Third Half Read online

  The lights were low as she sang her ballad, adding to the intimacy of the love song. The room was quiet as she sang several more tunes, but once she was finished the lights came on, applause erupted.

  She could finally allow her eyes to search the room for the auburn-haired woman. She saw Ricardo standing by the bar wearing a somber expression. Following his dark piercing gaze, she found the woman.

  She was indeed lovely. It came as no surprise that her brother would be attracted to her. Liane noted the look of distress on the woman's face as she spoke heatedly to her companion.

  Glancing to the opposite side of the table, Liane saw the man sitting with her. She nearly gasped, stiffening as soon as she recognized the man's brown leather flight jacket. Slowly her eyes went to his bearded face. A familiar face – one she thought she'd never see again. Ralph Devereaux.

  Her mind raced over their previous meeting. Suddenly it occurred to her that this man was not her brother's agent. He was more than likely the person who had really murdered Devereaux. She must have walked into the agent's office before he had a chance to escape his crime.

  She realized the applause had stopped and she was standing dumbly on the stage, gawking at the couple as they spoke. Embarrassed, she prepared to leave when she heard someone shout "Encore!"

  She said a silent prayer, hoping the man would continue with his intense conversation and not notice her. If he did notice her, would he, with any luck, fail to recognize her?

  Her eyes hardly left his face as she sang. Then, as she finished, a waitresses handed her a slip of paper.

  Not a request. She forced a smile that nearly faded as she read the contents of the note. "Meet me outside after your last show. I want to talk about your brother. Now, sing anything."

  "An uncommon request. But one I can hardly refuse," she said, turning immediately and asked the band to play the theme from Cats the first Broadway show she'd ever been in – also her favorite.

  I

  "Ricardo," she began. "I simply can't do the late show tonight."

  "What's wrong?" he demanded.

  "I was so nervous about doing tonight's show that I have a migraine." She rubbed her temples, squinting her eyes for added effect. "Please Ricardo, don't be angry with me."

  "I am sorry, but Miss Kitty Katt has made a huge impression on everyone . . ." He accented the word. "She cannot abandon us now."

  "Have you ever heard the old Vaudeville saying: 'Always leave them wanting more'?" She forced a smile. "Couldn't I just . . ."

  He shook his head.

  "You haven't heard it," she said glumly, a sigh escaping her lips.

  "No, I have a better saying. Never leave someone wanting too long."

  "I suppose I better go and get ready for the last show," she said as she headed for the dressing room. Now she'd have to come up with another plan.

  "Maria." Liane was surprised when she found the girl waiting there. "I thought you were out on the floor waiting tables."

  "I wanted to talk to you," the girl said. "Did you see her? And the man with her?"

  "Yes. Do you know him?"

  "No, not really." Maria hesitated. "I was with Spence once when he came to talk to him. They only talked a moment and he was gone again."

  Liane made her decision. "Look, if anyone asks, tell them I'm laying down in here because I have a headache." She opened the huge window to her dressing room.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "It's better that you don't know. But Maria, whatever happens from here on in, thank you for your help." She turned and went out the window, knowing her final words had sounded ominous, yet feeling it was necessary to have said them. Things were becoming more mysterious and frightening at every turn.

  Liane went to the Smiths and changed into her sister's black and white habit, quickly grabbing her carry-on bag from the airport, before heading back to wait outside the nightclub.

  She knew that soon they would find her missing and Ricardo would be furious. Still, it was the chance she had to take. This turn of events was unexpected and she had to go with her hunch.

  The bearded man knew something about her brother. Besides that, he was the only person who knew she didn't murder Ralph Devereaux, because he had to be the murderer.

  For that very reason she knew she couldn't count on him for help. More likely, he only wanted to meet her after the show with the hope he could eliminate her as a witness. Dressed as Mary Catherine, she could follow him without his knowing who she really was.

  I

  What the hell is Jack's sister doing down here? The bearded man wondered, having to force his attention back to the woman seated beside him.

  "I do not like this change in plans." The auburn-haired woman's were like the bite of a dog that meant business. "And I certainly do not trust you, Senor Marshal."

  "Like I said, you either arrange for your boss man to meet with me, or I walk out that door and you'll have to get someone else to finish your job."

  "And what about the missing items?"

  "We all seem to be missing something," the man in the leather jacket said coolly. "Maybe we can help each other."

  "I will think about it, Senor," the beautiful Juanita said through clenched lips. "But I do not know if doing any more business with you is a wise choice."

  "Probably much wiser than the alternative."

  Juanita's dark eyes flashed angrily as she got up from the table. "We will be in touch." Without another word she turned walked away the crowd parting like the Red Sea as she made her way to the door.

  Todd Marshal turned to look at the empty stage. He had recognized the singer Kitty Katt as the same woman who had been in Devereauex's office Saturday. And he had recognized that woman as Jack's sister, Liane.

  South America was as good a place to hide from a murder rap as any. He smiled, feeling no guilt at knowing she was innocent of the crime, but still letting her take the blame. It was better than having her nosing around, getting in his way.

  Which brought him back to why she had chosen Lima, Peru. Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence that she chose here to hide. If that was the case, he'd just have to find a way to convince her to leave before she got in his way and ruined everything.

  Enough has gone wrong already. She had gotten his message. Now he only hoped she would meet him outside after her last show. And that should begin very soon.

  I

  From across the street Liane watched the auburn-haired woman leaving the Conquistador. She walked slowly down the street before stopping to talk to someone in a parked car. Then she got into another car and drove away.

  A few moments later the bearded man came out of the club and stood on the sidewalk a long time. Waiting for her, she supposed. Well, you're in for a surprise. She stepped further back into the shadows and watched as two men got out of the parked car and approached the man in the leather jacket.

  As if watching a scene from a movie, she saw the two men force the bearded one into their car. The same car the auburn-haired woman had paused by only moments before.

  Liane knew she'd have to follow, or lose all chance of finding out anything about Jack.

  Stepping toward the curb, she spotted a taxi on the corner. She rushed toward it and quickly got inside. "Do you speak English?"

  "Yes, I speak some English." The man turned, showing obvious surprise at finding a nun in his cab at this late hour.

  "Follow that car!" she ordered.

  The cabby's mouth dropped open with surprise as he nodded, turning to do as she instructed.

  "It's very important," she added as he started the motor.

  It seemed like they followed the other car for a long time before it stopped outside an old abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. The area was secluded and dimly lit.

  "Just like out of a mystery movie," she mumbled as she reached for the door handle.

  "Sister, are you going inside there?" The driver turned with undisguised concern, his dark complexion seeming t
o turn ashen in the dim light. "I do not think it is the kind of place . . ."

  "Please don't worry," she assured him, trying to show bravado she didn't feel. "But just in case, will you wait right here?"

  "Whatever you want, Sister," the man replied, still wearing a worried expression as he made the sign of the cross on his chest.

  Carefully crossing the street, Liane went to a dirty, cracked window at the side of the building where she had a fairly good view of the three men. It was irritating to watch and not be able to hear what they were saying, but by their actions, she was certain the two other men were angry with the bearded one.

  Further down the alley she saw another window and quickly went to that one. She now had an even better vantage point of what was happening, and through a broken pane of glass, she also could hear what the men were saying.

  "We know you are Jackson's partner," one of the men, a heavy barrel-chested man, said in heavily accented English. "Now, tell us where you hid everything."

  "I told you, I don't know where the stuff is." The bearded man said as he calmly lit a cigarette, then tossed the match toward the first man with unconcern. "Jackson disappeared."

  "Don't push your luck," Liane whispered as she saw the growing anger in the expressions of the other two men.

  "Mr. Marshal, we have orders to find out. If you insist in being difficult, we will have to do it the hard way." The second man, shorter and thinner, lifted a club from a nearby table.

  "Who gave those orders?" the man named Marshal asked calmly. "Maybe he could tell me where my partner is. Then we'll be glad to fulfill our agreement."

  "You are a wise guy!" The first man shouted as he hit the bearded man in the stomach with the end of the club. "I don't like wise guys. Especially Americans who think they can come down here and make fools of us."

  "You don't really think you need us to help you do that," groaned the American, now hunched over, holding his stomach.

  Liane rolled her eyes, wondering how he could be so brazen considering that had obviously been only a sampling of the beating he was about to receive. She watched as the barrel-chested man punched him in the face.

  Still the man named Marshal did not give them any information.

  Again, the smaller man used the club hitting him repeatedly.

  Liane forced herself to watch, wincing as though they had hit her.

  Marshal was on the ground, nearly in a fetal position, blood coming from his mouth as he looked up at his assailants with open hostility. Liane had no doubt he'd give them some of the same if he had the advantage.

  "Now tell us what we want to know! We know you and Jackson planned this together." They picked Marshal up from the floor and put him on his feet again.

  Liane knew she had to help the man. If what the men were saying was true, this man named Marshal might be able to tell her where she'd find her brother. He also could explain what was going on. She knew whatever it was, it had to be serious. Serious enough to kill for.

  Her eyes swiftly scanned the surroundings of the vacant building, spotting a back door. She prayed it could be opened. Hesitating only a moment, she shivered, remembering the man she was about to help was a murderer . . . and she was being blamed for the murder he committed.

  Having formed a plan, she quickly ran to the taxi and told the driver what she wanted him to do, then waited until she saw him drive around the building toward the back doorway. As his taillights disappeared, she knocked on the front door of the building.

  "Excuse me," she said boldly, stepping inside the huge room, not waiting for an invitation. Glancing around the room, she frowned. "Oh no, this isn't the place, is it? I keep getting lost. Father John is going to be very angry this time." She looked straight at the bearded man.

  "She saw his brown eyes widen when she said Father John, and knew he understood. "I sometimes think I'd get lost going out the back door."

  "Sister, where are you going?" The barrel-chested man who opened the door said from beside her. "Do you have an address?"

  "I have it written down someplace," she said turning. "Wouldn't you know I left it in the taxi outside the door." Without another word, she went back outside.

  "What taxi? She heard the man saying from behind her.

  "It was here a moment ago," she replied innocently, then hearing shouts from inside the building she knew Mr. Marshal had indeed understood and was making his escape.

  "Stop her!" The man inside yelled, as he rushed toward the doorway.

  Liane didn't wait to find out if her plan had worked. She soon realized that in her haste she had forgotten one thing – what would happen to her when the men realized she had tricked them?

  She heard footsteps behind her, and the sound of an engine starting. She lifted her skirts so she could run faster. All would be lost if she couldn't find a way to get away. She had no doubt these men meant business and she suspected that being a nun wouldn't save her.

  Nearly out of breath she turned a corner, hoping to find someplace to hide, but before she had time to look, she heard the screech of brakes and felt strong arms grasp her arm, pulling her inside a car. The door slammed and the car lurched forward again jerking her hard against the back of the seat, then as it rounded the next corner she felt herself pressed against a solid form.

  A beard rubbed against Liane's cheek and immediately she knew who it was. "It's about time!" she snapped. It was all she could think of saying at that moment, as she squirmed, trying not to be so close to this stranger.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath as he winced when her elbow bumped against his side. Remembering his injuries she was immediately concerned. She looked out the back, and left out a long sigh of relief. There were no headlights behind them.

  She leaned forward and asked the cab driver to turn on the inside light.

  She frowned when she saw her companion's split lip with a few drops of fresh blood still oozing to the surface. "Let me clean you up," she said as she reached for her case to search for something to clean his wound.

  "Don't worry about it?" The man said as he dabbed at the wound with his fingertips. "It's practically stopped bleeding."

  "Do you have a clean handkerchief?" She said, ignoring his protest.

  "You certainly are a bossy little thing," he snapped as he reached into his back pocket, again wincing from the movement. He pulled out a wrinkled up navy blue and white bandanna handkerchief.

  Liane looked at it distastefully, not taking it from his hand.

  "It's clean!" he snapped, watching as she lifted the skirt of her black habit and ripped at her slip. "What the hell are you doing?"

  "Getting something clean," she answered as she took the white fabric and held it firmly against his lip.

  He grabbed her hand and started to pull away. "Easy!"

  "Don't be such a baby," she chided, knowing he probably was in a great deal of pain, but having mixed sympathies for him. She had to remind herself this man could be dangerous.

  "By the way, may I ask, who I saved?" The man asked as soon as she seemed satisfied with her administrations. He already had a pretty good idea, but decided it would be better to make certain.

  "You saved!" Her eyes flashed like glittering emeralds. "From my vantage point, it looked like you were the one being saved."

  "My thanks." He nodded, looking down at her more intently. "And now, again, I'll ask who are you? And why didn't you meet me outside the club?"

  "I thought it would be more to my benefit to follow you," she replied honestly.

  "Okay. Now, who are you? We both know you aren't Kitty Katt." He raised his eyebrows and smiled at the name she used at the club. "And nuns don't usually sing in nightclubs dressed as . . ." His smile deepened as he watched her mounting embarrassment. "A floozy," he whispered, adding more accent to the word than if he had said it aloud.

  "She would if she had a good reason to dress that way," she retorted, feeling her cheeks burn. She leaned forward and told the driver he could turn off t
he inside light again, preferring to hide her embarrassment from this stranger.

  "Such as?"

  "Finding my brother," Liane replied. "Jack Spencer is my brother and I'm trying to find him."

  "Then you're . . ."

  "Mary Catherine," she finished for him. "If you are really Jack's partner, like those men said, you'd know about me. Jack probably speaks about me from time to time."

  "Yes, he does, and about your sister. I thought you were more than likely her." He looked at her shrewdly, scratching his beard. Jack had once said his sisters looked very much alike. This woman certainly did look like the sister he had already met at Deverauex's office.

  "I haven't any idea where Liane is," she lied.

  "None at all?" He wasn't hiding the skepticism in his voice.

  "No . . .All I know is that she's in trouble. And Jack's disappearance is at the bottom of it somewhere."

  "Hold on!" The man raised a hand. "Explain exactly what you do know."

  She frowned. "Not much. Liane and I were worried about Jack's being away. We had a good reason."

  "The money and the letter."

  "You know about them?" Her eyes flew open wide. "Then you are his partner!"

  "Yes, and I'm trying to find him too."

  "Then you can help me," she said anxiously, not realizing what she was suggesting until the words were out.

  "I work alone . . .at least, now I do."

  "But I have to find my brother and try to clear my sister's name. Don't you see?"

  "I see." The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long drag before continuing. "But you'll hardly be helpful."

  "I helped you tonight."

  "Did you?"

  "Of course. You aren't going to try and tell me you planned on getting beaten up."

  "No, not entirely." He threw the cigarette abruptly out the window, and leaned closer. "Don't you see this isn't exactly something a nun should get involved in?"