try begging
[Yes, this is Pierce.]
It took a long time before I could hear the other person's voice on the other end of the phone.
"Hello, this is Anna Snyder from Grant Pictures."
Piers would have no idea that I was on the phone with Sally Bristol, whom I often saw at the mansion. Grace rattled off a prepared greeting.
"Grant Pictures would like to thank you again for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend the VIP screening at the Winston Counts. Did you have a pleasant trip to Prescott?"
[Yes, thanks.]
"I'm glad to hear that. Is there anything missing from the hotel?"
[No, not yet.]
[Yes, that's great. If you need anything, please feel free to contact our staff who are waiting in the hotel lobby at any time... .]
It was time to finish the formal greetings and remind Pierce of the day's schedule.
[Pierce! Bring the phone here right now!]
A familiar voice came from the other end of the phone.
"Anna."
At that moment, the door to the president's office opened wide and someone called her. Grace unconsciously grimaced and brought the receiver closer to her ear. As if that wasn't enough, she even motioned for him to quietly turn off the phone.
Talk to the boss.
[It is clear that the woman took the flyer.]
The tip-off to Campbell was from a Prescott sheriff's office in downtown Prescott. He said the woman had taken the flyer, so he called another sheriff's office and found the number.
"Report everything, down to the smallest detail, from the moment she first entered the police station until the moment she left."
[A woman came to the police station...]
Leon, who had been listening carefully to the police officer's report, furrowed his brow when he heard that the child spoke Norse.
[Then he gave the child some candy, and his eyes were blue-green.]
His guess was correct. Leon laughed, pulling the receiver away.
[When I asked her name, she said her name was Suzy.]
Suzy. Leon rolled the name in his mouth. Could it be my daughter's name? Even her own name was a woman with many aliases, so he couldn't be sure what kind of pranks she would play with her daughter's name.
"Who did you ask and who answered?"
The officer paused for a moment, seemingly unable to understand why he was being asked such a question, before answering.
[I asked the child... Oh, now that I think about it, that moment was suspicious. As soon as I asked the child's name, the woman hugged the child tightly and answered.]
Leon let out a sigh of relief. Then it was a pseudonym. At that moment, he had already found the flyer.
"Then, the woman must have asked me to do something. Something that would require me to leave."
[Uh... Yes, that's right. He asked the old woman outside to bring him some tea.]
He smiled softly. It was obvious that he had distracted the officer and stolen the leaflets.
"Was the woman wearing sunglasses after that?"
[Uh... How did you know?]
Leon burst out laughing even louder. His feelings for that woman had not died. He could feel a tingling pleasure in his fingertips.
In the car on the way to the Paramoor Theater, Grace recited the president's afternoon schedule from Mrs. Tate's notebook.
"After lunch, I have an interview with the Prescott Tribune scheduled for 3 p.m. in the VIP lounge at the Paramoor Theatre."
"I will do as you say, Mrs. Snyder!"
Grace's face turned red again when the president, sitting next to her in the backseat of the car, teased her by even saluting her.
"Really...."
Grace was in a state of confusion.
"It was a mistake, Mr. Grant."
She was annoyed at her employer and motioned for him to get out of the way. Not only had he teased her all morning, he was still giggling on the way to the theater.
"I'm sorry to have to have an old boss interrupt your attempt to hear the young count's voice, Mrs. Snyder."
I could hear the driver chuckling from the front seat. But Norman, sitting in the passenger seat, didn't look so happy.
Awkward. Grace looked out the car window. She hadn't thought about Norman always following the boss around.
In the end, I decided to throw away the note I had written to my colleague and go to the theater myself. He would probably be home in the evening anyway and she would get off work before then.
"Anna, since you're Mrs. Tate's stand-in, why don't you attend the party in her place today?"
I thought the boss was serious about suggesting that I should stop teasing him, but I was wrong.
"Let me introduce you to Count Winston. If you're going to hear his voice, it might as well be seen in person."
"That dog... ."
Grace, who almost made another mistake, quickly corrected her words.
"I wasn't trying to hear the Count's voice."
I really wonder why I did that.
Grace sighed, pressing her hand to her throbbing temple.
No. I was just trying to eavesdrop on the guy in case he found out something about me, since there was something going on at the police station yesterday. But Pierce hung up on him as he had ordered, so I couldn't eavesdrop any longer.
[Pierce! Bring the phone here right now!]
The bad temper is still there. I was unconsciously chewing over the voice I heard a little while ago. The president, who had turned brown from head to toe thanks to his dark sunglasses, asked.
"By the way, why are you wearing sunglasses like you're at a ski resort in this winter?"
"My eyes are sore."
"You're not even thirty yet, and already?"
"That's what I'm saying."
No way. At least I covered my eyes so that new people I met in Prescott wouldn't know the color of my eyes.
"Blindfolding the actor's eyes has taken away one of my pleasures."
Grace playfully glared at the boss as if to say, "Here we go again." The boss used to brag to Grace that he could see her acting talent in the provocative gaze she sometimes gave him.
"Look, Anna. You think I'm just some gimmick that movie producers use to tell random women, but I'm serious. You may not be a Virginia Roche who every man would risk his life for in a hot one-night stand, but you can be the first love every man will ever forget."
As Grace continued to roll her eyes and dismissed it as a joke, the boss shook Norman's shoulder in the passenger seat.
"Norman, what do you think? Doesn't it really feel that way?"
"Oh, yes. Yes... ."
"Look, Norman thinks so too. Anna, don't worry. You can hide your marriage and child. You can just use a stage name for your activities anyway."
As the proposals became more serious, the smile disappeared from Grace's face.
"Mr. Grant... ."
"I'm serious. If you have time today, go to the department store and put a tag on it under my name and buy an evening dress. Dress up from head to toe and come to the party. I'll introduce you to an acting agent."
"I'm fine. I just want to live a quiet, ordinary life."
"Then come see the count you like."
The boss tried to lure her into attending the party somehow, as if he was trying to hook her up with his agent. But she had no idea that he was spraying repellent instead of bait.
"The Count should see him in person. He is very handsome. He has the kind of face that women like. He is more suited to be an actor than a soldier... ."
Grace sighed, pressing her temples that were still throbbing. I wish today would just end. Then I wouldn't have to worry about that man's stories anymore.
The staff preparing for the preview were running around the theater frantically. While everyone else was so busy, Grace was surprisingly relaxed.
Before the interview, Mr. Grant would chat with the theater's president. And the interview was conducted by Norman, the public relations manager. Still, Grace couldn't go far because she didn't know when the president would come looking for her, so she looked around the theater with a cup of coffee in her hand.
So it was natural that I headed to the theater where the preview was being held today.
There's no one here.
When I entered the second floor seats, I had one thought that was a mistake.
"Cough, cough... ."
When I heard a cough, I looked down from the second floor railing and saw a man in blue overalls standing alone in front of the first floor stage, fixing the lights at the end of the stage.
Are we almost ready for this place?
It was when I turned around to go down to the first floor while looking at the huge screen in front of me.
Clank.
Grace's handbag buckle hit the railing. At that moment, the laborer looked over and pulled his hat down. When I went down to the first floor of the theater, the laborer was already out, carrying his extension bag, as if he had finished his work.
When the groaning laborer left, silence finally came. Left alone in the huge theater, Grace sat between the spotlights at the end of the stage, sipping coffee. Her eyes were on the first row, center seat, with a name tag reading Leon Winston.
You won't even dream that I've been here. You'll find my traces tonight.
Grace, who had been smiling while glaring at the man five hours later, suddenly frowned.
It's annoying.
It's jarring to the ears.
A ticking sound came from somewhere. I put my watch to my ear, but it was not there. Grace looked around where she was sitting, and only when she put her ear to the light did she find the source of the sound.
Did the repairman drop the watch in the light?
Grace pulled out the bulb loosely fitted into the body of the light and froze when she saw what was underneath. The cylinder was filled with spikes, a small clock, and dynamite stuck in the center.
It was a bomb.