Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2

by Celina Grace

  The actors and crew were on the stage, all sat on chairs that had been drawn up in a big circle, or lounging on some settees and chaise longues which looked like props. Caroline Carpenter sat like a queen to the rear of the circle, dressed in a shimmering silver gown that sparkled under the glow of the stage lights. As we walked closer, I had the incongruous thought that she was supposed to be getting married next week. A winter wedding. As I thought that, a vision of Caroline in her wedding dress rose in my mind’s eye – I could see her as clearly as if she were standing there in front of me, dressed in icy white silk, a white fur wrapped around her, the cold shine of the diamonds in her hair and at her throat and ears. It made me feel sad, because I realised I would never get to see it in real life.

  It took everyone a while to notice us. Tommy was telling a joke and everyone was laughing. It was Caroline who first realised we were there and I was by then close enough to see something flicker in her gaze as she realised Inspector Marks was climbing the stage steps, Verity and I behind him. Gradually, the laughter around the circle faded and died.

  “Good evening,” said Inspector Marks genially as he came up to where everyone was sitting.

  Tommy was the first to react. “Good evening, Inspector. Erm – like a drink?” He proferred a glass half full with ale. “Or Caroline brought some champagne, if you’d prefer that?”

  I saw him look over at Verity anxiously. Her eyes met his and they exchanged a look that I couldn’t decipher.

  “Not for me, thank you.” The geniality in Inspector Mark’s voice fell away. “This isn’t a social call.”

  “It isn’t?” Caroline sat up a little but her voice was still the same languid drawl as it always had been. “Whatever do you mean, Inspector Marks?”

  There was a short silence. Inspector Marks found a couple of spare chairs and indicated that Verity and I should sit down. Verity did so, almost collapsing into the seat as if the strength had left her legs. Gwen, who was sitting next to her, put a concerned hand out to her, but Verity ignored her, staring at the floor.

  I remained standing, next to the inspector. I wanted the advantage of height. Inspector Marks gave me an approving glance.

  “I’m here to talk about the murder of the man who was killed here, six weeks ago, during a performance of Voyage of the Heart. The name of the victim was reported in the newspapers as that of an Italian citizen called Guido Bonsignore.” The inspector let his gaze sweep around the circle of faces. They looked puzzled, worried, intrigued and wary. “That was not his real name,” he added.

  There was another silence. I had the fanciful thought that the spirit of the theatre was even now infusing the inspector, as I’d once felt it had done to me. He was certainly making the most of some dramatic pauses.

  Inspector Marks went on. “The actual name of the murder victim was Gideon Bonnacker.”

  There were two faces I watched at that revelation. I saw Gwen’s eyebrows go up and her mouth make an ‘o’ shape, as she clearly remembered something she’d thought she’d forgotten. Just as I’d forgotten I’d actually seen the murderer. The other face didn’t move a muscle. Not even a flicker. But I would have expected nothing less.

  “This has been a very strange case,” the inspector remarked, walking around the outside of the circle slowly. Heads turned to watch him as he walked. “For a long while, we weren’t even sure who the victim was. We had a whole theatre-full of witnesses, all of whom had seen precisely nothing. Before this case, I wouldn’t have said it were possible – to have that many people in the vicinity of a murder and for them all to have noticed nothing.”

  He had come to rest behind Tommy, who was staring ahead of himself uneasily. The inspector stood there for a good few seconds before speaking again. I heard Verity gulp and suddenly realised what had been preying on her mind. I bit my lip.

  “As it was, there was a witness,” said Inspector Marks, quite lightly. I heard the intake of breath around the circle. The inspector’s head turned towards me. “Over to you, Miss Hart. Tell us what you saw on the night of the murder, when you and Miss Hunter were seated up there—“ He gestured towards the back of the theatre. “Up there in the Gods.”

  I had been half expecting this, given the theatrics that had just gone on, but still it was my turn to gulp. I stepped forward, literally into the spotlight. I had to clear my throat before I spoke and as I did, I wished I could sound firmer and more confident, just as the inspector did.

  “I – I—“ I pulled myself together and spoke up. “I was sitting in the row behind Gideon Bonnacker, about three seats away from the end of our row. As the curtain came up on the play, I saw a woman come into our row and sit behind the – the victim.”

  “Yes, yes, this mysterious woman,” said Caroline, sounded irritated. “The one the police could find no trace of. Do you actually have anything concrete to say?”

  I swallowed. “The police know that this woman was the murderer. She stabbed Gideon Bonnacker through the back of his chair under the cover of darkness and while everyone was distracted by the play. Then she left before more than a few minutes had elapsed.”

  “Well?” Caroline demanded.

  I drew myself up a little straighter. The truth shall set you free. “I know who she was. I actually saw her face.”

  “And?” Caroline said, in a bored voice.

  I cleared my throat. “She was Aldous Smith.”

  There was more than a gasp this time. There was Caroline’s angry exclamation of “Impossible!”, Tommy’s cry of protest, whispers and hisses carrying around the circle.

  “That’s enough,” said the inspector sharply. “Let Miss Hart speak.”

  I wished my hands would stop trembling. I tried not to clench them at my sides. “When I say that the woman was Aldous Smith, I mean she was Aldous dressed up as a woman.” I addressed Gwen for the next sentence. “He was the one who took that costume, Gwen, and returned it later. He didn’t appear in the first act of the play, so there would have been just enough time for him to put on his disguise, go up to the Gods, er – er, stab Mr Bonnacker and then hurry back down to backstage and get rid of the costume, just before he had to appear in his first scene.”

  There was another silence. I could see people glancing around from face to face, clearly wondering how they were supposed to react to his news.

  Caroline was the first to speak. “Why – why, how extraordinary,” she said, wonderingly. I watched her clasp her hands together and look into the far distance, as if she were seeking to understand what I’d just told her. “Aldous – Aldous a killer. Who would have thought it? Why on Earth did he do it?”

  I was silent. Was this for me to say or should I leave it up to the inspector?

  He came to my rescue. He walked on a little further from Tommy, towards Caroline. I heard Verity gulp again, more of a retch than a gulp. I wanted so much to reassure her but at that very moment I couldn’t.

  “Oh,” said the inspector and this time the steel was in his voice. “He wasn’t doing it for himself. He had a reason, but it was mostly to do with somebody else.”

  Again, glances around the circle. Worried faces. I blinked in the glare of the spotlight and, for a moment, my dream of being on the enormous stage came back to me again. I remembered the voices that had sung and chanted. She’s done this before, a voyage of the heart, he’d do anything for her…

  By now the inspector had reached Caroline. She looked up at him with a quizzical expression on her lovely face as he leaned closer in.

  “Oh, yes, he had a good reason,” said the inspector, looking very steadily at Caroline. “Didn’t he, Mrs Bonnacker?”

  The silence that followed was so long I could almost hear the woodworm chewing the boards of the stage. It was as if everyone held their breath.

  It was Gwen who broke it. “I knew I’d seen the name,” she said, her voice so loud after the silence that we all jumped. All except Caroline, who sat as if frozen in ice. “I knew I’d seen it before, on tha
t marriage certificate.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said the inspector. He and Caroline were still gazing at one another, as rapt as lovers. “My men found that marriage certificate today when we searched your lodgings, Mrs Bonnacker. I wonder why you kept it? Were you hoping to persuade him to grant you a divorce? He would never have agreed to that, would he, Mrs Bonnacker? Caroline, if I may? He was a devout Catholic.”

  He stepped back and the hypnotic spell was broken. Caroline looked down at the floor, her face still a neutral mask.

  “So,” said the inspector. He continued on his slow way around the circle. Half the eyes of the group were following him, whilst half were gazing in horror at Caroline. She continued to look at the floor. I watched the profile of her face, the flawless contours of cheek and nose and chin, and wondered how it was that the outside of someone could be so deceiving.

  Tommy spoke up, in a kind of faltering voice I’d never heard him use before. “I don’t – I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you, sir? It’s quite simple. Very simple, when you look at it. Miss Carpenter here, persuades her lover, Aldous Smith, to murder her husband. Because she won’t be able to marry her very rich, very powerful, very influential fiancé, if she’s already married, will she? Either that, or she’ll have to take the risk of marrying Sir Nicholas Holmes bigamously.”

  I dared to sneak a glance at Verity and saw to my surprise that her face was buried in her hands. I could only risk a momentary glimpse though, as the inspector continued to speak.

  “I think, Caroline, that your husband – that’s Gideon Bonnacker – contacted you some months ago. He was back in the country from Italy; rather hard up for money, travelling on a false passport. From what my men have dug up, he seemed to be involved in some pretty shady deals over in Italy. A spot of forgery here, a spot of embezzlement there. So he’s not a particularly nice character, is he? A gambler too. Wonder how he squared that with his Catholicism?” The inspector had walked further around the circle so that now he was next to me, looking across to where Caroline sat like an ice-queen, still frozen in one position. “Well, I digress a little. What I think, Caroline, is that he contacted you and began to blackmail you. Little cash payments here and there. We thought he’d won it at the racetrack, but there I think we were wrong. He was bleeding you dry, wasn’t he? And it wouldn’t have stopped. If you’d married Sir Nicholas as a bigamist, why, then he would have had even more of a hold over you. He had to be stopped, didn’t he?”

  Caroline looked up at him. Her face was still blank but there was a spark, deep down in her eyes, which made me shiver.

  The inspector patted Verity on the shoulder as he walked past her, but she didn’t react. He took no notice, circling the group again to walk closer to where Caroline sat.

  “Poor Aldous,” said the inspector, softly. “He was very much in love with you, wasn’t he? What did you tell him about your upcoming marriage? That you didn’t mean to go through with it? That it was just a marriage of convenience and it wouldn’t make a difference to the real, the true passion you had for him, Aldous Smith?”

  “I knew it,” Gwen said vehemently, again making us all, save for the inspector and Caroline, jump. “He was absolutely besotted with her, he’d have done anything for her. Oh, how could you, Caroline? How could you take advantage of him like that?” I got the impression that Gwen was more upset about Aldous’ feelings for Caroline being confirmed than she was about the fact that he had been a murderer.

  Caroline got to her feet in one fluid movement, surprising us all. Both the inspector and I tensed. Caroline cast a scornful glance around us all, sweeping us with disdain. “Oh, shut up,” she said to Gwen, not even deigning to look her in the face. Gwen sagged back in her chair, mouthing her distress.

  There was another short silence while Caroline and Inspector Marks took a tense measure of each other. Then, breaking the gaze, Inspector Marks gestured towards the edge of the stage, where a couple of figures detached themselves from the shadows.

  Caroline saw the two uniformed officers approaching, and whilst her reed-straight posture did not change, something happened to her face. It weakened and crumbled, just for a moment, before she flung back her hair and lifted her chin.

  The officers had to take her past me towards the right hand stage steps. They hadn’t handcuffed her, but were holding her delicate upper arms, one big hand on each side. Caroline wasn’t protesting but as she neared me, she slowed and they allowed her to do so. I watched her, tensely, as she came to a halt opposite me. We stared at one another for a long moment.

  “What an actress you were,” I said. I didn’t even know I was going to say it before I did and for once, it came out just right, perfectly pitched: sadness and disbelief there in equal measures.

  For a moment I thought she was going to spit in my face. Then, with a shudder of something like pain twisting her face, she turned away and allowed her captors to lead her from the stage, leaving silence behind her.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  The silence only lasted seconds, of course. The moment the main doors to the theatre had swung shut behind Caroline and the police officers, the quietness was broken by Verity bursting into racking sobs.

  “Verity—“ At last I could comfort her. I hurried forward and took her in my arms.

  She sobbed for about five minutes, soaking the shoulder of my coat, which I hadn’t even had time to remove since we arrived at the theatre. Tommy and Gwen were there, soothing and stroking, and after another storm of tears, the tumult gradually tapered off, eventually leaving Verity drained and gasping.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thickened. “I’m just so relieved.”

  “I know.” I let her sit up and squeezed her arm as she did so, in sympathy.

  “You know?” She opened her mouth to say more, and I shook my head and nodded towards Tommy. Verity’s eyes went wide and she nodded after a moment.

  Tommy, Gwen and the rest of the cast and crew were looking both shell-shocked and mystified. Little hisses were leaking from one group of people to another as the truth of what had happened began to filter through. The sound of people’s voices, shocked, exclaiming, even – oddly – triumphant, began to rise. People were perhaps realising that it wasn’t so very odd after all. They were actors, used to dramatic scenes, used to the power of a good story. It just so happened that, this time, truth had been stranger than fiction.

  As the hubbub ebbed and flowed around us, I helped Verity to her feet and looked around for Inspector Marks. He was deep in conversation with Tommy, but as if he felt my gaze, he looked around and nodded, as if he’d heard my unspoken question.

  “Let me take you ladies home,” he said, coming over to us. Tommy trailed behind him, looking as though he were waking from a not particularly pleasant dream. “It’s getting late, and I have a lot of work to do before the morning.”

  Verity flung her arms around Tommy in a fierce bear-hug and he looked a little taken aback. He kissed the top of her head and released her.

  “Come along, V,” I said and piloted her towards the stage steps, Inspector Marks following behind.

  In the car on the way home, Verity collapsed back against the seat as if she were about to faint. She put her face in her hands momentarily.

  “I thought you thought it was Tommy,” she said, in a voice that suggested she hadn’t quite cried out all her tears, yet.

  “I know you did.” I looked out of the window at the lights and bustle of the pavements of London. “Well, I realised that’s what you thought when we were at the theatre. Oh, Verity.”

  Verity sniffed. “I know, I know. My head’s been in such a whirl lately…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were panicking,” I said, practically. “And—“ I added, to be fair. “If we’d just been able to talk about it – properly, I mean – you would have known there was no possible way Tommy would have done a thing like that. Not to mention it was impossible for him to be off the stage
at the time of the murder.”

  “I know,” cried Verity. “It was just that I thought – oh, I thought that—“ She broke off abruptly, looking at Inspector Marks who was sitting up front, silent but listening keenly. “I remembered Asharton Manor.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. “Oh,” I said. “Yes, I see.”

  Verity swiped a hand under her running nose in a most unladylike manner. “Of course, now I look back, it seems ludicrous. Tommy would never do anything like that. I’ve just been so tired and worried lately about Dorothy, and with Aldous dying and everything…” She shot me a look that I interpreted as reproachful. “Joan, you refused to tell me who you thought the killer was. I thought that’s because you didn’t want to tell me because – well, because it was Tommy.”

  I had to laugh. “V, do you think I would have been as calm as I was if I had thought it was Tommy?”

  Verity smiled ruefully. “No. No, of course you wouldn’t.”

  “You noodle,” I said, fondly.

  Inspector Marks cleared his throat. “This is what happens when people don’t talk to one another,” he said. “Misunderstandings occur.”

  “I know that now,” said Verity. She sniffed and sat up a little. “It’s just that – oh, I don’t know. I thought – well, I don’t know what I thought.”

  “All’s well that ends well, Miss Hunter,” said Inspector Marks.

  “Except for poor Aldous,” she snapped back.

  “Your poor Aldous was a murderer,” Inspector Marks said, quite mildly. “It’s almost worse that he killed a man because somebody else persuaded him to. I suppose the defence might argue it was a crime of passion but… I wonder.”

  Verity and I were silent and thoughtful. Then Verity said, tentatively, “Well, he obviously felt some remorse. So much so that he killed himself.”