Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2 by Celina Grace Page B

around me in the seats. Well, I didn’t notice anything, apart from the woman that came in right before the play started. Once the play had started, I might have been in another world. So you see, sir, it was a very good place for the murderer to strike, because nobody was taking any notice of them.” I subsided, gripping my cooling tea-cup with both hands. I hoped it hadn’t sounded as though I was implying Inspector Marks didn’t know his job.
    “That’s very interesting,” Inspector Marks said. I breathed an inner sigh of relief. “That’s very interesting indeed, Joan. Thank you.” After another brief silence he went on. “Your friend, Miss Hunter – her uncle is one of the actors at the theatre, isn’t he?”
    “Yes, Tommy – I mean Mister Vance – is Verity’s uncle. That’s why we were able to see the play – he’d arranged for free tickets.”
    “Hmm.” The inspector drained his cup and put it back on the kitchen table. “I suppose you girls know the actors and the crew quite well?”
    “Well, Verity more so than me,” I confessed. “But we’re going back there on Tuesday to see the play – the whole of it, I mean, this time. Unless anybody else gets killed.” I laughed a completely brainless laugh after I said this and the inspector smiled minutely but didn’t laugh in response. I could feel the surging tide of blood in my cheeks at my stupidity. “I’m sorry, I mean – I’m sure nothing like that will happen.” I still tinkled a laugh on the end of this sentence. Hold your tongue, Joan.
    “So you ladies will be going backstage, after the play?” The inspector sounded quite casual but there was just a shade of something in his voice, something that made me forget my blushes and my silly girlish giggling and meet his eye.
    “That’s right,” I said slowly. “We’ll get to meet everyone then. I hope.”
    “I understand,” said Inspector Marks. We continued to hold each other’s gaze for a moment. It was as if he was trying to tell me something telepathically. But what? Was he – was he giving me permission to try and investigate what happened?
    For a moment, I was sure that he was, and then his gaze dropped and he got up from the table, brushing his hands together to remove the biscuit crumbs. Quickly, I leapt to my feet too.
    “Do let me know if you hear anything interesting, Miss Hart. Joan.”
    “I will, sir.”
    For a moment I thought he was going to shake my hand but he obviously thought better of it. He nodded again, with a rather embarrassed smile, and then he was gone.

Chapter Eight
     
    It was very odd to be back in the theatre again, up in the Gods again. At least we didn’t have to sit in the same seats again – that would have been a little too close to the memory of the night of the murder for comfort. The seat where the man had been killed had been removed, as had several feet of the dusty red carpet around it. I suppose it had been too stained to be used again, and who on Earth would have bought a ticket for that particular seat, even at a penny a go? They wouldn’t have been able to give that seat away.
    We were the only ones in the Gods that performance. I suppose it wasn’t usually a very busy night, a Tuesday evening during the middle of the play’s run, but I would have expected at least a few other playgoers to have joined us by the time the curtain went up.
    “Too scared,” Verity said, leaning back in her seat a trifle smugly. “They think they’re going to fall victim to the dastardly seat stabber of nineteen thirty two.”
    “Oh, don’t,” I said, more nervously than I meant to. I glanced at the sea of empty seats around us. What if somebody was hiding behind them? You’re being fanciful, I told myself but I still had to get up and take a quick look, just to check. Verity watched me with an amused smile.
    “I’ve already done that,” she said. “While you went to the Ladies.”
    I couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, so you’re just