Part 33 (2/2)
”Oh, my,” Ellen commented, with mock exasperation as she removed the batteries from the cell phone and pager, ”what will we do with you?” And the firearm and electronics disappeared into a slit pocket in the voluminous skirt of her gown. ”Now,” pulling a brush from the makeup case, ”turn around, and let's see what we can do.”
Barrett faced forward, and seethed as Ellen worked a brush through her hair, combing it straight back with a.s.sured strokes, making it smooth and s.h.i.+ny.
”I'd always wanted a sister,” Ellen remarked, as she twisted and pinned Barrett's short hair back, augmenting it with matched human-hair pieces that she worked into a tidy French knot.
”Why are you doing this?” Barrett asked, trying to keep her anger in check, not wanting to give in to the paralyzing fear that simmered a hair beneath the surface.
”Soon,” Ellen said-then, to a knock at the door. ”It's open.”
The bellman wheeled in a cart with iced champagne and two crystal flutes.
”Thanks so much,” Ellen flashed a smile.
”Will you ladies need anything else?”
She met Barrett's eye in the mirror. ”No, everything's just about set.”
Once he'd gone, Ellen, not turning her back, opened the garment bag.
Despite herself, Barrett stared into the zippered opening. At first she thought the dress was black, but as Ellen lifted out the rustling garment, it caught the light, flas.h.i.+ng a deep green. ”Vintage Dior,” she said. ”I hope you appreciate what I went through to get this. I had it remade just for you.”
Barrett said nothing, as Ellen hung the gown. ”It's a perfect length for playing,” she commented, stepping back from the rack. ”Now, let's get changed ... don't be shy. It's nothing I haven't seen before.”
A thought came to Barrett, something Hobbs had mentioned about the locks on her apartment. ”You've been in my condo,” she stated.
”Of course, how else could I get your size right? Now move. I promise not to peek. You get changed, and I'll pour the bubbly.”
Barrett got up, glanced at Ellen, and then at the gorgeous dress.
”Go on,” Ellen urged. ”It won't bite. We don't have much time.”
Using the hanging garment bag as a partial screen, Barrett disrobed down to her underwear, while keeping an eye on Ellen. She knew that if she were going to survive and save Justine, she needed to stay sharp. Now was not the time to fight, but it would come; it would have to come. She unhooked and unzipped the back of the dress, noting the elaborate sewn-in corset. As she stepped into the dress and pulled it up, Ellen glanced at her, two champagne flutes in her hands.
”You're going to have to take off your bra ... it's strapless, but trust me, you look fabulous.”
Holding the s.h.i.+mmering satin in front of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Barrett reached back and unhooked her bra.
”Here,” Ellen glided across the tight s.p.a.ce, handing her a gla.s.s of champagne, ”I'll do the back.”
Barrett stiffened as Ellen's strong fingers worked the tiny hooks that cinched the garment in tight around her belly, and ribs. As Barrett watched her reflection, she realized that this dress had indeed been custom fitted ... for her. The elegantly draped front revealed the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her waist corseted in tight and the ankle-length skirt flowed out like the petals of some fantastic flower. As she slipped on perfectly fitting black-velvet pumps, new doubts crept in. She felt her throat tighten.
Ellen stepped back and looked at her, ”See if you can sit,” she said. ”And you better have some of that champagne; you look like you're about to jump out of your skin ... go on.” Ellen picked her gla.s.s off the counter, and raised it in Barrett's direction. ”To new beginnings,” she offered, and sipped the cold bubbly.
Barrett felt the walls close around her, sweat beaded her forehead. Everything had been planned; there was no way out; it was hard to think.
”Just drink,” Ellen urged, ”you need something to calm down.”
Barrett hesitated. She'd not seen Ellen pour the champagne, and wondered if it had been drugged.
”Drink it,” Ellen ordered. ”Or I could just as easily give you a shot; I'm sure I've got something in my bag.” She smiled, ”But Crystal is better, a gla.s.s or two shouldn't hurt your performance.”
Barrett saw no choice and carefully took a sip, tasting it with her tongue. It was cool and it seemed to dissolve upon contact, the bubbles flying up her nostrils.
”Now sit, and we can get on to makeup, and ... Jimmy brought you presents.”
Still holding the sweating gla.s.s, Barrett got back in the chair, as Ellen deftly spread a plastic ap.r.o.n around her shoulders and over the gown. ”I understand you're a fantastic sight reader,” she remarked as she pumped a mascara brush into its tube and proceeded to work on Barrett's lashes. ”Good thing, the Chopin is tricky-especially the opening-but I understand you've already been through the Brahms.”
Barrett said nothing, as she watched her transformation in the mirror. Occasionally, she'd sip at her drink, even letting Ellen refill it for her. It helped a little, the alcohol a tiny balm against her surging panic.
”Voila!” Ellen announced, ripping off the makeup ap.r.o.n.
Barrett stared at the beautiful woman with flawless skin in a spectacular s.h.i.+mmering green-black dress. From her ears dangled tear-shaped blue-white diamonds-Ellen had said something about the jewels having belonged to her great-great grandmother. Around her throat was the matching necklace with large stones drawing attention to the sweep of her neck and the full curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that were molded by the dress's intricate, but invisible, architecture.
”Come,” Ellen said, offering her hand.
Barrett stood, and felt the blood leave her head. The room swayed, and she immediately thought of the champagne, but no, she'd only had a couple gla.s.ses. Unless ... her head pivoted, she looked at the satisfied smiled on Ellen's lips, and then at her own reflection. Her eyes, there was something wrong, why were her pupils so tiny? And there was a strange warmth in her belly-not unpleasant-kind of floaty. She glanced at the floor, her feet hidden by the glimmering fabric. She stuck out a foot and admired the pointy tip of her velvet slipper. And the gown was so pretty, the way it caught the dull light of the dressing room, and shot sparkles of the most-beautiful green.
”Yes,” Ellen mused. ”You're finally ready.”
THIRTY.
It was all Jimmy could do to stay in control. Father howled wanting to come out, but that would be catastrophe. From behind the velvet curtain, he peeked into the packed recital hall. While he'd not seen most of those in attendance in nearly two decades-at least not in person-he easily put names to many of the faces. The invitations had only gone out a week ago, yet from the bubbling noise that filtered back, it sounded like a packed house. If Father came out ... Father couldn't play, only Jimmy could. He balled his fingers into fists and then relaxed them, repeating the exercise several times, slowing his breath, trying to keep his excitement in check. He was so close. ”And they lived happily ever after,” he mouthed under his breath, catching a glimpse of his cello, nestled in the curve of the gleaming concert grand.
The chandelier dimmed. The murmur of voices swelled, and then settled, growing softer with the fading light. A single spot shone on center stage, and he watched-still hidden-as Ellen appeared. She looked lovely in her midnight blue silk, her hair done up special. So much of this night was her doing, the invitations to Manhattan's old money, her idea. The shame of his youth about to be redeemed, the Martin name being cleared.
”Ladies and gentleman,” Ellen's husky voice carried through the perfectly balanced acoustics, each of the two hundred fifty attendees able to catch every word. ”I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming. Tonight is a very special night for my brother ... and for me. It's a celebration. Tonight,” she paused, and scanned the room, ”not only will my brother return to the concert stage, but more importantly ...” She smiled, and scanned the room looking at the faces. ”I don't want to ruin the surprise, but tonight will end with an important announcement.”
The silence was total.
”So without further ado, I give you my brother, James Cyrus Martin IV, and on piano, Dr. Barrett Conyors.”
___.
From her vantage point in the wings, Barrett watched Ellen's announcement. She stared at the black piano, and the gleaming cello in front of it. Her body felt light, and while she knew she should be terrified, that Justine was in mortal danger, and that she was about to be married to a psychotic murderer, she somehow could not feel afraid. I've been drugged, she thought, something hallucinogenic. As she turned her head, rainbow halos clung to the outlines of the furniture and to the dimming lights.
”I think that's your cue,” a woman in a red-and-black usher's outfit whispered.
”Thank you,” Barrett said, and as though gliding on magic shoes, she stepped onto the stage.
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