The London Deception Read Free Page A

show himself off,” Jennifer explained to Joe.
    â€œOr show his wife off,” Emily added.
    â€œReviewers look down their noses at vanity productions, so even if they are good, the reviews tend to be especially critical,” Mr. Paul said.
    â€œAre reviews that important?” Frank wondered out loud.
    â€œOh, yes,” Mr. Paul replied. “They often spell success or failure for a play, and Lord Quill’s production was no exception. The reviews tore Lady Quill’s performance to pieces.”
    â€œAnd on that same night, Lord Quill told her of his plans to leave her,” Emily said, staring straight into the fly space above the stage. “So she threw herself from a catwalk and fell to her death on this very stage.”
    â€œSo now she haunts the theater,” Lista added, “cursing other productions out of spite.”
    â€œIf everyone believes the place is haunted,” Frank asked, “why do you keep doing shows here?”
    â€œTheater people love drama, Frank,” Emily said. “And what’s more dramatic than a haunted theater?”
    â€œStuff and nonsense!” Jeffries growled, turning to Mr. Paul. “Don’t think you and Mr. Kije are going to use this to get out of your rental contract.”
    â€œMr. Kije has every confidence that Innocent Victim will be a hit,” Mr. Paul snapped back at the theater owner.
    â€œI’ve heard it all before,” Jeffries replied. “Then one day, the producer realizes the show’s not so funny as he thought, or a star quits, and everyone gets the ‘flop sweats.’ Next thing you know, they’re knocking on my door trying to break their rental agreement and blaming it all on this blooming ghost.”
    â€œI assure you, Mr. Jeffries,” Mr. Paul said firmly, “this show will go on.”
    Jeffries huffed, turned, and left the balcony, grumbling to himself all the way down the stairs.
    Frank studied the expressions on the faces of the cast and crew. They looked concerned, even fearful, and several private conversations were being muttered back and forth.
    â€œWe’re all tired, I think,” Mr. Paul said, sensing the mood of the group. “Let’s call it a night.”
    â€œRight, everybody, actors are off tomorrow,” Lista said in a loud, clear voice. “Crew call is nine to five.”
    As the group began to disperse, Joe glanced down at the stage. Emily Anderson was gone.
    â€œNeville and I will stay behind to clean up, Dennis,” Jennifer offered Mr. Paul.
    â€œI’m sorry, I cannot,” Shah said. “I will not stay in a theater with a ghost.”
    â€œNeville, even if this ghost exists, it’s never tried to hurt anyone,” Mr. Paul assured him.
    Jennifer Mulhall raised her hand. “I beg to differ—Joe and I had to do a trapeze act to save our skins.”
    â€œAnd look at my broken wrist,” Shah added, holding up his hand.
    â€œYou got that by falling off a ladder,” Mr. Paul reminded the lighting assistant.
    A thought struck Frank. Neville Shah could be about the same height as the short figure he’d seen in the lighting booth. “Where were you when the accident happened?”
    â€œMe?” Shah asked. “In the light storage room off stage left. I was looking for gels.”
    â€œGels?” Frank asked.
    â€œYou put them over the lights to create different colors,” Jennifer explained.
    â€œCan anyone verify that you were there?” Mr. Paul asked.
    â€œWhy do you ask?” Shah wondered.
    â€œWell, you’re one of the few people who knows how to operate the light board,” Mr. Paul replied.
    â€œAre you accusing me of something?” Shah asked, his eyes narrowing.
    â€œSomeone knew which control turned on the lamp beside Jennifer’s head,” Joe pointed out.
    â€œThen you are accusing me,” Shah said.
    Corey Lista stepped over. “I’ll be