Maxwell's Mask Read Online Free PDF Page A

warm woman were beginning to get to Peter Maxwell. He was in memory mode. ‘Claimed to have ridden up San Juan Hill with Teddy Roosevelt.’
    Jacquie Carpenter loved Peter Maxwell with every fibre of her being, but there were times when she didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. This was one of them.‘But he didn’t?’ she asked tentatively.
    He looked at her. What a love. So much to learn. So little time. Bit like Year Ten, really. ‘No,’ he said, kindly. ‘But I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn it was Senlac Hill with William the Conqueror.’
    She was on safe ground now and slapped his drinking hand, just for good measure. William she’d heard of. Senlac Hill, Mad Max had had her wandering all over, not six months before. ‘So, when do you start?’ she asked.
    â€˜Well, Monday, I suppose. I must admit, it’ll be intriguing to tread the boards again. But, I ask you, Little Shop of Horrors – what’s that about?’
    â€˜Well,’ she put down her coffee mug and adjusted the protuberance in front of her. ‘There was this flower shop in downtown…’
    â€˜Oh, ha!’ he snorted. ‘I mean, why couldn’t it have been Ibsen, or Chekhov, or, Heaven forfend, the Bard?’
    â€˜Because nobody’d go,’ she told him. ‘At least this way you’ll get an audience. If somebody’s little Johnny was playing Uncle Vanya, not even little Johnny’s mum would turn up. As it is, no doubt you’ve got a thousand girlies anxious to strut their stuff – all their mums will be there. So will the dads, having an illicit shufty at their daughters’ friends fol-de-rols…’
    â€˜Disgusting,’ snarled Maxwell.
    â€˜And the geeks will be there to see how you do Audrey.’
    â€˜Audrey?’
    â€˜The man-eating plant. God, Max, I thought you were kidding about not knowing what the show is about.’
    â€˜I am, dear girl, I am. You seem very clued up about it.’
    â€˜Did it in Year Eleven, didn’t I? And before you ask, yes, that was a long time ago.’
    â€˜Well, the Arquebus doesn’t know what’s going to hit it.’
    â€˜The Arquebus?’
    â€˜The theatre. Along Quay Street.’
    â€˜Yes, I know. Why there?’
    â€˜Well, it’s Angela Carmichael’s idea, apparently. Theatre in the Community or something crappy. We don’t use the Hall and invite the locals to come to us. No, that’s far too boring and obvious. We go to them. Sort of mountain and Mohammed.’
    â€˜There was an accident there last night.’
    â€˜At the Arquebus?’
    â€˜Hm. Fatal, actually.’
    â€˜Really?’ He sat up a little, and looked her in the grey, sparkling eyes. ‘Have you been listening in to Police Wireless again?’ he asked, the eyebrow of disapproval threatening his hairline.
    â€˜Jane Blaisedell called round this morning. You know, just to see how I was.’
    â€˜How are you?’ He looked down at her, attentive, solicitous, taking the mick.
    â€˜Piss off and listen,’ she insisted. It was one ofJacquie’s stranger stage directions, but Maxwell let it pass. ‘Somebody was killed, working on the set.’
    â€˜Anybody we know?’
    â€˜Gordon Goodacre. Didn’t ring any bells with me.’
    â€˜God, yes.’ Maxwell was frowning.
    â€˜Did you know him?’
    He moved a little way away from her and held up his fingers in the sign of the cross. ‘Put those lighted matches down, Woman Policeman. I know nothing.’
    â€˜Seriously.’
    â€˜Seriously, no. But I have had the pleasure of Mrs Goodacre – and not, mercifully, in the biblical sense. She’ll love this.’
    â€˜Max!’ she squeaked. ‘That’s not very nice.’
    â€˜Sorry, no,’ he checked himself. ‘No, it’s tragic. But Matilda Goodacre is the original Drama