Death in the Spotlight: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery 07 (A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery, 7)

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I’m fifteen,’ said Daisy. ‘I’ve been fifteen for ages, and Hazel’s fifteen awfully soon, aren’t you, Hazel? And we do know about the theatre, I promise we do. You’ll see – we’ll be absolutely excellent!’ INDEED!’ thundered Inigo. Miss Crompton blinked at him, and he coughed and said, ‘Indeed. This play will be realistic. It will be immediate. It will be GENIUS!’ There isn’t,’ said Rose, a note of panic in her voice. ‘Lysander, they’re just from a fan – and I can’t help it if I have fans, now!’ After that, it was as though someone had snapped their fingers and woken me up. I did not like being awake, not at all, but I couldn’t help seeing what I did. All Rose’s kindnesses left a bitter aftertaste. It’s the posters,’ he replied apologetically. ‘You’re sure that they were the right ones to be pasted up on the side of the theatre?’

The contents of the crate were bundles and bundles of programmes, and we piled them up in the corner of Miss Crompton’s chaotic office, next to groaning heaps of old play scripts, dead flowers in chipped vases, loose pens leaking ink across screeds of paper and several three-legged chairs. We did it crossly, catching each other’s eyes and glaring. I like Death in the Spotlight because it has a lot of plot twists which keep you wanting to read more, which is what I look for in a book. This book is just as good as the rest of the series because the author has created a new setting in the Rue Theatre and I enjoyed the way it made London in the 1930s seem very realistic. I liked that historical detail, and could easily imagine everything that happens. The covers of the whole series are very bright and bold so they are iconic and unique, and eye-catching so they are easy to recognise. Only Annie looked troubled. She turned to me and Daisy and said, rather unhappily, ‘They all do seem to hate her, don’t they?’ She would not stay quiet when she disagreed with Inigo’s direction, though, and their discussions usually ended with Rose speaking to Miss Crompton and setting off an argument between her and Inigo. Miss Crompton bristled and glared, Inigo became more and more Old Testament, and Rose pouted and took refuge in Wardrobe with Annie, the dresser, who had become her fast friend. I got a creepy feeling when I found out about it. I wondered what else might be far beneath the Rue’s floor and it made me feel wriggly, just as I do when I stare down into the sea and imagine all the creatures swimming about in it, too far down for me to see.But it turned out to be not quite as dreadful an experience as the audition, for this time the stage was filled with talking, laughing, shouting people, and crowded together they reminded me of something. That is simply not true,’ said Daisy, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘The posters were very clear: someone is plotting to hurt Rose, and the plot will involve a well. And, as we know perfectly … well, there’s one at the bottom of this theatre. We must assume that this well is therefore important, and we would be remiss if we didn’t pay it a visit. Don’t you see? It might not be the scene of the crime yet, but everything tells us it will be, soon enough! Oh, Hazel, this is why I’m still the President of the Detective Society, despite all that business in Hong Kong.’ Annie made a soothing, mouth-full-of-pins murmur in reply. And I thought to myself rather uncomfortably that, although I knew that everyone at the Rue was a good actor, I was not sure whether they were all good people. Of course, the policeman is here today, and so are we, because of the corpse – which is not a pleasant thing to have to write. Dead bodies are always awful. They are my least favourite part of what Daisy and I do. Daisy is sometimes impatient with me when I say this. But, all the same, I am glad they do upset me. I do not think I would be as good a detective if I stopped caring about the victims. Murder matters, and bothering about it helps us solve each case. We all heard her scream. I had a moment of feeling quite calm, as though I’d been waiting for rain and at last it had begun to pour.

We were working on the first act, and it was time for Daisy’s scene as Rosaline. She had to drift across the stage at the opening of the Capulets’ party, looking beautiful, just before Romeo saw Juliet for the first time. I stood watching, and Rose came to stand next to me.Then, of course, I realized why I had chosen it: I have often felt like Ruth in that poem, and I did at that very moment. I staggered on to the end, melting under the lights and frying with dreadful shame, for I had let out more of myself than I had meant. Then I stopped and there was only a ringing silence. I felt as though every empty chair was staring at me. Aunt Lucy held up her hand. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a thought. Let me make a few telephone calls.’ That is information you are taking care of,’ said Daisy. ‘If I spent time learning it too, I would simply be wasting the space in my brain. Anyway, Hazel, that’s why I know all about Miss Crompton and the Rue. She’s quite brilliant – she bought it up twenty years ago when it was failing and she’s absolutely made it the place to see Shakespeare. She’s worked with Inigo Leontes and Linda Torrence – and now she’ll be working with Daisy Wells! And Hazel Wong, of course. Really, though, I do think she could have found you a better part than the silly servant Potpan!’ This person was wearing a shapeless brown dress, and she moved heavily, thumping her feet down on each step and squeezing the gold railing so hard I thought she might leave dents in the metal. She was old, even older than most of our mistresses at Deepdean, and her hair was grey and close-cropped. She was built as solidly as her footsteps, and the round glasses that sat on her nose looked tiny on her large face.

Daisy sighed impatiently, but I could see she was thrilled by Aunt Lucy’s unusual lessons – particularly because they were secret. There was an unspoken agreement between the three of us that Uncle Felix need not be informed about them. He is a very interesting uncle, but an uncle all the same, and he does not really approve of our detective adventures. Aunt Lucy, we could see, understood that being detectives was not a game to us. It was simply who we were. All right,’ said Daisy. ‘The thing to do is telephone the printer. I can do it, but I shall need you to distract Miss C.’ Frances! Now there are children in my dressing room!’ the girl shouted, leaning out into the corridor. ‘Frances! Frances! This is too much!’ See here!’ cried Inigo, and he came up onto the stage, his cloak billowing, and spoke the lines for me, leaving me feeling even worse, and more confused, than I had before.It wasn’t just Inigo who didn’t get on with Rose. Martita and Simon were also cold to her, snubbing her and leaving her out of conversations, and pointedly refusing to run through lines with her offstage. At first, I thought this was rather cruel of them – and rather odd, when Simon was so friendly to everyone else, and even Martita was secretly kind. They were such friends too, that it seemed almost like bullying to refuse to let Rose in. Darling Frances,’ I heard Rose say coaxingly. ‘Don’t you think that tiara’s a little too much? It’s Juliet who shines like a rich jewel, not Rosaline.’

Below the words was a crude sketch of a well, with a pair of feet wearing little slippers poking out of it. Penguin presents the audiobook edition of Death in the Spotlight by Robin Stevens , read by Katie Leung.

I’m glad you’re with the girls again this week,’ he said. ‘They need a steady influence. The very word aunt sounds sensible. I’m sure you’ve become more staid since you became one, Lucy dear.’ He winked at her over his kipper. Daisy threw herself into a kneeling position and reached forward. Her face changed to an anguished mask. For that certain character to have been a murder target they must have been extremely arrogant. Unless, the victim is the wrong target. Maybe the substitute actor was onstage because the actual actor knew they were going to be targeted so they pretended to be ill so the substitute would go up. As Rose burst into angry sobs once again, it was the stagehand who spoke. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he insisted, holding his hands up. ‘Just so long as everyone knows that. I don’t want to get into any trouble for this. Just doing my job. It was her who told me to put the posters up!’ he added, pointing to Martita.