"I'm looking for actors who appear well-to-do, professional businessmen," I said. "They have to be able to act. It's not good enough they just stand there. They have to present themselves well verbally, too. Smart enough to learn their lines. Very presentable."
She asked a couple of questions about age, height, and so on, and then led me into a small conference room. "I'll have some photos and resumes sent in to you right away. I'm sure you will be able to find what you want here," she said. "Just make yourself comfortable. I'll have Angela bring you a coffee. Will an espresso do?"
"Thank you," I said.
"When you've made your selection, bring the albums to my office. It's the last one on the right," she said, gesturing down the hallway.
The men were in alphabetical order, and given I didn't have a name, I had to start at the beginning. I found Antonio right away, Antonio Balducci. He looked so nice, with such a lovely smile, I just had to stop for a minute, a lump in my throat, and pull myself together. Angelo was next, Angelo Ciccolini. He looked rather fetching, too. It took me almost half an hour, but finally, there he was, Crawford Lake smiling out at me, only his name was Mario Romano.
I was a little surprised by Mario's credentials. He'd actually appeared in a rather impressive number of films, and not always in small roles. He wasn't the male equivalent of Sophia Loren in terms of name recognition or anything, but he wasn't doing badly at all. I couldn't imagine why he'd bother to accept a small part playing a mysterious billionaire, a role in which, as far as I knew, he'd never be seen by anyone but me.
I took the photos of Romano and Antonio to Eugenia Ponte's office, as directed. It was much larger than the other offices, befitting her status, and had glass doors that led out to a courtyard garden. Everything was very high style, great Italian design, elegant and contemporary.
"Lovely office," I said, trying to establish some rapport.
"Thank you," she said. "I like it, too. Now, what have you found?"
"I'm interested in these two," I said, handing her the photos and watching her reaction.
She fiddled with one of her earrings, but other than that, showed no emotion.
"Can you tell me about them?"
"Excellent choices," she said. "Two of our very best actors. I'm sure you'd be happy with both of them. However," she said, and this time, she chewed her lip. "Only one of them is available. This one is available," she said, pointing. "Mario Romano. Unfortunately Antonio Balducci is ..." she paused for a moment.
Deceased? I thought.
"Unable to accept assignments," she said, finally. "I suppose we should remove him from the catalog."
"In that case, how about Romano's availability?" I said. "We'll be shooting in the next couple of weeks."
"Mario is extremely busy. You've seen his resume," she said. "But I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."
"Would it be possible for me to interview him in person? It's rather difficult to tell from a photograph if he will suit our purposes. I'd have to hear his voice. It is just a small part in a commercial, but my director believes that all the details must be perfect. I'm sure you know the type of person I'm talking about."
"Indeed I do," she said. "Difficult, of course, but attention to detail always shows, doesn't it? I can assure you Mario is utterly professional, so he will understand."
"Could you tell me where I could get in touch with him?"
"We will arrange for you to meet him here," she said.
"Great," I said. "Could that be later today or tomorrow morning? Deadlines, you know."
"I think so," she said. "But let me call Angela and ask her to see what she can set up." Removing one earring so that she could use the telephone more comfortably, she dialed an extension. I could hear the phone ringing down the hall.
"Where is that girl?" she said with more than a touch of impatience. "Give me a minute, please.” She got up and I listened to her footsteps recede down the hall. In a flash I stood up, reached over to the file folders, opened Romano's, and found the address. As I did so, I inadvertently knocked her earring on the floor. I could hear footsteps coming my way. In a panic, I whipped around the desk, found it and was about to set it back in its place, when I noticed something that gave me pause. The earring was gold, heavy, and obviously good quality. On it was embossed a scene of some kind. I took a closer look. It was a chimera, with Bellerophon poised for the kill above.
Seeing it stopped me dead in my tracks. I just stood there, holding it and staring at it, thinking that the earring reminded me of something else, although what, I just couldn't recall, and wondering what it all meant. Almost too late I remembered the footsteps in the hall. I set the earring in its place and, given I was on the wrong side of the desk and she was nanoseconds from coming through the door, turned quickly and stared out the doors.
"Gorgeous garden," I said. "It makes such a difference, doesn't it? To have something beautiful to look at, I mean."
She looked suspiciously at me but then, checking her desk and seeing nothing out of order, agreed. "Angela says you're staying at the Hassler," she said, reaching for her earring and putting it on. "Lovely hotel. We will set up an appointment for you with Romano and leave a message for you there. I know that time is of the essence, so we'll try to set up something for later this afternoon or first thing tomorrow."
"Many thanks," I said. "I'm glad we'll be doing business."
"I am as well. How did you hear about us?" she asked.
Good question. I thought of the photo of Angelo Ciccolini. "Dorothea Beach," I said. "She's an antique dealer in New Orleans. She recommended you highly."
"Ah, Signora Beach. Of course. We deal with her whenever she's in Rome. I must be sure to tell her we appreciate her recommendation," Eugenia said.
I turned to go but then had another thought. "Do you have any older women actors? Say about sixty. The kind who could play the part of somebody's mother, for example, or perhaps an older maid?"
"Not many," she said. "But you're welcome to look at more photos if you wish."
"Thank you," I said.
In the older woman category, the pickings were pretty slim, a comment, I suppose on how society treats women actors over the age of about thirty. After only a few minutes of leafing through photos, I was interrupted by Signora Ponte, who had slipped a rather smashing black cashmere shawl over her shoulders. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you," she said. "I have a luncheon appointment. But if you see anyone you're interested in, Angela will make the appointment, and you can see her at the same time you see the others. It's been a pleasure meeting you."
"For me, as well," I said. "I look forward to seeing you when I come to meet the actor." I had no intention of returning, of course, something they'd figure out when they tried to leave a message for Janet Swain at the Hassler. It took me only a few more minutes to check the rest of the photographs. No sign of Anna, she of the lemon cake and tea. I went outside and hailed a taxi.
Mario Romano, aka Crawford Lake, lived across the Tiber in Trastevere, a neighborhood known for good food, night life, and a place for artists, and I suppose, reasonably successful actors, to live.
Romano, according to the names on the mailboxes, was on the top floor. A little girl sat outside the first-floor apartment, and after some smiling and waving on my part, she opened the door and followed me up to the first floor before giving up and going back to sit outside her door.
A rather pretty young woman of about eighteen or twenty, close to Jennifer Luczka's age by my estimate, opened the door a crack. She was dressed very casually in jeans and a white T-shirt, her long, dark hair pulled back and tied with a black ribbon. She looked as if she had a bad cold, with her red nose and eyes. "I'm looking for Mario Romano," I said.