by Mark Walker
Downstairs in the entryway he cracked open the black door and looked across the black-and-white tiled stoop. Past the wrought iron rails, the Dasher still sat by the curb, and the darkening street was well lit with lamps. His steely eyes took in every detail of the street, but nothing was out of place. A fog, lifted slightly by Anti-Gravity, was beginning to form. It was cool but pleasant, and Riggs felt fresh and relaxed as he started the Dasher. The green, red, and blue dials and switches of the dashboard glinted off the head of the Fox and Hound cane and in the hard, bright eyes of the driver. The Dasher made its throaty burr as he made for Scotland Yard.
When he arrived at the Prescott’s with Bellows, it was six-thirty. The constable on duty greeted them warmly and said there had been no problems that day. “But I won’t mind you’re taking the lad off me hands for a while!”
They entered to find Brendalynn, the children, and even the cook and the maid in somewhat of a turmoil, and little Jen in tears. It appeared she had been under the wrong impression all this time, thinking Hamlet to be not a play, but a large ham omelet. She was so distressed when she found out it was not, and by the reaction of everyone around her, that she had burst into tears and been upset ever since.
Inspector Riggs took over. He knelt beside her as the others gathered round the bottom of the stairs.
“Jenny, Hamlet is a play by the great playwright William Shakespeare. It’s all about a prince named Hamlet, and it has lots of ghosts and lords and ladies and even a mad princess and sword fights!”
Jen started to perk up.
“A princess? Is she a pretty princess?”
“Why, of course she’ll be a pretty princess. And tonight you get to see the very first musical production, so there’ll be lots of singing and dancing, as well. And your friends Kitt and Trilby will be in it. You can look for them on stage—why, won’t that be fun!” Then he leaned toward her and said in a confidential tone, “Still, you know, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of hams onstage, after all. Why, we shall call it ‘Omelet’ amongst ourselves from now on!” And so they did.
Moments later they were off for the world premiere.
chapter twenty-five
“Omelet”
AFTER THE AFTERNOON’S EVENTS, a full Flying Squad escort, replete with cyclists, formed up round the Dasher, and the thrill of occasional police bells heralded their way through the night toward what would prove to be a memorable evening at the theatre. The children would certainly never forget it, nor would the others who had first crossed paths in St James’s Square just two days before. The ride on an AG Day was particularly smooth, and they arrived amidst the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus and an unexpected fanfare in front of the Criterion.
Although it was early, the red carpet, searchlights, and press photographers were already present. A massive and enthusiastic crowd pressed in on them. Thankfully, Blaney was waiting with the door attendants, there to park the Dasher nearby. The crowds cheered and the flashbulbs popped.
They made quite an entrance. Brendalynn Welles looked more glamorous than Riggs could have imagined, and he told her so. Her glad rags consisted of a royal blue velvet evening gown, with elbow-length gloves and a detachable silver fur stole. The gown gathered at her neck, and there was a band of black velvet at her throat just above it; at its center was a small brooch of glinting silver. Her shoulders were bare beneath the warm, satin-lined fur. Her black hair was worn up, piled high in a half-chignon, whilst the other half tumbled down the back of her neck to her shoulder. Fastening it was a small hair clip of rhinestones that the cook’s mother had lent her for the occasion, to which she and Mandy had affixed soft, white feathers.
The outfit she had chosen was perfection itself, and she was simply stunning. Riggs was proud to be seen helping her step from the Dasher. Even Sergeant Bellows was in his finest, and the way he held his bowler and waved gave him that certain Oliver Hardy flair. The children were impressive, too, with their best clothes on. Michael relished every moment of attention, Mandy felt like a fashion maven (and hoped her brother didn’t do anything to embarrass her), and little Jen (completely over the “ham omelet”) was enthralled with all the excitement. Kelly Riggs was no less photogenic in his evening clothes, even twirling his cane. The photographers and newsreel cameras snapped and snipped away, with popping flashbulbs and blinding spotlights. The scene was posh and glittering, and the theatre was decked out lavishly with giant banners, added since Riggs and Bellows visited earlier that afternoon.
They entered the small, crowded lobby. There was no sign of Boss Stilton and Ginger Vitis. Riggs passed a plainclothes officer and nodded. The detective indicated their quarry had not yet arrived. It was decided that Bellows and the children would find their seats, whilst Riggs and Brendalynn would stay in the tiny lobby awaiting the arrival of his nemesis. Other personages, mostly theatrical, arrived with fanfare. He waited anxiously.
Riggs was not disappointed for, in short order, to another chorus from the crowds, a big, black slug of a limousine pulled up, and out stepped Bruno Stilton and Ginger Vitis. They made their way up the red carpet toward the lobby.
Boss Stilton was dressed unfashionably for autumn, in a white summer dress jacket and a red bow tie.
Ginger Vitis was dressed befitting her Babe and a Half status. Her gown accentuated all of her attributes, especially the twin stacked Blood Stars at her throat. She wore a shocking red dress with a black fur stole. A small red hat with black feathers capped her burnished ginger hair. Two huge goons accompanied them: the black ex-wrestler Rocky Sengue and the strange, boyish hulk of Nigel Pushpin. Both were straining in their ill-fitting tuxedos. The couple and their bodyguards made their way through the gaggle of photographers gathered at the door.
Then they were inside and Stilton was checking his coat with the help of a goon. Riggs felt a rush of excitement that the game was on!
He was about to go up to them, when Ginger Vitis beat him to the punch. Even Stilton and the two bodyguards seemed taken by surprise.
“Well, why everyone is heah, dahling. It’s the police, dear, come to wish us luck on the new show. You know my friend Bruno, don’t you, ah—Inspector Riggs, isn’t it?”
Bruno Stilton’s ill-concealed hostility evidenced itself in the quivering of a snarling lip. “Ta,” he grumbled, without bothering to offer his hand.
“And I am Ginger Vitis.” She held out her gloved hand to Kelly Riggs, completely ignoring Brendalynn Welles. She was close enough that he could smell her breath—and get a good look at the two Blood Stars at her throat. It certainly looked like them. The audacity of the woman!
He kissed her hand lightly, all the while eyeing the Blood Stars. Ginger Vitis was eyeing him. Brendalynn Welles was eyeing her, with a frown. Bruno Stilton was sweating and wiping his face with a handkerchief.
Ginger Vitis held his hand briefly, looking directly into his eyes. “My, my, but the policemen are looking well these days. And you look even better in the flesh than your pictures in the paper. Of course you may check out my jewels, Inspector, but in private only, dahling.”
Brendalynn rolled her eyes.
”Come on, Baby, I need a cocktail before the show.” Boss Stilton was maneuvering her toward the stairs.
Ginger Vitis said goodbye. “See you later, alligator. Let me know when you want to investigate my jewels, Inspector, and we’ll make a date.” It was then she pretended to notice Brendalynn for the first time. She looked her up and down in a split second, giving a dismissive sniff, then whisked away down the stairs with Boss Stilton.
Brendalynn gave Riggs a look, which he returned sheepishly. He’d have to watch his step—in more ways than one!
Sitting in the stalls in the seat at the end of the row next to Brendalynn, Riggs uncapped the noses of the Fox and Hound cane, and held it to his eye. Using the monocular, he followed the line of the Dress Circle balcony, went over another column, and found the box he wanted. He had excellent close-ups of both Stilton and Ginger Vitis. And
the Blood Stars. Although she was constantly fidgeting and moving, Ginger Vitis had brought her own small pair of opera glasses and was busy looking for who’s who. Her roving eyes moved down, and she suddenly fixed her glasses on Riggs. She lowered the glasses slowly, holding his eye in hers from fifty feet away. She pursed her lips in a kiss and giggled, before stroking the Blood Stars at her throat seductively. Then she turned away. Riggs moved the glass to Boss Stilton, who was scowling at his companion. He let Brendalynn look for a moment.
“I think they’re fighting,” she said. Then a hush came over the house and the lights went down. The maestro entered in a spotlight, to thunderous applause, and there was a final sound of tuning coming from the pit. There was a tic, tic, tic as he commanded attention by tapping on his music stand with his baton. He lifted it, and the overture began.
Even though the lights had dimmed, Riggs quickly scanned his program. He noted that Martin “Tex” O’Bannion was playing several parts, from the opening scene on. Would he be too busy in rehearsal to make an attack in St James’s or at the Royal Academy? Probably, but then he was a quick-change artist. Some of them could change costumes in sixty seconds, with the right get-up or a confederate. As he had witnessed just that afternoon, rehearsals were frequently halted for varying reasons. Yes, it was possible. He settled in to enjoy some of the show.
For the children it was a magical and unforgettable experience. As it turned out, it was an excellent production and a brilliant spoof of Shakespeare’s tragic Dane. Riggs especially appreciated it, having taken a full course of study during his Cambridge days in Hamlet and his “antic disposition.” He had even recited “To be, or not to be…” in the drama club. Putting the absurdity of the songs and dances against the tragedy was a huge artistic gamble, and it appeared to have paid off, as the audience was frequently in stitches and applauding wildly.
Brendalynn was thoroughly enjoying herself, and didn’t mind her companion’s eyes wandering occasionally with the monocular up to the box in the Dress Circle. The production had weird, almost cubist sets, with lavish drops and turntables. Raked platforms at steep and various angles shot out from the stage, and the lighting streaked across the stage in garish colors and strange patterns. Dark curtains and tiny balconies in the proscenium arch framed the set. Sometimes a mist of smoke permeated the stage, especially when the Ghost entered and sang. Sure enough, the Ghost’s chorus line entered, singing and repeating the bizarre movements Riggs and Bellows had witnessed earlier. “Modern dance,” whispered Brendalynn. The performances were first rate. Sir John Fielgud’s Claudius had just the right touch of villainy and pathos, and Sheila Vain chewed the scenery as Gertrude the Queen. Ophelia was indeed beautiful (much to Jen’s delight) and, as played by Faith Keating, achieved a true tragic resonance that went beyond the comedic elements required and was quite touching.
So the acting ranged, down to the smallest part, including Tex O’Bannion. It was hard to detect any similarity in his various characterizations, and had it not been for the program, Riggs would have thought they were different actors entirely. He was impressed. Yes, from the opening scene with the Ghost of Hamlet’s father, to the killing of old Polonius hiding behind the magnificent tapestry, to the famous play-within-the-play, to Ophelia’s mad scene, the entire production was English musical theatre at its zenith.
At one of the brief intervals between acts, he and Brendalynn saw Stilton and Ginger Vitis across the bar, but could not get close to them. He noticed they were both drinking pinkish-red cocktails. Those must be the famous Cosmopolitans.
The general buzz said the show was set to be a huge success, and the audience threw down their drinks in high anticipation of getting back for the next act. None were disappointed. Each act was even more striking in dramatic effect than the last, and Hamlet’s “To Be or Not to Be” solo was a hit song in the making. It was truly as Riggs had imagined, with chorus girls behind Hamlet. At least during the famous graveyard scene, Hamlet didn’t juggle poor Yorick’s skull.
Riggs took time to observe Ginger Vitis discreetly whilst Tex was onstage. He also made note of Tex’s size and his lithe movements against the glowing orange fire-lit torches carried by Hamlet and Horatio. Riggs checked his program in the flickering light emanating from the stage. It read: Clown … Martin “Tex” O’Bannion. Riggs felt another tingle of excitement. He casually observed Ginger Vitis again. All her attention was on the stage, her hand clutched at her mouth.
The final sword fight was so dynamic even Kelly Riggs found it the most impressive bit of stage combat he had ever witnessed. He checked his program again, and this time his eyes widened. Martin “Tex” O’Bannion was credited with fight choreography. So Tex had staged all the sword fights. Impressive!
As the curtain call was in progress, Riggs turned and looked down the row. Brendalynn looked radiant and flushed with laughter as she applauded. They had all thought that little Jen might be asleep, but she stayed awake, enthralled in rapt attention until the very end. It turned out to be Sergeant Bellows who was sawing logs at the final curtain, but he had been awoken with much fanfare by the children as the audience applauded the performance.
It was a “Standing O,” and Riggs excused himself and Bellows, asking Brendalynn to bring the children back in a few minutes. The curtain calls continued unabated. He and Bellows waded their way backstage. If chaos had seemed to reign that afternoon, pandemonium reigned presently, with much whooping and shrieking by those who knew they had a hit show. The cast was continuing to bow onstage, whilst crew members grinned with pride and congratulated each other behind the magic curtains. Riggs and Bellows made for the green room, the common area where actors await to be called to “the deck,” or stage.
“We have grounds to arrest Ginger Vitis and take her in, and we can examine those Blood Stars when she comes backstage in a few minutes. In the meantime, Sergeant, if you’d BOLO young Toby, I’m worried about him. And if you see Tex,” here he looked hard at Bellows, “you have permission to bring him in with Miss Vitis.”
The moment Sergeant Bellows was out the door, there was a rush of activity, as an assistant stage manager threw on the lights and a flood of actors began filling up the green room. Riggs was swept up in the throng, and though he kept an eye out for Tex, he didn’t see him. It was difficult to see anything at all with the headpieces, feathers, and crowns dancing and bobbing around him. Fortunately, Brendalynn and the children soon found him, and the children were especially delighted to be surrounded by all the show folk. Kitt and Trilby were euphoric, for if the show became the hit it portended, they would be in work for months.
Backstage the dim work lights were already on and most of the crew and musicians had dispersed, though there was a steady trail coming from the audience through the stage right wing. Sergeant Bellows crossed to the other side and found a couple of stagehands lounging against the fly rail. “I was wondering if you lads have seen young Toby Knockknees?” he asked.
The two black-clad men gave each other a funny look, before one spoke up. “Oh yes, sir, of course, sir. Young Mr Knockknees! Fine chap. I’ll take you to him now.” Bellows nodded pleasantly to the other fellow and followed the man toward the back, where he opened a door. “Oh, Mr. Knockknees? Someone to see you! This way, sir.” He pushed Bellows in front of him, and before he knew what had happened, Bellows found himself locked in a broom closet!
The green-room throngs parted like the Red Sea, and the Babe entered followed by Bruno Stilton and the two bodyguards. It was an entrance truly worthy of a Babe and a Half, and she milked every ounce for what it was worth. She needed no spotlight and neither did the magnificence at her throat. Gasps, oohs, and aahs went up throughout the crowd, followed by wild applause and a surge upon the couple. Cries of “Champagne!” were heard and more corks popped. Trilby grinned with excitement and nudged Riggs forward, but he had difficulty making his way due to the crowd. Brendalynn and the children stayed back. He was finally within a few feet of Ginger Vitis, but s
he swept away effortlessly with her gaggle to a little group of chairs and a sofa in the opposite corner. Again Riggs had to navigate his way slowly through the sea of show folk.
Another cork popped, and as he moved forward, Riggs caught glimpses of Ginger Vitis, in her element and holding court, and emphasizing her prizes, the Blood Stars. A rather stiff Boss Stilton stood near, chatting up a chorus girl, flanked by the guards with their hard eyes. It was then that a shadow on the wall caught his eye, and as Riggs moved closer, he saw it was the Hopalong Cassidy cowboy hat of Tex O’Bannion.
Finally he got a full-on view of Tex. He appeared decked out in all his finery, as well. The black cowboy hat, jeans, and black western shirt with pearled buttons, a red bandana handkerchief at his neck—he’s all dolled up for the premiere, thought Riggs. He wondered again what his connection might be, and suspected a relationship with Ginger Vitis.
Riggs was the only one to see what happened next. Tex had taken a glass of champagne, but he accidentally spilt some on Ginger Vitis. She yelped, and in the fuss he was able to deftly lift the necklace with the Blood Stars right from her neck and slip them into his pearl-buttoned pocket.
She didn’t even realize they were gone until a few moments later. Even as she yelled, “Thief! Thief!” Riggs was already on the move, as Tex managed to slip away. Again Riggs had to fight against the crowd surging toward Ginger Vitis, and it was several seconds before he made it through the door. He wondered where Bellows and the other detectives were.
The only light in the theatre came from the work lights in the orchestra pit, which cast weird shadows across the already surreal stage scenery. The empty auditorium was deathly quiet. But the silence was broken by a muffled pounding from the opposite side of the stage. The mystery of what had happened to Sergeant Bellows was now solved. In seconds, Riggs freed the sergeant.