Now it was Buchanan’s turn to laugh.
He reached to kiss her again.
And was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Room service,” a man said front outside in the corridor.
“You’re corrupting me,” Holly said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m beginning to think your habits are normal. Here.” She reached beneath the pillow. “Doesn’t everybody need this when room service arrives? Tuck this into the pocket of your robe.” She handed him his pistol.
6
It was sunset when Buchanan wakened, dusk thickening behind the closed draperies. He stretched and enjoyed the feeling of having had a good meal, of having slept naked beneath smooth sheets, of having Holly’s body next to him. She wore her robe. He’d discarded his own after making love. Exhaustion had been like a narcotic that made them stretch out and doze. She attracted him: her humor, her sensuous features, her tall, slender, athletic grace. But he had always made a point of never allowing his personal life to interfere with his work, of never becoming physically and emotionally involved with anyone on an assignment. It clouded your judgment. It. .
Hell, you never had any personal life. There wasn’t any you to have it. All you had were the identities you assumed.
And that’s why you’re here right now. That’s what brought you this far. Because you kept that rule of being uninvolved when you worked with Juana, no matter how much you wanted her, and now you’re searching for her, trying to make amends.
Are you going to make the same mistake again, this time with Holly?
What’s wrong with me? he thought. Searching for one woman while I’m becoming attracted to another?
Get your mind straight.
He got out of bed, put on his robe, and walked over to a chair, next to which he stacked the books and files that Holly had given him. Setting a lamp on the floor where it wouldn’t cast much light and wake Holly, he leaned back in the chair and began to read.
Two hours later, Holly raised her head, rubbed her eyes, and looked over at him.
“Hi.” She smiled, lovely even after having just wakened.
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Feeling as if I’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This material you gave me. I think I know what’s going on. I don’t spook easily, but this makes me cold.”
Holly sat up straight. “What are you talking about?”
“The photographs in these books. There’s something about. .”
Holly got out of bed, tied her robe, and came over quickly. “Show me.” She pulled a chair next to his, then peered at the book in his lap. “What photographs?”
“This biography of Maria Tomez. I still have a lot to read, but one thing that’s clear is that Frederick Maltin didn’t just discover her and manage her. In a very real sense, he created her.”
Holly looked curious, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ve never seen her perform,” Buchanan said, “but from what I gather, Maria Tomez sings not just well but passionately. That’s her reputation, a fiery, passionate diva. An opera critic wouldn’t ever go this far, but to put it bluntly, Maria Tomez is. .”
“Sexy,” Holly said.
“That’s the word. But look at these early photographs.” Buchanan turned pages in the book. “This is Maria Tomez at the beginning of her career. Before Frederick Maltin. When she was singing in Mexico and South America and none of the major critics was paying attention to her.”
Buchanan placed his index finger on a photograph of a young, short, overweight, dark-skinned woman with an insecure look in her eyes, a broad nose, an unbecoming hairstyle, pudgy cheeks, and slightly crooked teeth.
“All that hair piled on top of her head,” Holly said. “And the way her oversized costume hung on her, as if she was trying to hide the weight.”
“The early reviews are unanimous about the quality of her voice, but it’s obvious that the critics are holding back, trying to be kind, talking about her awkward stage presence,” Buchanan said. “What they’re really saying is that she’s too frumpy to be treated seriously as a stage performer.”
“Sexist but true,” Holly said. “The big money goes to the women with a great voice and magnetism.”
“The night Maltin saw her performing Tosca in Mexico City, Maria Tomez wasn’t even scheduled. She was the understudy who had to step in when the production’s star got sick.”
“I wonder what Maltin saw in her.”
“Someone to dominate. Someone to sculpt and shape. If Maltin had heard her perform under other circumstances, he wouldn’t have associated her with a sexy role like Tosca. But once he did, he took advantage of the possibilities. According to this biography, no one had ever shown so much interest in her. Her career was going nowhere. What did she have to lose? She turned herself over to him. She gave him absolute obedience.”
“And?”
“Look at these next few photographs. What do you notice?”
“Well, she’s progressively thinner. And her costumes take advantage of that.” Holly picked up the book to examine the photographs more closely. “Obviously her hairstyle’s been changed. Instead of being piled on top of her head, it’s now swept back. It’s long and thick. It’s loose and curled. There’s a kind of wild abandon to it.”
“As if a breeze is blowing it,” Buchanan said. “As if she’s on a cliff and the sea is crashing below her. What’s the word? Tempestuous? That’s what I noticed, too. The hairstyle has a passionate look to it. Now check this photograph.”
Holly did and shook her head. “I don’t know what. .” At once, Holly pointed. “Her nose. It’s been narrowed and straightened.”
“And check this photograph taken three months later.”
“This time, I really don’t get it,” Holly said.
“She’s smiling.”
“Right.”
“Is she smiling in the previous one?”
“No.”
“And in the one before that?”
“She’s not smiling there, either, but in this first picture she is, and. . Oh, my God,” Holly said, “the teeth. They aren’t the same. They’re crooked at the start, and now. . She’s had them straightened and capped.”
“Or Frederick Maltin did,” Buchanan said. “He promised her that within two years he’d have her career turned around. What none of the publicity mentions is how much physical alteration was necessary. In the next photograph, three months further along, her eyebrows are different. In the photograph after that, it looks as if something chemical or surgical has been done to her hair to raise the scalp line, to give her more forehead, to help proportion the rest of the face.”
“And all the while, she’s been losing weight,” Holly said with excitement. “Her wardrobe’s been getting more stylish. The designs made her look taller. She’s wearing expensive necklaces and earrings that glint and look good to the camera. Those changes attract the most attention, so the other, gradual, step-by-step changes become less noticeable. They’re subtle and equally important, but done over a long enough period, they don’t make anybody realize the degree to which she’s been reconstructed.”
“Her fame was still growing,” Buchanan said. “She wasn’t under the same close scrutiny then that she would be in her prime, so a lot of the changes wouldn’t have been noticed as she moved from opera house to opera house in various countries. Still, look at these later photographs, after she’d become a sensation. The changes continued. Here. Am I wrong, or has she had cosmetic surgery around her eyes to make them seem more intense? In this photograph, have her earlobes been shortened? There’s something about them that’s different and makes her face look more proportioned.”
“Not only that, but her breasts seem higher,” Holly said. “Possibly some kind of surgery there, as well. Her waist seems longer. This is amazing. At first, it just seems that she’s maturing and glowing from her success. But I think you’re right. She was being sculpted and shaped. Frederick Maltin created her.”