“Can you all point out where you were when you heard Pearl’s scream?”
Mr. Alcott clutched his throat but was the firstto answer. “I was behind the stage curtain. When I heard her, I came out here and looked around. When I didn’t see anything, I jumped off the stage and started checking the rows.”
“You were the first one to reach the body,” I said, watching him closely.
“Was I?” He shrugged. “I can’t recall. It was all so chaotic. So horrible.”
“Was anyone backstage with you?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone out here?”
He nodded at Mr. Culpepper. “He came out of that door.” He nodded at a side door further back. There was a matching one on the other side of the theater. The words FIRE EXIT were painted on both.
“I was in the actress’s privy,” Dotty said. “I think I’d just come out when I heard Pearl’s scream. I tried to follow where I thought it had come from and emerged through that door.” She indicated the door at the back of the theater through which the audience would come and go. “I saw Perry and Mr. Culpepper standing here. I didn’t realize what had happened until I came over to see.” She pressed the back of her hand to her trembling lips.
“Thank you,” I said. “I know how difficult this is for you, but I’m sure it will help.”
Mr. Culpepper excused himself and hurried off, but not before I saw his eyes fill with tears.
One of the actresses on the stage called Dotty’s name. “I need help with this scene.”
Dotty sighed. “She’ll never do.” Hands on hips, she headed towards the stage.
Mr. Alcott watched her go. “The girl is Dotty’s understudy. She’s quite good, but Dotty hates admitting it. I think she’s worried.”
“Thank you for your help today,” I said. “Finding that letter was a revelation.”
“I thought it would be important. I wish I knew who it was meant for.”
“You have no inkling?”
He shook his head. “I’d best be off too. Good day, Miss Fox.”
I tipped my head back to look up at the balcony of the dress circle. It seemed unlikely that anyone could fall by accident, but I wanted to see the balcony’s height for myself.
I continued up the aisle but instead of going all the way to the back of the stall seating and exiting through the door Dotty said she’d used, I glanced to the stage to see if anyone was watching, then pushed open the fire exit. Just as I assumed, there were stairs.
I lifted my skirts and headed up, pushing open the door on the second tier. I emerged into the dress circle seats. I peered over the balcony. It reached my waist, and from what I could gather from Pearl’s clothes in her wardrobe, she was about my height. No one could accidentally trip and fall over. Pearl was either pushed or she jumped to her death.
I headed back to the hotel, my mind awhirl as I went through what I’d learned. There were holes in all three stories I’d just heard. Any one of them could have been upstairs in the dress circle, pushed Pearl over the balcony, and come back downstairs without anyone seeing. Mr. Alcott was alone backstage but no one had seen him so he couldn’t prove it. He’d also been the first to reach the body, although had apparently forgotten that fact when Dotty initially mentioned it. Was that because he hadn’t wanted me to know that he was closest and so assume he was the killer?
In Dotty’s case, she hadn’t used the nearest door to the ladies privy. We’d passed the actress’s privy in the corridor and it was nowhere near the entrance she said she’d used. That entrance conveniently gave access to the dress circle and upper circle.
And I’d just proved the emergency fire exit also gave access to the upper levels. It would have been very easy for Mr. Culpepper to push Pearl over the balcony and race downstairs upon hearing her scream. Not only that, of the three of them, he had the strongest motive: jealousy. It was hard to believe his claim that he wasn’t jealous of Pearl and Rumford. No man liked to share his lover, and it must have galled him that Rumford could give her what she wanted when he couldn’t—a luxurious lifestyle mingling with the cream of society.
Instead of heading back to the hotel, I caughtan omnibus to the Natural History Museum, partly so I wouldn’t have to lie to Flossy about how I spent my day and partly because I found museums both inspiring and soothing. Walking around the exhibits gave me time to think. It also filled in the rest of the day until it was time to meet Mr. Adams at The Nag’s Head.
“Don’t bother taking a seat,” he said as I approached his booth. “This won’t take long.”
I slid onto the seat anyway. From the look on his face, I guessed he’d been unsuccessful. “If you weren’t able to get into his office, I’d like my money back.”
“I got in.” He squared his shoulders, thrusting out his chest. “There’s not a lock in London that can keep Thomas Adams out.”
“Did you find the diary?”
“I did.” He sat forward, elbows on the table, and removed the cigarette dangling from his lips with his thumb and forefinger. Smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke. “But the relevant page was missing.”
