whom the hell could she say was calling? He had failed to prepare a cover in advance. So much for being as good a liar as Auntie Lil. He patted his sweater nervously… well, what did it matter? No one knew him from Adam and, unlike Auntie Lil, he did not relish skulking around in disguises and playing those types of games. He would give his real name. Besides, he had to use Lilah's real name.
"This is Mr. T.S. Hubbert," he told the receptionist. "Private investor."
"Private investigator?" she asked in sudden alarm.
"In-vest-or." he repeated imperiously. "And I'm a very busy man."
"Right away, sir," she promised but followed it up by putting him on hold. Less than twenty seconds later, however, a male voice came on the line.
"Lance Worthington here." The producer's tone managed to be unctuous, impatient and suspicious all at the same time.
"T.S. Hubbert," T.S. barked. "I heard you were looking for investors."
Lance Worthington's voice smoothed into a mellow purr. He sounded as if someone had poured a quart of honey down his throat. "We only have a very few spots left," he said. "The new show's getting excellent word-of-mouth. If you want in, the minimum may be a bit steep."
"I can handle it," T.S. assured him. "The main thing is, I want in."
"How did you hear about our new venture?" Worthington asked and T.S. could detect a small note of suspicion creeping back in. Perhaps he was making it too easy.
"My girlfriend told me about it. Lilah Cheswick. Know her? Wealthy widow? Well-built dame. Used to be married to Wall Street's Robert Cheswick." Well-built dame? T.S. almost choked on the words. But it was essential to establish man-to-man contact, and he had a rather heavy-handed idea of what this man-to-man business meant.
As expected, Worthington knew the name Cheswick immediately. Anyone who'd spent time digging around for money couldn't help but know the name. And it did the trick. All suspicion disappeared, to be replaced by ingratiating greed. "Is she interested in investing as well?" Worthington asked. "Like I say, we have a few spots left."
"We'll both have to reserve final judgment until we hear more about the show," T.S. told him. No sense in being too easy to hook. The man's true character would be better revealed if he saw him in full action.
"Let me meet the two of you tonight," the producer suggested. "I don't want to rush you, but we really do need to wrap up the financing and get on with the creative. Timing is everything, you know."
Yeah, T.S. knew that quite well. And timing was particularly important when you thought you had a couple of rich suckers on the line and wanted to reel them in quickly so they could sign on the dotted line.
"I don't know about tonight," T.S. said reluctantly. "I had a business dinner..."
"I hate to pressure you," Worthington said smoothly. "But I'm out the rest of the week and I have a couple of other potential investors to talk to who are all very anxious to get a piece of this pie." He let his voice trail off in a small sigh of warning: you're about to lose a big share of profits, it implied.
"Oh, all right." T.S. pretended to suddenly make up his mind. "I'll have my secretary rearrange things. You can't let a good thing go without giving it a chance. Am I right?"
"You're absolutely right. And I'll even make up the lost dinner to you. I'll take you and… uh, Ms. Cheswick to dinner while we talk."
Lance Worthington was a particularly greedy man and so, in a flash of perverse justice, particularly easy to gull. Whether or not this got T.S. anywhere was another story. But at least he and Lilah would get a fancy dinner out of their charade.
But even that was not to be. Lance Worthington was not just greedy, he was cheap. He suggested dinner at Sam's, a neighborhood theater bar. It was to give them a flavor of the theatrical life, he said, though T.S. knew the attraction was more likely Sam's low prices. Nonetheless, he agreed to meet the producer there at eight o'clock. The time was perfect, Worthington insisted in an insider voice, explaining that "the annoying pre-theater tourist crowd will have left."
Too bad, T.S. thought to himself. If they decided to stick around, they'd be in for quite a show.
Auntie Lil was perched on a small plastic chair in the outer room of Homefront. She was waiting for Little Pete