by C. J. Archer
“What time did it happen?”
“Three-thirty?” He looked to the others and they nodded.
Dotty took his hand. “Is this necessary, Miss Fox?”
“Can you all point out where you were when you heard Pearl’s scream?”
Mr. Alcott clutched his throat but was the first to answer. “I was behind the stage curtain. When I heard her, I came out here and looked around. When I didn’t see anything, I jumped off the stage and started checking the rows.”
“You were the first one to reach the body,” I said, watching him closely.
“Was I?” He shrugged. “I can’t recall. It was all so chaotic. So horrible.”
“Was anyone backstage with you?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone out here?”
He nodded at Mr. Culpepper. “He came out of that door.” He nodded at a side door further back. There was a matching one on the other side of the theater. The words FIRE EXIT were painted on both.
“I was in the actress’s privy,” Dotty said. “I think I’d just come out when I heard Pearl’s scream. I tried to follow where I thought it had come from and emerged through that door.” She indicated the door at the back of the theater through which the audience would come and go. “I saw Perry and Mr. Culpepper standing here. I didn’t realize what had happened until I came over to see.” She pressed the back of her hand to her trembling lips.
“Thank you,” I said. “I know how difficult this is for you, but I’m sure it will help.”
Mr. Culpepper excused himself and hurried off, but not before I saw his eyes fill with tears.
One of the actresses on the stage called Dotty’s name. “I need help with this scene.”
Dotty sighed. “She’ll never do.” Hands on hips, she headed towards the stage.
Mr. Alcott watched her go. “The girl is Dotty’s understudy. She’s quite good, but Dotty hates admitting it. I think she’s worried.”
“Thank you for your help today,” I said. “Finding that letter was a revelation.”
“I thought it would be important. I wish I knew who it was meant for.”
“You have no inkling?”
He shook his head. “I’d best be off too. Good day, Miss Fox.”
I tipped my head back to look up at the balcony of the dress circle. It seemed unlikely that anyone could fall by accident, but I wanted to see the balcony’s height for myself.
I continued up the aisle but instead of going all the way to the back of the stall seating and exiting through the door Dotty said she’d used, I glanced to the stage to see if anyone was watching, then pushed open the fire exit. Just as I assumed, there were stairs.
I lifted my skirts and headed up, pushing open the door on the second tier. I emerged into the dress circle seats. I peered over the balcony. It reached my waist, and from what I could gather from Pearl’s clothes in her wardrobe, she was about my height. No one could accidentally trip and fall over. Pearl was either pushed or she jumped to her death.
I headed back to the hotel, my mind awhirl as I went through what I’d learned. There were holes in all three stories I’d just heard. Any one of them could have been upstairs in the dress circle, pushed Pearl over the balcony, and come back downstairs without anyone seeing. Mr. Alcott was alone backstage but no one had seen him so he couldn’t prove it. He’d also been the first to reach the body, although had apparently forgotten that fact when Dotty initially mentioned it. Was that because he hadn’t wanted me to know that he was closest and so assume he was the killer?
In Dotty’s case, she hadn’t used the nearest door to the ladies privy. We’d passed the actress’s privy in the corridor and it was nowhere near the entrance she said she’d used. That entrance conveniently gave access to the dress circle and upper circle.
And I’d just proved the emergency fire exit also gave access to the upper levels. It would have been very easy for Mr. Culpepper to push Pearl over the balcony and race downstairs upon hearing her scream. Not only that, of the three of them, he had the strongest motive: jealousy. It was hard to believe his claim that he wasn’t jealous of Pearl and Rumford. No man liked to share his lover, and it must have galled him that Rumford could give her what she wanted when he couldn’t—a luxurious lifestyle mingling with the cream of society.
Instead of heading back to the hotel, I caught an omnibus to the Natural History Museum, partly so I wouldn’t have to lie to Flossy about how I spent my day and partly because I found museums both inspiring and soothing. Walking around the exhibits gave me time to think. It also filled in the rest of the day until it was time to meet Mr. Adams at The Nag’s Head.
“Don’t bother taking a seat,” he said as I approached his booth. “This won’t take long.”
I slid onto the seat anyway. From the look on his face, I guessed he’d been unsuccessful. “If you weren’t able to get into his office, I’d like my money back.”
“I got in.” He squared his shoulders, thrusting out his chest. “There’s not a lock in London that can keep Thomas Adams out.”
“Did you find the diary?”
“I did.” He sat forward, elbows on the table, and removed the cigarette dangling from his lips with his thumb and forefinger. Smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke. “But the relevant page was missing.”
“Missing?”
“Torn out. Only a jagged edge remained. It wasn’t in the waste basket, drawers, nowhere.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but you’re not getting your money back. I did what you asked, at great risk to myself, and found nothing.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
I left, but my despondency didn’t last all the way home. If nothing else, that missing diary page told me Lord Wrexham didn’t want me to find out where he was on the day Pearl died.
I tossed and turned for much of the night, unable to sleep. All the clues I’d gathered so far jumbled together in my head until they began to make no sense. At three, I gave up and threw on a dressing gown and headed downstairs. The library would be unlocked, as would the sitting room through which one had to cross to access it.
I turned down the gas on my lamp so that the light wasn’t too bright, but bright enough for me to traverse the stairs safely. The hotel was quiet, my footsteps sounding disembodied within the stairwell. When I reached the third floor landing, I realized my footsteps weren’t the only ones on the stairs. It sounded like several sets moving rapidly below me and going down.
“We want what we’re owed,” came a woman’s voice in a Cockney accent.
“We know you’ve got our money, you thieving prick, so give it,” said another woman.
“Let’s get out of here first,” a man said. “I ain’t hanging ‘round. Last time, we nearly got caught by the owner’s niece.”
I stopped and turned off the lamp. My heart hammered in my chest and I hardly dared move. Moments later, the footsteps receded altogether and I found the courage to continue, albeit in the dark.
When I reached the ground floor, I peered around the corner. The light was dim in the foyer, but I could discern three men. The one closing the door was the night porter, James, who did all the duties of the front-of-house staff overnight. He must have just let someone out of the hotel. The women?
The second man was Mr. Hirst. He accepted what appeared to be paper money from a third man whose face I couldn’t see. That man touched the brim of his cap and moved away. He also handed something to James before exiting the hotel. James had not held the door open for him.
If only I’d seen his face. While he’d dressed like the beak-nosed man I’d seen a few days ago, and had a similar build, it was impossible to know if they were one and the same. I was quite sure it wasn’t Mr. Clitheroe, the guest Mr. Hirst had claimed I’d seen that time and who also had a prominent nose. For one thing, he’d checked out, and for another, I’d never heard a hotel guest speak with a Cockney accent.
Mr. Hirst disappeared into the senior staff corridor and James roamed the foy
er. I thought about asking him who’d just left but decided against it. The stranger had given him something, and if it was money in exchange for turning the other cheek, James wouldn’t tell me.
I abandoned my plan to get a book and headed back up the stairs, feeling my way with a hand on the rail. The women and man had emerged onto the stairwell on the second floor so I walked along that corridor. All was silent. If they’d been in one or more of the rooms, those occupants were most likely asleep now.
Unless the rooms had been empty.
I managed to finally get a few hours sleep, only to be awoken by Harmony holding my breakfast tray at eight. I let her in and crawled back into bed.
She followed me into the bedroom. “This was waiting for you in the corridor.” She set the tray down on the dressing table. “Why haven’t you eaten yet?”
“Because I couldn’t sleep and now I’m tired.”
“You won’t solve the case by lying in bed all day.”
“I don’t want to lie in bed all day, just for another hour.”
“I have to do your hair before I get on with my chores.”
“I’ll do it myself today.”
She stood with a hand on her hip. “I’ve got something interesting to tell you.”
“Write me a letter and leave it on the desk. I’ll read it later.”
With a shake of her head, she reached for the curtains.
“Don’t!”
She wrenched the curtains back letting in the dull light of a wintry London morning. It could have been the sunniest day as far as I was concerned. I pulled the bed covers over my head.
Harmony jerked them down. “Come on, Miss Fox. You’ll feel better once you eat and splash water on your face.”
“If you throw water over me I’ll never share my breakfast with you ever again.”
She smiled. “I know it’s hard to get up when you haven’t slept much. Believe me, I do. But you really need to hear the gossip I have to tell you. It will wake you up.”
I sighed and sat up. “You know there’s no better way to get my attention than the promise of juicy gossip. So what have you heard?”
She picked up the breakfast tray and positioned it across my lap then sat near my legs and helped herself to a cold slice of toast. “Goliath told me that his friend at the Savoy Hotel said he’d overheard a guest gossiping about seeing Lady Rumford at the theater.”
“That’s a rather tangled grapevine. Should we trust the information?”
“The woman claimed to be a friend to Lady Rumford. You would think she’d know what her own friend looked like. It’s worth following up, which is why I told Goliath to tell his friend to find out more.”
“Excellent idea. That leaves me free to follow up other clues.”
“Such as?”
I sighed as I peeled the shell off a boiled egg. “I don’t know yet. Perhaps inspiration will strike by the time I finish breakfast.”
Inspiration did indeed strike, and I left the hotel feeling buoyed. This investigation might prove complicated, with so many suspects compared to the last one, but it was better to have too many than none at all. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
The events of the previous night also occupied my thoughts. Indeed, they were getting in the way of the murder investigation. There was only one way to stop that—pass the information onto someone else. It was fortunate that the person I planned to see could help me with that as well as give advice on what to do about the sightings of Lady Rumford who, according to her husband, should not be in London.
I poked my head into the Roma Café and smiled at Luigi and his two regular customers.
“He’s not here,” Luigi told me.
I headed up the stairs next door and knocked on Mr. Armitage’s office door. He beckoned me in, looking somewhat disappointed to see me and not a potential customer.
“How is business coming along?” I asked cheerfully as I took a seat.
“I’m run off my feet.”
A newspaper was spread out in front of him but his desk was otherwise neat. His jacket hung alongside his coat and hat on the stand by the door, which meant he wasn’t expecting anyone. “Quite,” I said, trying not to let him see that I knew he was lying.
He folded the newspaper and set it to one side. “Do you require my services to accompany you to The Nag’s Head again?”
“No, thank you. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Adams twice since we last met.” I spread out my arms. “As you can see, I came to no harm.”
He leaned back, elbow resting on the chair arm, and stroked his top lip with his finger. “You’ve made progress. Well done. I knew you would.”
“I haven’t solved it yet, but I do need your help.”
“I ought to start charging you.”
“Or you could just agree to make me your partner and we can halve the fee.”
He laughed. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“It’s an annoying habit, so I’ve been told.” I opened my purse. “Since you won’t agree to become my partner, yet, I’m happy to pay you for your time.”
He shook his head when I tried to hand him some money. “Put it away, Miss Fox. That was a joke. I don’t want payment for accompanying you when you speak to dubious characters. What kind of man do you take me for?”
“One who thinks I’m attacking his pride.” I dropped the money back into my purse. “I don’t want you to accompany me anywhere, this time. I want your opinion.”
My retort about his pride had stung him into silence and I wished I could take it back. Sometimes I needed to check myself before saying whatever came into my head.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “But I really do want your opinion on something. Two things, actually. As someone who worked in a luxury hotel for many years, I think you can offer a unique and valuable perspective.”
“Apology accepted. There’s no need to lay it on too thickly.”
I gave him a withering glare. “I wasn’t.” I adjusted my position in the chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as he stared back at me. “It’s about Lady Rumford. Two separate people have now mentioned seeing her, one at the opera, the other at the theater. But she isn’t staying at any of the premier hotels. Lord Rumford doesn’t have a London residence, so she must be staying somewhere.”
“With a friend?”
“But wouldn’t Lord Rumford have been informed by that friend?”
“A friend to her, but not to him, perhaps.”
That was certainly a possibility, although it seemed odd that no one seemed to know where to find her. “If she was staying with a friend, wouldn’t she have caught up with other friends while in London? So far, we only have the occasional secretive sighting, which is causing everyone to gossip.”
He steepled his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “There’s one other possibility. Something that, if true, means she doesn’t want her friends to know she’s here.”
“Because she came to London to commit murder.” I sat forward. “Go on.”
“She could be staying at a hotel under an assumed name.”
“I suppose she could. If she came here with the intention of killing Pearl, she wouldn’t check in using her own name. That’s a brilliant deduction, Mr. Armitage.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
I looked up. “Why?”
“If she killed Pearl, she’d be foolish not to leave London immediately. But even more importantly, what does she gain by killing her?”
“The removal of her rival for her husband’s love, of course.”
He humphed.
“What’s so amusing?” I asked, defensive.
“You. I hadn’t pegged you as a romantic.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant it as an offense or not, so I remained silent.
“You said there were two things you wanted to discuss with me,” he went on. “What’s the second?”
I told him what I’d seen and heard on the stairs and
in the hotel foyer last night. He listened attentively, a small crease forming across his forehead. But not for the reason I suspected.
“Why are you here, Miss Fox?” he asked when I finished.
I blinked. “To tell you about the man who appeared to be paying Mr. Hirst and the night porter.”
“You have no evidence of any wrongdoing, just suspicions and speculation. Added to which, you could have taken your suspicions and speculation to my uncle.”
I bristled. “Next time, I will. I just thought you would be interested in investigating it further. I see I’m wrong. And anyway, my other reason for coming was to ask your opinion about Lady Rumford. You were actually quite helpful in that regard.”
“You would have worked that out yourself. Or, again, talked it through with my uncle. He has more experience when it comes to hotel guests than me.” He sat forward and crossed his arms on the desk. His smile was positively wicked.
Something inside me flipped. He’d managed to unnerve me with one little smile. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“So why did you come here, Miss Fox?”
“I’m no longer sure.”
He laughed softly.
“Are you making fun of me?”
He put up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare.”
I stood. “Good day, Mr. Armitage. Thank you for your assistance.” I turned and walked out.
How had that meeting deteriorated so quickly? Mr. Armitage was being deliberately provocative and I couldn’t fathom why. We’d been getting along well, and I’d hoped we could become friends. Clearly he had no interest in doing so if he was going to sabotage our fledgling friendship like that.
I put Mr. Armitage from my mind and considered my next step in the investigation. I needed to narrow down my suspects. There were too many. Jealousy and hurt over a possible rejection were looking like strong motives for a number of my suspects, both former and current lovers, their wives and even Pearl’s understudy, Dotty Clare. Both Lord and Lady Wrexham and Mr. Culpepper had known Pearl for several years, and someone who might be able to give me a better insight to those older relationships would be Pearl’s sister. She claimed she didn’t know Pearl all that well anymore, but she must have an opinion on the people from Pearl’s past.