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

Up in the dressing room there was chaos. Some of the girls were in tears, almost hysterical.

“She was almost killed,” Connie was wailing. “And it almost hit me, too. It slammed down right beside me. If I’d been off my mark, I’d have been a goner as well.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Connie,” Lily said. “It missed you by a mile. And it probably wouldn’t have given you any more than a nasty concussion either. It’s only a stage prop, not real marble, you know.” She took the pins out of her hair and let it fall over her shoulders. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in serious need of champagne. Some guy outside better have a jeroboam with him, and it better be chilled and waiting in an ice bucket.”

I took off my makeup and changed out of my costume while beside me Elise was doctoring her feet. “Have you worked with Miss Lovejoy before, Elise?” I asked her.

“Yes, once, three or four years ago. Miss Lovejoy hasn’t had a show for the last few years. The public seems to want sweet young things these days, ever since Florodora.”

“But you’ve been working in the theater here?”

“Oh yes, I’ve been in quite a few shows now.”

“So can you think of anyone who hates Miss Lovejoy?”

“Hates her?”

“Yes, hates her enough to kill her or at least to frighten her?”

Elise looked shocked. “Molly, you don’t think . . .”

“That the pillar wasn’t either an accident or a ghost? Yes, I do.”

“Oh my goodness. But it couldn’t be one of us. The whole cast was onstage for the ballroom scene. And the stage manager would have spotted anyone who wasn’t supposed to be backstage. And besides, Henry would never have let them in. He’s really strict, especially now with all the young men at the stage door trying to sneak up to the dressing rooms.”

I sighed. “I know. It does seem impossible, but I’ve witnessed three of these incidents myself now, and nobody has seen anything suspicious, or anybody where they shouldn’t have been.”

“Then maybe it is the phantom after all,” Elise said. “I did feel cold again tonight, didn’t you?”

“That’s because you were in a ball gown that was very décolleté,” I said. “And I don’t believe in ghosts.”

The dressing room was beginning to thin out, girls hurrying down to latch onto the best catches among guys waiting outside the stage door.

“Come on, Molly,” Elise called. “You don’t want to be the last.”

I gathered my own belongings and followed the throng down into the street. To tell the truth, I was anxious to witness the scene for myself. I also thought it might be rather nice to be enticed away with the promise of champagne drunk from a slipper, although I couldn’t think that any young man would have noticed me with my severe spectacles and thick braids.

I could hear the uproar going on beyond the stage door and Henry’s raised voice. “Just wait patiently, gentlemen. They’ll be out any second now. And no, you’re not going up to meet them. I don’t care who you are. If you were President Roosevelt himself I’d still keep you waiting down here.”

We came out to popping flashbulbs, eager reporters, and a whole army of young men dressed in white tie and tails, watching for us expectantly. Suddenly it was as if I was having a vision. I pictured John Jacob Halsted going off to the theater and then calling his friend to tell him that he’d arranged supper and a pleasant surprise. JJ Halsted was a stage-door Johnnie!

I had barely had this thought when Elise tugged at my arm. “Watch out for that one over there,” she whispered. “He likes to play rough.”

I followed where she was pointing and almost couldn’t believe my eyes. The young man in immaculate evening dress was none other that my Mr. Roth!





TWENTY-EIGHT

I barely had time to register this when I was set upon by my friends.

“Molly, you scoundrel. How could you keep it from us that you were in the play?” Sid shouted over the tumult. She pretended to shake me.

“We nearly died of shock,” Gus added. “It was all I could do to stop Sid from shouting out your name. You were awfully good.”

“I didn’t have to do anything,” I said. “Just stand there.”

“But you stood there so well.”

“And guess who we found in the audience?” Sid said excitedly, then stepped aside to reveal Ryan O’Hare.

“Molly, my dearest, what can I say?” He stepped forward to kiss my cheek. “If only I’d known that a great thespian lurked beneath that delicate little bosom, I’d have hired you for one of my plays long before now.”

“You and your blarney, Ryan.” I laughed as we moved out of the crush of the crowd.

Flashbulbs were still going off and the smell of sulphur hung heavy in the air while smoke curled around us. I heard one of the girls—Connie, I believe—saying loudly, “And it almost struck me. I was lucky to get away with my life.”