Welcome to Amateur Theatricals, book twelve in the Operation Quickline series. The stage is set for a major operation as Lisa, Sid, and Nick go undercover at a university to find who’s killing KGB moles in training. You can read the first episode here, and catch up on the series here.
That Wednesday, Theatre History got canceled, so I got my stuff from Sid’s office, left a note, and walked home. On a whim, I dumped my stuff inside the house, then walked over to Mimi’s place and knocked on the door.
She opened it just enough for her head to peek out and looked at me, puzzled.
“Uh, hello, Linda.”
“Hi, Mimi.” I smiled. “Class got canceled this afternoon, and I just thought I’d ask you over for some tea, if you like.”
Mimi glanced back inside. “Th… thank you. Some other time would be nice. I’ve got to go.”
She shut the door quickly, but not before something moving in the background caught my eye. I couldn’t help but wonder who else was in the house. If it were her husband, why would she hide it? I was also fairly sure he was teaching that afternoon. I thought I’d heard Esther say that she had Dr. Dearing in the afternoons, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Nor did it make sense that Mimi would hide that Raylene was there. Or Mimi’s son, for that matter.
When I got back to our house, the phone was ringing. It was Sid.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Class just got canceled, so I came home. I left you a note.”
“So, you walked home alone?”
“Yeah. It’s daytime.”
“Honey, nobody on campus has been walking anywhere by themselves.”
“Shavings.” I was nettled by his tone, but he was right. And there was something else going on. “Are you alone?”
“No. You know how it is. Everybody’s worried.”
“Okay. Anything I can get started for dinner?”
“That sounds delicious, sweetie. No, don’t call back.” His tone turned a touch annoyed. “Yes, I’ll be home at the usual time.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Me, too.”
Sid and Nick got home just after four. The menu showed chicken cutlets in chile sauce with cole slaw. Sid and I had been ecstatic when we’d found the canned sauce on the grocery store shelf. It wasn’t nearly as good as the sauce our housekeeper Conchetta Ramirez made from scratch, but given that there weren’t any packages of dried chiles anywhere in the store, let alone fresh chiles, we considered it a God-send. I’d gone ahead and made the cole slaw.
I sent Nick to his room to work on his homework as we had rehearsal that night.
“What was with the phone call today?” I asked Sid as he got the skillet out of the cupboard.
“Sorry about that.” He squeezed his eyes shut and quickly shook his head. “What a mess. I was calling to check on you. Only Steve Weber walked into my office just as you picked up.” He sighed. “I’ve been trying to be a little more traditionally male around those jerks in the hopes of finding something out.”
“Oh. That’s why I came home. I thought I’d try to get something out of Mimi.”
“Did you?” Sid went back to getting the skillet on the stove and heating up some oil.
I shook my head, then got the chicken breasts out of the fridge. “I think she had someone in the house with her, but I don’t think it was her husband or her son, and I don’t think it was one of the other faculty wives. What about Weber?”
Sid cursed. “That’s a mess and a half. His wife has been threatening to leave him since last summer and is now officially doing it. She’s apparently tired of him cheating on her.”
“Imagine that.”
“Yeah.” Sid rolled his eyes. “Imagine that.” He slid the chicken breasts into the skillet and looked at me. “You know, before I gave up sleeping around, there were a lot of your attitudes about sex and fidelity that I just did not get. And even after I gave it up. I mean, I could see that me being with someone else hurt you, but I never really understood why. The weird thing is that now, I’m getting it. I knew that my values about sexual behavior weren’t exactly the same as most people’s. But it never really registered how different those values were. It’s like you were asking the other day about men and porn, and I couldn’t answer. I’m not that turned on by porn, and not at all by the whole dominatrix sadomasochism thing. I literally do not understand why handcuffs are considered a thrill. And it’s not like I haven’t tried any of that stuff.”
I chuckled. “I don’t doubt that.”
“But see, for me, sex has always been about joy. I can see keeping that joy to ourselves, which is one of the many reasons I do not have the least interest in cheating on you. What makes our joy so special is that it is exclusive to us. We don’t share it with anybody else, and I have absolutely no interest in doing so.”
“I know, dearest.” I walked over to him and ran my finger down his nose.
“Even if I did, it wouldn’t mean anything more than when I do it by myself. But for Weber, and so many of these assholes, sex is about power. If they want to please a woman, it’s so they have power over her. And if they cheat, it’s another way of proving that they have the power over their wives to do what they want or proving that they still have the power to get another woman to submit to them.” Sid shook his head. “That’s why I was so curt with you today. These guys, they’re so terrified of looking like their wives control them, they won’t even take a phone call. The other day, Al Horton was having conniptions because his wife called him about their three-year-old, who had pneumonia. If you’d taken Nick to the doctor’s and he’d gotten diagnosed with pneumonia, I’d want to know right away. But not Al. God forbid you actually call your wife to see how she’s doing. I was a little worried about you being seen walking around by yourself. We do have to be careful about looking like civilians. But, hey, I missed seeing you and wanted to talk to you. How does that make you more powerful than me?”
“It doesn’t.” I sighed. “I don’t get it, either, but I suspect it’s all part of that whole messaging thing that’s been making me crazy this past year. It’s like you keep saying. We get to define our relationship. Not anybody else.”
Sid turned the chicken breasts into the pan. “Nothing like being hoisted on one’s own petard.” He suddenly looked at me. “You wouldn’t happen to know what a petard is, would you?”
I grimaced. “Some sort of medieval weapon? That’s supposedly your bailiwick.”
Sid rolled his eyes, then pulled me close to him. “I’ll call Randall. In the meantime, I’m really wishing you and Nick didn’t have rehearsal tonight.”
“At least you’ll get on top of grading papers.”
He snorted, then licked the back of my neck. “I’d rather get on top of you.”
“Later, dearest.” I shivered with anticipation. “But back to Dr. Weber. If his wife has been threatening to leave since last summer, is it possible that pushed him over the edge?”
Sid frowned. “But how has he found out about the finishing students? The report says he has no connection with anyone in the Intelligence Community.”
“Does he have any kind of relationship with Earnest Kaspar?” I got out a bottle of white wine from the fridge and opened it. We figured the wine fit with our story that we were from California.
“Why do you ask?” Sid put the cooked chicken on a plate. “Can you get me the spinach, please?”
I got the frozen spinach from the freezer and handed it to Sid. “Well, Kaspar must have some records on his students. What if Weber saw them?”
“And we can’t search Kaspar’s office or home because he can’t know that our side is onto him.” Sid opened the can of chile sauce, poured about half into the skillet, then added the spinach. “I’m going to let the chicken simmer in this a bit. Why don’t you pour us a splash of that wine?”
Sid slid the chicken breasts back into the skillet and turned down the heat while I poured a small splash of wine into each of our glasses. I did have rehearsal that night and needed to stay sharp. We ate at five o’clock, got everything cleaned up, then Sid drove the three of us back to school so that Nick and I could go to rehearsal.
The next day, I again got up early, and this time searched Delia’s office and found absolutely nothing that shouldn’t have been there. I was glad. I liked Delia. Dr. Dorfmann had also shown up early that morning, or at least, the light in his office was on when I left at quarter ‘til eight and it hadn’t been when I’d gotten there at six-thirty.
Sid was just about to get on the treadmill when I got to the Fitness Center. He smiled as he saw me and gave me a nice, warm kiss. Well, we’d had a good time the night before and we were both still feeling it. As we finally pulled ourselves apart, Sid looked away and sighed.
“What?” I asked, pushing the buttons on the treadmill dashboard.
“One of the guys.” Sid got on his treadmill. “He was outside and looking up at the window just now.” He shook his head. “What have they got against me loving my wife?”
“I have no idea, but then I don’t get most of what guys like that do or think.” I started running as well. “Maybe they’re just jealous that the sex isn’t as good for them.”
“With their attitudes? They’re lucky they get any at all.”
I just laughed in agreement.
Sid had to leave sooner than I did to get to his Research class. I did my weights workout, then snoozed briefly in his office since I was a little tired after the night before and having to be up so early to search Delia’s office. In Acting, we were working through a variety of scenes. Fortunately, I didn’t have one that day, although I was expected to take part in critiquing the work of my classmates.
But then a weird thing happened. Two of my classmates, Sheryl Withers and Andy Ferris, were doing a scene from some play that was loosely based on Othello. The end of the scene involved Andy’s character strangling Sheryl’s (which may be why I thought the play was based on Othello, even if it wasn’t). Maggie took a variety of comments, but most of the class thought that Andy was a little flat, nor did the strangling seem that real.
“Andy,” Maggie said. “They’re absolutely right. Your character is not a psychopath, cut off from his emotions. He’s in a rage. The other problem you guys have is that your choreography is all wrong. Here. Let me show you. Sheryl?” Sheryl walked over and Maggie put her hands on Sheryl’s throat. “This is a more likely hold for a hand strangling. Now, you have to be careful, so you don’t hurt anyone, but, Sheryl, your job is to make it more realistic by reacting to the grab. That means gagging and hooking into the terror you’d be feeling if someone was actually strangling you. Andy, you can’t back off on the anger, either. It’s a natural thing to do, but you can’t be afraid of it. Now, let’s try that last bit again.”
I was more than a little worried that Maggie obviously knew how to strangle someone by hand. But then Andy not only touched the rage in the scene, he played it out so far that Sheryl was genuinely terrified. Maggie jumped in and literally pulled Andy away from Sheryl, fortunately, before Andy got his hands on her throat. Andy was so hooked into the rage, he fought Maggie, but she was stronger than he was.
“Okay.” Maggie announced, somewhat blithely, even though she was breathing heavily. “I think that was a lesson in touching the emotion without controlling it. We’ll call it done for today. Andy, Sheryl, let’s talk this over. The rest of you are dismissed.”
The rest of us couldn’t get out of that classroom fast enough.
“That was scary,” someone whimpered, added a curse word before scary.
It was. I couldn’t help looking back at the classroom. Maggie had strapping tape, knew how to strangle people, and, apparently, was as strong as an ox. She might also have had access to Kaspar’s office since she was a colleague. That didn’t really add up to real evidence, but it was suggestive as all get out.
News of the incident was also all over the department in short order, which made Kaspar even more annoying than usual.
“She should never have let that happen,” he pronounced. “As director, your job is to provide a safe space for actors to bring their darker emotions out.”
“But she did,” I said. “I saw her. She was right there and didn’t let Andy get anywhere near his scene partner in that state.”
“It is the worst sort of failure as a director when something like that happens,” Kaspar continued, completely ignoring me. “The worst. I expect better of all of you. If you are going to create art, then you must speak to the basest of human emotions and realize them accurately, but you cannot endanger your other actors.”
And so forth and so on.
When I told Sid about it at dinner, Sid didn’t know what to make of it, either. He made the call to Red Light to see if he could get some background on Maggie since our other friend had gone to Indiana to find out what he could about Terry Peterson.
Red Light, whose real name was Scott Morgan, was one of the operatives on the courier line that Sid and I supervised when we weren’t doing other things like the current undercover assignment. We had him and our friend Henry James available to do some of the out-of-town leg work that might need doing, such as checking out Terry Peterson and Maggie Leitner. Henry was also picking up the mail and phone messages from home so that we could keep our visible lives intact.
The next day was Friday. I left Voice and Diction and went over to Sid’s office to eat my first sandwich of the day. Sid was there, grading quizzes.
“Wow,” I said. “It’s really quiet over here.”
“It’s Friday.” Sid looked up just long enough to give me a solid kiss. “The place really clears out after one. I’d probably do a few searches except that as soon as I get ready to, someone decides to stick around.”
Someone knocked on Sid’s door. I slid further into the office as Sid went to the answer the knock.
“Hey, Steve.”
I couldn’t see Dr. Weber, but knew he was about medium height, with a round face and a couple rolls around his middle.
“Charles, you want to get lunch at the Socratic?”
“I’ve got my noon class, but could probably meet you there after one.”
“Great. See you then.”
Sid shut the door and went back to his desk. I grinned at him.
“Am I guessing we want to take advantage of an opportunity?” I said through my sandwich.
“I’ll even see if I can get him to pick up the tab.” Sid grinned. “Do you mind if I use the emergency card if I can’t?”
I made a face. “We’ll have to. It will be alright.”
“Well, don’t do anything unless everyone’s lights are off. We don’t need to take that kind of chance.”
“No kidding.”
I rushed out of costuming and hurried back to Humanities. Sid had been right, though. The place was utterly empty. I found Weber’s office, used the passkey that I had, put my black leather gloves on, and went to work.
There was the usual porn in between the files on different classes and journal articles. Weber had filed everything by date and cross-referenced it all on a set of index cards on top of his file cabinets. The file drawer in his desk held a new rental agreement for an apartment. I wasn’t sure where in Collins, but memorized the address just in case. There was also a twenty-two snub-nosed revolver and ammo for it and a bigger gun. Then I found a bail receipt from Wyandotte County courts, with an attached arrest report. Harlan Weber had been arrested in Kansas City on October 12, 1986, for causing a disturbance. The note on the arrest report mentioned that Dr. Steven Weber had been contacted shortly after midnight, then a later note, at two-twelve, a.m., mentioned that he had arrived with his father’s medications.
Jesse/LeShawn had found some super tiny cameras and film to go with, and I had one in my pocket. I pulled it out and got shots of both the bail receipt (which Dr. Weber had signed on October 13) and the arrest report. Then I got a shot of the rental agreement. There really wasn’t much else there.
I checked my watch. It was getting late, so I slid out of the office and almost walked right into Dr. Carl Howard. I whipped my hands behind my back to hide my gloves.
“Oh, Carl!” I gulped. “You scared me!”
He blinked at me. “Linda, what are you doing in Weber’s office?”
“Is that whose this is?” I looked back at the door, then continued getting my gloves off behind my back. “Carl, the scariest thing just happened to me. I was being followed. I was in the Performing Arts building, so I ran here and hid in the first open office I could find.”
“Followed? By whom?”
“I don’t know. He was just really scary.” I blinked as if I was trying not to cry. “And after last week… Oh, dear!”
“There, there, Linda.” Carl patted my shoulder. “It’s alright. I’m sure Dr. Weber won’t mind. Would you like to wait for Charles in my office? I mean, I’m assuming you’re waiting for Charles.”
“Honey?” Sid/Charles walked up just then. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, honey, it was so scary!” I fell into his arms. “I was just walking along in Performing Arts, and somebody started following me. So I ran up here and hid in the first open office I found.”
“Are you sure somebody wasn’t just going the same way?” Carl asked.
I sniffed. “It sure didn’t look like it.” I blinked again. “Maybe it was. I’ve just been so on edge since I was attacked last week.”
“Thanks, Carl, for being so understanding,” Sid said. “I’ll take Linda back to my office, then get her home.” Sid paused. “I thought you’d already left.”
Carl sighed. “I, eh… Forgot something in my office that Raylene wants. I’ll just go fetch it now.”
He scurried away. Sid and I watched as he turned around and went back along the corridor to his office. As in, he didn’t have any real reason to be right in front of Steve Weber’s office when I’d come out. Even the men’s room was down the hall in the direction of Carl’s office.
Sid and I, however, continued down the hall to his office.
He chuckled. “Once again, your flair for melodrama has saved our butts.”
“I sure hope so.” I sighed. “Thank God, I don’t have rehearsal tonight.”
“Does our son?”
“We’re both off until Monday, when I start again.” I shook my head. “I ran into Carl face on. What was he doing heading away from his office in that direction? The parking lot’s the other way. The only thing in the direction he was headed is the Journalism department.”
Sid shrugged and looked down at his desk. “I have no idea and do not know how I’m going to find out beyond asking LeShawn to keep an eye out for him.”
We hung around until four, with me catching up on some reading and Sid grading quizzes. Then it was time to pick Nick up from Dr. Randall’s lab. I was still a little dopey from lack of sleep and Nick’s chatter about his experiment washed over me. Sid let Nick and me have a little snack of crackers and cheese when we got home because there was a guest coming that evening, which meant dinner would be a little late.
Henry James is a tall man, balding, with an oddly red face. His cover was that he was Sid’s father and had often acted as one, even if he wasn’t. Henry rang the bell right at five-thirty. We hugged him on the porch and quickly pulled him inside. The wind had picked up and sub-zero temperatures were predicted for overnight.
All four of us automatically checked our bug finders, but nothing registered.
“Got your mail,” Henry said, handing over three different manila envelopes.
“Thanks,” Sid said as I took the envelopes. “It’s good to see you. How are you doing?”
“Well enough.” Henry had lost his wife to cancer the summer before and was still feeling the loss. He’d technically retired from the FBI, only to go right back into active duty as an undercover operative. “How are you three?”
Sid frowned. “Not getting very far, but that happens.”
“So, it does.”
“Can we get you any tea or water?” I asked.
Henry sank onto the living room couch. “Anything stronger?”
“We have some good bourbon,” Sid said, heading into the kitchen to fetch it.
“Now, that sounds terrific.”
The whole evening was terrific. Henry didn’t have a lot of news for us. Terry Peterson’s story had checked out. Henry had talked to several people in Terry’s hometown, including the drama teacher at the high school.
“She said he’s extraordinarily talented,” Henry told us as we ate warm bowls of a good chicken stew. “In fact, she wanted him to go to college in New York.”
“I understand he did his undergrad degree here,” I said.
“It was what he could afford on the scholarship he got,” Henry said. “He’s estranged from his family. His parents are in that whole Klan mentality and did not want him going to college. His teacher said that he wanted nothing to do with White supremacy and couldn’t wait to get away.”
“Huh,” said Nick. “No wonder he’s doing such a good job with Richard. He’s probably been feeling like the family oddball all his life.”
The conversation moved on from there to more general topics. Sid played the piano for us, as well. All-in-all, it was a nice, cozy evening.
Thank you for reading. For more information about the Operation Quickline series, click here.
Please check out the Fiction page for the latest on all my novels. Or look me up at your favorite independent bookstore. Mine is Vroman’s, in Pasadena, California.