‘Well, everyone thought Rose had left the theatre last night because her name was in the sign-out book,’ I said. ‘Oh, Daisy, I know!’
I told her what I had heard Jim say – in fact, I told her all the information I had overheard during the second part of the Inspector’s interviews.
‘Well, that is interesting,’ said Daisy. ‘If Jim’s telling the truth, it follows that the only person with no opportunity to fudge Rose’s name on the sign-out sheet is Miss Crompton, because she was the only person who didn’t visit his cubbyhole. So, if she is the murderer, then she can’t have done it on her own. Ooh, what if she worked with someone? What if she worked with Inigo?’
‘They did give each other alibis for most of the time!’ I said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know! What if we can rule Jim out, though? There were people coming and going past his cubbyhole all evening, and not one of them mentioned that he wasn’t at his station.’
Daisy, though, shook her head. ‘No, Hazel, that’s hardly rigorous of you,’ she said. ‘Remember that everyone lies, Hazel, everyone. They lie for stupid reasons – Jim may not want to mention that he went to the loo, for example – but they do lie. You must stop being so credulous. Why, after what happened in Hong Kong—’
I cut her off. I still don’t like to think of it – or rather, when Daisy mentions it, I realize that it is always sitting at the back of my mind, waiting for me to turn and notice it.
‘But, if we can’t trust Jim, we shouldn’t trust anyone else, either!’ I protested. ‘Not even Martita.’
‘I can when her evidence agrees with my own calculations,’ said Daisy shortly. ‘And it does.’
I almost opened my mouth and said the thing then – but I did not want to be the one to bring it up, not after the way Daisy had shouted at me last time I tried to mention it.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let’s make a suspect list.’
SUSPECT LIST
1. Miss Crompton. MOTIVE: She was Rose’s greatest ally at the Rue Theatre and seems sad that she is dead – but she has also been honest about the fact that Rose’s death will be good for business, and will help the Rue’s money troubles. She clearly cares most about the Rue, and about her company – might she have been willing to hurt one member of it to help everyone else? OPPORTUNITY: She seems to have an alibi from 9 p.m. until just before Rose was discovered missing at 9.30 p.m. – she was onstage with Inigo – but she did also go to the loo for a few minutes. Could this be enough time for her to have gone to the well room with Rose and killed her there? NOTES: She did not visit Jim at the stage door until after Rose’s disappearance that evening, meaning that she had no clear opportunity to forge Rose’s name in the book. But could she be working with someone else – like Inigo?
2. Simon. MOTIVE: He does not like Rose. He hinted, and Inigo confirmed, that he was supposed to play Romeo until Rose objected to the colour of his skin. Was he angry enough with her to do something terrible? OPPORTUNITY: He was with Inigo when they overheard the argument between Martita and Rose, but afterwards left him and went upstairs to his own dressing room until the alarm was raised at 9.30. Could he have left it to murder Rose? NOTES: Visited Jim’s cubbyhole and so could have forged Rose’s name in the book.
3. Annie (Wardrobe). MOTIVE: No clear motive. Rose was friendly with her – but she did seem to be uncomfortable with Rose’s behaviour towards other members of the company. OPPORTUNITY: She was in the loo on the first floor when Martita and Rose had their argument, but was then alone in Wardrobe at the crucial time. She has no alibi! NOTES: Visited Jim’s cubbyhole and so could have forged Rose’s name in the book.
4. Inigo. MOTIVE: He disliked Rose intensely and says that she is the reason why Simon was not able to play Romeo. He also wants to use her death as publicity. OPPORTUNITY: He was with Simon and Miss Crompton when they heard the argument between Rose and Martita, and he says that after this he went back onstage to talk to Miss Crompton until he left to see Jim just before the alarm was raised by Martita at 9.30. If this is true, then he may not have had time – unless he was working with Miss Crompton. NOTES: Visited Jim’s cubbyhole and so could have forged Rose’s name in the book.
5. Lysander. MOTIVE: He had been flirting with Rose, but Daisy and Hazel noticed that they had been arguing more and more lately. He is a very threatening person, and he was angry with Rose. OPPORTUNITY: He was in his dressing room, alone, during the time Rose must have been murdered – he does not have an alibi! NOTES: Was at Jim’s cubbyhole when the alarm was raised, and so could have forged Rose’s name in the book.
6. Jim (stage door). MOTIVE: He did not like Rose, and resented her being part of the Rue. But did he feel strongly enough about her to murder her? OPPORTUNITY: He says he was at his post all evening. Is this true?
7. Martita. MOTIVE: She hated the fact that Rose was playing Juliet. She felt that the part should have been hers, and was jealous that Rose was allowed to be the star. OPPORTUNITY: She left the stage when Rose refused to come on to rehearse Scene Five. Inigo, Simon, Miss Crompton, Lysander and Annie all say that they heard her arguing with Rose in Rose’s dressing room at about 9.05. We do not know where she went after that. Could she have murdered Rose before she raised the alarm at 9.30? NOTES: Visited Jim’s cubbyhole and so could have forged Rose’s name in the book.
PLAN OF ACTION
1. Check Jim’s stage-door book and ascertain whether Jim can be trusted.
2. Look at timings and decide which of our suspects had enough opportunity to commit the crime.
3. Go back to the scene of the crime and re-enact the murder.
4. Visit Rose’s dressing room and look for clues.
5. Talk to suspects – decide if any of them could be working together.
11
We did the Detective Society handshake and went down the main stairs together, Daisy moving as though a crowd was watching her. I nudged her. ‘We’re not onstage!’ I said.
‘The world is a stage, Hazel Wong,’ said Daisy, grinning at me.
And then we both saw Inspector Priestley at the bottom of the stairs. He was talking to Jellicoe, and we heard what he was saying.
‘… main suspect. Watch her especially. She doesn’t seem dangerous, but you never know what she may do. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Jellicoe. ‘I’ll watch Miss Torrera.’
Daisy came to a sudden stop. Her hand shot out and she gripped my wrist so tightly that I could feel it go numb.
The Inspector turned and saw us.
‘Ah, Miss Wells, Miss Wong,’ he said.
‘We heard what you just said,’ Daisy told him. ‘We heard!’
‘Indeed,’ said the Inspector. ‘Do you have something to say to me, Madam Super?’
There was the shadow of a smile on his face and his forehead crinkled just as I remembered from our previous cases. It really was true, I thought nonsensically. Some things about people never change.
‘I – I – I should say I do!’ said Daisy jerkily. ‘I— What do you mean, talking about Martita like that? Anyone in the Rue might have committed the crime.’
‘But surely you see that she is the most likely suspect? The threats – the posters – and now the murder. I would be remiss if I did not consider her as such.’
‘Don’t— You – you have no right!’ gasped Daisy. ‘She didn’t do it!’
I put my hand over hers to calm her down, but she shook it off.
‘Miss Wells, Martita has a motive, she has means and she has opportunity. You know that.’
‘How – how DARE YOU!’ cried Daisy. ‘Hazel, come with me! I shall not stand to be here a moment longer!’
She had still not let go of my wrist and it hurt terribly. Now, she dragged me forward – and I had to follow. I needed to half gallop to keep up with her long, furious strides. She towed me into the theatre, halfway into the quiet stalls, and then she stopped and turned to look at me. I saw her face in the reflected glow from the bright and busy stage, rehearsal
in full swing, and I saw the absolute despair on it.
‘Daisy!’ I said. ‘What’s up? Tell me!’
Daisy went absolutely pale. ‘It’s nothing, Hazel,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Or rather – it is true that I’m concerned. Martita is a friend of the Detective Society, and I’m quite certain she is being wrongly accused.’
I stared at her.
‘I—’ said Daisy. ‘I— Oh, bother you, Watson!’ She suddenly looked more flustered than I had ever seen her. ‘All right. You may have noticed that I have been … not at my best around Martita. It has taken me a time to ascertain why, but I have now examined the evidence, and I think that there can be only one conclusion: I like Martita more than anyone else I have ever met in my life. If you were anyone else, I should tell you that it was just a pash, but it isn’t at all. It’s much more than that.’
‘I did guess,’ I admitted, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve seen you helping her, even when you don’t need to. You get tongue-tied around her, and you blush all the time. I know you, Daisy!’
‘Oh, how frustrating!’ said Daisy. ‘I might have guessed you’d notice. But I do so hate it, Hazel. Love is idiotic, and I despise it, but Martita is simply so pretty.’
I almost laughed at Daisy’s face – it was so furious.
‘Now you understand how I feel about Alexander. I can’t help it, either!’ I said.
‘Of course I don’t understand about Alexander!’ cried Daisy. ‘That is entirely different. His arms are too long, Hazel, and he’s not as intelligent as you are. Whereas Martita’s arms are a perfect length.’
‘She’s as old as Bertie!’ I said, ignoring the jibe about Alexander. Daisy can be very cruel when she’s upset.
‘I know!’ said Daisy. ‘I’m not stupid, Hazel. I know she’s nearly a grown up and she doesn’t care a pin for me, but all the same I can’t stop looking at her. It’s so unfair!’
I could see her cheeks shining with pinkness, and I knew that this was not an act. It was really true. It ought to be impossible: the Daisy I knew was perfectly scornful about love. But what I had come to realize was that there might be another reason why Daisy disliked romance. I remembered how eager she had been to help the Big Girl Violet with her letter-writing problem last year at Deepdean. I thought of how she spoke about King Henry, our old Head Girl, and held that up against the way she sneered at me for being in love with Alexander. Once I had looked at all the clues properly, there was an obvious solution the mystery: what Daisy struggled to understand was not simply that I was in love but that I was in love with a boy.
‘Oh, Daisy!’ I said.
‘Hazel,’ said Daisy, gulping. ‘If you – if you leave the Detective Society over this, remember that I am allowed to do horrible things to you. Medieval tortures, Hazel! And I shall, you know I shall!’
My heart thudded in my chest. ‘Why would I leave the Detective Society?’ I asked. ‘You don’t want me to, do you?’
‘No!’ cried Daisy. ‘But – you might … I know pashes are all right at Deepdean, but we’re not at Deepdean now and this isn’t just a pash and you might— I mean, you would be quite within your rights to be shocked at me.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying,’ I said furiously. ‘Do you think I’m going to stop being your friend because you like Martita? Because you don’t like boys? Why, it’s not me who was horrid about Alexander and thought we should have to stop being friends because of him. I don’t care about that sort of thing at all, you know I don’t. You’re my best friend and nothing you do can change that.’
‘Well, I should think if I murdered someone you might be quite upset with me,’ said Daisy rather huskily.
‘You’re a – a chump!’ I said and I hurled myself at her.
‘Sometimes, Watson, I’m not sure I deserve you,’ said Daisy, hugging me fiercely. ‘And I will never say that again, so you will simply have to remember it.’
I thought that I was not likely to forget it.
‘Now,’ said Daisy, sitting back and clearing her throat, ‘to business. How are we to clear Martita’s name?’
‘How do we know we can?’ I asked. ‘Or that we should?’
‘Hazel Wong, I—’ Daisy began. Then she sighed. ‘I suppose you do have to say that.’
‘I do!’ I protested. ‘You know we can never trust anyone on a case, and sometimes the people who seem the nicest are the ones to blame.’
‘I do,’ said Daisy, nodding. ‘But all the same I know that it wasn’t Martita. I know absolutely. And I also know that it looks very much as though it was. Therefore the Detective Society has a new purpose: to defend Martita’s honour.’
I wanted very much to tell her that this might prove difficult, but I didn’t. I could see the light of battle in Daisy’s eyes, and I knew that I would be utterly unable to talk her out of this quest.
1
‘I shall prove to you that Martita cannot be the murderer!’ cried Daisy. ‘You see, there is one very important flaw in the Inspector’s case. Yes, Martita was the last person we know about who saw Rose alive. Yes, they argued – but they argued in Rose’s dressing room, on the ground floor. The evidence we saw of a scuffle on the well-room floor proves that Rose was alive and capable of defending herself when she was brought there. So it doesn’t make sense that Martita killed her in her dressing room, or lured her out of the dressing room and all the way down to the well without anyone else hearing it.
‘Why would Rose have gone with her willingly after that row? And, if not willingly, why wouldn’t she have screamed on the way down? The well room may be insulated, but the rest of the Rue isn’t. We have plenty of witnesses who heard the argument, and no one who says that they heard her after that. That is important evidence, Hazel!’
She was panting, her eyes glittering and her cheeks flushed. I did see her point, and I wanted to believe her, but I was wary.
‘We don’t know any of that for sure, Daisy,’ I said. ‘We’re only guessing.’
‘Of course!’ she cried. ‘So we must recreate the crime and time everything thoroughly. Timing is key to this case! Now, what shall we do first?’
I could see Daisy’s mind racing, her thoughts speeding up and scattering in her desperation.
‘We can’t go down to the well room yet,’ I said calmingly. ‘We’ll have to wait for the police to leave it. But we can investigate the dressing rooms, and we can go and speak to Jim. It’s all right, Daisy. Follow me!’
‘We’re not in Hong Kong any more,’ Daisy grumbled. ‘I go first, Hazel – I am the Detective Society President!’
But she went where I pointed, up the little side steps out of the stalls and round the edge of the stage, to slip through into the backstage darkness.
And then she paused, holding up her hand, quite frozen in place.
Two people were standing at the bottom of the stairs to the main dressing-room corridor. They could not see us, as we were crammed into the dimly lit doorway and hidden by bits of old props, discarded costumes and pieces of broken wood; nor could we see them easily. But we could hear.
The Rue, as Daisy had said, is quite porous. The speakers’ low voices carried, and they belonged to Simon and Inigo.
‘My boy,’ Inigo was saying. ‘Hold your nerve.’
‘What’ll I do?’ asked Simon, and his voice wobbled like a child’s. ‘Everyone knows I hated her, I don’t have an alibi and— What if they arrest me, and it all comes out? I’ll be deported. I can’t go back, please!’
Daisy grasped my hand in excitement and I squeezed back. This sounded terribly damning.
‘I won’t let that happen,’ said Inigo. ‘I swear it. I’m ready to fight for us both. This is a hard business, my boy, and our colour gives us an additional mountain to climb. Don’t ever let yourself feel comfortable. If you let them, they will take it all away from you. So you mustn’t let them, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Simon. ‘Sir – you were onstage, weren’t you? With Miss Crompto
n? You’ve got an alibi?’
He sounded hopeful and also rather frightened.
‘Of course I have!’ cried Inigo. ‘I was onstage, and then I went to the stage door. My movements are entirely accounted for.’
But my skin prickled at something in his tone. I was not sure I believed him.
‘Come,’ said Inigo. ‘We should not stand here talking. I have had thoughts on your death in Act Three.’
Their footsteps padded away, Simon’s echoing Inigo’s all the way up the stairs.
I breathed out.
‘Well,’ whispered Daisy. ‘How very interesting! Come on, Hazel. Now, we find ourselves next to Rose’s dressing room. We must go in!’
Its door was closed, and the room was locked – but locks are not much use against the Detective Society these days.
I leaned against it casually to keep a lookout, while Daisy picked the lock with a pin from her hair. It only took a moment, and then we were slipping inside.
The gas jet in this dressing room was off, and so we had to take out our torches and play them about the room. It really was large – there was even a sofa in one corner. I could see why Martita had been cross to lose it.
But, in the dark, its size made it creepy. There were wigs on their pedestals, and make-up and cold cream scattered about in front of the mirrors. There was damp in the air too, and I shivered. It suddenly smelled a little like the well room, and my mind pitched back there, down the long drop of the well to the white-clad figure in the dark water below.
I got a fright when we shone our lights on the stand of Rose’s Juliet costumes: her ballgowns, her day dresses and her beautiful funeral dresses from Act Five. For a moment, I thought that they were people – but of course they hung limp and empty. I reached out in the darkness and took Daisy’s free hand.
‘Oh yes, she was upset and hadn’t changed into her day dress yet. She was still wearing the nightie from the balcony scene,’ said Daisy. ‘That’s where that white thread comes from. I do wish we were allowed to look at the body when it’s brought out of the well, so we could match it properly, but grown-ups are so silly. Just because we look sweet, people think we don’t have strong stomachs.’
Death in the Spotlight Page 11