A wry little smile touched his lips. “That is the very reason I ask, in fact.”
“Of course I am not guilty!” she cried with convincing horror. There was a touch of reproach in her expression, and her delicate eyebrows drew together in a pained way. “I swear I did not kill Fournier. I swear it on—on the love you and I once bore one another.” Her voice broke, and she fell silent, biting her lip. She blinked as if fighting back tears and groped for a handkerchief.
It was an impressive performance, but the fact that she was now invoking sentimentality after the ugly things she had recently said to him made the pretense all the more blatant. She must be hiding something, but whether it was murder remained to be seen.
“My dear child,” Kenton said gently. “Naturally we will say nothing of Fournier’s attempt to blackmail you. It is irrelevant to the investigation.” Roderick glanced at him sharply as if about to object, but Kenton continued smoothly. “This is where your sharing the role with Sybil works so perfectly. If the two of you continue to alternate playing Elfrida, it will prove to the inspector that both you and Sybil had a very good reason to lie to them about your whereabouts. You were both quite rightly keeping silent about the unusual arrangement until we were ready to reveal it to the public. If Sybil’s appearance on the second night had proved unsuccessful, why, we would never have announced the plan.”
A feeling was stealing over me that I had been outmaneuvered. Kenton was implying that I had no choice but to continue playing Elfrida every other night if I wanted the police to believe this plausible fiction in which I had an innocent excuse for lying to them. If I did not appear in the play again, why, that meant I continued to be an object of suspicion. It was a very clever way of forcing me to appear in his play... and by extension forcing Roderick to continue in the orchestra. The power of our names attached to his production would certainly benefit Kenton in both revenue and publicity. For all his seeming gentleness, the actor-manager was displaying a business acumen that was little short of ruthless, and I wondered if I had greatly misjudged his character.
Roderick caught my eye, and I saw from the tightening of his jaw that he had reached a similar conclusion about our being painted into a corner. “It appears that Sybil and I have good reason to keep silent about the blackmail also,” he said in a voice all the more ominous for its calmness. “It would be unfavorable for our careers were we to be arrested as accessories to theft. Or murder, of course.”
“Au nom du ciel! I have told you—”
“I haven’t forgotten, Julia. But you have to admit that if the police find out that Fournier was blackmailing you, it will place you under grave suspicion, even if—I beg your pardon, even though—you are innocent.”
“That is precisely why we must all vow to be silent on that point,” Mr. Ivey said decidedly. “No good would come of divulging that information, but much harm might follow. Are we agreed, then?”
Roderick pushed his chair back and stood. “Only if no one stands to be harmed by silence. As long as the blackmail seems truly irrelevant to the investigation, I’ll keep quiet. But if an innocent party comes under suspicion because of it—and especially if Sybil is in danger of being arrested—I won’t hesitate to tell everything I know.”
“The same goes for me,” I said, also rising to leave.
“Hmm.” Kenton looked down at the stack of newspapers and straightened them so that the edges lined up tidily. “I’m afraid that may present a problem,” he said in his gentle voice. “For if the two of you were to tell the authorities that Monsieur Fournier was blackmailing Julia, I’m afraid I should have to contradict you.”
“You mean you would tell the inspector that we were lying?” I exclaimed in disbelief.
He clasped his hands before him and looked at me, then Roderick. “I should hate to do such a thing, of course. It would pain me to put you in that position. But I should not hesitate to do so if I felt it necessary to protect Julia.” His smile to her was benign. “Having complete faith in her, as I do, I would be willing to commit a tiny bit of perjury to protect her from an unjust accusation.”
Roderick’s face was thunderous. I felt stunned. Was it possible that Kenton would go this far to protect a woman whose only claim on him was friendship at best? Or was it not about Julia per se, but about ensuring the success of his production? I wondered.
“You said that Julia’s errand dovetailed with your interests,” I remembered. “And Julia spoke of your being an accessory. Was this little plot what you meant? Did you have this in mind all along?”
He seemed to pick his words with care. “I apologize for resorting to such tactics, Sybil,” he said, “but I must protect my interests. I assure you, however, that I had no foreknowledge of Monsieur Fournier’s death.”
Roderick and I exchanged doubtful looks. It did seem unlikely that Kenton would have made his plans contingent on this precise chain of events... and on Julia’s cooperation.
All the same, Roderick did not take this on faith. “Are you certain you weren’t in on this plan?” he demanded of Julia, who shot him an exasperated look.
“As if I would collaborate on my own destruction!” she cried.
Before any of us could respond, the door opened and Jean-Baptiste entered. Kenton welcomed him with relief. “Ah, the coffee is ready at last!”
But the man carried no coffeepot. “I beg your pardon, sir, but a member of the police has just arrived. He says that Inspector Girard wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience—and Mademoiselle de Lioncourt and Miss Ingram as well.”
Chapter Fourteen
“It appears that the three of you have been in league to foist a fiction onto the theatergoers of Paris,” said the inspector.
Kenton gave a deprecating cough and smiled apologetically. “The ladies are blameless, inspector. It was their loyalty to me that kept them from confiding the truth to you before.”
“I should like to hear that from the ladies’ own lips.” The inspector looked irritated, but then, he had a right to be, considering how he had been misled.
The four of us were gathered in the theater office. We would have been five, but Roderick had been firmly ejected by the policeman. Now the guardian of the peace stood at the right hand of the inspector, who sat in Kenton’s usual place behind the desk with the air of one not just constructing a case but weighing it in a court of law.
“It is just as Mr. Ivey says,” Julia said brightly. “How it went against the grain for me to be less than entirely honest with you, inspector! I hope you can forgive me.”
She clearly believed that charm could win over the detective, but I could have told her otherwise. The saucy tilt of her head and her fluttering eyelashes did not move him. He turned to me. “Mademoiselle Ingram?” he said. “Can you confirm this?”
“When we spoke before, my paramount concern was maintaining secrecy around Mr. Ivey’s plan for the show,” I said. “I apologize for lying, but I reasoned that since I was utterly unconnected to the crime my withholding information wouldn’t impede the investigation.”
“You see, inspector?” Kenton’s affectionate glance took in me and Julia with a paternal indulgence. I wondered if there was any genuine feeling behind it or if it was as complete a fiction as the alibi I had initially given the inspector. “They were merely doing as I told them to do. If you must blame someone, blame me.”
Leaning back in his chair, the inspector stroked his moustache in thought. “One would hate to be unreasonable,” he said at length. “Heaven knows that ladies, as delightful as they are, are not overburdened with good judgment. To condemn them for acting irrationally would be like chiding the sky for being blue.” After a few moments more of reflection, he said, “Mademoiselle Ingram, I shall accept this new version of events. I no longer consider you a primary suspect.”
This news was so welcome that I could overlook his obnoxious commentary about my sex. “Then are my fiancé and I free to leave Paris... when the run of the play ends
?” I added the qualifier to placate Kenton, though I had no intention of letting him determine the length of our stay.
To my disappointment, the inspector said, “That I cannot permit. It is still too early in the investigation.”
I had hoped so much to gain my freedom. At his next words, however, I felt hope quicken again. “But for the time being,” he said, “I have no more questions for you—and no plans to charge you.”
“Thank you, inspector.” I almost sprang to my feet in my eagerness to go.
Julia, too, was rising. “How pleased I am that we were able to clear up this misunderstanding—”
But the inspector fixed her with a cold and implacable eye. “Mademoiselle de Lioncourt, please be seated. I have more to discuss with you.”
As I slipped out the door I saw her exchange a startled glance with Kenton. My curiosity was great, but my desire to share the news of my changed situation with Roderick was greater.
Roderick’s own interest in the proceedings had kept him close; he was waiting a scant two paces from the office door. “Well?” he demanded, and I put my arms around him and kissed him.
“I am no longer a primary suspect!” Quickly I told him what had transpired, and seeing the relief on his face made me realize how worried he had been on my behalf.
“Now that he isn’t looking in the wrong direction, he’ll be able to find the real killer,” he declared. “And once an arrest is made, he’ll have no hold over us—and neither will Ivey.”
“I wonder how long that will be?”
“Not long, I should think. Detectives here are at the beck and call of any person of influence. At any moment Girard could be summoned to search for Lady Whatsit’s lost Pomeranian. If he wishes to solve this case, it behooves him to do it quickly.”
I envisioned the inspector applying his cold concentration to the case of a missing dog and smiled. Not until later did I reflect that a man in a hurry to make an arrest might be dangerous—and dangerously unpredictable.
I was applying makeup to go on that night when Marianne burst into the dressing room. I was beginning to understand why there was a lock on the door.
“You lied to me,” she burst out. “You and Mr. Ivey planned this from the start.”
Evidently he had not explained matters to her satisfaction. Sighing, I set aside my rouge and turned to face her. She had not yet changed into her costume, and the plainness of her dress reminded me that her ambition was rooted in economic necessity.
“You are free to disbelieve me, of course,” I said, “but what Kenton chose to tell the press differs in some respects from what actually transpired. I certainly never intended to appear for more than one night. All I want right now is for Roderick and me to walk out of this theater and never return.”
“Then why don’t you?” Glaring at me, she folded her arms, and I had to strain to keep my temper. She was still young enough that everything was filtered through her perception of how it affected her.
“Being a suspect, I’m not at liberty to go where and when I please,” I said. “It is frustrating, but there is nothing I can do about it.”
“You say that because you don’t wish to do anything about it. You have the leading role every other night.”
“A role I never desired!” After the emotional experiences I had gone through that day, my patience was nearly at an end. I took a deep breath to compose myself. “Marianne, I’m truly sorry I’m in your way, but Kenton will not be budged. It isn’t about your potential or lack of it—it’s merely practical because my name is one that people recognize, and he needs that draw right now.”
“I don’t believe that. You’ve persuaded him somehow. I’ll wager you really have been his mistress all along.”
The last of my goodwill evaporated. “You have a choice, Marianne. Either you can be someone who takes each setback as a personal slight and lets suspicion and resentment rule her, or you can be the trouper who sets aside her disappointment and makes the best of situations she cannot alter.” Turning back to my mirror, I added over my shoulder, “I know which one I would rather share the stage with.”
Before she could make a retort, the door banged open again. What was the point in closing it, really? This time it was Julia.
“You must help me,” she commanded. “The man thinks that—” She stopped short when she realized we were not alone. “Leave us,” she ordered the younger woman.
Marianne put her hands on her hips. “I like that! Ordering me around as if I were a servant.”
“I wish you were a servant,” Julia snapped. “Then you might actually do as you’re told. Will you please get out?”
Understandably, this ruffled Marianne’s feathers even further, and she departed with a slam of the door that jarred the pictures on the walls. I winced, but Julia did not even notice.
“I am undone,” she announced, wringing her hands. “The inspector claims I am the one who killed Fournier.”
“He does?” That was a surprising development. I had not seen Julia since I had exited our interview with the inspector earlier in the day, so this was the first I was hearing of it. “Why would he think that unless...”
“Exactement.” Her dark eyes were wide with what looked like genuine fear. “Somehow he found out that the man was blackmailing me,” she said.
“I wonder who could have told him.”
She flung herself onto the divan in a posture of flamboyant despair. “I thought at first it was you and Roderick. But then I realized how stupid that would have been.”
At least she gave us that much credit. “Who else knows?” I asked. “Besides Kenton, who would not have revealed it.”
She threw her hands up. “How am I to know? Anyone might have overheard. Fournier himself may have been indiscreet. The way he appeared at rehearsals and at the reception, his very presence might have alerted someone that he was up to no good, and a clever eavesdropper might have learned much.” Glumly, she dropped her chin into her hand. “But why would anyone want to tell that to the police?”
“It’s just possible that you have made enemies,” I said, somehow managing to keep a straight face, “and perhaps one is now taking this opportunity for revenge.”
“Enemies?” she repeated, surprised. “What enemies?”
“Well, just as an example, I suspect that Marianne is not feeling much amity toward you right now.”
“Oh, women,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I do not care what they think of me.”
“Perhaps you should.”
“You are different, of course, chère Sybil.” Before I knew what she meant to do she had taken my hand in hers. “You are kind and will not abandon me. I know your gentle heart. You will not cast me off as the hounds of the law are snapping at my very heels!”
I suppressed a groan. But absurd though her appeal to my sympathy was, my curiosity had been piqued. Besides, I might learn something useful if I drew her out.
“Let us take a practical approach, then,” I said. “The night that Fournier was killed, did you go anywhere besides his house? Perhaps someone saw you and can provide an alibi. Even if it’s only for part of the evening, it might help.”
She released my hand abruptly. “No. That is the only place I went. No one saw me.”
It was difficult for me to imagine this woman passing unnoticed anywhere; her fashion sense was more likely to make her stand out like a firework display. “How can you be certain no one saw you?”
She cast her eyes heavenward as if appealing for patience. “I wore a cloak and hood, of course!”
“And after you returned to your home... where is that, by the way? You’ve never said.”
She darted an impatient look at me as if to reprove me for wandering into inessential issues. “After I returned home I remained there for the rest of the night. So there is nothing to help me there.”
“Your servants will vouch for you, I’m sure, but the police will be quick to point out that servants can be bri
bed.” A knock at the door told me that Hortense had arrived to help me dress. “I’m afraid I’ve no more time to discuss it right now. If you think of anything that might be useful, let me know after the performance.”
She glared at me. “How can you dismiss me when I need your help? You must do something!”
“I must?”
The coolness of my tone made her change her tack again. “What I meant was that I rely on your cleverness! Do please discuss it with Roderick and try to find some hope for me.”
Agreeing seemed to be the quickest way to remove her from my dressing room. “Very well,” I said. “Try not to worry too much, Julia. There’s bound to be a way to prevent them from arresting you wrongfully.”
But despite my words, I was far from certain that such an arrest would in fact be wrongful. I was more curious than ever to see how the detective’s investigation of her would play out.
After I was finished dressing and making up my face, I stopped by the green room to make certain my presence onstage tonight would not take anyone by surprise. Either Kenton must have warned them or else they had seen the newspaper articles and drawn their own conclusions, for no one looked surprised to see me; Philippe gave me a cheerful nod of greeting, and the Valions smiled hello. I sat down to compose my thoughts and get into character, and then Helaine Thiers sat down next to me.
“Good evening,” she said in her sonorous voice. “I was happy to hear that the inspector no longer considers you the most likely culprit.”
“Thank you. Now his interest has evidently turned to Julia.”
For the first time I saw a touch of humor in her gentle smile. “Sooner or later it seems that all men’s interest turns to Julia. Don’t worry on her account; like the proverbial cat, she always seems to land on her feet.”
Perhaps I was tired after the emotional strain of the last two days, for I felt suddenly pessimistic about my chances, about Roderick’s and my departure from Paris, the whole tangle. A kind of mist of depression had settled over me. “We shall see, I suppose. But nothing about this Paris visit has gone smoothly. What if the inspector should change his mind and charge me?”
The Last Serenade (Sybil Ingram Victorian Mysteries Book 2) Page 20