Vanilla Beaned (16 page)

“If the outfit didn't rip on her, it won't rip on you,” Holly said. “Angie, you're on the petite side for a dancer, so if anyone comes around, make sure you're sitting down.”

“That's the nice way of saying I'm too short,” Angie said. “Isn't it?”

Holly cringed. “Did it work?”

“No.” Angie frowned. “What's the minimum height requirement for a dancer?”

“The shortest is five foot eight,” Margie said.

“So, you're all giantesses?” Angie asked.

“It's a leg thing,” Margie said.

Angie didn't look comforted by this, and Tate patted her knee and said, “I think you have amazing legs.”

“Well, it's a good thing we're not actually participating in the show,” Angie said. “I wouldn't want my stubby legs to give us away.”

“Your stubby legs, my complete lack of ability, yeah, it's a good thing we're benched,” Mel said. She met Angie's gaze and they both grinned.

There was a knock on the door, and a voice called, “Five minutes to curtain, Holly.”

Mel knew that voice. It was Fancy and she sounded very cross.

“I have to go inspect the others,” Margie said. She grabbed her toolbox full of makeup and headed for the door. “Now remember, if you get busted, I know nothing.” Then she glanced at Holly, her longtime friend, and said, “Be safe.”

“I promise,” Holly said.

“I'd better go,” Tate said. “I have Marty and Oz holding a table in the front. We'll be sweeping the theater, making sure there is nothing strange going on. Manny is stationed backstage. He won't let anyone back there who doesn't belong, and he'll be keeping an eye on the ones who do.”

“Thank you,” Holly said. “I don't know what I'd do without all of you.”

“No problem,” Tate said. He turned to Angie. “You be careful. Keep your phone with you at all times. Remember you're here to snoop in Levi's dressing room and Fancy's office and the girls' big dressing room if you can manage it, but you are not to put yourselves in jeopardy. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Angie said.

“Roger that,” Mel said.

Tate planted a kiss on Angie and squeezed Mel's hand before he left to go upstairs.

When the door shut behind him, Angie sighed. “I'm going to marry him.”

“When we get back to Arizona,” Mel said. “Not here. Your parents would skin you alive and you know it.”

“But eloping is so romantic,” Angie protested. “We could go home as Mr. and Mrs. Tate Harper.”

“It won't be romantic when your brothers string Tate up like a piñata and smack the candy out of him,” Mel said. “And you know they will.”

“How many brothers do you have?” Holly asked.

“Seven,” Angie said. “Seven nosy, meddlesome, annoying, buttinsky older brothers, who I love like crazy. How's that for too much sibling?”

Holly smiled at her. “It sounds nice actually.”

“Wait 'til you meet them,” Angie said.

There was another knock on the door and a shout. “Two minutes!”

Holly jumped up from her seat and adjusted her feathered headpiece and sparkly outfit. “I'm off.”

“Break a leg,” Mel called as Holly hustled out of the room. She turned back to Angie. “It seems wrong to say that to a dancer.”

Angie nodded. “‘Bust a move' would seem more appropriate. So, where do we want to start?”

“Levi won't leave his dressing room until he's about to go on, and Holly said that Fancy is backstage for the entire show every show, except for intermission when she comes back down with the girls,” Mel said.

“Fancy's office it is,” Angie said.

By mutual agreement, they waited a few minutes before peeking out. The hustle and bustle that had been happening before the curtain came up was over now, and the dressing area was almost eerie in its quiet.

Mel led the way out the door and into the main room. Fancy's office was situated by the stairs, no doubt enabling her to keep an eye on all the dancers as they came and went.

Mel tried the door. She hesitated for just a moment, hoping that Carlos had done what Holly had asked and unlocked it before he headed upstairs. The knob turned and Mel pushed the door open.

Angie gasped. The sight that met their eyes was incredible. It was a decent-sized office and it was covered from floor to ceiling and wall to wall with pictures of Fancy. Some were solo shots of her showgirl days, but most were Fancy in the later years with everyone from Sid Caesar to Katy Perry.

“Look, there's Fancy and Elvis,” Angie said.

“And here's Fancy and POTUS,” Mel said. “Looks like she gets around.”

“Can you imagine meeting all these people?” Angie asked. “What a legacy.”

“Yeah, it kind of makes you wonder if her sense of power is out of whack,” Mel agreed.

She moved to the far wall, where there were pictures of Fancy with all the headliners and the troops of dancers. Mel saw Holly right away. With a burst of pink feathers
coming out of her head, Holly looked like an exotic bird. The two women wore matching grins, and Mel had a feeling this must have been taken when Holly became the lead in the show.

“They sure look happy,” Angie said. “I can't really picture Fancy trying to hurt Holly.”

“If she feels betrayed because Holly's leaving, who knows what she might do,” Mel said. “It makes sense that she would stop us from finding a bakery just to keep Holly in the show.”

“Come on, you've seen Fancy,” Angie said. “She may be fit for her age, but I don't see her driving a car through the front of a bakery.”

“No, but she looks like she's pretty well connected,” Mel said. “It can't have been too hard for her to find someone to do it for her.”

“All right,” Angie said. “Let's find the proof.”

Together they searched the office, while Angie checked every drawer, every file, and every shelf, Mel took a look at Fancy's computer. It was turned on and she had left her e-mail open. Hurrah! It seemed to Mel if she was hiring people to explode bakeries, there'd be some sort of trail.

Angie finished the room and checked the time on her phone. “Find anything?”

“No,” Mel said. “It's almost time for Levi to go on. We can't lose our opportunity to check his dressing room.”

“I'll go on ahead,” Angie said. “Meet me there when you're done here.”

“Okay, but be careful,” Mel said.

Angie slipped out of the office and Mel felt her nerves ratchet up. She shouldn't be in here doing this, but how else were they going to find out who had it in for Holly's bakery? She knew Tate would be unhappy that they had split up, but what choice did they have?

Fancy was one of those people who never deleted an e-mail. As she scrolled through, Mel looked at the in-box and there were over ten thousand e-mails. She had to suppress the urge to bang her head on the desk.

“I am never going to slog through this, never,” she muttered. She glanced at the time in the corner of the screen. Nerves made her jog her foot up and down. Suddenly, she was overly aware of her makeup and it felt greasy on her skin.

She decided to stick to the days when there had been incidents. That narrowed it down by a few thousand. She read the subject lines, hoping the words
crash
,
bomb
,
shooting
, or the like would give her a clue. There was nothing.

She glanced at the clock again. Time was running out. Fancy and the others would be down here for the intermission at any moment. Damn it.

She pushed back from the desk, planning to slip out of the room when she saw the words
contingency plan
in a subject line. It was a reply in Fancy's e-mail from a person with the handle
stuntryder
.

Mel's eyes bugged. This had to be the driver. This was her proof. She had to see the e-mail. She glanced at the clock again. She was out of time. She could hear the chatter and laughter of the girls as they passed by the office.

What to do? What to do? Impulsively she forwarded the e-mail to her own e-mail account. Then she opened the sent mail folder and deleted what she had forwarded. That should do it.

“What the hell are you doing in my office?”

“Yikes!” Mel jumped. “You scared me.”

“I'm going to do a lot more than that if you don't tell me what you're doing in my office, which was locked, right now.”

Fancy crossed her arms over her chest. She looked pretty confident that she could kick Mel's behind, which was disturbing because Mel was pretty sure she could, too.

“You know, the door was open,” Mel said. “And when I was walking by, I saw this person come running out of here and I thought that was weird, so I just popped in here to make sure everything was okay.”

She stood as she spoke. She glanced from side to side as if reassuring herself that all was well. Then she looked at Fancy and said, “You're welcome.”

“You're new, aren't you?” Fancy asked.

“Very,” Mel said.

“I don't remember hir—”

“Fancy, come quick! Tisha twisted her ankle,” one of the dancers cried as she stuck her head around the door frame.

“What? How?” Fancy forgot all about Mel and moved toward the door.

“Coming down the stairs. She's at her dressing table, but it doesn't look good,” the dancer said. “It's already swelling.”

Fancy turned around and glared at Mel. “Okay, new girl, get suited up for the opening number after intermission. You're taking Tisha's place.”

“What?” Mel gaped. “No, I—”

“Go see Denise in wardrobe,” Fancy said. When Mel didn't move fast enough, she barked, “Now!”

Mel hurried out of the office. This was not possible. She couldn't do this. She couldn't even fake it. If she tried to high kick, she'd likely throw her back out.

She passed Levi's dressing room on her way to wardrobe. Angie was just slipping out.

“Find anything?” Mel asked.

“No.” Angie shook her head. “Unless you count the world's largest collection of indigestion medication. Poor Levi must be the most nervous person in show business.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that off of him,” Mel said. “Doesn't matter because I found a name in Fancy's e-mail and I think it might be who we're looking for.”

“What did the e-mail say?”

“I don't know. I didn't get a chance to read it because
Fancy caught me in there,” Mel said. “But the handle was
stuntryder
.”

“No way. We have to tell Manny,” Angie said.

“Yeah, I would but I can't,” Mel said. “One of the dancers twisted her ankle and I'm supposed to step in for her. I'm supposed to be in wardrobe right now.”

“Well, what are you doing here?” Angie asked. “Go!”

“What? No, I thought we'd sneak out the back,” Mel said.

“In this?” Angie pointed to their sparkly outfits. “Really?”

“Well, no, I figured we'd change first,” Mel said.

“We have five pounds of makeup on,” Angie said. “We'll be seen as showgirls or hookers, either way I don't see us getting out of here unnoticed.”

“I can't do this,” Mel said. “I've never been onstage in my life.”

“Just do what the others do,” Angie said. “You'll be fine.”

“You had dance lessons as a kid, you go,” Mel said.

“No can do, too short,” Angie said. This time she didn't look bitter so much as relieved.

“This is a nightmare,” Mel said.

“Come on, let's get you to wardrobe before Fancy has a cow and our real identities are discovered,” Angie said.

Mel let Angie drag her out of Levi's dressing room and down the hall toward the main room shared by the rest of the girls. It looked like a typhoon of shimmer and feathers as the dancers peeled off one outfit and slid into another.

Angie maneuvered her way through the room without breaking her stride but Mel was feeling very
self-conscious. She was going to have to change in front of these women. Suddenly every ounce of extra weight she was carrying seemed like a sack of flour. She turned to bolt out of the room but a hand clamped on her wrist, holding her in place.

“Where are you going?” Fancy asked.

“Bathroom?”

“No time,” Fancy said. “Denise is waiting for you. Let's go.”

Mel felt the walls closing in. Now might be her only chance, so she asked, “Who's
stuntryder
?”

“What?” Fancy asked.

“You heard me.” Mel tried to look fierce.

“It's a poodle that rides a tricycle,” Fancy said. “They're auditioning for the show. Why? Do you know them?”

Nuts!
Mel bit her knuckle. She seriously doubted Fancy could have made that up on the spot.

“Fancy! Fancy, wait!” A dancer came running up to them. She was holding her enormous purple headdress on with one hand while she ran. “Sunny just went to check on Holly and she can't find her anywhere. She says she's missing.”

Fancy dropped Mel's arm. “What?”

“Missing! Holly is missing!”

“She should be in her dressing room—why wouldn't she be there?”

“I don't know.” The dancer shrugged.

“But she's never missed a curtain, not ever.” Fancy looked around her as if expecting Holly to appear out of thin air.

Mel glanced at Angie. Judging by the round-eyed gaze Angie sent her, her panic was confirmed. Mel had tucked her phone into the padded front of her outfit. She pulled it out now, planning to call Manny and see if Holly was with him. Maybe she had already gone back upstage.

They were three stories belowground in concrete. Mel couldn't get a signal on her phone. She looked at Angie, who was doing the same thing.

“Nothing,” Angie said. “I'm going upstairs to find Tate.”

“Right behind you,” Mel said.

“You can't,” Fancy cried. “The show!”

“Is screwed if we don't find Holly,” Mel said. “If I were you, I'd get her understudy up to speed then worry about your backup dancers.”

She didn't wait for an answer but hurried from the dressing room, following Angie as she plowed through bodies to get to the door. They passed Holly's dressing room. Sunny was in there, looking confused, while one of the costume people helped her into Holly's headpiece.

“This just doesn't feel right,” Sunny was saying. “I need to go look for Holly.”

“We'll do it,” Mel said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“She was right behind me on the stairs when we came down,” Sunny said. “I went to the dressing area and then doubled back to go upstairs with her but she wasn't in here and she should have already been dressed and ready to go.”

“Anyone check the bathroom?” Angie asked.

“Twice,” the costume person said.

“Okay, let's go,” Angie said.

They dashed through the changing area to the stairs. Mel felt like cursing all the way up, but she couldn't afford the breath. The stairs were well lit and there was no sign of anything amiss, no explosion of feathers or rhinestones to indicate a struggle. They got to the top of the steps and Mel was doubled over and wheezing.

“You all right?” Angie panted.

Mel nodded and waved her hand for Angie to continue. Angie pushed through the metal door and they stepped into the darkness. They could hear the crowd laughing as Levi paced the stage, shooting out his rapid-fire jokes like they were a barrage of bullets.

Mel blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust. She knew Manny had planned to stay backstage to keep an eye on everything so she assumed he would be near the door to downstairs.

“Manny!” she whispered. “Are you here?”

There was no answer.

“I'm going to slip out into the audience to find Tate,” Angie said. “Come with me.”

“No, I need to find Manny,” Mel said. She glanced at her phone. Now she had a signal. “I'll call you if I get in a jam.”

Angie's face was barely visible in the dark but Mel knew her best friend well enough to see the crinkle of unhappiness in her forehead. She didn't like this plan. Mel didn't, either, but Manny really was their best shot for finding Holly since he was probably the last one to see her before she went downstairs.

“All right, but if I don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'm coming back here with all of the boys.”

Mel nodded. She squeezed Angie's arm before turning and walking into the deep darkness of backstage. Like any backstage, there was a shabbiness that came with overuse. The props that looked so glittery from the audience were distressed when seen up close.

Mel stepped over a coil of rope, walked around a stand of lights, and moved even deeper into the backstage. She couldn't hear what Levi was saying but she could hear the laughs from the crowd. She knew she still had some time. She just hoped that Holly did, too.

“Manny!” she hissed.

A man wearing a headset hushed her and Mel jumped. She looked closely at him. Did he look like a stalker in disguise or the real deal? He spoke into the mouthpiece attached to the headset and she assumed he was real or a very good actor.

Where was Manny? He was supposed to be here, guarding the backstage from anyone suspicious like, say, a cupcake baker who couldn't dance for beans but was decked out in showgirl attire. If Mel had made it this far, then who else might have and where the hell was Manny?

Her stomach began to churn. She inched forward in the darkness hidden behind the backdrop from the crowd. The noise from up front, even the laughter, was muffled. Surely, Manny wouldn't have stayed this far back. How could he see anything from back here?

Mel turned to go back toward the front of the stage. She held her hands out in front of her to help guide her
in the darkness. It was strange to walk around when she could barely see the dim outlines of sets and equipment around her. It was like walking through nothingness and she felt as if she might step off an unseen ledge into a vast emptiness.

Instead she kicked something soft. She thought it might be a costume or a prop. She reached down to see if she could move it. Her fingertips brushed something warm. She held her hand still and it took her a moment to register that it was skin. She bit off a scream before it could escape her lips. Her heart hammered hard and she knew without even looking more closely that the arm she was touching was Manny's. On the upside, his skin was warm and not cold so that had to be good.

“Manny,” she called as she crouched and ran her hands down his chest. It was then that she felt the ropes looped around his middle, binding him to a stone pillar. Oh, no. Someone had done this to him. Someone bad.

He didn't respond and she noticed his head was hanging forward. He was unconscious. Mel tried to rouse him to no avail. She patted his cheeks and then ran her hand over his head. There was a knot the size of a golf ball on the back of his head that she was sure was going to give him a powerful headache when he woke up.

Mel began to fumble with the ropes, but she couldn't get them loose. Whoever tied him had been efficient. She needed help. She took out her phone and sent a text to Angie letting her know where she was and that she needed help ASAP.

Mel continued to work the knots with little success, but
in less than a minute, two Elvis wannabes, Tate, and Angie arrived.

“What happened?” Tate demanded.

“I don't know,” Mel said. “I found him like this. He got clocked on the head and tied up but I haven't been able to rouse him to find out if he saw Holly or not.”

What Mel didn't add was that she had no doubt that wherever Holly was, she was in grave danger.