At the other end of the office Pam Mundy’s fingers kept up a steady tattoo over the keys of her typewriter. She didn’t bother to answer. She knew he was right.
Oscar Stalkey didn’t quite know how to begin. He prowled uncertainly along the bookcases lining one side of his office, trying to keep his temper in check and his voice low. Sitting in the most comfortable chair in the room, Katherine Nelson watched him steadily and waited for him to speak.
At last he asked the question that had been preying on his mind for the past two weeks. “Why?” he said simply. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Katherine Nelson inquired innocently.
Stalkey gave an exasperated shake of his head. “You know perfectly well. The play’s going to pieces.”
She crossed her legs and returned his pleading stare with a bland smile. “Are you suggesting it’s my fault?” she asked.
“Of course I am!” the producer exploded. “Whose fault d’you think it is?”
“Now that’s very interesting,” the actress said coolly. “Supposing we go over my so-called shortcomings. First of all, have I ever missed a rehearsal—or even been late for one?”
“No,” Stalkey admitted uncomfortably. “But—”
“Let me finish,” Katherine Nelson insisted. “There’s been no trouble with my lines. I know them perfectly. Now, I admit I’ve had some disagreements with Craig Claiborne. He’s wanted me to do some things I don’t like.”