom.”
As soon as they entered the building and approached the backstage area, chaos reigned. Sets, curtains, props, and costumes cluttered the area, yet it pulsed with the energy of performers eager for their shot to wow a live audience.
“This is nothing like the movies.” Lana walked backstage, a look of fear warring with excitement.
“You’ll be great. Remember they all think you’re a star already.”
“Thanks for that ridiculous pep talk, Robert.” She shook her head and walked away.
When would he learn? Leave her alone. Don’t respond. The pain only deepened when he looked up to find Audra’s gaze on him. What must she think of the mess with Lana? Not too highly of him. No one from outside Hollywood could understand how artificial the world was. Maybe he should forget about taking Audra on a tour of the city. Who was he kidding? A tour of D.C. at night evoked romance. And the last thing he wanted—should want—was romance. He groaned. He knew the thought he didn’t want romance was a bald-faced lie.
His gaze moved to where Audra had been, as he searched for the woman who attracted his attention.
Audra had moved upstage, and a shadow seemed to flow behind her.
Robert squinted. Maybe his eyes deceived him. Why would someone follow her? But as he watched, the shadow stuck a hand in a coat pocket. The shadow pulled something out, something that looked like a gun. Pointed at Audra.