Finding the Fit Chapter 22

Kate recognizes the agent in charge of Moran's case in the waiting room at Mercy General. "Any news yet?"

As he looks up at her, she can feel the unspoken accusation in his gaze, but he can't make her feel more guilty than she already does. "They both went right into surgery, and the doctors said it could be hours until they're out. That's all I know."

Kate sinks into a chair, leaving a seat between them. She desperately needs to know if she was followed to the meeting and if she caused the disaster. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she texts Esposito.

"Hey, Bro," Esposito calls to his partner, "Beckett needs our help."

"Trying to find everyone associated with the Spolanos isn't enough?" Ryan questions.

"She said to let that go, or more like go at it in a more direct way. She wants to know if she was followed," Esposito explains. "We need to scrub the traffic cam footage from when she left for the meet back to when she found the file at Leeds office, and see if a tail shows up. If one does, it's got to be someone sent by the Spolanos. If we split it up, we should be able to get through it in a day. We know what we're looking for."

"All right," Ryan agrees, "That's got to be easier than a paper manhunt for Spolanos."

Rick arrives at Sardi's at 9:45. It's a little early for a post-theater supper, but he'd looked up Martha Rodgers' play. Her character only appears in the first act, so she could easily leave early, just skipping the curtain call – or not. In any case, Sardi's starts serving late supper at 9:45 so Rick's eliminating the chance that she might get cold feet waiting for him. He's shown to the back room where off-off Broadway plays are sometimes staged, particularly if the playwright is friends with the restaurant's owner. The scene on the stage is bawdy, but not in bad taste. It reminds him of a revival of a music hall show he saw while on tour in England. After a sizable tip, the maître D' assures him that he'll be informed when Martha Rodgers shows up, but she'll only be led to his table if she agrees. That sounds right to Rick. Wanting to keep his faculties fully intact for the momentous meeting, he orders a Virgin Mary and tries to keep his mind on the actors onstage.

Martha knows from long and bitter experience how difficult it can be to snag a cab when the theater is letting out. If nothing else, that justifies leaving early to meet Richard. During a curtain call, the audience doesn't care about anyone except the stars, in this case, Hollywood A-listers trying their luck on Broadway. She doesn't feel guilty – much – stepping out before the play's end. A light rain is falling when her taxi lets her off in front of Sardi's, and she rushes for the protection of the red canopy. The usual array of tourists is gawking at the pictures of Broadway greats gracing the walls. Martha's up there, from the one year she won a Tony, but her picture is toward the rear. She catches the eye of the maître D'. "Chauncey, I'm expecting a dining partner and…."

"A man is already here who mentioned that he's expecting you," Chauncey injects. "He said his name is Richard. He's in the back. Would you like to join him or have a table out here?"

"How loud is the new play?" Martha inquires.

"The best lines are whispered," Chauncey says with a wink. "And it should be ending soon. It's only two acts. The room will be clearing out."

"Fine. I'll join him there," Martha decides.

Rick feels Martha's presence even before he sees the maître D' leading her to his table. He hastily pushes out of his seat, not sure whether to nod, offer his hand, or what. She solves the problem for him by opening her arms for a hug. After a moment, Chauncey clears his throat. "Shall I send your server, now, Ms. Rodgers?"

She glances at Rick, who figures that now is the time to nod. "Yes, please, Chauncey. And we'll want the special menu."

Chauncey palms the additional tip that Rick passes to him. "Right away."

Rick pulls out a chair for Martha opposite where he's been sitting. "Did you have, uh, a good show?"

"I didn't see anyone fall asleep," Martha replies, "and no one else was departing when I left. That's usually a good sign."

Rick gives a nervous chuckle. "Yes, I guess it would be."

"But you didn't come here to talk about the theater, did you?" Martha inquires.

"It's not on my top ten list for subject matter," Rick agrees.

"You want to know why I gave you up," Martha states matter-of-factly.

"And a lot more than that, but it would be a start," Rick confirms.

"Well…." Martha is interrupted by the arrival of the server with small, handwritten menus. "Hmm, Hamish is feeling creative tonight. Thank God he isn't putting out another attempt at making haggis edible. He is a wizard with lamb. His new recipe should be worth trying."

Rick's eyes flick for a moment to the steak in pepper sauce, but he decides that Martha probably knows what she's talking about. He smiles at the server. "Make it two."

"And the house wine," Martha adds.

The server makes a quick note and heads toward the swinging doors that Rick assumes lead to the kitchen. Rick looks back at Martha. You were starting to tell me…."

The actress draws in a deep breath. "Yes. But I'll need to start from the beginning. It was decades ago, but of course, you know that. I was a young actress in New York and waiting tables more than I was on stage. I was a lousy waitress, so my tips were terrible. But I was keeping my head above water - almost. When I booked a day on a soap, it was worth a celebration. So after I got one, I was sitting in a bar down the block from an experimental theater where I picked up roles mostly for free. I was treating myself to a glass of white wine when a man wandered in and sat on the stool next to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was tall, probably about six-four, but that wasn't what caught my attention. He had eyes that seemed to take in everything and understand why everyone was there. Do you know what I mean?"

Rick nods slowly. "I think I do."

"I was staring so hard that I spilled the bowl of peanuts on the bar and some of them went in his lap. When he was picking them off, our eyes met, and it was like I never wanted to look away. I believe he felt it too. When he asked if he could buy me another drink, his voice was soft, not what I expected from someone his size. He said his name was Jack and asked me about myself. I poured out everything about trying to make it as an actress and celebrating getting the part on the soap. He listened in a way I don't remember anyone listening – except what you're doing right now. Then he offered me his arm and asked me if I'd like to take a walk.

"We walked for hours, talking about everything. Well, almost everything. He never really told me where he worked or what he did for a living. He did say that he traveled a lot. He also knew a lot of little facts I'd never heard before about countries all over the world. We finally ended up at a place where he said he was renting a room. There was what I guess used to be called a parlor downstairs with an old upright piano. I'd already told him that I played, and he asked if I'd play something for him. I played "My Funny Valentine." After that, we didn't have to say anything. He just took my hand and led me upstairs. I'd never felt so in love, and I was sure that he felt the same way. That's how you were conceived, Richard. But in the morning, he'd disappeared. There was no one who could tell me where he'd gone or even his full name. I never saw him again."

"And you were too broke to take care of yourself, let alone a baby," Rick assumes.

"Broke and heartbroken. Richard, from the moment I knew I carried you, I loved you. I loved you too much to stick you with a mother who had no way to care for you. But I wanted to make sure that you had a great home with loving parents who could give you everything that I couldn't. And when I gave you up, the agency told me that you would."

Rick reaches for his mother's hand. "And at the time it told you that, it was the truth."