Live and Let Spy by Elizabeth Cage

Author:Elizabeth Cage
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

NINE

“I am just too dedicated,” Theresa muttered to herself.

She had arrived at the theater around 5:30 a.m. Thursday morning, before Julius or even the stinky maintenance man made it in. But she wasn’t there to get a jump start on retouching the great hall of Prince Siegfried’s castle.

As if.

She just wanted some uninterrupted snoop time.

What do we have here? Theresa wondered as she surveyed the props closet. In the corner a tall roll of paper sat propped up against a stack of hatboxes.

It looked like a roll of wrapping paper, only it was beige and yellowed. Yet as Theresa unrolled the paper inch by inch, her smile grew wider and wider.

This was no wrapping paper. These were blueprints of the theater, dated 1988. The year of the last renovation, she remembered, flashing back to what Hannah had told her on Monday.

Theresa felt a surge of excitement. These blueprints could be the map that led her to the real Anka—if she was a prisoner somewhere in the theater, that is.

She studied the map for over an hour, taking in every millimeter of the centuries-old layout.

“Looks like an attic is right above the costume closet,” she whispered, running a finger over the aged plans.

That would make a great hiding place.

Theresa rushed to the costume closet to check out the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a thin rope hanging from the rafters that, when pulled, would likely deliver a creaky staircase, like her attic door did back home.

Maybe she’d get lucky.

Theresa reached up on tiptoe for the flimsy rope. Her fingertips grazed the braided twine.

She heard heavy footsteps. And a low whistle.

Theresa gasped. She knew that whistle all too well—Julius!

What was he doing in so early?

Theresa frantically rolled up the blueprints and crouched in the corner.

The steps grew louder. The whistling was casual, as if Julius was simply making early morning rounds, finding dozens of imaginary faults in the set designs. For future torture of set painters, no doubt.

The steps paused right outside the door. Theresa held her breath.

What was he looking at?

The whistling stopped.

He’d seen something he didn’t like, she knew. Did she leave some trace of her snooping?

Four heartbeats. Five. A dozen.

Finally Julius growled, “Stupid people . . . stupid, stupid, stupid people.”

His whistling resumed and the heavy footsteps faded away.

Doesn’t Julius ever sleep? Theresa wondered, letting out a sigh. So much for early morning snooping. She’d have to wait until lunch. And even then she knew she might not get much of a chance to see the attic.

Before she gently closed the closet door behind her, she gave the attic door one last searching look.

Please be up there, Anka, she prayed. Just be there.

• • •

“No way!” Jo whispered as she approached her cubicle Thursday morning.

In the middle of her desk sat a crystal vase containing a dozen red roses!

Trembling, Jo extracted the attached card from its envelope.

Selma,

Sorry our evening was cut short. Hope everything turned out okay and that I can honor that rain check you’re holding. Free Saturday afternoon?

E.

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