Taking the Fifth(66)

With that, Glancy walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Big Bertha. “Who has a key to this dressing room?” I asked.

She looked at me doubtfully for a moment, as though afraid I was going to accuse her next. I tried to reassure her. “Look,” I said. “Someone is trying to frame Jasmine Day. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

“I do,” she said finally. “And Alan Dale and Ed Waverly both have keys. The same goes for the guy with the theater, that Dan Osgood. He has a master.”

“When did you get here?”

“Just at six,” she answered.

“And was the trunk already here?”

Bertha nodded. “It was. I thought it was kind of odd, but I never had a chance to talk to Alan about it. It didn’t seem that important.”

“Who usually brings it here?” I asked. “Did you see anyone?”

Bertha shook her head. “One of the stagehands does it,” she answered. “But I don’t have any idea which one.”

“Someone who was smart enough to make sure it was in her dressing room when the DEA guys came through with their search warrant.” I said it aloud, but more for my benefit than for Bertha’s.

“And you think someone’s trying to frame her?” Bertha asked.

“I’m sure of it,” I answered. “And they’re not missing a trick.”

A burst of applause from outside told me another number was over. I hurried out of the dressing room. Alan Dale was standing alone off to one side of the stage. I went up to him, took him by the arm, and led him back to the dressing-room area so we could talk.

“Did you move the costume trunk into Jasmine’s dressing room?” I asked.

“No.”

“Do you know who did?”

“No. One of the stagehands, probably, right after intermission.”

“What if I told you that tonight somebody did it before six o’clock, before Jasmine and Big Bertha got to the theater?”

“I’d say somebody had their act together.”

“What if I told you there’s a million dollars’ worth of cocaine in the bottom of that trunk?”

“Bullshit!” he said.

“It’s true. Want to look for yourself?”

He shook his head.

“And since they found it in Jasmine’s dressing room, they’re going to try to pin it on her unless we figure out who put it there.”

Slowly, Alan Dale swung his face in my direction, a penetrating look in his eyes. “You mean you don’t think she put it there?”

“No. It’s a setup. I just don’t know who’s behind it.”

“Wait here,” Dale commanded.

I didn’t do quite what I was ordered to do. I came out of the dressing-room area far enough to see Jasmine on stage and close enough to hear the music. I was dimly aware of Alan Dale moving silently among the members of the stage crew and whispering to them. And to one side, I could see Roger Glancy standing with one of his men, patiently waiting. But mostly I was aware of Jasmine, of Jasmine Day and her music.

During the next round of applause, she came over to the wings to pick up her wooden stool. Glancy made a move as if he planned to grab her then, but Alan Dale appeared out of nowhere and stopped him. After the applause died down, the spotlight found Jasmine and her stool in center stage.

The auditorium was breathlessly silent as she lifted the microphone to her lips. “First,” she said, “I want to thank you for being such a wonderful audience tonight. I’ve loved being here with you, and I know you’ve enjoyed the show.”

Applause started to trickle through the audience, but Jasmine raised her hand to quiet it. “During this tour, my comeback tour, I’ve taken some time out of each show to share with others what’s happened to me in the course of the last few years. I’ve told people how I screwed myself up on drugs and how, with the help of Betty Ford’s treatment center, Rancho Mirage, I finally got my life back on track again. But tonight there’s something else that needs to be said.

“This afternoon my manager, Ed Waverly, got a message from his boss in California saying that the remainder of my tour has been canceled. We were supposed to be in Vancouver, B.C., tomorrow night. Instead, we’ll be packing up and heading back to California.”

An audible groan rumbled through the audience. Jasmine smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that. But I want to tell you what caused the cancellation. The audience response, both here and in other cities, has been wonderful. The reason the tour was canceled is that the financial backers are scared, scared of me and my reputation. They weren’t all that happy to take on someone who had the kind of history I do. They were afraid I was too risky. I was told from the beginning that if there was any hint of trouble, they’d drop me like a hot potato.