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BLAINE STEPPED OUT from behind the curtain. His smile was pleasant ... until he saw the papers in Myrtle’s hand.
“Why have you got my script, Miss Myrtle?” asked Blaine in a very even voice. He took a couple of steps closer to her and Myrtle casually took a few back until she had a hand leaning on the table she’d put the bag of squash on, for balance.
“What—these papers?” asked Myrtle, looking down at her hands as if surprised to see them there. “Mr. Toucan and I were talking on the phone and when I mentioned I was going downtown, he asked if I could run by the theater and pick up some things for him.”
“Like my old script?” asked Blaine, raising an eyebrow. “He didn’t want something from his office instead? That seems odd, doesn’t it?”
“Does it?” asked Myrtle brightly. She pu
