When the cuffs snapped shut around Jasmine’s wrists, Alan Dale sprang into action. I saw him move, heading toward Glancy, and I cut him off before he could do any damage.
“Cool it,” I ordered. “You can’t help her that way.”
“But they can’t do this. It’s a put-up deal. You said so yourself.’
“They can do it. They are doing it.”
Dale gave me a shove, trying to push me out of the way, but Jasmine put an end to it once and for all. “It’s all right, Alan,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”
He stood still then. Meanwhile, the other agent, the one named Dick, had come across the stage and taken hold of Jasmine’s arm.
“Take her into her dressing room,” Glancy ordered. “We’ll wait there until the crowd breaks up. Waverly’s in another. I don’t want to try to take them out of the building until it quiets down outside. If we do it now, it’ll cause a riot.”
Dick led Jasmine back toward the dressing room. She walked quietly offering no protest.
Alan Dale started after them, but I held him back. “Who moved the trunk?”
“They all denied it.”
“All of them?”
“Every last goddamned one of them. When I figure out who did it, I’m going to tear the son of a bitch limb from limb.”
Those were my sentiments exactly.
CHAPTER 22
THERE WAS A FLURRY OF ACTIVITY AT THE top of the stage stairs and B. W. Wainwright, Agent-in-Charge Wainwright, strode into view. He marched directly into the main circle of activity. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Where’s Glancy?”
“In the back,” someone told him. “In the dressing rooms. They’ve got two of the suspects back there, the woman and Ed Waverly.”
Wainwright nodded. “Good work. Where’s the other one? What’s his name, Osburn?”
“Osgood,” said the DEA agent who was supplying the information. “We don’t know. He didn’t show up here for work today, and this guy”—he motioned toward me—“he says Seattle P.D. has already issued an APB on him.”
Wainwright glanced toward me. “Hello, Detective Beaumont. How’s it going?”
“Who knows?”
Wainwright headed for the dressing-room area, and I tagged along. As soon as he saw the agent in charge, Glancy looked enormously relieved. “I’m glad you’re here, boss,” he said. “L.A. called me when they couldn’t raise you on the pager. We’ve got Jasmine Day in one dressing room and Waverly in the other.”
The agent in charge glanced briefly at the two closed doors. “Someone’s in there with each of them?”
Glancy nodded, watching Wainwright pace back and forth across the room. “I don’t know what those assholes in L.A. are thinking,” Wainwright stormed. “They’ve got their heads up their butts, pulling off an operation like this without giving us any advance notice.
“I was out flying,” he added. “I got the message as soon as I landed and came straight here. It looks as though you’ve got everything under control. Good work, Glancy.” Wainwright turned to me. “Any idea what became of Osgood, Detective Beaumont?” he asked.
I shook my head. “None. We’ve talked to his wife. She told us he had moved out. We’re afraid he may have skipped town. We’ve got people staked out at the airport looking for him, and we’ve notified customs at Blaine in case he tries to get out that way.”
“Good. That was smart.”
Just then someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder. I twisted around to find Big Bertha Harris standing right behind me. “I have to talk to you,” she whispered.
Obligingly, I followed her out of the room. “They’re all like that,” she said as soon as the door closed behind us.
“What are all like what?” I asked.
“The other trunks,” she answered. “They all have false bottoms.”
“Are they full or empty?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t check.”
We looked at three more trunks. One was for costumes and two were for instruments. Bertha was right. They all had false bottoms, and they were all empty.
Alan Dale had followed along. He scratched his head. “Jesus Christ! How could I have been so stupid? This must have been going on the whole time and I never had an inkling.” Angrily, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked toward the edge of the stage. I went after him.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I might just as well go ahead and start the load-out. I don’t know where they’re going to take the stuff or who’s going to pay for it, but I’ve got to get it out of here, and I can’t keep the stagehands on duty all night.” He looked around. “Where the hell is Ray?” he asked.