The London Deception Read Free Page B

leaving now.”
    â€œMr. Lista, where was I when the accident occurred?” Shah asked without taking his eyes off Mr. Paul.
    â€œBackstage,” Lista replied matter-of-factly. “I saw you run in from the wings.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Chris agreed. “When I was looking for something to cushion your and Jen’s impending fall, I saw Neville come from stage left.”
    Mr. Paul cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry if we implied anything. You’re an excellent lighting assistant—”
    â€œYou do not need to apologize,” Shah interrupted, “because I am no longer your lighting assistant. Right now, all that is broken is my wrist. So I quit before worse things happen.”
    With that, Shah walked away.
    â€œShould I try to stop him?” Jennifer asked.
    â€œNo,” Mr. Paul replied. “He seems to be quite decided.”
    â€œStrangely decided,” Frank noted. “Like he was looking for a reason to quit.”
    Mr. Paul sighed. “Well, we’ll simply have to replace him.”
    â€œFor tonight, Jennifer, I’d be glad to help you clean up the mess,” Joe said.
    â€œSo will I,” Frank added.
    â€œThank you, that would be wonderful,” Mr. Paul said. “Chris, why don’t you stay, too, and see that Frank and Joseph get home safely.”
    Chris agreed, and Mr. Paul bid them all good night. While Chris cleaned up the glass shards from the main floor of the theater, Joe grabbed a wrench and helped Jennifer unfasten the broken lighting units.
    Joe then handed the lighting instruments down to Frank, who was on a ladder in the balcony aisle.
    As Frank took the second light from Joe, he noticed a shiny spot on one of the broken lamps. The spot was slippery to the touch. Rubbing his two fingers together, Frank realized it was some kind of ointment that had a faint oily smell.
    â€œJennifer, is there some reason to use grease on a lamp?” Frank asked.
    â€œNo, never,” Jennifer replied. “Why?”
    â€œThe lamps’ blowing may not have been an accident tonight,” Frank told her. “It may have been sabotage.”

3 The Unknown Saboteur
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    â€œSabotage?” Joe repeated.
    Frank showed Joe and Jennifer the traces of ointment. “It’s some kind of tan-colored ointment.”
    â€œLooks like greasepaint,” Jennifer said. “It’s a type of stage makeup.”
    â€œCould grease paint rubbed on a lamp cause it to blow out?” Joe asked Jennifer.
    â€œYes,” Jennifer replied. “Anything with fat or oil in it. The heat from theater lights is so intense, if the natural oil from your skin gets on one, it can be enough to make it blow.”
    â€œWho would have had a chance to tamper with these lights?” Joe wondered out loud.
    â€œNeville and I are the only ones who have been handling them,” Jennifer said.
    â€œI think Joe and I ought to have a talk with Neville Shah,” Frank said, then leaned over the balcony rail. “Chris, do you know where Neville lives?”
    â€œNo,” Chris said and stopped sweeping up the glass. “I know in what direction he goes.”
    â€œHe must be long gone by now,” Joe said, frowning.
    â€œNo, I saw him leaving the theater with his satchel just a minute ago while I was emptying some glass into the dustbin,” Chris informed them.
    â€œIf you’re okay here, Jennifer,” Frank said, “I’m going to take Joe and Chris and try to catch up with Neville.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Frank, Joe, and Chris exited the theater through the main doors. “He walks in this direction,” Chris said, pointing to his right.
    â€œBut the subway station is that way,” Joe countered, pointing to the left.
    â€œWe call it the tube, Joe,” Chris corrected, dryly joking. “Or the underground.”
    â€œTube, underground—it’s still a subway,” Joe