committed to the company, and we open tomorrow.”
“Oh come on,” Mandretti said, “some rinky-dink little theater. They won’t miss you. I’ll send someone to replace you. I’ll get them a real actor from Vegas. They’ll love it.”
“What do you mean, real actor?” said Todd, his outrage momentarily blocking out Violet’s thoughts of how very much she did not want to be accompanied by Professor Ryan.
“Well, you know what I mean,” said Mandretti. “Someone with sex appeal. I mean, what are you supposed to be? You ain’t exactly leading man material.”
“Don’t typecast me,” said Todd. “You don’t know what I am until you see me on stage. I am not going.”
“He’s not going,” said Violet, masking her own disappointment, “and I have no wish to take your tame treasure hunter with me. I’ll do perfectly well on my own.”
“Ryan’s going,” said Mandretti.
“No,” said Violet.
“I’m paying the bill,” said Mandretti, “and Ryan’s going. No offense Violet, but Ryan’s the one with the degrees.”
“I’m the one who finds things,” said Violet.
“So does Ryan,” said Mandretti, “and he finds them on TV.”
“He’s a has been,” Todd interjected.
“He goes,” said Mandretti. “He has the reputation, he’s a professor, and he’s the one who works for me. Fancy Pants can stay behind if he wants to, but Ryan goes.”
“Fancy Pants,” said Todd under his breath.
Violet shot him a glance to advise him not to push things any further. Mandretti seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps his sympathy for Violet in the loss of her friend was holding back his more violent side, but it wouldn’t be held back for ever. He could be pushed so far, and no further.
“Todd,” said Violet, “you’ll need to find some clothes for Ryan.”
“He has clothes,” said Mandretti.
“You mean the old network blazer that was supposed to impress me?” said Violet. “I mean real clothes, so he won’t stand out like a sore thumb in England.”
“London Fog, and Harris Tweed,” said Todd.
“Absolutely,” said Violet. “A raincoat, tweed jacket, and some kind of sweater. You must have something at the theatre with all the Coward and Christie you do.”
“42 long,” said Todd. “I’ll run down and see what we have.”
“Let’s go tell Ryan,” said Mandretti. “Where is he?”
“In the sitting room,” said Violet. She gave her corset one last determined tug, patted her hair into place and led the way to the sitting room.
Ryan was talking on his cell phone.
“I’ll let you know,” Ryan said, ending his call and slipping his phone into his pocket.
“Veronica?” asked Mandretti.
“No,” said Ryan, “that was Crispin Peacock, heir to the Peacock estate.”
“They sure do have fancy names,” said Mandretti, “what kind of family are they?”
“Old and full of history,” said Ryan.
“So what did he want?” asked Mandretti.
“He was returning my call,” said Ryan. “I left him a message about Taras and he called the Las Vegas police and then he called me.”
“So what is he, son, brother, what?”
“Distant relative,” said Ryan, “but there being no one else, he’s the heir. He’d never even met him.”
Ryan paused for a moment. “He was offering to meet me in London. I told him I wasn’t going to London, but he seemed to know more than I do”
“How could he know that?” Violet asked. “We only just decided…”
Ryan pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it out to her. His face was set in an angry glare. “Here,” he said, “why don’t you touch it and see if it talks to you. Perhaps
“Oh come on,” Mandretti said, “some rinky-dink little theater. They won’t miss you. I’ll send someone to replace you. I’ll get them a real actor from Vegas. They’ll love it.”
“What do you mean, real actor?” said Todd, his outrage momentarily blocking out Violet’s thoughts of how very much she did not want to be accompanied by Professor Ryan.
“Well, you know what I mean,” said Mandretti. “Someone with sex appeal. I mean, what are you supposed to be? You ain’t exactly leading man material.”
“Don’t typecast me,” said Todd. “You don’t know what I am until you see me on stage. I am not going.”
“He’s not going,” said Violet, masking her own disappointment, “and I have no wish to take your tame treasure hunter with me. I’ll do perfectly well on my own.”
“Ryan’s going,” said Mandretti.
“No,” said Violet.
“I’m paying the bill,” said Mandretti, “and Ryan’s going. No offense Violet, but Ryan’s the one with the degrees.”
“I’m the one who finds things,” said Violet.
“So does Ryan,” said Mandretti, “and he finds them on TV.”
“He’s a has been,” Todd interjected.
“He goes,” said Mandretti. “He has the reputation, he’s a professor, and he’s the one who works for me. Fancy Pants can stay behind if he wants to, but Ryan goes.”
“Fancy Pants,” said Todd under his breath.
Violet shot him a glance to advise him not to push things any further. Mandretti seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps his sympathy for Violet in the loss of her friend was holding back his more violent side, but it wouldn’t be held back for ever. He could be pushed so far, and no further.
“Todd,” said Violet, “you’ll need to find some clothes for Ryan.”
“He has clothes,” said Mandretti.
“You mean the old network blazer that was supposed to impress me?” said Violet. “I mean real clothes, so he won’t stand out like a sore thumb in England.”
“London Fog, and Harris Tweed,” said Todd.
“Absolutely,” said Violet. “A raincoat, tweed jacket, and some kind of sweater. You must have something at the theatre with all the Coward and Christie you do.”
“42 long,” said Todd. “I’ll run down and see what we have.”
“Let’s go tell Ryan,” said Mandretti. “Where is he?”
“In the sitting room,” said Violet. She gave her corset one last determined tug, patted her hair into place and led the way to the sitting room.
Ryan was talking on his cell phone.
“I’ll let you know,” Ryan said, ending his call and slipping his phone into his pocket.
“Veronica?” asked Mandretti.
“No,” said Ryan, “that was Crispin Peacock, heir to the Peacock estate.”
“They sure do have fancy names,” said Mandretti, “what kind of family are they?”
“Old and full of history,” said Ryan.
“So what did he want?” asked Mandretti.
“He was returning my call,” said Ryan. “I left him a message about Taras and he called the Las Vegas police and then he called me.”
“So what is he, son, brother, what?”
“Distant relative,” said Ryan, “but there being no one else, he’s the heir. He’d never even met him.”
Ryan paused for a moment. “He was offering to meet me in London. I told him I wasn’t going to London, but he seemed to know more than I do”
“How could he know that?” Violet asked. “We only just decided…”
Ryan pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it out to her. His face was set in an angry glare. “Here,” he said, “why don’t you touch it and see if it talks to you. Perhaps
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