by Sonia Parin
“This is where it gets even better. On the back of each photograph we have the name of the actor and the play they were reading for.”
“Great. I mean... This is great, right?”
“Of course.” Octavia plucked one of the photos out of the pile.
“Who’s she?”
“Marcela Newton. She was Miss Lucinda Cunningham’s understudy for the Scottish play performed here before the Garland closed its doors. I found her name listed on the original sketches for the poster.”
“You said she was Lucy’s understudy. She can’t be that old. Are you saying she’s no longer with us?”
“That’s just it. No one knows. She disappeared without a word. Rumor has it, she gave up on her dreams and returned home to seek an alternative career.”
“That’s all right. We can chase that up.”
“Well... that’s only one of the rumors. I’ve been asking around. There are many. Like I said, she disappeared without a trace and that gave everyone leeway to fill in the gaps.”
“Well done, Octavia. And thank you for today’s outfit.”
“My pleasure.” Octavia smiled. “You’re wanted back on stage.”
“Huh?”
“They’re calling for you.”
“Right. Well... keep up the good work.” She turned to leave only to stop. “Umm... Are you coming? I doubt I’ll be able to find my way back.”
Octavia stood as if frozen in place, her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her finger sprung up and pointed toward the end of the long room. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“A shadow.”
“No, and now I’m starting to worry. Should I get my eyes checked?”
“If I’m the star of the show, shouldn’t I be receiving star treatment?” Lexie bit into her sandwich and tucked her feet under her to let Jonathan squeeze into the tiny dressing room she had been allocated. Before she could stretch her legs out again, Grant appeared with Octavia not far behind. “We’ll be running out of oxygen soon.”
Grant flipped his notepad open. “I’ve interviewed the cast. They’re all from New York but only one knew Miss Lucinda Cunningham personally. Elton McGregor, the lead actor. He didn’t sound at all bereft over her death. Apparently, he hadn’t been too happy about her getting the role. He complained about the age difference but her reputation won out.”
“Do you think him capable of murder, and is there a connection between him and the current understudy?” If Elton McGregor hadn’t been happy about his onstage wife being older, he might have taken matters into his own hands and cleared the way for a younger wife...
“Men,” Lexie silently grumbled.
Grant shrugged. “Elton McGregor has too big an ego to care about anyone else. If he killed Miss... Lucy in order to make way for a much younger Lady Mc he’d also have to be a magician of sorts. His whereabouts are accounted for. Right before the cocktail party was to begin he was at home and on the phone with a director talking about another play he’ll be appearing in later in the year. The phone records prove it and he has the habit of recording his conversations for future reference. Apparently, he can’t ever remember anything other than the lines for his plays, which makes conversing with him rather difficult as he is primarily a Shakespearean actor.”
Lexie scrunched up her sandwich wrapper. “So that leaves one hundred and fifty six suspects.”
“That reminds me. Thank you, Octavia. That list has proven to be extremely helpful. If you ever find yourself in need of a new job, please contact me.”
“And work in Britain?” Octavia nearly swooned.
Lexie waved at her. “Hello, earth to Octavia. You’re bound to a certain coven, remember?” She was only now getting used to having a personal assistant. No way was she giving her up.
Octavia straightened and gave her jacket a tug. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you think you could focus on the understudy? I’d like her to be cleared of all suspicion as soon as possible, please. There is absolutely no way I’m being dragged into this gig for the long haul.”
Grant checked his notes. “The understudy... Oh, yes. That’s Melanie Matthews. She has been an understudy for three years.”
“Always the bridesmaid? That would give anyone incentive to take action and clear the way.”
Grant gave a small shake of his head. “She too is in the clear. She suffered a fall last week and her arm is in a cast.”
“How convenient.” And annoying. Lexie grimaced. Darn. Very annoying. This meant she was stuck with her role. “Isn’t there an understudy to the understudy?” No one met her gaze. Lexie turned to Jonathan. “And do you have anything to report?”
“Nothing much. I was present when Grant interrogated the workmen who installed the stone garland. It had been screwed into place so they had no idea how it came loose.”
“And you believed them?”
“Here’s the thing, they filmed the process for insurance purposes.”
“Is that normal practice?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And that doesn’t set any alarm bells ringing?”
“Now that you mention it... yes.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence. Elton McGregor records his conversation. The workmen film themselves securing an ornament that then comes loose and nearly kills me. Have you found anything on Constance? I know she was at the cocktail party, but as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t clear her of wrong doing. She looks guilty.”
Jonathan laughed. “You want her to be guilty of something because you think she’s somehow responsible for roping you into this gig.”
“That reminds me. What happens in the scene I’m rehearing next? Do I get to kill someone?”
Octavia sighed and resigned herself to reminding Lexie she didn’t actually get to kill anyone. “Lady Macbeth has drugged the guards and claims she is made strong by what weakens the others...”
“There’s a thought...” Lexie turned to Jonathan. “Do you remember how the Shadow seemed to swoop down on Lucy?”
He nodded. “And then it seemed to take possession of her.”
“What if it somehow fed off Lucy to strengthen its... shadowy powers?”
Grant sat up. “Isn’t that what the Inky Black Fog did in your last case?”
Lexie shuddered. “Yes and I’m thinking that most malevolent things tend to feed off their victims. Think about it. Vampires suck blood. There are rogue witches, which have been known to steal youth, power and whatnot, and you said Lucy had been delving into the dark arts to tap into the talents of her predecessors. What if she went a step too far and sucked the talent out of someone alive and well? That would make her a target for retribution.”
“That’s something we hadn’t thought about. She does strike me as rather singular minded, living for her art and now, despite her obvious transformation, determined to continue taking part in the play,” Grant said.
Just great. They had a clingy ghost on their hands. “Do you think she’s so obsessed she might actually try to take possession of me?” Lexie sat up. In Lucy’s place, she’d be trying to do all she could to find her killer. Instead, Lucy seemed intent on helping her with her performance. Which didn’t make sense. Usually, people became ghosts because they had unresolved issues. Surely avenging her untimely death would take precedence over any old performance.
A knock at the dressing room door had them all looking up.
“Miss Mackenzie. Five minutes.”
Lexie dragged herself to her feet. “Right. On with the show.”
Chapter Ten
She’s coming.
Go away. It’s still night-time. Everything is dark.
You’re wearing your sleep mask.
Oh. I see. I mean... whatever. Who’s coming?
Octavia. She’s been busy in the kitchen. I can smell the bacon. Do we get to keep her? I hope we do.
“Good morning,” Octavia said in a singsong voice. “And what a beautiful morning it
is. I have your breakfast. I thought you might enjoy it in bed this morning.”
“If you’re so concerned about what I might enjoy, then you should consider letting me sleep until midday. It stands to reason that if everyone keeps me up until past midnight talking about suspects and motives...” she huffed out a sigh, “Great, now I lost the thread of the argument.”
She made crispy bacon. She made crispy bacon. Can I have some? Can I have some?
Why are you repeating yourself?
I’m overwhelmed with hunger pangs and excitement.
Lexie rolled over and sat up. “Coffee and lots of it, please. Just keep it coming.” Luna leaped up onto the bed and pressed her little nose against Lexie’s chin. “And some extra bacon for Luna, please.”
Before you remove your sleep mask, I should warn you, we’re not alone.
Huh?
Lexie shoved back the mask and groaned at the two orbs hovering above her bed. “What are you two doing here so early?”
Catherine’s orb nudged Mirabelle’s orb.
“Well?”
“Mirabelle has something to say.” Catherine nudged Mirabelle again. “Go ahead.”
Lexie stirred some sugar into her coffee and nibbled on a piece of bacon. “Well?”
Mirabelle took her time clearing her throat. “Yes, well... I... I looked into the coven member responsible for illegally, and I cannot emphasize that enough, colluding to... it appears... bring about the closure of the old Garland Theater. After her capture, Arianna Mackenzie had been bound and stripped of all her abilities. Everyone had assumed she’d been safely imprisoned.”
“She’s escaped.”
“Yes. And—”
“Wait a minute.” Lexie took a long sip of her coffee. “You left out some vital information, I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“Yeah? How about the part where you had to force yourself to admit one of our own had a hand in any of this?”
“Oh. Yes. I didn’t think it was important...”
Not important! Not important?
Luna put her paw on Lexie’s hand.
Keep calm and carry on.
You’re using slogans on me?
Learn to choose your battles. Timing is everything.
Let me guess, you’re all out of slogans so now you’re using platitudes.
If none of that works, do what I do. Lick your paw. Become one with indifference.
You want me to adopt feline Zen?
“So the rogue witch is actually a Mackenzie,” Lexie said nonchalantly.
“Yes. A distant cousin, several times removed and quite disgruntled about that.”
“And how exactly is she involved?”
“She... appears to have absconded with a valuable book from our main library. The book contains powerful spells. Needless to say, if it falls in the wrongs hands...”
Mirabelle... speechless? “Why did you even have to research this? The information should have been at the tip of your fingers. Are you by any chance in denial?”
The silence that followed even swallowed the tick tock of her bedside clock. When Mirabelle finally spoke again, she appeared to be shoving the word out.
“One doesn’t wish to admit to the shocking... the egregious possibility that one of our own could be in any way involved in any wrongdoing. And I offer that admission as a form of atonement for not telling you before in the hope that you won’t take advantage of the situation and use this against me for your own amusement, as you are bound to do.”
Did I sense some hand wringing there?
She sounds contrite. I think you’ve brought the High Chair of the British Isles to her knees.
Yeah, what’s up with that?
She needs you on side. I wouldn’t wind her up... just yet. Timing is everything.
You’re right. I’ll save it all for another time.
Lexie slanted her gaze at the orb. When had the tables turned? Until the previous night, Mirabelle had been the one calling the shots, pushing Lexie into taking on the role of Lady Macbeth and looking into the mysterious death...
“Is there a way to pick up on the rogue witch’s scent and ascertain her whereabouts?” Lexie’s shoulders slumped. Sounding as if she knew what she was talking about was hard work.
“We have our noses to the grindstone,” Mirabelle offered, her voice regaining her usual suffer-no-fools curtness.
“I guess this rogue witch holds grudges.”
“She does indeed.”
“Do you think she’s returned to pick up where she left of?”
“I can’t say either way with any degree of certainty.”
Had she heard right? Mirabelle... uncertain? Was she coming down with something? And if so, did they have a contingency plan? With Mirabelle out of action, someone would have to step up to the plate and... and be all serious and whatnot.
Lexie tried to brush away the lingering sleep from her eyes and put everything into perspective.
So far, they had an angry witch on the loose, a dark Shadow that kept trying to kill her, a ghost intent on her playing the roll of Lady Macbeth and getting it right... “And you are absolutely certain the rogue witch is tied in to the original curse placed on the theater... if there was a curse placed.”
“Y-yes.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Yes. She is. The High Chairs found her guilty of several transgressions, misdeeds, breaches of confidence...”
“Someone came down hard on her... Okay, it sounds as if we’re making headway. This all started back then. So we can retrace our steps and work our way from there.” Lexie nibbled on a piece of bacon. As her mind churned the information Mirabelle had reluctantly and surprisingly shared with her, she tried to ignore the obvious. Absently, she reached for another piece of bacon. And another and another until she couldn’t fit any more into her mouth. And yet...
“We need to have a meeting.” She stuffed another piece of bacon to shut herself up. Rolling her eyes, she chewed and swallowed. “With everyone present.”
Octavia nodded and opened the door. Moments later, Grant and Jonathan stepped inside her bedroom.
“I didn’t mean right now. And how did you two get here so fast?” Jonathan looked slightly dazed as did Grant.
Catherine’s orb rushed toward Lexie and she whispered, “We sensed the urgency in your tone and zapped them here straightaway.”
“Since when do either of you listen to anything I say.... and actually take me seriously?”
“Well... lately, as in... the last few minutes, you have been sounding rather commanding.”
I told you. More bacon, please. It’s very tasty.
Do you even know where bacon comes from?
Don’t need to. Don’t care. It’s tasty.
“It’s actually Tofu bacon,” Octavia offered.
“Huh? Fake bacon?”
Fake bacon? Fake bacon? Are you trying to poison me? Is she trying to poison me?
Luna spat out the mouthful of Tofu bacon she’d been chewing, sniffed it and then gobbled it up again.
“Octavia, could you please fill Grant and Jonathan in on what we now know. I’m going to have a quick wake me up shower.” And perhaps some banging of her forehead against the wall to see if it could bring her to her senses... “We’ll reconvene in the sitting room in... however long it takes me.”
“Right. What’s been happening?” Lexie asked as she strode into the sitting room, her freshly pressed jeans matched with a Tweed jacket, white blouse and... pearls. She’d never in her life worn pearls but this first time experience had rather grown on her, more quickly than she’d be willing to admit to anyone who asked. “Do we have anything new to add? So far, we’ve collected... Let’s see... A rogue Mackenzie witch, a Shadow we have yet to identify but assume is the result of some dark forces at work, the specter of Miss Lucinda Cunningham—”
Octavia put her hand up.
“Yes, Octavia?”
“Is
Miss Lucinda Cunningham actually on the suspect list?”
“No, she’s not. Why would she kill herself? But I assume we must find a way to appease her soul and send her on her way. Meaning, we must find the culprit. So she’s on our active list of concerns.”
Octavia made a note of it.
“We also have—” Lexie tapped her finger against her temple... “Oh, yes. Marcela Newton.”
“Who’s she?” Jonathan and Grant asked in unison.
“She was Lucy’s understudy for the last play performed before the Garland shut down. She disappeared without a trace. We need to establish her whereabouts. The good news is that we have a photograph to go on with.”
Octavia cleared her throat. “She’s gone. As in dead. I unearthed her death announcement. It all happened shortly before the Garland shut down.”
“Could she be the one who engaged the rogue Mackenzie witch?” Lexie asked no one in particular. Yet everyone lifted their shoulders and answered in unison.
“Quite possibly.”
“And could Marcela Newton’s evil... machinations...” Lexie scratched her head and made a mental note to organize Octavia into compiling a list of evil terms to use during her moments of inspired... intuitive clarity, “Have resulted in her turning into... the Shadow.”
“Are you suggesting the spell backfired on her?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes. But that’s assuming she’s the one who engaged the rogue Mackenzie witch. We also need to know exactly why the Garland closed its doors. If not as a result of the curse... then... Do we have any information about that, Octavia?”
“No one knows exactly. Or perhaps, no one is prepared to come forward with the truth.”
Lexie strode around her small sitting room. She’d had breakfast only half an hour before. Yet, she felt famished.
All this thinking is eating up my calories. I wonder if we have any chocolate...
I think your clothes have taken possession of you. Ever since you started wearing them, you’ve acquired a newfound take command attitude. I don’t know if I should be in awe of you or scurrying for my life.