Can't Help Falling in Love (16 page)

    
She posed carefully, even though her neck was beginning to hurt. She finally
asked, “Have you got enough?”

     
Karen snapped one more and lowered her camera. “I think we can call it a day.
Somewhere in all these, we’ll have exactly the right angle that fits the
picture yet obscures your face.” 

    
“Fine,” Allison agreed, finally relaxing. She was exhausted, never having
imagined how strenuous modeling really was. This was probably the only time she
would ever be asked to model for a national ad, and were the cause not for the
man she loved, she would not have done so. She was a copywriter and a designer.
True, she was also pretty, and with her hair pulled back in a pony tail and her
back to the camera, she could easily pass for one of the teenage girls who were
going gaga over the singer they were hearing on the radio.

    
Within the hour, they were back inside their rented studio, where Karen
disappeared into the dark room to develop film. Allison posted herself at a
light table and was pouring over the prints and negatives from their recent
session when, unbeknownst to her, two dark-suited men appeared at the door
behind her and let themselves in. They were both young and tall, and they
seemed grimly studious. They observed her in silence for about a minute, and
then one of them wordlessly nudged the other and nodded in her direction. They
quietly approached her.

    
“Are you Allison Webster?”

    
Startled, she looked around at them.

    
“We’re looking for Allison Webster,” he repeated.

   
 She was taken aback by their stealthy intrusion, but instantly realized
that the men were not the type to be hanging around a building that was usually
populated with flamboyant artists and overly chatty advertising clients. She
moved her chair aside and stood. “I’m Allison.”

    
“I’m Special Agent-in-Charge Wilkins, and this is Special Agent Walker. We’d
like to ask you a few questions.”

    
“Who are you with?”

    
“The Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
They pulled out
their identification to reassure her.

    
Allison was momentarily stunned, but her good manners rose to the fore. She
gestured toward the sofa and said “Please sit down.”

    
Wilkins and Walker filed over to the sofa and sat, but both men leaned forward
expectantly, as if they were not planning to relax.
Walker
pulled out a note pad and pen.

    
Allison sat at a chair sideways to the sofa. She wanted to speak, but was
uncomfortable to the point of not knowing whether to voice a pleasantry or
merely wait for them to speak first. She opted to wait.

    
Wilkins spoke unsmilingly and maintained steady eye contact with her. “A series
of offenses has been brought to our attention and classified. Our goal is to expose,
disrupt, misdirect, discredit, or otherwise neutralize the activities of
certain individuals and organizations whose ideas or goals the government
opposes. Our investigation has definitely established the identity of certain
offenders, and there’s a reasonable indication that an organization or person
meets the guidelines for an investigation. May we ask you a few questions?”

    
“Yes.”

    
“According to our contacts in the recording industry, you have an affiliation
with individuals in that industry. Is that true?”

    
“Yes.”

    
“To what extent have you developed such relationships? I assume you know
between three and five people working in that area?”

    
“I think I know only two locally.”

    
“We have information that indicates some local
Memphis
recording studios are pursuing a number
of different genre artists. Would you agree?”

    
“The industry seems to be moving in some new directions, if that’s what you
mean.”

    
“Off the record, Miss Webster, are you involved with Phillip Samuels?”

    
“Not really. Not yet. I would sure like to be, but I’m not yet his Agent of
Record.”

    
“How would you obtain that opportunity? Everybody knows that his company has
never gotten deeply involved with exploitation on a national scale and can’t
fulfill large orders.”

    
Allison cleared her throat and then said, “I wouldn’t say I will get any
opportunity, sir, although I might take the liberty to contact him.”

    
“Why would you want to work with his clients? Isn’t it true that most
Memphis
artists have questionable talent?”

    
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think some of them are very talented!”

    
Wilkins barely smiled. “We’re new to this field and could use all the help we
can get. How does this business work with yours?”

    
“I help with a lot of local business, creating marketing campaigns that assist
them in achieving their sales goals. I visualize mainly print ads, and I create
PR campaigns to get the public to respond the way companies want. That’s what
marketing is all about.”

    
“You’re considered to be good at what you do?”

    
Allison laughed. “Some people think so.”

    
“Who would that be?”

    
“My clients do. I think the industry does, too. I’ve just been nominated for an
industry award.”

    
“Some people are more prominent in the industry than others?”

    
“Yes, that’s true in every line of work.”

    
“Do you know anyone named Eaton?”

    
“There’s a Sharon Eaton.”

    
“And she’s who?”

    
“She’s a
Nashville
advertising executive who recently
transplanted here to
Memphis
.”

    
“You’re good friends?”

    
“Hardly!”

    
“Do you work for her?”

    
Allison paused, and then carefully said, “I am working
with
her
on one account, in
the loosest sense of the word. We have a mutual client, who she seems to think
she has a right to manipulate. I’m certainly not working
for
her
at all.”

    
At that moment, a telephone rang in the developing rooms. They heard Karen
call, “I’ll get it!”

    
“And has she ever revealed to you the extent of her involvement with local record
manufacturing?”

    
Allison shook her head. “No.”

    
“What will happen if you’re no longer involved with her?”

    
Allison was unsure how to answer. “I don’t expect much would happen. As I said,
I’m not really involved with her on any project, other than the one that, in my
opinion, she shouldn’t be involved with at all. That’s a matter that’s still up
in the air.”

    
“There’s no way you could avoid working with her if she would be more in
control of these
kind
of projects?”

    
“Well,” Allison laughed nervously, “I don’t think I’d care to pursue any
project where I had to have a direct one on one involvement with her. I can
always turn down a job. I’m an independent consultant.”

    
“Would she be expected to be involved with a variety of industry clients?”

     
“I guess so.”

     
“Did you see the photo of her in today’s paper? Will you comment on her
involvement with the Rizzo family?”

    
“I can’t. I don’t know anything definite about that. You probably know more
than I do.”

    
“Would you tell us about her affiliation with the
AIM
group and any other of her friends,
family, vendors, subsidiaries, or competitors?”

    
“Sir, I don’t know anything more about her.”

    
Karen, who was still busy in the back and did not know that Allison was talking
to the FBI men, called out, “Allison! That was Sharon Eaton who called! You’re
invited to a big meeting at Star Records tomorrow morning at
eight o’clock
. I told her that I wasn’t your social
secretary and that she’d have to talk directly to you. She seemed snippy. You
better call her when you get a chance!”

    
Wilkins and Walker could not help but overhear Karen, and they exchanged
knowing glances.

    
Wilkins said, “I think you would be smart to make that call when you get a
chance. We’d like to ask you to go to that meeting. We’d appreciate your help
if you’d let us know any information you learn. Can we count on you?”

    
Allison took a deep breath, instantly feeling somewhat frightened and
suspecting that she was being drawn into an ugly whirlpool of intrigue. Even
so, she and Karen had already deduced that
Sharon
was perhaps sticking her finger too
deeply into pies that a more prudent person would avoid, and since she did not
consider
Sharon
to be her friend, she decided that the
best course of action was to cooperate. “Do you have a card?” Allison asked.

    
“Rizzo, Luigi?”

    
“Present.”

    
“
Vittorino
, Alfredo?”

    
“Present.”

    
“Webster, Allison?”

    
“Present.” Allison softly cleared her throat after answering the Secretary, who
was calling the role at the Star Records Board of Directors Meeting. She laid
her pen down on top of a closed manila folder she had brought that contained
her campaign layouts and a set of the recent photographs Karen had taken, and
she could barely swallow what she had just heard.
“Rizzo?
Vittorino
?
Who are those Italian men? Is it just a coincidence for that man to have the
same last name of the infamous family reputed to be involved with racketeering?
She had anticipated the meeting to be
overloaded with information, but that surprise left her momentarily stunned.
She thought,
There
sure are a large number of people here. The room’s overfilled, and I get the
feeling that they’re all here because of something important. There must be
far-reaching implications, or why else would they have asked me to come?
As she gazed at their faces, she only
recognized a few, and she, the secretary, and Sharon Eaton were the only women
in the entire group of thirty.

    
The secretary continued reading from her alphabetical attendee list.
“Williamson,
Maximillian
?”

    
“Present.”

    
“
Yaranski
, James?”

    
“Present.”

    
“Yates, Gale?”

    
“Present.”

    
“Mr. President, all members and guests are present and accounted for.”

    
Phillip Samuels nodded his head and forced a smile over his grim face. He
coughed once, adjusted his tie, and shifted his position in his chair. The man
did not look happy.

    
Allison sat next to a small, wiry, nervous sort of man with a bald spot
covering half his head and rimless glasses perched over his overly large nose.
She noticed that he sat with his hands protectively on top of a manila file
folder with the words “Investment Summary” on the tab.

    
The Secretary stood and announced, “The Board recognizes Harold Stein, Chairman
of the Board.”

    
As a dour-faced, heavy-set man rose and went to the head of the conference
table, Allison glanced at Sharon, who straightened her spine, tilted her head
high, and leaned forward. She had dressed in a stunning business suit with a
smart black jacket and matching Ponte skirt that fit her impeccably. The long
buttoned sleeves and welt pockets offered added details that made the suit look
unique, while the one-button jacket left the lapels gaping open, revealing her
ample bust barely contained beneath a low-cut cream-colored lacey knit blouse.
The effect was serious yet sensual.
Obviously,
Sharon
’s
dressed to wow the other Board Members
,
Allison observed,
or
is she trying to gloss over her
crude and
overbearing personality? And why is she grinning and radiating such glamour and
confidence?

    
“I’m pleased to begin our meeting with an announcement of great importance to
this Board,” Mr. Stein began. “May I introduce our new appointee to the position
of Vice President of Sales and Marketing . . . Miss Sharon
Eaton!
”

    
Sharon
shot a demure smile at those around the
table, as their generous applause burst forth. She stood, approached the head
of the table, and shook hands with Mr. Stein.