Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

I bit my lip and tears filled my eyes. "Not so simple, Barry. It may be too late for me — " Barry's hand came softly down over my lips. "Don't say it," he said. "You don't know yet, you couldn't know. Go away and find him, now, and don't make any promises or decisions while you're upset like this. You know that's what Papa David would tell you." I knew. I nodded, and left Barry alone there while I went to look for Cal. "He's right," I thought. "I won't make any promises or let Cal talk about us. Not till this show thing is all settled." It was a very sensible thought, but the trouble was I needn't have bothered. Cal wasn't around to do any talking about anything. He'd simply disappeared. Somehow, after his number, he'd left the stage and without anybody's seeing him, faded silently away into the night. It was hard to believe, with all the people who'd been milling around both backstage and up front, but after we'd outwaited the last usher and phoned everywhere we could think of — Mrs. Calucchi's was really the only place I had any hope he might have gone — and even peeked into the neighborhood bars, Papa David and I had to face the fact that Cal Duncan was nowhere to be found. Finally, tired out, we went home, but there was no sleeping in the little apartment behind the Book Shop that night. By the end of the next day we were all really worried. I called Barry to find out if by some miracle Cal had gotten in touch with him, but he said no — he'd been about to call me to ask the same thing. "How desperate do you think he'd get, Chichi?" he asked me reluctantly. "Bad enough to — " "To do something to himself?" That was one possibility I hadn't thought of. Cal was so big and seemed so calm, except about singing. Well — but it was about singing that he was in trouble! I put my cold hand to my suddenly warm forehead, and wailed, "Oh, no, Barry! He couldn't!" "Of course not," Barry said soothingly. "Well, get some sleep, Chichi. He'll turn up in the morning." But the horrible new idea wouldn't leave me. I'd only thought before that Cal might be out walking the streets, trying to pull himself together, wanting to be alone before coming back and facing what he thought was his big failure. But it was more than twentyfour hours now without a word from him. Maybe Barry was right . . . Desperately, I picked up the phone and called my friend Craig Roberts, who's an Assistant District Attorney. I knew it was too soon to report Cal as a missing person, but I suddenly felt that I had to have some help, right away, or it might be too late. Craig listened sympathetically and didn't seem to feel I was making too much of it when I told him about Cal's failure and how much the success would have meant to him. "You were right to call, Chichi," he said. "People do things at times like that that they'd never do in their normal state — well, don't worry unnecessarily. I'll get on it right away and see what I can do." Promising to call me early the next morning whether he had any news or not, Craig hung up and I went back to worrying. It was a gray and ominous day, I remember, the next morning when I woke up from about three hours of nightmare. By ten o'clock Craig hadn't called and I was about to phone him when suddenly the Book Shop bell tinkled and heels sounded in the store. I ran out, breathless, hoping — but it was only a woman. Then I took another look and went breathless again. It was Lise Martaine. Her clear, accented voice challenged me. "Miss Conrad? I am Lise Martaine." "Yes, I know." She gave me another one of those looks, as if she were adding my clothes up and coming out with five-ninetyeight, which was about right. "I'll not waste words," she said snappishly. "I came to demand from you that you tell me where Cal is." I simply stared at her, wondering if she had lost her mind. "If you are helping him to hide away, don't you see that it will do him more harm than good?" she said impatiently. "He must come out and face this thing. It's not the end of the world. Oh, answer me, don't stand there so stupidly — " At that I found my voice. "I'm not so stupid I can't see what you're up to, Miss Martaine or Martin or whatever your real name is," I said coldly. "After all if Cal is in trouble it's as much your fault as anyone's. You're supposed to know the theater, know something about singing. You must have realized you were encouraging him to do a ridiculous thing, singing a song that was too arty and fancy for his voice. Even I could see that. Blame yourself, Miss Martaine, if you and I and everybody else never see Cal Duncan again! Believe me if I knew where he was I'd be with him, not standing here arguing with you." "You'd be with him!" She gave a sharp laugh. "What good can you do him now? He needs me, someone successful like me, who knows the stage backwards and forwards. Already I have made Mr. Markham promise to give him another chance — " "You made him promise? Last night Barry told me — told me right outside the theater the very minute Cal had finished singing — that he was going to give him another chance. Just when did he make that promise to you?" Her dark eyes narrowed. "You do get around, Miss Conrad, don't you. Mr. Markham is Barry to you, I see." "Yes," I said, "I get around pretty fast. I've still got my youth, you see, and it makes a difference." Without another look I went back into the apartment and slammed the door practically in her face. After a while I heard the tinkle of the store bell as she let herself out. But though I'd had the last word, I felt all hollow inside. I felt the same way as when I'd heard Cal tell Barry he was going to sing a song he'd never mentioned to me. Somehow Cal seemed so innocent and confiding, it never occurred to me to remember that he was actually a grown man with a mind and a life of his own. Lise Martaine's attitude was eye-opening. What did I know about the life Cal lived while he was uptown, rehearsing, seeing her day after day? Sure he came down and talked to me; sure we were his friends, Papa David and I, and there was certainly something between Cal and me that was more than friendship — but how did I really know what there was between him and Lise Martaine? She had acted as if she owned him. Maybe she had reason to ... ? By the time Craig Roberts finally called me, I was as close to being a nervous wreck as I've ever been. "We Amazing New Plan ! ORESSforYOU FOR ORDERING}! l Send No Money-Pay No Money! 1 Yoar choice of Gorgeous New Dress or Suit — in your favorite style, size and 1 color, given to yon for sendinar orders for \ only THREE DRESSES for your neigh1 bora, friends or yoor family. 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