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

I tried to come up with a clever answer but my brain wouldn’t work in the rarified atmosphere of this great height. All I could think about was holding onto that rail for dear life in case he tried to push me down.

“Whatever it was,” I said, “I now have the answer to my problem. It was you all along, wasn’t it? I saw how alarmed you were when I joined the company.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he said. “I have been keeping an eye on you, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you won’t be allowed into this theater again.”

“I bet,” I said.

“I told Blanche from the beginning she was a fool to hire you. Anyone could tell instantly that you’d never been an actress, never even been onstage. So now that I’ve got you here, I’m going to find out the truth. Who sent you? Who is behind this?”

“Behind what?” I stared at him defiantly, eye to eye.

“Do you want me to spell it out?”

“Finding out the truth about you, Mr. Haynes? Is that what you mean? Finding out that you were the one behind all those so-called accidents?”

I knew I was taking a huge risk. I kept telling myself to shut up but somehow I couldn’t. It’s always been a failing of mine.

I saw his eyes narrow. He was frowning at me. “Nice try,” he said, “but you won’t get away with it.”

“What do you plan to do? Try and hurl me to the stage? Oh, believe me, I’m no delicate little flower. I can deliver a nasty kick when I have to. And I’ve got a good set of lungs on me. One scream from me and everyone will come running.”

He was still frowning.

“How can you live with yourself, that’s what I’d like to know,” I went on, having now got my steam up. “Miss Lovejoy thinks you are her friend. She hired you. She gave you a job.”

“I am her friend.”

“Then why try to wreck her play?”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you trying to say that you were not planted here to cause the accidents?”

“What? I was brought here to keep an eye on Miss Lovejoy,” I said. “Strictly undercover, of course. I’m a private detective.”

“Good God,” he said. “And all along I thought you were the one up to no good.”

“And I thought you were the one acting suspiciously.”

“It seems I might have been under a misapprehension. I was so worried about these damned accidents. I thought somebody wanted to close our show before it started.”

“But they’ve had the opposite effect, haven’t they?” I asked. “Your show is a huge hit. It will run for months. People will come just to see if the ghost makes an appearance.”

“You’re right,” he said. “So do you think there is a ghost? I can’t really believe that, but I’ve no other explanation. God knows I was watching from the stalls each time and saw nothing.”

“And I was positioned onstage, in the glare of the lights, where it was impossible to see what was going on backstage.”

He nodded. “Whose idea was that?”

“Blanche’s. She wanted me near her. For protection.” I wondered about saying more. Should I hint that I suspected Blanche herself had orchestrated the whole thing? He was, after all, her friend. “Leave me up here this evening,” I said. “And don’t mention this to a soul. By the end of the night I may have seen something that can provide proof, one way or another.”

“All right,” he said. “One way or another, I’d certainly like to know.”





THIRTY-FIVE

Almost as soon as Desmond Haynes had climbed down, things started to happen. There were stirrings below, then the sound of electric switches being thrown, and the stage was bathed in light. Out beyond the curtain I heard the scrape of chairs and the orchestra tuning up. The whisper of voices floated up to me from backstage. Louder sounds, muffled by the curtain, came from front of house, hinting that the theater seats were filling up.

Then I saw the chorus girls lining up below me, ready for their first entrance. A round of applause sounded as the conductor came out. The tap of a stick and the overture started. The curtain went up. More applause. The girls ran onstage. More applause. The first song. The arrival of the motor car with the young men, and then I held my breath. Blanche Lovejoy made her first entrance. She was sparkling tonight. The audience roared at her jokes, clapped wildly at her songs. And nothing went wrong.