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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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BOOK: The Mermaid in the Basement
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Superintendent Winters and Inspector Grant had arrived at the office of the prosecutor, Allen Greer. Greer was a tall, burly man with grey eyes and a mouth like a steel trap. He had the look of a rough longshoreman rather than an advocate.He was the man who would prosecute Clive Newton, and the three talked briefly of the situation.

“Well then,” Greer said, “we’re agreed.We’re certain of a conviction.”

“I believe so.” Superintendent Winters nodded. He hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Have you met the accused man’s sister?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She’s a viscountess. Viscountess Serafina Trent. A very fine family. Her father is a noted physician and scientist—as you well know.”

“I expect this has set them back.” Greer shrugged.

It was Grant who answered. “Very respectable family, sir, but the young man is a bit rowdy.”

“I’d say that slashing a woman to death is a little more than ‘a bit rowdy.’”

Grant flushed. “He’s guilty. I’m sure of it.”

Winters stroked his chin thoughtfully and seemed lost in some sort of problem. “Viscountess Trent, the boy’s sister, came to me and asked me for help.”

“She must be pretty arrogant coming to the superintendent of Scotland Yard to ask for help for a man who’s being tried for murder! What did you say to her?”

“Oh, I offered what help I could.Young Trent was in one of the worst cells in the city.”He suddenly turned and said, “Did you have anything to do with that, Grant?”

Grant flushed. “I may have. I didn’t specify, but the jailer asked me, and I said treat him like you would anybody else. I take it he took it to mean handle him roughly.”

“Well, he handled him roughly enough. I spoke to the warden and had him transferred to better quarters.”

Grant shook his head. “I’m surprised at you, Superintendent.”

“Why? Do you think I’m incapable of a generous action?”

“You’ve never been particularly concerned about the comfort of people we’ve arrested. As a matter of fact”—Grant stared at his superior—“people think I’m the hard man, but deep down you have more flint in you than I do.”

“Oh, I think I would argue that with you.”Winters smiled. “Somebody at the Yard has to be hard, and you seem to have earned that reputation.”

Grant disliked what he was hearing.He was unusual in that the other officers at Scotland Yard were in awe of Winters. They knew his power and were hesitant to cross him. Grant, however, seemed to have no compunction about this. He turned to Greer and said, “Viscountess Trent has hired a private investigator to look for the woman that supposedly has the alibi for young Trent.”

Greer stared at him. “If he finds her, that could blow our case. We need to find out who she has hired.”

“You look into that, Grant,”Winters said. “Find out who’s working for her. If he finds her, it would give Newton an alibi.”

“You two had better work on this,” Greer stated flatly. “It would be a stroke of ill fortune indeed if they were to find that woman—for us, I mean.”

“I think I may have done something a little underhanded,”Winters said.

“You, Superintendent?” Greer’s eyebrows lifted, and he showed surprise. “I can’t imagine such a thing.”

“What was it?” Grant demanded.

“I told her that if she got any leads about the witness from her investigator that we could probably find the woman more easily than an individual. I spoke to the viscountess about the efficiency of the Yard for finding people like that.”

“And she believed you?” Grant demanded.

“Why, yes, I believe she did. So I think we’ll find out if there’s any development.”

Grant snorted. “The fool! Doesn’t she know we’re the enemy?”

“She’s no fool,Grant. But I’ve done my best to cause her to have confidence in us.”

Greer laughed, although his eyes were hard. “Superintendent Winters, you’re going to make a great politician.You have the devious character necessary for such an office.”

Winters laughed. “I suppose I do. Well, we’re agreed, then. There shouldn’t be any trouble about securing a conviction.”

The three men nodded, and as the two Scotland Yard detectives left, Greer muttered, “Well, thank God this is
one
case that won’t cause me any trouble!”

Serafina had discovered that she had nothing suitable to wear for her visit to the theatre. She was not a woman who paid a great deal of attention to clothes, most of the time wearing a plain dress and a white apron for her work in the laboratory. She and her maid, Louisa, had searched through her available wardrobe, and at Louisa’s insistence she had gone shopping for a new dress. Louisa had helped her don the new dress, and the maid was absolutely ecstatic about it.

“It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, ma’am!”

“Well, the salesperson had more to say about it than I do. Do you really think it’s suitable?”

“It is beautiful—like a dream!”

The dress was of a deep blue-green shade, cut high in the front with a sheer sleeve and decorated with delicate beading at throat and shoulder. She had also purchased an elegant pair of slippers, and Louisa stood back to admire her. “I’ve never seen you look so well, Viscountess.”

Serafina turned and studied her reflection in the mirror, then shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure exactly what ladies wear to the theatre, but this does look very good.”

She glanced at the ormolu clock on the shelf over the fireplace. “I must hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

She moved downstairs quickly, having already said her good-byes to David. Givins was waiting with the carriage, and he helped her in, bobbing his head and saying, “You look real fine, Viscountess.”

“Thank you, Givins.”

As she settled back for the ride to the theatre, her mind was working rapidly. She paid little attention to the scenery as the carriage moved from the estate into the interior part of the city. She was so caught up with going over the possibilities of helping Clive that it was a surprise when she found the carriage stopped and Givins saying, “We’re here, Lady Trent.”

Getting out of the carriage, Serafina said, “I hope you don’t mind the long wait.”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

“I’m hoping to go out for a meal after the performance, so take this and buy yourself a fine meal.”

Givins’s eyes opened wide at the sovereign that she put in his hand.

“Oh, you don’t ’ave to do that, Lady Trent!”

“I want to. You enjoy yourself. I don’t want you to be bored.”

She entered the theatre, paid for her ticket, and moved forward with the crowd. She had bought a private box, and finally was forced to find an attendant to help her locate it. It was on a balcony over to the right side, and she could look right down at the stage. She was fascinated by the audience. Some of them, obviously,were well-to-do people, but many were less prosperous in appearance.

Finally the play began as the soldiers came out on the stage. She had read the play, although she had never seen it acted—nor any other Shakespearean production performed. The three soldiers who discussed the appearance of the ghost of the king were adequate, but when Ashley Hamilton first appeared, she studied his face carefully. He was in his thirties, as far as she could tell, and had light brown hair and sorrowful brown eyes. The action unfolded before her, but she kept watch for Dylan Tremayne to finally appear.

As soon as Dylan stepped onto the stage and said his first lines, something happened to Serafina. She had no idea what it was or how it happened, but there was an air or a quality about the Welshman that held her attention. It was a magnetic sort of feeling. He spoke his lines in a normal tone of voice, but there was something in him so vital that the audience could not take their eyes off of him—Serafina included.

As the play unfolded, she studied the faces of the actors. She paid particular attention to Elise Cuvier, who was playing the role of Ophelia instead of the murdered Kate Fairfield.Miss Cuvier seemed too young to play a woman like Ophelia, but as Serafina studied her closely, she saw that the actress was older than she had thought at first. There was an appealing quality about her, and she had a touch of dynamic magnetism. She studied the woman carefully, and by the time the play had progressed to the scene in which Ophelia loses her mind as the result of her father’s death, Serafina was caught up in the drama completely. She sat there watching the action unfold, and when Laertes, played by Dylan, came back from France seething with anger, she was astonished at how much she entered into his feeling. Somehow the actor had the ability to draw from her emotions that she had not known she could have over a mere play.

By the time the end of the play had come, she was well aware that something was wrong. Hamlet, the central figure of the action, was forgotten the moment Laertes, played by Dylan, stepped onstage.When the duel took place, there was a grace in every movement of his body that was missing from the rather awkward swordsmanship of Ashley Hamilton. Finally, Laertes lay dying and made his last speech. He lay looking up at Hamlet and whispered huskily, “Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee, nor thine on me.”

When he slumped back, the play was over for Serafina. She sat there and watched the death of Hamlet unmoved, and finally, when the last words were spoken and the actors came for their bows, she noticed that two people received a great deal more applause than the others. One was Elise Cuvier, who had done a wonderful job, she thought. The other was Dylan Tremayne, and the applause was absolutely thunderous. She saw he had a slight smile on his face and bowed gently, and then the actors disappeared.

She sat quietly in her box for a time, feeling sure that there would be many people rushing to the dressing room area to congratulate the actors. Finally she thought,
I’ve been missing a great deal. I didn’t know
that there was such power in the theatre!

With some difficulty Serafina found her way to the dressing area backstage. It was packed with people, the air filled with the babble of voices. She passed by the actor who had played the role of Claudius and saw that he was much older than he appeared onstage. He was standing by the woman who had played Gertrude, and Serafina had seen by the program that they were husband and wife, Malcom and Irene Gilcrist.

Her eyes went to an area where a group was gathered around Dylan Tremayne. All except two of them were women, and it was obvious that they idolized the actor.Moving closer, she saw the women putting themselves forward, then suddenly his eyes met hers. She heard him say, “Excuse me, sirs, ladies, I appreciate your compliments.”

Approaching Serafina, he said, “It’s good to see you, Viscountess.”He offered his arm. She took it and was shocked at the hard muscle concealed by the puffy sleeves of his costume. He led her behind what appeared to be a mass of ropes and painted backdrops.When he reached a doorway, he stepped aside, and after she entered the room, he followed her. It was evidently a prop room, for it was filled with costumes, wigs, and different pieces of furniture.

Serafina had prepared her speech, and she said quickly, “I am not good at asking for favors, Dylan, but my legal counsel, Sir Leo Roth, has told me that I need you desperately. If your offer still stands, I would appreciate your help in finding the person who killed Kate Fairfield. I’d also like to meet the cast tonight.”

“Why, certainly. If I could help Clive get out of that old prison, I would rest happy in my grave.” Dylan smiled, and Serafina was struck with the strength of his words. He was wearing a tight-fitting costume, a vest of a light violet colour and pure white tights that outlined his legs like a second skin. She noted that his hands were very strong, the fingers long. “As I said, most of the cast goes for a meal after the performance. I think it’s good that you go. A woman sometimes sees things that a man misses. Think differently from men, they do.”

Serafina did not know whether this was a compliment or an insult, but she said quickly, “You don’t think they’ll be intimidated by me?”

“More likely you’ll be intimidated by them.Not a mannered lot, they are!” Dylan said with a wry expression. “Come along. You haven’t been around actors much. Prepare yourself for egos the size of Ireland.”

BOOK: The Mermaid in the Basement
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