“It’s regarding the call we received this morning on Helen’s house phone. I assumed at the time it was Trey, but now I’m not so sure.”
“An anonymous call? Was it threatening?”
“No, just puzzling.”
“A crank call, probably. When there’s a—sorry to say—juicy murder or suicide in the news, loonies crawl out of the woodwork wanting to associate themselves with the case out of some sort of pathological attention-seeking.”
“That’s a perfectly plausible explanation,” Rex agreed. “But the person would have had to have known Helen’s maiden name to find her through Enquiries.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Penny suddenly. “I wonder if it might have been one of the boys at school playing a prank.”
Rex mentally palmed his forehead. “Of course. They’d all know her as Helen d’Arcy.”
Penny laughed softly. “I’m sure they’d still be calling her that if she were staying on at Oakleaf.”
“You should be in the business of crime detection, Penny. You do seem to have a knack for it.”
“I think I’ll just stick to writing about it in my spare time. But if I can be of further help, don’t hesitate to ring me.”
“I shall. You’ll be at the memorial service tomorrow? I believe the caretaker said you were arranging it.”
“Yes. Terrible, isn’t it? Who could have foreseen it would turn out like this?”
The killer, presumably, Rex thought, but didn’t say as much. “Can Helen and I do anything to help?”
“You’re already busy with the case and with packing and whatnot. There’s really not much to do, and we can’t get into the building before tomorrow morning as it’s still a crime scene. Mr. Jensen and Tony are lending their assistance. And Ada, Bobbi, and Susan. They’re preparing tea sandwiches and cake. Rodney is making a large wreath. But don’t bring flowers. A lot were left on Friday night.”
“Perhaps a condolence card for Cassie’s mother?”
“That would be nice. Addressed to her aunt too. We thought about having a basket where cards could be dropped, and donations for the funeral.” Penny’s voice faltered at this point.
“Absolutely. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. And I’ll text you Paul and Ron’s numbers directly.”
Rex thanked her and terminated the call with a sigh. He could not imagine what a sorrowful holiday weekend Cassie’s family must be spending in the aftermath of her death.
Penny duly texted the numbers. He called the producer first, but got a pompous-sounding recorded message stating that if he wasn’t answering, it meant he was busy with a client, which Rex thought unlikely on a Sunday, unless Ron Wade conducted business on a golf course. Next port of call was the solicitor, Mr. Reddit, who was much more obliging and told him he was welcome to come along to his office in the city centre, where, with the play being cancelled, he was spending his now vacant Sunday organizing some papers. Rex said he would be there in thirty minutes and took down the address.
He finished his coffee and took his mug and plate to the kitchen. The sound of female laughter entered through the open window above the sink, which let in a warm breeze laced with the faintly exotic scent of honeysuckle. The two women reclined on deck chairs on the grass with a low picnic table between them strewn with magazines and tubes of sunscreen, Julie in a yellow bikini and Helen resplendent in a shimmering blue one-piece.
He slid open the glass door to the patio and announced he was going out for an hour to meet with Paul Reddit, one of the actors in the aborted play.
“Mr. Farley, the Grove family solicitor?” Helen asked.
“Aye, and Mr. Reddit told me he practises family law.”
“It was the perfect role for him then.”
“Down to the throat-clearing. He did it a couple of times on the phone. Incidentally, Penny suggested our caller this morning might be a pupil at your old school. That would explain how he got your number.”
“The little prick should be expelled!” Julie interjected. “I bet you it’s Jez Wyatt. He’s the class joker. I’ve had to give him numerous detentions.”
“Jeremy is a disruptive element,” Helen agreed. “But it’s more a case of high spirits with him. He’s not a malicious boy. And it’s unlikely he knew Cassie. She’s seven years older and never attended Oakleaf.”
“The caller mentioned something to the effect he never intended to marry her,” Rex said. “In fact, wait just a minute; I wrote it down.” He extracted the folded notepad from the pocket of his trousers and stepped onto the patio. “‘I thought you should know; she did it because of me. I told her I couldn’t marry her.’” He looked up from his notes. “However, Ada told me Trey and Cassie were engaged.”
“Their characters were engaged in the play, interestingly enough,” Helen remarked. “But maybe Ada doesn’t have the latest information. Just because Trey is staying with her doesn’t necessarily mean he tells her everything. Secondly, anyone could have made that up about not wanting to marry her. It’s not very specific information. I still don’t think Jeremy would do that. Maybe another kid at the school, but I hope not. It’s in very poor taste.”
“I think you’re giving Jez Wyatt way too much credit,” Julie said, contradicting her friend. “By the time the miscreants reach your office for a bit of counselling they’re acting as though butter wouldn’t melt in their diabolical little gobs.”
“Well, maybe I’ll learn more this afternoon.” Rex waved his notepad at the two women and turned on his heel to go back into the house.
After locking the front door behind him as a precaution, he made his way along the path to the driveway and got in the Renault. True to his word, he was at Reddit, Hastings & Associates within half an hour of his call to the solicitor, who met him at the door and led him up the creaky stairs of the old beamed building. Though the premises were relatively small, the address was prestigious, and Mr. Reddit occupied an office overlooking the high street.
He bid Rex take a chair across from a large antique partner’s desk laden with buff-coloured files, the four walls surrounding it lined with legal reference works and giving off the frowsty odour of an old library. There were no photos anywhere that Rex could see. As far as he knew, Paul Reddit was a bachelor.
“Excuse the mess. Thought I’d do a bit of late spring-cleaning. My niece Bobbi is our administrator, but I prefer to organize things according to my own tried-and-true system.” The solicitor cleared his throat and sat down. He was both in mannerism and appearance much like the character he had portrayed, down to the dark suit, although this one was minus a waistcoat and probably not one of his best, instead relegated to weekend work at his law firm when he was not receiving clients.
“Bobbi, as in Roberta Shaw, who played Robin Busket?” Rex asked, simply for confirmation.
“Yes. The dastardly murderer in Peril at Pinegrove Hall. Tea?”
“Thank you, no.”
Reddit relaxed into his leather swivel chair. “She’s my sister’s daughter.” He cleared his throat once more, in what Rex took to be a verbal tic rather than a cold or an allergy, since it always had the same mildly phlegmy two-note sound, the second lower than the first. “My niece and I share a passion for the theatre. I saw you milling about when we were being questioned by the detective sergeant. Rodney said you were a private detective. The genuine article,” the solicitor said with a quick half-smile. “Unlike his Sherlock.”
“I hope you don’t feel I’m barging in on the investigation.”
“Not I. Penny said she had asked Inspector Fiske if you might help. Or rather she asked Ron to ask him. You seemed quite tight with the detective on Friday night.”
“My wife and I had him over for lunch today, in fact.”
“Well, I had better watch what I say then,” Reddit said with another brief smile. “And you’re a barrister. I must say, c
riminal law never much appealed to me. Of course, I’m not suggesting murder is involved in this case. However, would you be investigating a suicide?”
“I would,” Rex said carefully, but truthfully. “I’ve been asked to look into a suicide before, a case in Florida involving a college student. At this point, nothing can be excluded.”
“Well, I don’t know what to hope for in terms of lesser evils. Suicide would no doubt be worse for Cassie’s mother.” A catarrhal cough. “No parent wants to believe their child could be that unhappy. An accidental death would be somewhat better. No one at fault but the victim, yet still tragic. A murder investigation would be ongoing. It could become a painfully long ordeal for the mother and aunt. And if it came to a trial, there’s always the chance a jury might acquit. Hur-rum.”
Rex took in the grey-haired man sitting comfortably behind his solid desk. “If it were a question of murder, what would be your theory, Mr. Reddit?”
“Well, now.” The solicitor crossed his arms, revealing the buttoned white cuffs of his shirt. “First of all, I don’t deal in theories, only facts. I am not required to have the imagination of a barrister. I can tell you, though, it’s not one of us.”
“Meaning the actors?”
“Yes. Or the stagehands. Bill may forget to pay his brain bill, as Ben likes to put it, but they are thoroughly decent blokes, the pair of them.”
“And the director and producer?” Rex asked.
“Well, now. Hur-rum. Tony is a little temperamental; Ron is more in control. Tony worshipped Cassie. I don’t know what Ron thought about her or her performance. He never really lets his feelings show. I can’t say I like the man particularly, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that sentiment. But we often have to work with people we don’t like, don’t we? I dislike many of my divorce clients, to be perfectly candid. Having said that, they usually come to me under stressful situations, betrayed by a spouse and feeling vindictive or victimized and not their best selves. Hur-rum.”
“Did you see Tony when you came offstage towards the end of Act One?”
“I did, yes. I followed Susan and my niece out of the parlour. Susan played Aunt Clara, in case you’re not familiar with all the names. Hur-rum. Tony was sitting at the table with some ruled notepaper, working on something or other. I told him we had nailed it. Bobbi and I went to smoke a celebratory cigarette. The first act is always the most nerve-wracking, but the audience was very receptive, which always helps.”
“Did you see Trey Atkins?”
“He was in the dressing room when we passed through to the corridor. Bill and Ben joined us for a puff outside some minutes later.”
“Where was this?”
“Out the back. I imagine the police collected all our cigarette butts to support our alibis.” Reddit smiled.
“You used the fire exit?”
“Indeed. We didn’t want to run into spectators and interfere with their suspension of disbelief if they saw us hanging around with our cigs. Hur-rum.”
“Did you see a bicycle?”
“Tim’s? It was propped against the tree. I think he was too ashamed to leave it in the bike rack by the front entrance. He doesn’t have a full-time job.”
“What does he do?” Rex asked.
“He works at a sandwich place down the street. The Lunch Counter. I pop in once in a while. That’s how he came to get the part of Father Brown. I asked if he thought the owner would mind putting up a poster for the play, and Tim mentioned he was interested in amateur dramatics. When we lost the original Father Brown to bigger and brighter opportunities in Hollywood, I suggested he audition for the part. Hur-rum. Father Brown doesn’t have many lines, and Tim was fine in the role. An unfortunate underbite, which gives him a rather pugnacious look, but I’ve never read G. K. Chesterton, so I don’t know what his sleuth is really supposed to look like.”
“Unassuming, I seem to remember from The Blue Cross.”
“Well, Tim is that. Nice chap, if a bit quiet.”
Rex was always interested in the quiet types. “And you were still outside having a smoke when the shot went off ?”
“Yes. Hur-rum. We didn’t hear about it until we returned for Act Two at seven minutes to eight. I remember checking my watch, not wanting to be late. By this time, Trey had found Cassie dead onstage, and Rodney was on his way to alert us.” Reddit rubbed his dark-sleeved upper arms. “It gives me goose bumps just to think about it. Ron came in soon afterwards. He wasn’t in a fit state to begin with, suffering as he was from a migraine spell, and so Tony went to notify the audience.”
“Right. And what has been your niece’s reaction to Cassie’s death?” Rex had not been able to observe Bobbi Shaw closely after the fatal shooting. She had been standing with her uncle smoking by the open window in the hall, her face mostly averted, her movements contained, with none of the easy and fluid grace of Cassie.
“She was saddened and dismayed, naturally,” Paul Reddit replied, “but not hysterical like Susan. Bobbi is a very stoic and level-headed young woman, qualities her mother doesn’t seem to appreciate as much as she might. My sister is very traditional in her values. She’d like Bobbi to marry a nice professional man and start a family, but I suspect my niece is not much into the opposite sex. I’m not sure she has even broached the subject with her mother. Hur-rum. I have a female couple in the process of adopting, as a matter of fact. I hope Bobbi sees how open-minded I am.”
That Bobbi might be gay did not surprise Rex. In the play, she had convincingly conveyed the marquis’ estranged and illegitimate son in disguise.
“Does your niece like horses, Mr. Reddit? I wondered if the riding clothes she wore in the play were her own?”
“I believe so. The jodhpurs and boots, at any rate. Yes, she’s a fine horsewoman. Always been dotty about horses.”
“Does she hunt too?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Quite the outdoorsy type is our Bobbi.” Reddit cleared his throat and again offered tea.
Rex was about to answer when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, accepting the call and lifting the mobile to his ear. When the caller announced himself as Ron Wade, Rex asked if he could ring him back directly.
He told Reddit he would leave him to his filing and perhaps see him at the memorial service.
“Let me walk you out.” The solicitor followed Rex down the stairs, expressing his sorrow at having to return to the community centre for such a mournful event.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Reddit,” Rex said holding out his hand in the hallway. “I truly appreciate it.” He spoke sincerely. The solicitor had been more helpful than he probably knew.
fifteen
Rex rang the producer as he sauntered down the nearly deserted Sunday street to the car. Leaning against it, he gazed across the pavement at a closed lighting shop displaying Tiffany lamps and chandeliers in the windowfront while he waited for Ron Wade to answer.
“Thank you for taking my call,” Rex said when he finally did.
“I got your message. I can’t talk long. My wife and I are going out.”
“Just a few quick questions. And thank you for asking Inspector Fiske if I might participate in the case from the side-lines, so to speak.”
“It was Penny’s idea, really. What can I help you with?”
“I’m mainly concerned at this point with everyone’s movements at the time of the shooting and shortly prior. The inspector gave me a brief overview, but I’d like to fill in the details.”
He heard Ron sigh abruptly at the other end of the connection. “Well, as soon as the scrim came down for the attic scene, I left my prompting post behind the Chinese screen and went backstage, closely followed by the five sleuths. The other actors had already left the set.”
“Whom specifically did you see backstage?”
“As I told the inspector, it wa
s all a bit of a blur. I had a blinding headache coming on, and all I could think about was getting to my car for my pills. I reclined my seat and closed my eyes for a short while.”
“Is there anyone who might have seen you leaving the building?” Rex asked.
“There was a young woman in a stripy pullover by the water fountain in the lobby. She was busy on her phone and I don’t know if she noticed me. I learnt afterwards she was a reporter. At the time, I remember thinking her bright jumper was hurting my eyes and wondering why she wasn’t in the hall watching the play. The ticket attendant was loitering outside by the bushes having a smoke. He may have said something to me. He was still there when I returned from my car at five minutes to eight. I expect he was able to vouch for me to the police. By the time I got backstage, Cassie’s body had been found. Everyone was talking at once. I couldn’t think straight. I had to sit down in a quiet corner and wait for the medication to finish taking effect.”
“Just one more thing, Mr. Wade. Who operated the curtains at the end of the first act?”
“Bill Welsh.”
“He said he forgot.”
Ron Wade roundly insulted the unreliable stagehand. “Must have been Tony then. He’s supposed to direct things onstage.”
“It seems it was not him either.”
“Well, you got me. But someone did, right? Or we’d all know what bloody happened onstage.”
“Exactly so.” Rex thanked the producer again.
He stood hesitating by the car. He did not feel ready to go back to Barley Close. Julie would still be there, and for some reason he felt one too many in her presence. Better to leave the two women to enjoy each other’s company a while longer, he decided, and for him to make the most of his free time.
The vision of a glass tankard of Guinness floated into his consciousness, as it often did at such moments, and he thought of the Bells, where the stagehands had gone on Friday night. Googling on his phone, he found there was only one pub by that name in Derby, and it was not too far out of his way.
When he got there, however, neither Bill nor Ben were at the bar, which was mostly attended by locals addressing each other with booze-fuelled familiarity, among them a handful of gussied-up women with loud jewellery, shimmery lipstick, and teased-out hair, laughing raucously.
Upstaged by Murder Page 10
