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"He's got a thing about dirty movies?"
"Oh, yes. See, he's very religious."
"What?" She laughed.
"I'm not kidding. The pornography thing-it was a moral issue. And the fu
"But the way he behaved… This poor stagehand, the one who gave me your name… I thought he was going to kill the guy."
"Ah, but not one foul word passed his lips, did it?"
"I don't remember."
"He's very active in his church. He prays before each performance."
Rune said, "Well, so what? The Bible's full of begatting, isn't it?"
"Hell, there're actresses on Broadway've slept with as many men-and women-off camera as Shelly Lowe did on film. But Michael's a deacon of his church. A newspaper story-oh, the Post would love it-about Michael Schmidt's leading lady being a porn queen?" Becker's eyes brightened. "As appealing as that thought is to those of us who'd like to scuttle the bastard… So, you see why he couldn't let that happen."
"She must have been heartbroken."
Becker shrugged. "She was an adult and she made a choice to make those films. Nobody forced her to. But she didn't give up without a fight. And what a fight it was."
"What happened?"
"After I called her to give her the bad news-I felt I owed her that-Shelly made an appointment to see him. We'd already cast somebody else by then but I guess it half-crossed my mind that she was going to try tocharm, if you want to be euphemistic, Michael into giving her the part after all."
"Shelly wouldn't do that."
Becker looked at her with his eyebrow raised.
"Not to get a part," Rune said. "She wasn't like that. It doesn't make sense but I know that about her now. There were some lines she wouldn't cross."
"In any case that's what occurred to me. But that wasn't what happened…" His voice faded. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this."
Rune squinted. "Just pretend it's gossip. I love gossip."
"A terrible fight. Really vicious."
"What could you hear?"
"Not much. You read poetry, Robert Frost?"
Rune thought. "Something about horses standing around in the snow when they should be going somewhere?"
Becker said, "Ah, does anybody read anymore?… Well, Frost coined this term called thesound of sense. It refers to the way we can understand words even though we can't hear them distinctly. Like through closed doors. I got a real sense of their conversation. I've never heard Michael so mad. I've never heard him so scared, either."
"Scared?"
"Scared. He comes out of the meeting, then paces around. A few minutes later he calms down. Then he asks me about the new lead for the play and whether the Equity contract has been signed and I tell him it was. And I can tell he's thinking about casting Shelly again even though he doesn't want to."
"What happened, do you think?"
"I noticed something interesting about Shelly," Becker said. "She really did her homework-getting the script in the first place, for instance. See, we get a lot of young, intense hopefuls in here. They know Chekhov and Ibsen and Mamet cold. But they don't have a clue about the business of the theater. They think producers are gods. But as creative as Shelly was she also had a foot in the real world. She was a strategist. For the first EPI, she'd found out everything there was to know about Michael. Personal things as well as professional." Becker gave Rune a meaningful smile and when she didn't respond he frowned. "Don't you get it?"
"Uh, not exactly."
"Blackmail."
"Blackmail? Shelly was blackmailing him?"
"Nobody here knows for certain but there're rumors about Michael. A few years ago he was traveling through some small town in, I don't know, Colorado, Nevada, and we think he got arrested. For picking up a high school boy-the story was that he was just seventeen."
"Ouch."
"Uh-huh. Also around that time there was an a
"I thought he was a deacon in his church?"
"This was before he saw the light."
"You think Shelly found out about it?"
"Like I say, she did her homework."
Rune said, "He fired you. You're a little prejudiced against him."
Becker laughed. "I respect Medea's strength. Can I forgive her for killing her children? I respect Michael for what he's done for New York theater. Personally, 1 think he's a pompous ass. Draw your own conclusions about what I tell you."
"One last question. Was he in Vietnam? Or was he ever a soldier?"
"Michael?" Becker laughed again. "That would have been a delightful sight. When you're in the army I understand you have to do what other people tell you. That doesn't sound very much like the Michael Schmidt we all know and love, now does it?"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
His eyes squint, picking up golden light from the sun, as he gazes over the sagebrush and arroyos for signs of Indians or buffalo or strays. His A5 is alwayson his hip…
Rune was using her fingers as an impromptu camera viewfinder to frame Sam Healy. She waved to him and he ambled slowly toward her.
He'd be great in her film.
There was something different about him today. Two things, in fact. One, he wasn't somber anymore.
And, two, he gave off some kind of quiet strength she hadn't seen before in his face.
Then Rune looked past him and she realized why the change. The ten-year-old boy, who Rune had thought just happened to be walking beside him, was undoubtedly Adam, his son. Healy's face revealed the protective, authoritative, aware nature of a parent.
Sam seemed to stop just short of a hug and a kiss and nodded to her. "Thanks for meeting me. Well, us."
"Sure," she answered, wondering why he hadn't told her he was bringing the boy. Maybe because he'd been afraid she wouldn't show up.
Healy introduced them and they shook hands. Rune said, "Nice to meet you, Adam."
The boy said nothing, just looked at Rune critically. Healy said, "Come on, son, what do you say?"
The boy shrugged. "They're getting younger all the time?"
Rune laughed and Healy, blushing a bit, did too. The successful joke had been delivered so smoothly she knew he'd used it before.
They started down the sidewalk in lower Manhattan.
"You like U2?" Adam asked Rune as they walked along Broadway past the Federal Building. "They're so totally awesome."
"Love that guitar! Chunga, chunga, chunga…"
"Oh, yeah."
Rune said, "But I'm mostly into older music. Like Bowie, Adam Ant, Sex Pistols, Talking Heads."
"David Byrne, yeah, he's like your megagenius. Even if he's old."
"I still listen to the Police a lot," Rune said. "I kinda grew up with them."
Adam nodded. "I heard about them. My mom used to listen to them. Sting's still around."
Healy said, "Um… Crosby, Stills and Nash?"
Rune and Adam looked at him blankly.
"Jimi Hendrix? The Jefferson Airplane?"
When he got a stare in response to "The Doors?" Healy said quickly, "Hey, how 'bout some lunch?"
They sat across from the ornate Woolworth Building, Rune and Healy. Adam, replenished by two hot dogs and a Yoo-Hoo chocolate soda, chased squirrels and shadows and scraps of windblown paper.
"Sam," she began, "say you have a couple different suspects and you know one of them did it but you don't know who."
"In a bombing?"
"Say, any crime. Like you're an ordinary movable investigating something."
"Portable, not movable. But it'd probably be a detective evaluating suspects."