Chapter Thirty-Six
“Damn it,” Tobias swore. He’d been hoping they’d have more time, given they’d disturbed the killer the other day.
“And it’s not good, either, apparently,” Iain continued.
“When has it ever been?” Tobias said, taking in a deep breath, for a moment feeling as if this killer were always ten steps ahead and always out of reach. He quickly glanced over at Jack, noting she seemed a little paler than usual. “Where?”
“Inside the St. George’s Hall theater, in Marylebone.”
“Inside a theater?”
“Aye,” Iain confirmed.
An interior location, interesting. “All right, then. Let’s head there now. Charles, I’ll need you there too.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Though I need to gather some more equipment first, then fetch Phillip to take the photographs, but I won’t be long behind you all.”
“Very well.” Tobias motioned for Jack and Iain to go ahead of him out the door.
A few minutes later, he hailed a hackney and gave the address to the driver, while Jack and Iain climbed into the carriage ahead of him.
Tobias followed them in and took the seat next to Jack, knowing there was no chance both he and Iain, two very large men, would fit on one hackney seat together.
He couldn’t help but notice it was a precariously tight fit sitting next to each other, with his thigh brushing against Jack’s own. A fact he tried to ignore.
“Are you sure this is the Conjurer’s work?” Tobias asked Iain, adjusting his long legs in the now entirely cramped confines of the vehicle.
“Fairly sure,” Iain replied. “According to the initial report, it looks like some sort of macabre magic stage show, something about a vanished woman, the theater owner said.”
“The Vanishing Lady?” Jack asked.
“Aye, that’s it.” Iain nodded. “The report came through about fifteen minutes ago, and I sent a team ahead to secure the scene while I tried to locate you.” He glanced over at Tobias. “The men haven’t had any luck in their inquiries. How did it go with Dodd?”
“No luck, either. Apparently, he received a note requiring him to be in the countryside until this evening, when he’s due to perform before my mother’s ball.
But in any event, we have made some interesting discoveries.
” Quickly, Tobias filled him in on what they’d found at both Broadmoor and at Dr. Patterson’s, taking up most of the twelve-minute carriage ride to the West End of London.
“You think the Coffin Conjurer is actually Thomas Clorren? Who was supposedly dead but is most likely alive and pretending to be someone else, possibly Dr. Patterson?” Iain swung his gaze between Jack and Tobias. “Is that it in a nutshell?”
“Yes,” Tobias replied. “Or else, Dr. Patterson is being framed. At least that’s what Dr. Morton’s hoping for.”
“What a bloody tangled web,” Iain muttered. “But are you sure? There didn’t seem anything wrong with Dr. Patterson’s appearance when he attended the scene of the murder earlier in the week. His beard looked a hundred percent real.”
“Exactly what I thought,” Tobias replied.
“Can a disguise really be that good, though?” Iain asked, turning to address Jack. “Surely, we’d be able to tell if a man was wearing makeup, couldn’t we? Especially up close.”
“It wouldn’t be makeup,” Jack said. “It’s most likely facial padding inside his mouth and in between his cheeks, which can completely change the shape of someone’s face.
Not to mention he could be wearing a wig, or even a beard.
” She looked pointedly over at Iain’s beard.
“Beards and wigs that are made from human hair are practically impossible to tell from the real thing, especially if they’ve been applied well and with the right glues.
Not to mention he could be wearing spectacles, which again can change a person’s appearance and help to disguise their eyes…
the hardest part of the body to change.”
“So, we’re looking for anyone, who might or might not have a beard. Or glasses. Have I got that about right?” Iain was staring at Jack like she had two heads.
Jack merely shrugged. “Perhaps and perhaps not. He could also be padding out his clothing to appear larger than he actually is. But most of all, he’s probably mastered the art of blending in, which is the true illusion.”
“So maybe we can add rotund to the list too.” Iain sighed. “You’ve just described most of the men in London.”
“Like I said, Sergeant, I don’t know.”
“Is there any way you could tell someone was wearing a disguise?” Tobias asked, wondering if they’d even seen Thomas Clorren without knowing it.
“It depends on the disguise,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly.
“If he’s wearing makeup, perhaps, but if it’s just facial padding and facial hair or a wig, it’s unlikely.
It really does depend on how good he is at disguising himself.
A masterful illusionist can become almost anyone, and you really couldn’t tell. ”
“Just what we want a lunatic killer to be able to do,” Iain growled. “Become someone else.”
“Do we know anything else about the victim of this murder we’re heading to?” Tobias asked Iain, who in turn shook his head.
“No, we only received a cursory report,” Iain replied. “Hopefully, though, the boys will have found out some more information by now.” He glanced over to Jack. “So how bad is this Vanishing Lady trick, then?”
“In the scheme of what the Conjurer has done previously?” Jack replied. “It’s surprisingly tame in comparison. The lady herself is given an elixir that puts her to sleep.”
“One can only hope,” Tobias murmured as the hackney came to a halt in front of the theater, and they stepped out of the carriage.
There was oddly no crowd of gawkers waiting at the scene, and only two constables stationed at the entrance to the theater. Tobias raised his eyebrow over at Iain.
“The theater manager hasn’t told anyone apart from us,” Iain answered Tobias’s silent glance. “Doesn’t want the bad publicity of it all.”
“They’ll all find out soon enough, and then they’ll be here like vultures. The press especially,” Tobias replied. “We’ll need to set up a barricade.”
“On it.” Iain nodded and walked up to speak with one of the constables, while Tobias and Jack went ahead of him into the lobby of the theater.
“I recognize this place,” Jack said, her voice a low whisper as they headed towards the inner doors to the theater. “My father’s performed here before, I’m sure of it.”
Up ahead, in front of the entrance doors, was Detective Rollings talking with a man in his fifties who had a thin, wiry build, with some sparse, white strands of hair still on his head. He glanced up as they approached and there was stark fear in his eyes.
“Sir, this is Mr. Warren, the theater manager,” Andrew said, introducing the man. “Mr. Warren, this is Inspector Flint. He’s in charge of the case.”
Tobias reached out his hand, and Mr. Warren grasped it, latching on as if it were a lifeline. “Sorry to meet you, Mr. Warren, under such difficult circumstances.”
“Yes, quite dreadful,” Mr. Warren replied.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Tobias asked him, pulling out his notebook and pencil.
“Well, as usual, I arrived around four this afternoon to start to getting things ready for this evening’s performance. Oh, goodness, that reminds me! All my actors will be attending shortly to start preparing for the show tonight. Do you think you’ll all be finished by the time they get here?”
“Your theater is the scene of a crime, Mr. Warren,” Tobias replied. “No one will be allowed in until the scene has been properly examined and then officially released, which probably won’t be until tomorrow.”
“But what about the show this evening, Inspector? It must go on.”
“Not tonight, it won’t,” Tobias said. “You said you arrived at four. Who was the last here before then and when did they leave?”
“That was me too,” Mr. Warren said. “We had a show last night that finished about midnight, so by the time all of the actors and stagehands had packed up, I closed up the theater myself at just after one in the morning.”
“And you locked everything?”
“Absolutely.” The man pushed out his chest. “This theater is my life; I’m not going to dare to leave her unlocked.”
“And everything was locked again when you arrived today?”
“Yes. Even the inner doors to the theater itself were still locked.”
Tobias jotted down some notes, then quickly looked over to Jack. “Given your expertise with locks, do you think that lock has been tampered with?”
She walked across to the double doors and bent down to inspect the device.
“There are some minor scratches in the barrel, which could suggest pins being used; however, they could also be from the continual key itself being twisted in the barrel. Besides, if he’s good at lockpicking—which if it’s who we think it is, then he is—he wouldn’t leave many marks at all. ”
Nodding, Tobias glanced back to Mr. Warren. “What happened after you arrived?”
Mr. Warren let out a heartfelt sigh but then nodded.
“I went to my office down the corridor as I usually do, and I did some paperwork and balanced some of the accounts. My office is just down the hall.” He pointed with his hand to a door on the far side of the room.
“Then I started on my pre-theater inspection checks, which include checking the lobby to make sure it’s tidy and clean, before then heading into the theater to do the same there.
Once I’d unlocked the theater doors, I then wandered down the aisle, only to see a lady sitting in the front row facing the stage. ”