The Kill Fee

by Fiona Veitch Smith

  “Are you all right, Aunt Dot?”

  The ageing actress sniffed. “I am, my dear. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get on letting everyone know and then I’ll go and visit Constantin. Are you sure he’s all right?”

  “I hope so,” said Poppy quietly, the enormity of what had happened suddenly dawning on her. She’d discovered a murder victim and then potentially saved the life of another within the space of fifteen minutes. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then tuned in to the familiar, comforting voice of her aunt.

  “I hope so too. Do let me know if you hear anything more. Lilian must be beside herself. And what are they going to do about Lyubov?”

  “Lyubov?”

  “They’ll be needing a new lead. First Bernice, then Selena; there are not many actresses with sufficient experience to fill in at the last minute.”

  “I should imagine not,” agreed Poppy.

  “But I think I might know of someone who could do it.”

  “That’s good,” said Poppy, but her mind was not on who, if anyone, would replace a dead actress in a theatre play, but rather on the person – or persons – who had killed her.

  Poppy went back to Rollo’s office carrying two mugs of coffee. Rollo grunted his thanks as she placed a mug on the concentric stains on his desk, and then sat down with her own.

  “Danny Boy’s been on the blower. You were right. Cyanide. They pumped the director’s stomach and they think he’ll be all right. They say your quick action probably saved his life.”

  Poppy flushed, proud and grateful that Stanislavski was going to be fine.

  Rollo smiled at her, then made some notes. “So, moving on… The cops think that the dressing room had been searched.”

  “That’s right,” said Poppy, then took a sip of the sweet, dark brew in her mug. “They said there were signs that Selena’s effects had been disturbed – even before half the theatre staff waltzed in to watch the show.”

  “Was this before or after she was stabbed through the heart with a rapier?”

  “They’re not sure.”

  “But they’re sure it was a rapier?”

  “They strongly suspect. It will be confirmed later, once the chief medical officer has had a look.”

  “And you definitely heard Martin instructing his lads to seal off the props room? Particularly the armoury?”

  “I did. Obviously they suspect that the killer might have used one of the theatre’s swords. But I’m not sure yet if they realize that the swords they use on stage have been blunted.”

  “I don’t imagine the boys in blue attend much theatre, Miz Denby.”

  Poppy imagined that if anyone did, it would be Detective Chief Inspector Jasper Martin with his society wife, but she didn’t offer her opinion.

  “So Selena was stabbed through the heart with a rapier and Stanislavski was poisoned with chocolates – which no doubt had also been meant for her. The same killer? Why would he –”

  “– or she…”

  “Or she, have two means of assault. In case one didn’t work?”

  “Maybe the chocolates were delivered first, but Selena didn’t eat them. I did hear her say she was trying to lose weight to fit into her costume,” offered Poppy.

  “Maybe, maybe not. How did the killer – he or she –” he grinned at Poppy – “know that Selena hadn’t eaten the chocolates?”

  “Perhaps he – or she – came to check and saw them uneaten.”

  “Which suggests Selena knew the killer. Why else would she let them into the dressing room?”

  “And put up a Do not disturb sign on the door.”

  “It could have been put up after the killer left.”

  Poppy conceded that was true. “I suppose they could have done it to buy themselves time to get out of the theatre before the body was discovered.”

  “Who says they left the theatre?”

  Poppy put down her mug with a shaky hand. “Surely you’re not saying…?”

  “Anyone in the theatre could have done it. And then stayed in the building. It could have been an inside job.” Rollo leaned back on his seat and cradled the back of his head in his hands. Poppy wished he didn’t look as if he were enjoying this as much. But if she were honest, she was too. She shook off the self-revelation and turned her attention back to her editor.

  “But what would have been the motive?”

  Rollo moved his head from side to side, stretching his neck. “She was a prima donna. No one liked her. She could have insulted, offended or humiliated any one of her co-workers until they snapped. You know what these theatre luvvies are like – highly strung.”

  Poppy shook her head. “There needs to be more to it. Remember, the police said the killer appeared to have been looking for something… and let’s not forget this is only two days after the theft of the Fabergé egg from the exhibition.”

  Rollo grinned and Poppy could not help thinking he looked like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Now you’re thinking like a journalist, Poppy. I agree. The two events are inextricably linked. Who at the theatre was also at the exhibition?”

  Poppy thought for a moment. “Well, obviously there was me, Delilah and Adam, and I think Stanislavski was there too…”

  “He was. And Baylis. They came in together – fashionably late.”

  “You don’t think they’re suspects, do you? Firstly, Lilian Baylis wasn’t there when Selena was killed.”

  “Wasn’t she?” asked Rollo.

  “No.”

  “How do you know that? All you know is that she wasn’t there when the body was found. But she could have been there earlier and then left… we’ll only know for sure who’s in the picture when the senior medical officer gives us a time of death.”

  Poppy shook her head. She wasn’t buying it. “But even then, I very much doubt she or Stanislavski did it. They have too much to lose. They’re already beside themselves wondering who is going to play the lead now.”

  Rollo chuckled. “A nice little side-bar there, Poppy.”

  Poppy grinned too. She couldn’t help herself. “I know.”

  “What about the Russians?” asked Rollo. “Safin and Nogovski. They were both at the exhibition. And didn’t you say you think Safin left before the cavalry got there?” He paused, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Hmm, although at least a dozen other people left too. And we still haven’t been able to pin them all down…” He stopped drumming and templed his fingers, raising them to his chin. “Didn’t Safin and Nogovski declare they would not stop until the art and jewels were restored to the Russian people? I wonder how far they would go?”

  Poppy admitted that was the very line of thought she’d been following on the taxi ride over from the theatre. But there was one inconvenient truth: Safin and Nogovski had arrived at the theatre after Selena had died. She shared her musings with Rollo.

  “True,” agreed the editor, “but wasn’t it two hours after the police arrived? They could have left the theatre secretly and then returned.”

  Poppy thought about this for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I would have remembered that maroon Chrysler – it’s very distinctive. It definitely wasn’t parked outside the theatre when I arrived. And I had to walk down Waterloo Road, so I would have spotted it if it was driving away.”

  Rollo cocked his head. “You’re very confident in your powers of observation, Miz Denby. How sure are you really?”

  Poppy blushed, realizing how boastful she sounded, but she really was sure that she hadn’t seen the expensive car anywhere in the neighbourhood. She’d noted it outside the Crystal Palace on Saturday night, so she was sure she would have recognized it again. She pursed her lips and looked Rollo directly in the eye. “Quite sure.”

  Rollo grinned. “All rightee, so they didn’t arrive in the motor to kill Selena. They could have come on public transport.”

  “They could have,” agreed Poppy, “but it’s a very thin line of enquiry with scant evidence.”

 
Rollo nodded in agreement. “It is. I think for now we have bigger fish to fry. So let’s look at who we know was at the theatre and who was also at the exhibition.”

  Poppy went through a mental checklist and finally replied: “Miss Baylis, Monsieur Stanislavski, Delilah, Adam and me.” She shrugged. “Can’t imagine any of us did it. Can you?”

  Rollo chuckled. “You never know, Poppy. You never know. But even if we can’t imagine it, the police just might. Watch your back, and tell Adam and Delilah to do the same.”

  Poppy nodded soberly. “I will.”

  Rollo got up and began to pace. “So if it wasn’t anyone at the theatre – although I’m not one hundred per cent convinced the embassy crew are off the hook yet – who are our other suspects?”

  Poppy thought of the card in her coat pocket and knew exactly who would be first on the list if the police ever saw it. She thought of telling Rollo about it, but decided against it. She wanted to do some checking first. Lots of people had similar handwriting. Surely she was mistaken. She needed to think it through before she brought the card into evidence.

  “Poppy? Are you with us?” Rollo was looking at her intently.

  “Sorry, yes. I think I’m still reeling from the shock. It’s not every day you find a dead body, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. But back to the suspects at the exhibition…”

  “Well, there’s the Yusopovs – Felix and Irina,” offered Poppy. “They publicly accused Selena of trying to steal the egg for herself. It’s highly feasible that they tried to steal it back, to keep her from pilfering it.” Poppy then told Rollo what she had read in the Jazz File about a Romanov pendant being stolen from Selena in Paris. “It seems like she has a track record in this. Add to that Felix’s history as an assassin…”

  “Surely he’s too clever for that,” observed Rollo. “He’d know he would be the first suspect because of his connections with Rasputin.”

  “He poisoned and stabbed the monk, didn’t he?” probed Poppy.

  “Felix and his accomplices, yes. One of them was a Brit. They also shot him. And drowned him. He was a tough critter.”

  Poppy shuddered. “So, a modus operandi of multiple means of murder…”

  Rollo laughed. “Ooooh, that would make a stonker of a headline! But… unfortunately, I don’t think we can use it in connection with Felix. Apart from the fact that he’d get Yasmin to sue the pants off us, I always got the impression he was trying to put all that behind him. He’s not a killer at heart. He just did what he thought was necessary for Russia at the time.”

  “Is that what Miss Reece-Lansdale has told you?”

  Rollo raised one eyebrow at Poppy’s uncharacteristic jibe. “I’ll let you off with that one, Miz Denby, seeing you’ve had a shock today and all, but you should know I’m a man who forms his own opinions and won’t let any skirt influence them. Any skirt,” he said pointedly.

  Chagrined, Poppy smoothed down her own skirt and apologized to the editor.

  Rollo cleared his throat. “So, who else is in the picture?”

  Again, Poppy thought of the card, but immediately pushed her suspicions aside. “Well, we’ll only really know when we’ve determined who was where when Selena died. Whose alibis hold up and whose don’t. Any fingerprints that might emerge from the police search, and so on. But there’s one person who was definitely there when Selena died.”

  Rollo looked at her intently. “And who’s that?”

  “Selena herself.”

  Rollo thought about this, his intelligent eyes blinking rapidly as he computed the hypothesis. “Go on,” he said, eventually.

  “Well, I won’t know for certain until I’ve had another look at the photographs from the exhibition, but my aunt and her companion, Miss King, said something the other evening that made me suspect that Selena might have been the one to pull the trigger –”

  “Good God in heaven!”

  Poppy frowned at his blasphemy, but let it pass. Instead, she went on to tell him about the shooter not wearing any jewellery or gloves and the theory about the gunshot residue still being on the hands.

  “Selena wasn’t wearing gloves.” Rollo rubbed his cheek. “I remember, because she slapped me.”

  Poppy grinned. “I remember too. But the thing is, I think she might have been wearing gloves after the robbery. I need to have another look at the photograph of her and Irina having the fight to confirm it…”

  Rollo reached across his desk and opened a file. Inside were the photographs for the Sunday edition. He flicked through them and selected three: Selena slapping him, Selena and Irina fighting, and the phantom arm holding the gun. Poppy leaned in, tingling with excitement.

  “I was right! No gloves before the robbery. Gloves afterwards. But…” she frowned. “Selena was wearing jewellery. Rings and a bracelet. And the shooter had none.” Poppy let out a disappointed sigh.

  Rollo cocked his head in sympathy, then he straightened up as a thought struck him. “But she could have taken off the jewellery to fire the gun.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she felt they would get in the way. Maybe they made a noise against the metal.”

  Poppy nodded. “That’s certainly plausible. I don’t like wearing jewellery when I’m working with my hands either. It gets in the way when I’m typing. I’ve never tried shooting, but…”

  Rollo laughed. “And let’s hope you never do, Miz Denby. Like with everything else, I bet you’d be a crack shot.”

  Poppy flushed, grateful that she appeared to have been forgiven for her previous rudeness.

  Rollo gave her a paternalistic smile, then got back to business. “There’s one thing that bothers me with this theory, Poppy. Why would Selena put gloves on after the shooting?”

  Poppy had already thought about this and offered: “To hide the gunshot residue.”

  “But surely it would have made more sense to do it the other way round. To wear the gloves, then take them off and dispose of the residue at the same time as she disposed of the gun… however she did that… and of course the egg.”

  “It would have made more sense, yes, but while not wishing to speak ill of the dead, Selena was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, was she?”

  Rollo cocked his head again. “Well, if this theory is correct, she was sharp enough to get rid of all the evidence linking her to the crime.”

  Poppy thought about this for a moment, then said: “Perhaps, or perhaps not. I wonder how long gunshot residue lasts on the skin – or under the fingernails. It will be interesting to see what the medical officer comes up with. Do you think you might be able to give DCI Martin a call and prompt him to look for residue?”

  Rollo stuck out his bottom lip and rubbed it back and forth for a while. “I could… I’ll chew on it for a bit, though. This is a big news point – strong enough for a story on its own. We need to pace the release of these articles throughout next week. And I need to time them correctly to make sure I can get something from Martin in return – and of course to ensure we scoop The Courier.”

  “Don’t leave it for too long, though; they’ll be doing the post-mortem as quickly as possible,” advised Poppy.

  “Yes, but they won’t be disposing of the body immediately.”

  “True,” agreed Poppy.

  “There’s one more thing that’s bothering me, though.”

  And me, thought Poppy, as the card again took centre stage in her mind.

  Rollo spread the photographs out on his desk. “If Selena was the shooter, then she could not have been acting alone. She had to have had an accomplice to get rid of the gun and the egg. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “And look here. In this picture – pre-robbery – she has an evening bag, big enough to hide a small revolver and a pair of gloves.”

  Poppy looked at the photograph and nodded her agreement.

  “But in the post-robbery pic there is no bag. Could that have been where the gun and e
gg were hidden?”

  “It could have been,” agreed Poppy. “The revolver, definitely, but not the egg. I don’t think the bag is big enough for both.”

  “But if she didn’t have the bag, the revolver or the egg on her person after the robbery, she must have passed them on to someone. Or hidden them somewhere.”

  Poppy shook her head. “No. Martin’s men searched the place – and everyone in it – thoroughly after they arrived.”

  Rollo again looked like the Cheshire Cat. “Exactly. After they arrived. Could Selena have passed them on to him – or her – in the chaos between the robbery and the arrival of the police, while the Household Cavalry were struggling to take control?”

  “That’s highly plausible. It’s always been my theory that the robber got away during that time. But if the robber was Selena, then it had to have been an accomplice.”

  “And if that’s the case, then isn’t it also highly plausible that the accomplice might have been her killer?” asked Rollo.

  “A fall-out among thieves?”

  “Something like that. Perhaps the thief wanted to keep the egg for him – or her – self. It’s worth a fortune, after all.”

  Poppy nodded. What was it that Victor Marconi had said? Nearly half a million pounds? “Yes. Perhaps Selena had simply hired someone to help her. And that person got greedy. They came to the theatre and asked her for more money.”

  “Or simply to get the egg back. Remember her effects had been searched.”

  Poppy sat bolt upright. “Do you think Selena could have had the egg in her dressing room?”

  “If this theory is correct, I suspect she might have. Better than at your aunt’s house with a snooping reporter in residence.” Rollo winked at her; Poppy grinned, but then became serious as she thought about the card.

  She took a deep breath. “The thing is, Rollo, none of this explains the chocolates.”

  Rollo frowned. “I thought we’d covered that. They were probably from the killer.”

  Poppy exhaled slowly, and thought to herself: Oh, I do hope not.