Page 18 of For Better or for Ransom

Both Sol and Luke turned to Isabel, who was wiping her runny nose.

“Non sono stato io a mettere la nota nel camerino di Leonardo.” He felt compelled to tell her it hadn’t been him putting the note in Leonardo’s dressing room. The director probably understood him better in Italian than if he’d used English. Or it would be harder for her to pretend she didn’t know what he was telling her. He’d enunciated each word carefully.

Isabel’s eyes tracked him from across the living room, wary.

“Then what happened to him?” Isabel answered, in perfect English.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, but believe me when I tell you: He didn’t slip on dog shit or was run over by a bus. We’d have found him by now if that’s what happened.”

Isabel’s whimper and her sudden sob made him realize he’d probably been a bit too harsh in his last words. But then again, she’d just accused him of tampering with a potential crime scene just to get hired.

Isabel mumbled some unintelligible words for Luke.

“She says she’s a bit tired of speaking English and that she’ll continue in Catalan from now on,” Sol said.

How bloody convenient.

“I think we just have a couple more questions and we’ll get out of her hair.” As usual, Divya always managed to focus on what was important. “Can you find a way of asking her politely how her working relationship with Leonardo was?”

Sol

“I can try,” Sol huffed.

Why was it that she’d volunteered for that little questioning escapade? Didn’t she have better things to do, like literally anything? Even deep cleaning the whole apartment sounded more appealing than dealing with the fickle and volatile Isabel again. Oh right, Sol was toying with the idea of writing a second book because she was a masochist. And she liked solving puzzles.

“I’d love it if you could tell me a bit about your relationship with him as an actor,” Sol asked her. This was easily one of the hardest interviews of her career. Only this wasn’t as a journalist. She hoped that at least she’d be able to use all of that in-the-field experience and put it on the page.

“He was a genius. A rare mixture of great looks and pure talent.”

Sol sighed. She was starting to fear they were not gonna get anything relevant out of Isabel. It was hardly a secret that Leonardo was both gorgeous and gifted.

“Is he easy to work with?” she asked the director.

“He was charming.” It wasn’t lost on Sol that while she herself kept talking about Leonardo in the present tense, Isabel kept doing it in the past, as if convinced that her supposition about him being dead still held.

“So no friction with other actors or with you? I mean, of all the team of El baño de Edipo he is the biggest name…”

“He was charming.” Isabel repeated and that didn’t exactly answer Sol’s question.

She was aware that she hadn’t translated anything to Luke and Divya, but there wasn’t much to get translated anyway, and Sol hoped they understood she was trying to get somewhere with her questions—not that it looked like she was going to succeed.

“And you didn’t mind that he was leaving the play to go and do a television show?” she finally asked. Sol had read about it the previous day while researching and writing her profile on Leonardo. El baño de Edipo’s run in Barcelona had been quite successful—with sold-out performances pretty much every night. The theater and the producing company had wanted to extend the run of the play, but Leonardo was due in London to do The Single Dad Situation, so he’d had to say no.

For an instant, a flicker of irritation cut through the director’s tear-streaked face. But she composed herself immediately.

“That’s how theater works. You need your actors available every single night. Leonardo had previous commitments. He wasn’t available.”

The director blew her nose—perhaps more as an excuse to stop talking than out of any actual need.

“And there was no chance of extending the run of El baño de Edipo with Sandro instead of Leonardo in the main role?” Sol was pushing her luck.

Isabel twitched on her armchair. She gave Sol an artificially exaggerated smile. “There wasn’t. Of course things could be different now.”

Sol preferred not to say anything, and simply smiled at Isabel as if she was one of her usual interviewees. She hoped Divya or Luke didn’t take the opportunity to intervene then, but they were both smart enough to figure out she was onto something.

“After the other night’s performance there’s been some interest,” Isabel said, almost reluctantly. “We’re exploring opportunities for a few more weeks of the play—perhaps even a bigger venue.”

“Oh, but that’s excellent!” Sol was doing her best at fake enthusiasm.