Unnatural Acts (Stone Barrington 23)

“You’re not going to have time to shoot me,” Rosie said.

“What?”

“There’s our boy.”

Ed Abney came out of his office building, wearing a tan raincoat and a black hat, and hurried up West Forty-fourth, hunching his shoulders against the rain. It was a little before seven.

“He’s headed for Sardi’s, I bet,” Rosie said.

“That’s the intel we’ve got on him. He’s old-school Broadway.”

Abney turned into the restaurant, and they could see him taking off his raincoat.

“Let’s go,” Viv said. She started the car and drove slowly to within a few yards of Sardi’s’ door, then she flipped down the sun visor, which had an official-looking card attached to it, reading Physician On Call.

The two women got out of the car and hurried into Sardi’s in time to see Abney walking up the steps to the upstairs bar. They checked their coats and followed.

“You got our story straight?” Viv asked.

“We’re two girls fresh off the farm who want to be on the stage, right?”

“I don’t know why I partner with you.”

They climbed the steps, then stopped, looking around. Abney was talking with the bartender. A headwaiter appeared and told the couple sitting next to him that their table was ready.

“Lucky so far,” Rosie said. They hurried to grab the seats.

Abney was served a martini as they sat down, and he took due notice of them. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, raising his glass. “Can I get you two a drink?” He was a little over six feet, heavyset with pale red hair and a smooth, pink complexion, maybe fifty.

“Thank you, I’ll have a Tom Collins,” said Rosie, who was sitting next to him.

Abney turned to the bartender. “Eddie, is there still such a thing as a Tom Collins in the world?”

“There is,” Eddie replied, then went to work.

“And you?” he said to Viv.

“I’ll have a vodka martini, straight up,” she said.

“Eddie? You heard that?”

“I did.”

“Only one of them is from the sticks.” Abney laughed at his own joke.

“We’re both from the sticks,” Viv said. “Cleveland.”

“Ah, Cleveland,” Abney said.

“Don’t say it like that,” Rosie said. “It’s not nice.”

“No insult intended,” Abney said. “I haven’t been there for twenty years. I stage-managed a national tour of Charley ’ s Aunt, and we played a week there.”

“Oh, you’re in show business?” Viv asked.

“My dear, you’re looking at the hottest press agent in the Big Apple.”

“Wow,” Rosie said without irony. “You must know a lot of show business people.”