Murder Offstage Read Online Free PDF Page A

high with papers.
    A steady drip-drip could be heard. In the dim glow from the
lamp Posie noticed that the office walls were completely damp, with horrible
sweating beads of moisture forming on every surface. How on earth can he
work in here? thought Posie, heading for the desk, and longing suddenly for
her cream-painted office with its sash window letting in lots of light, despite
the crowded office roofs it looked over. Never again would she complain she had
no real view: a window was a window, after all.
    Posie moved the papers from the chair and sat herself at the
desk. She started to move her nimble fingers through the papers, opening the
drawers quickly. Nothing. She carried on.
    All at once Posie jumped. A strange booming sound was shaking
the desk in front of her, papers spilling to the floor. The whole room was
vibrating.
    BOOM. BOOM.
    The desk-lamp started to flicker and the empty bottles of
whisky which Posie had found in every drawer of the desk started jangling
together furiously.
    BOOM.
    Her heart was beating madly, the sound was enormous. It was
like nothing she had ever heard before, and she had heard some terrible things
when she had been an ambulance driver on the Front at the end of the Great War
in France: the shells, the screaming. She had tried to forget it mostly,
otherwise she couldn’t sleep at night.
    For a horrible moment Posie thought the cave-like roof was
about to collapse, and she remembered her old training in France and got down
on her knees and started to nudge herself over to the door, elbow by elbow,
making herself as small as possible.
    ‘You’re okay, Miss. You can get up. Don’t be scared.’
    Posie looked up and saw the tiny girl who had been ironing
in the corridor. She was looking at Posie with some concern. Posie got to her
feet, heart still hammering.
    ‘It takes some gettin’ used to, this place. We’re right
under the Orchestra Pit here. They’re just startin’. Gettin’ tuned up. Drums
first, then the double basses. That’s why it’s so loud just now.’
    Posie gulped in relief. ‘Thank you. And thank you for not
laughing at me. I must have looked quite a sight.’
    The girl shrugged. ‘No problem. I recognise a former war
girl. I was in France too, nursin’ on the Western Front. I had to crawl out
several times when we took a hit from a shell, just like that. Dolly Price, by
the way,’ she said, extending silver-tipped fingers. Posie took her hand and
shook it warmly.
    ‘Posie Parker.’
    ‘By all accounts they’ve got a fine mess on their hands up
there tonight,’ said the girl, indicating upstairs with a raised eyebrow.
    ‘The First Violin’s gone missin’. He never turned up for
rehearsal this afternoon and he’s still not turned up tonight. It’s never
happened before. Still, it’ll give Mr Blake somethin’ to think about for once.
You’ll find him in the Circle Bar, by the way. Drinkin’ himself to oblivion.’
    ‘So you knew he wouldn’t be here? But you let me come in
anyway?’
    ‘That’s right. I don’t owe him no favours. You had a look
about you, like you were on the hunt for somethin’. Did you find it?’
    Posie shook her head. ‘It’s such a mess in here.’
    ‘Whotcha lookin’ for?’ asked Dolly quickly.
    ‘A list of names. Chorus girls. Chorus girls who’ve been
employed here recently.’
    ‘I see.’ Dolly, quick as a flash, had gone over to the metal
filing cabinet and was rifling through the third drawer down. She quickly
brought out a thick manila file, stuffed full of bits of paper, receipts and
photos.
    ‘I can probably do better than just a list, a photo
maybe...who you lookin’ for exactly?’
    Posie thought for a split-second. Could she really trust
this girl? She decided on the spur of the moment that she could.
    ‘I think her stage-name was Georgie le Pomme. But she may be
known as Lucy, too. Or anything else for that matter. To make things worse I
don’t even know if she ever worked here. I can’t