Break a Leg, Darlings

by Marian Babson

  Evangeline stepped off the last stair, swerved around the carnation and turned to look at me.

  'Sway!' she directed, sotto voce. 'Clutch at your stomach. You're an actress – act!'

  'Ooooh ...' I moaned. Swaying came easily. I really felt dizzy as I began to put a few clues together. Nigel gave me a furtive push, so that I sagged against the banister.

  'OH NO!' Terence was no actor, but he made up for it in volume, NOT HERE! NOT HERE!'

  'Trixie, speak to me!' Evangeline moved in to try to steal my scene. 'Trixie!'

  The Open and Shutters charged across the room in a body to crowd around me. Some of the regular patrons moved forward, others backed away, not wanting to get involved. A few left.

  'Oooooh!' Now was the moment, I judged, to fold both arms across my stomach and double up. I collapsed on the last stair and leaned against the stair-rail.

  'Stand back! Give her air!' Barry Lane pushed his way to my side.

  'Trixie!' Evangeline's cry was a model of anguish. Through half-closed eyes, I saw her make a curious shaking movement of one hand. Drops of a clear liquid scattered across the floor and the smell of heliotrope became overwhelming. Several people recoiled without realizing why.

  'The back room!' Barry Lane lifted me expertly. 'Get her into the snug. You' – he glared at Nigel – 'call an ambulance!'

  'Yes! Right!' Nigel moved away, but not very far. In the distance, I could see Superintendent Heyhoe hovering. A couple of very businesslike-looking men in plain clothes were with him.

  The Open and Shutters surrounded us as Barry carried me to a private room at the back. I had opted for keeping my eyes closed now, but I could hear suitable exclamations of shock and distress coming from the various members.

  'What happened? Did she fall?'

  'Air! Give her air!'

  'Is there a doctor in the house?' That was Vic – and the most practical question I had heard yet. There wasn't, of course. Like policemen, there never is when you need one. Except ... Heyhoe was already there and waiting.

  'No one else!' Barry ordered over his shoulder as he carried me through the doorway. 'Keep them out!'

  Nigel and Terence blocked the doorway. They pushed the others back as they tried to follow us, and slammed the door in their faces. Then they leaned their backs against the door and exchanged grim nods.

  'So far, so good.' Barry dumped me into a chair. 'How long, do you think? And how about a drink while we're waiting? We've earned it.' He moved to a small bar in the corner and began pouring.

  'The other drinks were poisoned,' I said to Evangeline. 'Is that it?'

  'Probably,' she said, 'and not for the first time. I knew that eggnog wouldn't have reacted on me the way it seemed to. It was what I'd had at the pub beforehand. And you're too tough to let a bit of smoke and a mauling affect you the way they did.'

  'I thought that steak-and-kidney pie was terrible,' I recalled. 'But I put it down to lousy cooking and cheap ingredients.'

  'And, I'm afraid, a little extra something sprinkled over the top before it reached you.'

  'But why?' We accepted our drinks from Barry and took long swallows. 'Why on earth should anyone want to kill us?'

  'That was what I couldn't understand until' – Evangeline flashed him a smile – 'dear Nigel explained the Bad Taste Sweepstakes to me.'

  'Bad Taste Sweepstakes?' I seemed to have heard that name before. 'You mean the pool the Open and Shutters were running?'

  'Are running.' Evangeline looked thoughtful. 'No wonder they wouldn't let me join in their little game.'

  'Evangeline, if you don't tell me what –'

  She stood up and let out an anguished scream.

  That silenced all conversation in the room – and outside in the saloon bar, too.

  'Trixie!' she screamed in agonized tones, moving over to stand in front of the door and pitching her voice to reach the other side.

  'No! No! Trixie! Come back! Trixie!' She gave way to wild sobbing noises.

  'Thank you very much.' I looked at her incredulously. 'Now what do I do for an encore?'

  She opened the door a couple of inches. The deep uneasy silence outside was suddenly broken by the loud pop of a champagne cork. The same sound we had heard just as Sweetums died.

  Evangeline quietly closed the door with an expression of grim satisfaction.

  'You lose somebody quite a lot of money,' she said.

  We finished our drinks slowly, almost reluctantly. I didn't ask any more questions. I was going to find out soon enough.

  There was a soft tap at the door and Superintendent Heyhoe entered. He nodded at Evangeline. 'We've got him dead to rights,' he said. 'Bring her out and let's finish it off.'

  'Come along, Trixie.' Evangeline stood up and waved me forward. 'This is your encore.'

  I'd never made an entrance like that in my life before. But I'd never played the Skeleton at the Feast before. I walked slowly through the saloon bar, with each table and each group of people falling silent as I passed it. Evangeline and Superintendent Heyhoe walked immediately behind me, one at each shoulder.

  From the looks on the faces watching us, we must have exuded a considerable air of menace. The Last Chance Gang heading for a shoot-out.

  Ledbetter, sitting, as usual, with his back to the wall, was the first of that group to look up and see us. See me. All colour drained from his face. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  One by one, the others looked at him, then turned to see what had had such a devastating effect on him. It devastated them, too.

  Never before had my sweetest smile engendered such shock and horror. They were all speechless. I thought Greg might faint.

  'The report of my death was greatly exaggerated.' I had always wanted to use that line.

  'You're going to have to give it all back, you know.' Evangeline used a more pragmatic line.

  'Time, gentlemen, please.' Barry took the curtain line. 'We're closing now. Time, gentlemen, please.'

  'This one got the payoff.' The policeman's hand descended on Greg's shoulder.

  'And I believe Mr Ledbetter is deep in the conspiracy also,' Evangeline said. 'He's been remarkably assiduous in his telephoning. Too much so for a disinterested party.'

  'Telephoned me,' Nigel agreed. 'Out of the blue. Always wanting to make sure I'd bring you to certain pubs on certain nights.'

  'And you weren't the only one. After that first unfortunate scene at the Drawbridge, when he realized Dorsal Finn bore rather a lot of animosity towards us, he added Dorsal to his telephone list, didn't you, Ledbetter?'

  Evangeline paused, but Ledbetter just stared at her stonily. He was not about to be tricked into any incriminating admissions.

  'He telephoned Dorsal Finn to tip him off that we were going to be at the Queen and Country the other night in the hope of making mischief. He must have felt that he'd succeeded beyond his wildest hopes when Dorsal actually attacked Trixie in front of witnesses. After that, he thought he was safe, no matter what he did. It was simply a case of ensuring that Dorsal turned up at the Wounded Lion on the night he intended to push Trixie off the balcony. Everyone knew that Dorsal had already tried to kill her once. If there was any suspicion that the fall from the balcony was deliberate murder, Dorsal was on the scene and ready-made for the role of Suspect Number One.'

  'Murder?' Vic stared from Greg to Ledbetter, aghast. 'What are you talking about?'

  'About certain of your friends who have been adding their own embellishments to your little game,' Evangeline said. 'Nasty ones – for a nasty game. When you're betting on lives with the wrong sort of people you're also risking those lives. Greed is a powerful motivator.'

  'The Bad Taste Sweepstakes,' Nigel said. 'They've got one going in every pub around town, not just here. Lots of money involved. Very bad form.'

  'Keep talking,' I said. 'I think I'm entitled to a full explanation – especially as I seem to be intimately involved.'

  'Ah!' Nigel winced and avoided my eyes. 'Pub
games, you see. All sorts. Betting, mostly: darts, horses, greyhounds, cards – fine. People –' He frowned. 'That's why it's bad taste. Betting on who'll die first. Take all those celebrities in the public eye who aren't so young any more, or who've announced illnesses, or who just live dangerously. Royals, of course, plenty of ancient ones, plus the odd chance of an assassination. Then all the stars of sports, theatre, opera, ballet, politics – the field is endless, lots of elderly prospects. Names in a hat and pull 'em out. When the name you hold goes, you've won the Sweeps and everyone builds up the stake again for the next one. Not very nice. Especially if you help them along. Not fair. Not playing the game.'

  'And Greg held my name?' I was feeling dizzy again.

  'They invited me to join in.' Nigel was looking everywhere except at Evangeline and me. 'Then began making noises about how close I was to the two of you. Whether you might be accident-prone. Odd little insinuations. Made me uneasy. Began to smell a rat –'

  'This is bloody ridiculous!' Greg blustered. 'What if I did hold her name? It may be bad taste – but it's not illegal.'

  'Anyway,' Ledbetter found his tongue. 'Trixie isn't dead. She isn't even harmed. You've got nothing to complain about. It was all a mistake.'

  'Your mistake.' Evangeline looked from one to the other. 'Sweetums Carew is dead.' Again the faint smell of heliotrope wafted across the scene as Evangeline pointed at them accusingly.

  'You held her name, Ledbetter.' Adam looked dazed. 'And you were on the stairs when she fell. Is this true?'

  'What about you?' Ledbetter counterattacked. 'You made a packet when Gervaise Cordwainer snuffed it.'

  'Sir Gervaise,' Evangeline pointed out coldly, 'was ninety-six and died naturally. That is more than can be said for Sweetums Carew.'

  'I'll have to ask you all to come along to the station and help us with our inquiries,' Superintendent Heyhoe announced.

  'Don't say anything!' Greg warned as Ledbetter opened his mouth to protest. Greg swung about to face Heyhoe. 'We're not saying another word until our legal representative is with us.'

  'Certainly, sir,' Heyhoe agreed coldly. 'That's your right. You can call him from the station.'

  Silently, Greg got to his feet. As he walked past Evangeline, she stuck out her foot and tripped him. As he fell, her foot moved again.

  'She kicked me!' He hit the ground howling, his vow of silence forgotten.

  'You tried to kill Trixie!' She kicked him again. Those Doc Martens were doing something for her, after all.

  'Stop her!' he howled to Heyhoe. 'She's trying to kill me!'

  'Turnabout is fair play,' I told him.

  'You tried to kill me!' Evangeline's foot was a blur. This time there was a strange snapping noise.

  'My leg! My leg! She's broken my leg! You're the police – stop her. She's broken my leg!'

  'Really, sir?' Heyhoe looked around the room, looked everywhere except at Evangeline. 'I hadn't noticed a thing.' He looked at Nigel and Terence. 'Any of you see anything untoward?'

  Evangeline kicked again. The kicks were creeping closer to Greg's head.

  'Evangeline – ' I warned. She was likely to get carried away.

  'We're waiting for you, sir,' Heyhoe said to Ledbetter who, not surprisingly, was reluctant to walk past Evangeline.

  'Come along, Ledbetter.' She bared her teeth at him. 'You're not afraid of a little kick, are you? It won't hurt nearly as much as if you'd dashed your brains out on cobblestones.'

  'I do sympathize, madam,' Heyhoe said. 'But please desist now. The newspapers blame us when the suspects are duffed up.'

  'Evangeline,' I said, 'that's enough.' But she had reminded me vividly of that endless terrifying flight through thin air.

  Somehow, I found Vic's heavy pint beer mug in my hand. I crashed it down on Ledbetter's head – it seemed the right place for it. Ledbetter slumped to the floor with a satisfactory thud and I saw Evangeline plant a neat one in his ribs.

  'Oh, Gawd!' Heyhoe moaned. 'And they'll call it police brutality.'

  For some reason, Superintendent Heyhoe didn't want us in the police van with the Open and Shut Club. He didn't even want us in the same police station with them. He cravenly muttered something about calling on us in the morning for our statements as he led everyone away.

  We stayed on with Terence and Nigel to have a quiet after-hours drink with Barry.

  'You know, Trixie' – Evangeline sipped at her brandy – 'I'm a little afraid that we might have been a teensy bit responsible for Ledbetter's actions.'

  'Us?' I squeaked. 'How could we be?'

  'We were too polite,' she said.

  I choked on my drink.

  'Yes, Trixie. Instead of simply walking out of those dreadful shows, we tried to spare the actors' feelings by taking turns pretending to be ill. It must have given Ledbetter the impression that we had the proverbial one foot in the grave and the other on a banana skin. He thought he could get away with giving us a push to help us along.'

  'He'd have killed anyway, sooner or later,' I said. 'After all, he started with Sweetums and there was nothing wrong with her. Physically, that is –' I broke off with an anxious sidelong glance at Terence.

  'That's right,' Terence said. 'And I would like to say how grateful I am to you for letting me help to bring those dastards to justice. Only ...' he looked at Evangeline uneasily. 'I still feel a trifle guilty about taking that perfume out of Sweetums's personal effects – they were entrusted to me to return to her family. Oh, I know it was in a good cause – I could see how the scent of heliotrope helped to unnerve those men – but that was a very rare perfume. Sweetums told me it had been created especially for her. I hope her family will understand ...'

  'Don't worry.' I cut across Evangeline's snort. I should have known where Evangeline got that perfume. Poor Terence, he was putty in her hands. Like so many others.

  'Her family won't mind at all.' I could guarantee it. Anyone who had ever met Sweetums had learned to hate the scent of heliotrope. The aversion must have been doubled in spades for her family. He'd just saved them the trouble of throwing the stuff away. But it wouldn't really be tactful to tell him that.

  'By giving Evangeline that perfume to use, you helped enormously,' I assured him. 'You can face her family with a clear conscience.'

  'Well ...' He brightened. 'I do feel I've done a little something towards avenging Sweetums – and I'm grateful to you for giving me the opportunity.'

  'Ah! Right!' Nigel said. 'Agreed! Nothing I could have done about ... about ... my own problem. But I don't feel quite so useless now. If, ah, there's anything else I can ever do ...'

  'How very kind,' Evangeline cooed. 'Perhaps you wouldn't mind escorting us to the occasional show in the evening. Since you seem to be acquiring a taste for the theatre.'

  'Ah! Always liked the theatre. Runs in the family.' He beamed. 'My uncle owns one. Great-uncle, that is. Theatre, that is.'

  'Owns a theatre?' Evangeline's hands curled into predatory talons and hovered over Nigel's arm. 'Which one?'

  'Ah! You wouldn't know it. Hasn't been open in years. Decades. "Dark", they say, don't they? Pity. Perfectly preserved little Victorian gem under some railway arches.'

  'Evangeline –' I warned.

  'The prospect of a theatre, Trixie,' she breathed. 'An available theatre! At last.'

  'Why has it been closed for so long?' I wanted to know. 'Especially if it's such a gem?'

  'Ah! Sad. Very sad. Uncle won't let anyone use it. Tragedy of his life. His sweetheart committed suicide there. Kept it as a shrine ever since. Not that anyone's been too anxious to get it. Haunted, they say.'

  'Yes,' I said gloomily. 'It would be.' We had lacked only that.

  'We'll talk about this later,' Evangeline said, not giving up for a minute. 'When we're not so tired.'

  'Evangeline –'

  'Time to go home ...' She set down her glass and stretched like a cat, a predatory gleam in her eye as she smiled at Nigel. 'Dear Ron will be visiting us in the m
orning and ...' She sent me a conspiratorial wink ...

  'And I'm just dying to ask him who was holding Cecile Savoy's name.'