‘I don’t have a strong stomach,’ I said. ‘This place is horrid, Daisy. I feel like there might be someone lurking somewhere.’
‘Of course there isn’t!’ said Daisy briskly. ‘More’s the pity. Now, what can we tell from this room? What is here and what is missing? I can begin. There should be another white nightdress on the rack because we know that Annie makes two of every costume, but there isn’t. What’s happened to that? Write it down, Hazel.’
I did as I was told and then peered around. There was Rose’s chair, half pushed back, as though she had gone somewhere in a hurry. I imagined Rose getting up, walking towards the door, reaching for … And then I had it. ‘Her coat and handbag are missing,’ I said. ‘Just as though she did leave. No, wait!’
I crouched down and peered into the far corner of the room – I had caught sight of a crumpled pile of blue fabric wrapped around something bulky. ‘Daisy, what’s that?’
Daisy threw herself onto her hands and knees and scuttled over, prodding at it with her torch.
‘It’s Rose’s coat!’ she cried. ‘And her handbag too. That’s interesting. Someone put them out of the way here, presumably so they wouldn’t be seen by the people searching for Rose last night. But they’re not really that difficult to find, are they? So … what does that mean? That the murderer didn’t mind if Rose was found later? Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have made a better job of getting rid of them?’
I frowned. That did seem odd. ‘What’s in the handbag?’ I asked.
‘Nothing much,’ said Daisy, her handkerchief wrapped round her fingers as she poked about inside. ‘A powder compact and a handkerchief. Dull! All right, let’s leave that here. Now, Hazel, what else can we discover from this room? I know one more thing – there’s no sign of a struggle here – no furniture overturned or things in disarray. That agrees with our theory that Rose can’t have been hurt here. Now, I think that while we’re downstairs we ought to go and speak to Jim and take a look at his book. This will require a little espionage. I know our first case seems an awfully long time ago, but some of the techniques we used are still relevant. Hazel, do you remember the Gym?’
2
Jim stared at us in alarm as we came rushing towards him.
‘What’s happened to you?’ he asked.
‘She turned her ankle in the corridor!’ I gasped, holding Daisy up with difficulty. She has grown quite a lot since the last time we tried this particular ruse, and now she had to lean down to put her arms round my neck, and I had to stand uncomfortably half on tiptoe. ‘I think she might have broken it!’
‘No, I’m sure I haven’t!’ said Daisy bravely, but her face was red (from holding her breath) and tear-stained (from squeezing her eyes shut and yawning until they watered). ‘But – oh! It does hurt terribly!’
We hobbled our way over to Jim’s seat in his cubbyhole, and Jim limped out to meet us. He led Daisy to his chair and fussed over her, getting her settled and propping her foot up on a low stool. Daisy winced and gasped and whimpered, managing to take up all Jim’s attention. As she did so, I leaned across the cubbyhole shelf, looking as concerned and hopeful as I could – and then, when I was sure that Jim was occupied, glanced down at the signing-in book that sat there.
I had come to know it very well during our time at the Rue. It was large and close-ruled, with a column for the date, another for names, and two for time in and time out. Its rules were simple, and everyone in the company knew them: each morning, we all wrote our name and the time we arrived in blue ink as we came in. Then, when we left, we would all write our name again, in black ink instead of blue.
This, of course, made it extremely useful to the investigation – and, as I looked at it now, I realized something else. Jim did not like to waste paper, so he made everyone cram their names together down the pages. Because of that, it would be impossible for someone to squeeze in an extra entrance or exit between the genuine ones. Whoever had added Rose’s name and faked her departure must have used a time that was close to when that person visited Jim, so as not to be caught out by the next person to sign out.
It was possible that the murderer (or murderers) might have also faked the time they had left, but all the innocent members of the company would have been drilled by Jim to write down their exit times correctly, by the big clock on the wall. Witnesses might be lying in their statements, but this was a piece of evidence that could be counted on.
Daisy gave a particularly loud yelp as Jim prodded her ankle, and I knew I was being encouraged to hurry up. I looked carefully at the entries for yesterday evening. There were our names, and Theresa’s, at 6:54 p.m. I remembered writing us all down, and checking the time against my wristwatch as well as Jim’s clock. They had been synchronized last night, and (I checked my wristwatch again) they were still keeping the same time.
The next name below Theresa’s was … Rose’s. I knew it would be there, but it still gave me a jump. Whoever had forged it had done a perfect job. Her signature matched the one from the morning before, and her time out was supposedly 9:10 p.m.
Next was Lysander at 10:03 p.m., then Annie at 10:35 p.m., and then came Simon at 10:40 p.m. and Martita at 10:45 p.m. Finally Miss Crompton and Inigo left together at 10:48 p.m. Jim had ruled a line below all their names and marked it off at 11 p.m. sharp, when he had locked the doors and gone to his bed in the little room behind his post. He had been back at his desk at 9 a.m. this morning.
I leaned forward and hastily scribbled the times and names onto a scrap of paper I had hidden in my hand.
I straightened up again just as Daisy said, ‘Oh, do you know, I feel rather better! Why, I think that’s cured it! Oh, now, one more thing – what do you do with post? I gave a friend this address for correspondence and he promised to write me a letter, only it hasn’t come yet.’
‘Well, letters all come in to me, and I put them in people’s pigeonholes in the post room,’ said Jim. ‘But I don’t think—’
‘Could you just check?’ asked Daisy in honeyed tones. ‘For me?’
‘Oh, all right!’ said Jim, and he turned away. I looked over and saw Daisy nodding at me. It was time for the second part of our plan. I picked up the black pen and wrote, Hazel Wong, 1:30 p.m.
By the time Jim came back, shaking his head, the pen was back in its place on the page and I was standing innocently back from the book – but, if anyone looked later, it would seem as though I had already signed out.
We had proved that someone might have been able to distract Jim long enough to sign the book.
‘It’s not there, I’m afraid,’ said Jim.
‘Oh – are you sure you didn’t put it in the wrong pigeonhole?’ asked Daisy.
‘I wouldn’t do that!’ said Jim, shocked. ‘I have eagle eyes!’
‘Of course you have,’ said Daisy soothingly. ‘Of course you have. And you’re honest too. That’s what I told the policeman, anyway.’
‘Honest!’ cried Jim, drawing himself up furiously. ‘Of COURSE I’m honest! Thirty years I’ve been at this post, man and boy, and I have never had my honesty doubted. As I told the Inspector, I never leave my post, and that’s the truth. If I have to go, I go in a bucket. Plenty of people came by, and they’ll all tell you that I was here, in my seat, where I should be.’
‘Miss Crompton did say she saw you during the evening,’ admitted Daisy.
‘But that’s not true!’ said Jim, still cross, words falling over themselves out of his mouth. It is one of Daisy’s cleverest tricks, and it works almost every time – simply tell someone a lie and they can’t wait to tell you how wrong you are, even if they catch themselves out doing it.
‘I didn’t see her at all yesterday evening, not until she came by to make sure that Rose’s name really was in the book. And I showed her! The only people who came by before the alarm was raised were Mr Tollington, Mr Leontes, Mr Carver, Miss Joy and Miss Torrera. I remember – I’ve got an excellent memory. Simon came by quite early in the evening, just before eig
ht. Martita came by four times, three between eight and nine and one just after nine – she was in and out constantly. Annie came by for a cigarette at quarter past nine, and Lysander had his cigarette just before half past. Mr Leontes stopped to have a chat then as well. They were both there when Martita came back to say that Rose had gone missing. That was the first time I checked the book, and that was when I saw that someone had put Rose’s name in. I thought I was going mad last night, but now I know that someone tricked me. Me!’
His voice was rising.
‘It’s too dreadful,’ said Daisy soothingly. ‘I’m so terribly sorry! I’m sure you did nothing wrong and the police will know that. Now, come along, Hazel. We must go and – rehearse.’
She hobbled out of Jim’s sight – and then rushed back down the corridor and up the stairs to our dressing room, with me following. We were both breathless with excitement. We had uncovered several very important pieces of information.
3
‘Most interesting developments have occurred!’ cried Daisy, pushing our dressing-room door closed and locking it. ‘We now know that it is perfectly possible to trick Jim into not paying attention to the book – you have proved that anyone who visited him might have written in it slyly. And I believe that his evidence means we can come close to ruling Jim out from committing the crime.
‘We have yet to confirm timings, but just think! Even if we assume that he met Rose immediately after the argument and after Martita had come by, he would have had to take her down to the well room, kill her and come all the way back again before quarter past, when he saw Annie. That is less than ten minutes to do an awful lot of things – ten minutes in which he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t be missed at his post. Anyone who arrived and found him absent would raise the alarm at once.
‘We know from previous investigations, Hazel, that it is key for a murderer not to do anything obviously suspicious during the execution of a crime, and there is nothing more suspicious at the Rue than not to have Jim in his cubbyhole. I do think, therefore, that we will soon be able to rule him out. And, since his evidence also matches the evidence you collected during everyone’s interviews with the Inspector, I think we can believe it.’
‘Yes!’ I said, hurrying to our dressing table and getting out the sandwiches that Bridget had made for us, for it was past our usual lunchtime and my stomach was rumbling. So much had happened in such a short time – I could barely believe it. ‘And, Daisy, I can’t see why he’d do it, or even be involved. He didn’t like Rose, but she didn’t hurt him especially – he was just scornful of her. And he cares so much about his job and his reputation. Why would he ruin it over one actress?’
‘Very good, Watson!’ said Daisy, taking her ham and cucumber sandwich happily. ‘Which means that we are left with—’
‘Five suspects, or groups of them,’ I said, jumping into her sentence like taking a step into a spinning skipping rope. ‘Martita, Inigo, Annie, Simon and Lysander. Miss Crompton might have helped any of them, but she couldn’t have done it by herself. They’re the only people who had the opportunity to go down to the well room between nine oh six and nine thirty and write Rose’s name in the sign-out book before nine thirty, and all of them but Annie have proper motives.’ I took an excited bite out of my fish-paste sandwich.
‘Yes, very true,’ said Daisy, frowning. ‘And what about the conversation we overheard between Simon and Inigo? Simon has a secret – and Inigo seems willing to do anything to protect him! We must—’
Someone rattled the knob of the door and then kicked it with their foot.
‘Hey!’ shouted Martita’s voice. ‘Who’s in there? Let me in!’
I glanced at Daisy and saw her panic, cheeks red and nose crinkled.
‘Go on, Hazel, let her in!’ she hissed.
I unlocked the door, and Martita shoved it open and stood glaring around the room, half puzzled and half annoyed.
Her thick dark hair was down around her shoulders and in Juliet’s day gown, which had been quickly let out in the bust and hips for her, she looked quite goddess-like – although the sort of goddess who might turn you into a deer and let wolves chase you. I understood, just a little, what Daisy must see when she looked at her. It was an odd moment, rather like stepping out of my head and into Daisy’s. I blinked, and then Martita was only Martita again, no different to how she looked on any other day since I had met her.
‘What are you doing?’ said Martita, her voice amused now that she saw it was only us. ‘I thought something was wrong when you locked the door, but here you are having lunch!’
‘Sorry, Martita,’ said Daisy, standing up, stiff and awkward, colour burning on her cheeks. Daisy, who always behaves perfectly, awkward! I couldn’t decide if I felt amused or sorry for her.
‘Everyone has gone off their heads today,’ said Martita. ‘I don’t blame you. Daisy, will you help me run lines after you’ve finished eating?’
‘Yes!’ said Daisy automatically. I prodded her. ‘I mean, no. Sorry. Hazel and I are really terribly busy.’
‘Doing what?’ asked Martita. ‘Hazel, even you must have learned your lines by now.’
It sounded rather cruel, but she winked at me as she said it. I knew she did not mean it at all, and I remembered how much I liked Martita. But my stomach sank. Whatever Daisy thought of her, she was a suspect.
‘Oh well,’ said Martita. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway. Rose is dead, and I expect Simon or I will be arrested soon. After all, we’re not British, are we? None of the English people could have killed her – that’s what the Inspector thinks.’
‘That’s not true! And you didn’t do it!’ gasped Daisy. ‘We know you didn’t.’
‘But he thinks I might have!’ cried Martita. ‘And I can’t blame him. After all, I could have taken Rose down to the well room and pushed her in. I wanted to.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ cried Daisy passionately. ‘I won’t listen to you. Come on, Hazel, eat up. We must be going!’
And, almost before I had finished my last bite, I found myself being dragged by Daisy further into the tangle of the Rue, and further into this strange and confusing case.
4
But we had only taken a few steps when we were stopped in our tracks by Lysander. He must have heard our voices, for he came out of his dressing room and blocked the corridor in front of us, standing with his arms crossed and his thin legs wide apart. In the low-ceilinged space, with only a dim light behind him, he suddenly looked as enormous as a bogeyman. I remembered how he had spoken to Rose, and felt a stab of fear.
I stopped short. Daisy, though, kept moving.
‘Step aside, if you please!’ she said in an annoyed voice. Daisy never does see danger. Nothing is as big as she is in her own head.
‘Now, now,’ said Lysander smoothly. ‘What have you two been doing? You’re scuttling about like mice, so I think you’re up to something. And I don’t like that.’
‘None of your business!’ said Daisy. ‘If you must know, we’re playing a game.’
‘No you aren’t,’ said Lysander. ‘You’re pretending to be little girls, but you’re too old for games. Tell me the truth.’
And he reached out, seized Daisy’s wrists and pulled her towards him so sharply that she fell against his chest.
I felt dizzy all over. This was such a shockingly inappropriate thing to do that I simply did not know how to respond. I was frozen with horror. But of course Daisy and I are very different, and Daisy never freezes.
She gave a little gasp, and then in one swift movement she twisted out of his grasp and brought her right knee up smartly between his legs.
Lysander went down sideways, swearing (quite rude words that I will not write here, of course), and Daisy bent over his prone body.
‘Never underestimate little girls,’ she hissed. ‘And never do that again.’ Then she turned and held out her hand to me.
‘Come on, Hazel,’ she said.
I rushed towards he
r, and together we walked away from him down the corridor.
I realized then that I was still shaking.
‘It’s all right, Hazel,’ Daisy said.
I looked at her and saw that her face was set and pale. ‘You’re all right and so am I. I shall never let any harm come to either of us, you know that. Or, at least, not the physical kind of harm. I can’t save you from seeing awful things, for example.’
‘I know!’ I whispered back. ‘But that was horrid! I think he really wanted to hurt you!’
‘He was most certainly rattled,’ said Daisy. ‘Which is useful to us, really. We have seen that he’s nervous, and behaving foolishly because of it – he is most certainly a good suspect. And I also believe we have seen something else: he doesn’t mind hurting women. We know that he and Rose were … flirting … and we also know that she had begun to go sour on him because he was so upset by all those flowers in her dressing room. He was furious with her – and he really might have done something awful. Men like that can do dreadful things to women they think have wronged them.
‘What if he lured her down to the well room last night, pretending he wanted to be romantic, but it was really a trap? Shoving Rose into a well would fit with Lysander’s nasty temperament!’
Daisy rubbed at her wrists with a rueful expression.
I shivered worse than ever. ‘Ugh!’ I said. ‘That’s horrid!’
‘It’s murder, Hazel – it’s always horrid!’ said Daisy. ‘But, yes, I do agree that it isn’t nice to consider. It’s very grown up, isn’t it?’
‘It’s far too grown up!’ I said. ‘I really don’t like all the parts of being older, Daisy.’
I had realized that at the Rue we were not seen as children, but as smaller grown-ups – which meant we could not go unnoticed. We had to explain ourselves and prove ourselves, and take part in the grown-up life of the company. And I found I did not like that.
Death in the Spotlight Page 12
