Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

I shoved my way through and signed in with Henry.

“It’s a mad house out there,” I said. “All those reporters grabbing at me.”

“You wait until afterward.” Henry nodded knowingly. “You won’t be able to push your way through the crush. Reporters and stage-door Johnnies and God knows what. If you want a word of advice, see if you can slip out through front of house. Unless you want to be whisked away to dine at Delmonico’s, that is.”

He gave me a wicked little wink.

“There’s a big crowd out front as well,” I said.

“They’d be fighting to get the last tickets,” Henry said. “Let’s hope Miss Lovejoy doesn’t lose her nerve at the last minute and refuse to go on. There would be a riot.”

“Do you think she might?”

“She was as jittery as a kitten when she arrived a few minutes ago,” Henry said. “I know it’s first night and everyone suffers from first night nerves but not Blanche. She’s usually the trooper, steady as a rock.”

“I’d better go and get ready,” I said.

I went on down the passage, but instead of going up the stairs to the dressing room I decided to check out the stage area for myself. That way at least I could see that no obvious traps had been set. I worked my way around the various flats and pieces of scenery. I opened drawers and trunks to make sure they contained nothing suspicious. I was just sticking my head down the mock well when I was grabbed from behind. I was so startled I almost toppled in headfirst, but strong arms yanked me out.

“And what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” It was Wally, the stage manager, and he didn’t look happy. Before I could answer he started to drag me away. “Just wait until Miss Lovejoy hears about this! Ghost, my foot. I’ve never believed in a ghost.”

“I assure you I’m not the ghost,” I said. “In fact I’m—” I hesitated, wondering how much I was allowed to tell him. He didn’t give me a chance to speak but went on, “I’ve had my eye on you ever since you showed up out of the blue like that. You’re a plant, aren’t you? You’ve been sent to make sure that Miss Lovejoy’s show is a failure.”

“That’s rubbish,” I said.

“Then why did I catch you snooping around where you had no place to be?”

“If you want to know, I was doing a bit of snooping because I also don’t believe in the ghost and I wanted to check that there were no hidden wires or booby traps that were going to spoil tonight’s show.”

He looked at me as if he were deciding whether to believe me or not. “And why should you be so interested?”

Again, I hesitated to say that Miss Lovejoy had hired me just for that purpose. After all, Wally could be the ghost himself. He had full access to the backstage area and the knowledge to rig up spectacular effects.

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?” I said. “It’s my first big break on Broadway and I don’t want the show to close before it opens. And my father was a detective, you know, so I’ve picked up a few skills.”

“And what have you found then?”

“Nothing. Everything seems completely above board. I examined the jug and the table the other night, after the lemonade spilled all over Miss Lovejoy, and I found nothing then. If someone is doing this, they are darned clever.”

“I know I’d like to get my hands on them,” Wally said with a growl. “Miss Lovejoy is a lovely lady. Generous to her friends. She don’t deserve to be shook up like this.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” I said. “I can keep my eye on the actors, and you can keep your eye on your stagehands. If we see any of them acting suspiciously, then we’ll follow them.”

“Right,” he said, still deciding whether I was trustworthy or not. “You’d better get up there and into costume or there will be trouble,” he added.

I nodded and hurried up the stairs. I found the dressing room already a hive of activity.

“Well, look who has deigned to show up,” Lily said sarcastically. “Think we’re the big star already, do we? Practicing the grand entrance?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I got tied up trying to get through the crowds down there.”

“I hope you didn’t talk to the press,” one of the other girls said. “Miss Lovejoy would kill you if you blabbed.”

“It’s seems that somebody already did,” I said. “The papers are full of every detail.”

I thought the room went suddenly quiet. Lily went back to putting moleskin between her toes, others turned to the mirror and started applying makeup. I made my way down to Elise at the far end. She was tying her ballet slipper.

“I hope this holds out,” she said. “These shoes have seen better days and I’ve sewn this ribbon on so many times that the satin is starting to fray. And look at the toes. It’s darning on top of darning. I think I’m going to have to spend most of my first paycheck on a new pair.”