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“Or just a desire for more privacy than their own rooms provided,” Tom said, pushing aside a
set of curtains and considering the walls of boxes behind it. “Heaven knows, this place is full of
enough nooks and crannies to accommodate an army of forbidden lovers. But it makes me wonder –
had they decided in advance to meet and if so, how would their killer have known their agreed-upon
time and place? Or was the tryst a last minute decision, with the man perhaps luring each of them
here with a note that each believed was written by the other?”
“More likely their killer overheard them planning to meet,” Emma said. “It is easy to
eavesdrop in this theater. The acoustics are extraordinary.”
“Which implies that our murderer is part of the dance troupe,” Tom said. “Or perhaps even
someone in their confidence. Their own Friar Lawrence, so to speak.”
“Rayley and Trevor got the pages from the police report after luncheon, did they not?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “No plural needed, darling. The report was a single page. And the
police had collected no weapon, no samples of clothing, nothing at all. That is why I need to talk to
the Kirby woman. At least she was at the scene before they moved the bodies and, who knows, those
eagle eyes may have noticed something. Odd she still isn’t here. Perhaps I should go back down and
check the hall again.”
“Saying you would meet her in the theater was a rather imprecise location,” Emma said. “But
wait a second, there’s only this one last room. It appears to be costumes too, or some sort place
where they do the mending and sewing…”
She had walked three steps in when she saw them. For a moment she thought they were unreal
– dummies used in a play, perhaps, or dressmaker’s models. And then, judging by their prone
position, cast among the garments on the floor, she thought that perhaps they were dead. It was this
last thought that prompted her scream and the fact that she spun on her heel, crashing directly into
Tom, who had entered the room no more than a few beats behind her. But the sound roused the lovers
from their distraction and they leapt apart, thus proving, even in the shadowy darkness, that they were
both quite real and very much alive. Konstantin sprang to his feet instinctively, causing Emma to give
another small exclamation, this one more of a yelp. Tatiana, prompted by another sort of instinct,
went scrambling beneath a nearby pile of clothes, but not before catching a glimpse of the expression
on Tom’s face.
“We beg your pardon,” he said smoothly, backing out, pulling Emma with him. She had once
again closed her eyes, offering further proof of Konstantin’s theories, for she followed Tom’s lead