I could hardly get through the rest of the day, I was so excited. Whatever terrible thing had happened to her, our girl Annie now had a good chance of recovery among those who loved her.
I went off to the theater earlier than usual, determined to get somewhere at last with this baffling case I was pursuing. There was a crowd around the theater, even at that time in the afternoon. A big sign across the glass doors read SOLD OUT and men were waving tickets. “Five dollars,” one was shouting. “Five dollars for a front row seat. See the ghost up close.” People started fighting to get their money out and pay him. It seemed that a lot of people were dying to see our elusive phantom.
“People are fighting for tickets out there, Henry,” I said as I arrived, rather battered and windswept at the stage door, having run the gauntlet of reporters as well as ticket hunters.
“Oh yes. Everyone wants to see the ghost for themselves,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve had fending off newspaper reporters all day.”
“Henry,” I said, “you see everyone who goes in and out. Has anyone suspicious or unsavory showed up, wanting to talk to one of the stagehands, maybe?”
Henry frowned. “I’d have sent him packing if he did. They can leave messages with me, but I’m not going to leave my post to fetch anyone from the stage.”
“I see.” This wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I left him and made my way upstairs. I found Martha alone in Blanche’s dressing room.
“The mistress hasn’t arrived yet,” she said, scowling at me in her normal unfriendly fashion. “Gone to her doctor to get more tonic for her nerves, poor thing.”
“As a matter of fact, it’s you I wanted to talk to,” I said, “because I’m sure you know Miss Lovejoy better than anybody. I want to know whether she might have any enemies outside of the theater.”
“What do you mean by that?” Martha asked sharply.
“I mean that the falling pillar almost killed her yesterday. I was wondering if somebody could have paid off a stagehand to give it a push at the right moment, somebody who had a reason for wanting Blanche out of the way.”
Martha’s old face stared at me, puzzled. “Who would ever want to do that? Everyone loves her. She’s the most beloved actress in New York. Always has been.”
“Another actress maybe? One who is jealous of her? Or a jilted lover?”
“The only jilted lover is that Barker fellow, and he never gives up. She won’t have him, you know. She’s holding out for something better.”
I came out of the dressing room with all kinds of crazy thoughts in my head. What if Robert Barker’s devotion had turned to hate? He was a small man and small men often have an exaggerated sense of pride. He was also the director, with the power to hire or fire anyone in the theater. He could have enlisted the help of anyone to do his dirty work. Maybe he had bribed a couple of stagehands to be in it together, each the alibi for the other. But how would I ever prove it?
I walked slowly along the passageway, wondering if I would dare to confront him. He might have been a small man, but he was probably stronger than me and not hampered by tight and impractical women’s clothing. No, I’d have to be more subtle than that.
And then there was Desmond Haynes, whom I hadn’t seen at all yesterday. Was it just that the choreographer’s work was done as soon as the show opened, or was he lying low so that he could be the ghost and create an accident? Again, I had no good reason for his wanting to kill or harm Miss Lovejoy, just tidbits of hearsay and gossip. I wished I knew more about the theater, which taverns theater folk gathered in, for example. I’d have to go back to Ryan and see if I could enlist him as my spy in places where gossip might be overheard.
I came around the corner and bumped into Miss Lovejoy herself.
“Molly, what are you doing here so early?” she asked.
“In case you’ve forgotten, you hired me to get to the bottom of the ghost story,” I said. “I thought I’d take a peek around backstage for myself before the show opens today, just to make sure there are no contraptions rigged up to harm you.”
“Contraptions?” She shook her head. “You mean deliberately rigged to fall on me?”
“It’s possible,” I said.
She was still shaking her head in bewilderment. “I can’t believe that anyone would want to harm me. Who would want to do that? Everyone here is so grateful that I’ve given them a chance to be in one of my hit shows.”
“What about your friend Mr. Barker? Is it possible that he has grown tired of waiting for you?”
“Bobby?” She gave a merry peel of laughter. “Bobby will be faithful to me until his death, I assure you. And as for rigging up contraptions—he is the most meek and mild little fellow. He once turned a horrible shade of green when he found a mouse caught in a trap.”
“And Desmond Haynes?”
“Dear Desmond? Well, between the two of us, my dear, his interest doesn’t lie in girls. We had a brief relationship once but it led nowhere. I could see at the time that his thoughts were straying in other directions. And he is the consummate professional. He would never do anything to damage the success of his show. He’s with the girls now at the rehearsal studio, you know. Putting them through their paces once more before they take to the stage tonight. He’ll work himself into an early grave, will our Desmond.”
“Then somebody else?” I said. “Can you think of anybody who might have joined this company harboring a secret desire to get revenge on you?”
She laughed again. “If it was a secret desire, how would I know about it? But the answer is that nobody in the cast knows me well enough to want revenge. Our paths have only crossed when we have been part of the same company, and frankly, I was always the star—set quite apart from the rest of them.”
She patted my shoulder as if I were a slow child. “I’m sure you mean well and you’re trying really hard, but I think you’re wasting your time, and mine. You haven’t been able to find out the truth or to protect me so far, so I’m afraid I have to conclude that you don’t possess the skills to solve something as bizarre as this. So maybe we should call our relationship quits. I’ll pay you for the time you’ve put in and that will be that.”
“Miss Lovejoy,” I said, angrily now, “last night you were almost killed on the stage. If you had been standing another foot to the left, that pillar would have crashed onto your head. Now, I don’t believe it was a ghost that gave that pillar a shove. I believe it was someone backstage. Maybe more than one person in a conspiracy, and I would like to get to the bottom of it. It appeared to me that your mark onstage had been deliberately moved, although I can’t prove this. I ask you to give me another week at least. Either that or call in the police right away and have guards stationed around the stage area.”
She considered this, frowning. “It would make everyone so nervous, having great burly men stationed everywhere.”
“And it doesn’t make them nervous having pillars fall and nearly kill people?”
She sighed. “Maybe you are right. I wish I knew what was best. I tried to keep this away from the newspapers, but now look what’s happened—everyone witnessed that pillar falling last night, so now the whole country knows about it. I don’t want to be defeated but I don’t want to live in constant fear, either. I am at my wit’s end, Molly. My wit’s end.”
She put her hand up to her head in a wonderfully dramatic gesture.
“Give me a few more days, Miss Lovejoy,” I said. “Then I really think that you should call in the police.”
“Very well,” she said. “I am in your hands, Molly.”
I left her and conducted a quick tour backstage. No wires attached to pillars, nothing suspicious or dangerous to be seen. I went back to my dressing room and got ready for the evening’s performance. The curtain went up. The house was packed. One could sense the electricity in the air. Was the ghost going to make an appearance? I could feel them all holding their breath, prepared to be scared and delighted at the same time. But for once the ghost was well behaved, and we went through the whole performance with no incidents at all.
“Maybe the ghost has realized he can’t make Miss Lovejoy quit,” one of the girls was saying as I came back into the dressing room after the curtain calls.
“She’s a tough lady all right,” someone else agreed. “Look how she stood there calmly last night and said the show must go on. I got chills up and down my spine.”
“It didn’t hurt our attendance, did it?” another girl chimed in. “Miss L. was terrified it would keep the people away if the news got out, but look at tonight’s crowd. They couldn’t wait to see the ghost for themselves.”
“Yes, well, I have some ideas on that score,” Lily said, then went on calmly untying her ballet slippers.
“Meaning what?”
“Oh, nothing.” She flung a ballet shoe into her box.
“How was your beau last night?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I were a worm that dared to address her. “It’s none of your business,” she said. “But let’s just say that he wasn’t my cup of tea, and when it came down to it, he was downright stingy with the money he put out.” She turned to Connie. “And he had some funny ideas,” she muttered, thinking I wouldn’t overhear. “Lucky for me I got a whiff of what he wanted to do before we left the restaurant. So I played the distressed virgin. Great tears trickling down my cheeks. Imploring the saints. That always works. He took me home.”
“What did he want to do?” Connie asked.
Lily whispered something into her ear. Connie went bright red. “He never did?” she demanded. “The louse.”
I came out of the theater into the throng in the alleyway. Mr. Roth was there again. I wondered if, in the interests of good investigation, I should go with him myself tonight, but I reasoned that I didn’t have Lily’s skills in making a getaway at the right moment.