The Chelsea Girls(94)

“Slow down. I’m not understanding the connection.”

Hazel started again, thinking it through as she spoke. “When we were first entering the theater, a fan waylaid her, a rude one. After that, she seemed flustered, like something was bothering her. She got up as soon as the curtain fell for intermission, told me she was going to the bathroom, but never came back. Later, she said she’d missed the bell and didn’t want to make a fuss scrambling back to her seat in the dark. But I think the fan was connected to Arthur in some way, and had told her to get back to the hotel and let Arthur in through the tunnel. I remember the second act of that play was interminable, which means Maxine had more than enough time to grab a cab and help Silver-slash-Arthur escape by disappearing into the town house, through the tunnel, and out the hotel’s front door. Then they jumped in a cab back to the theater district.”

She sat back, pleased.

“What if she just missed the bell?”

When he said it like that, the story did seem improbable. Still.

“I don’t think it’s just a coincidence. Arthur treated Maxine terribly, he hit her, abused her. But she never left, which didn’t seem like Maxine at all. The Maxine Mead we knew would have dumped a loser like that in an instant. Whenever I questioned her, she’d say that she loved him, but there was something empty in the words, like she didn’t really believe them. I always thought there was something odd going on, but I could never put my finger on it. Now it makes sense. Arthur and she were more than lovers, they were both spies. Which was why she couldn’t escape his clutches. Or maybe she really didn’t want to.” She let out a sharp laugh. “To think I just made a speech chastising those who were paranoid about spies, when one may have been standing right beside me.”

“What did you say to her, as you were going offstage?” Charlie asked.

“I told her that I knew the truth.” She should have never let on, but she couldn’t help herself. “Do you think I’ve ruined your opportunity? What if she runs for the hills?”

He considered it. “She’s too famous. She has to show up at the party, and probably thinks it’s safer in a crowd. We have to figure out a way to get her alone.”

“It’s better if I do it. It’s the only chance that she’ll open up.”

“You’re not trained, no way.”

“She’s emotional, vulnerable, and we have a long history. I’ve got this, I promise. Inside the ballroom, there’s a long balcony that overlooks the room. I’ll lead her up there for a private talk, and you take the opposite stairs and sneak over. Don’t let her see you, though, or we’ll lose our chance.”

A band played as they entered the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, a space that would have looked at home in Versailles, with its gold leaf plaster and mighty columns. They were escorted to a table where Lauren Bacall and Carol Burnett sat engrossed in conversation.

“Well, this will be easy.” Hazel pointed to the placards, where she and Maxine were seated next to each other. For a brief moment she doubted herself. Maybe she was just jazzed up with adrenaline from the unexpected turn of events, indulging in conspiracy theories. But the guilty look on Maxine’s face after she’d spoken the words out loud was undeniable. She’d known what was going on, one way or another.

“Excuse me, coming through.” An older man Hazel recognized as Maxine’s agent pulled out a chair. Maxine, behind him, didn’t take it. Instead, she froze when faced with Hazel and Charlie. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no sound came out.

“Max, it’s been too long.” Charlie leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Maxine responded with an enigmatic smile. “Look at that, the gang’s back together. Lovely to see you, Charlie.”

Just then, a couple of photographers pushed Charlie aside. “We need a photo of the two of you, Miss Ripley and Miss Mead.”

Hazel put her arm around Maxine’s waist and drew her close. “Say ‘cheese.’”

After a couple of flashes, Maxine tried to pull away but Hazel spoke through gritted teeth. “Come with me. We have to talk.” To her surprise, Maxine softened in her arms.

“Fine.”

They cut through the surging crowd and up a wide set of stairs. Hazel unhooked the velvet rope that limited access to the balcony and let Maxine through, before clicking it back in place behind them.

Once they reached the top, Maxine moved into the shadows, out of the view of the crowd below. “I’m so sorry about this evening, Hazel. I had no idea they were going to pull that stunt. I would have never agreed if I’d known. But your speech was marvelous. I hope you know that.”

“Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth.” Her hand fluttered to her hair, a nervous tic Hazel knew well.

Better to get straight to the point. “Maxine, I know about your activities with Arthur.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie approaching. He stayed glued to the wall, out of Maxine’s line of vision but well within earshot.

“My activities?”

Her pretend innocence infuriated Hazel, she couldn’t hold back. “You were a spy, just like Arthur was. You were spying on all of us. How could you?”

“I wasn’t spying on you. What on earth are you talking about?” Her face was open, childlike. Confused.