Read Online A Question of Murder by Jessica Fletcher - Free Book Online

suspect the truth. They’ll ask us questions.”
    “That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Larry said, looking at each member of the cast, “and you’ll answer them in character. And if you shed a tear in talking about Paul, they will assume you’re the best actor they’ve ever met. Now, find Cynthia and tell her what I said. No one talks about this unless they’re in character, and keep Paul’s situation fictitious. Understood?”
    The actors nodded, and one by one shuffled off the stage.
    “Nicely done,” said a voice from the wings after Egmon and the cast had departed the stage. John Chasseur sauntered into the light. “Have you felt for a pulse? The victim may not be gone yet.”
    “Of course he’s ‘gone,’ ” said GSB Wick, who’d slipped through the slit in the curtains. “I could see that from the front row. If he didn’t die from the wound, he probably croaked from the loss of blood. He’s been lying there a while.”
    Obviously, Georgie had made a hasty recovery from the flu she’d felt coming on. Perhaps her momentary malaise had been an excuse to get away from her companion, Harold, the randy coroner. If so, I certainly understood her need to remove herself.
    “I’m disappointed,” Chasseur said haughtily. “You’ve started without me.”
    “I can’t believe this,” Larry mumbled to me.
    “Looks like you’d better,” I said.
    Chasseur came to where the body lay and picked up the sleeve of Monroe’s smoking jacket to get a better view. He lifted Paul’s shoulder to expose the wound, which was in the middle of the chest. “He was supposed to be killed as part of the play, wasn’t he?” he asked, letting the body fall back onto the floor.
    “Right,” Larry said. “And you’d better stop touching things.” He looked at me. “Right, Jess?”
    “Absolutely,” I said. “The police will be very unhappy if they know the crime scene isn’t pristine.”
    “Don’t lecture me,” Chasseur said, kneeling and feeling Paul’s wrist for a pulse.
    “Who was supposed to fire the weapon?” I asked Larry.
    He hesitated. “One of the tech crew, I’m not sure who. Easy to find out. Melinda knows. She’s in charge of offstage business.”
    “Is the weapon you use in the production capable of firing live ammunition as well as blanks?” I asked.
    “Yes, but we only load blanks and use minimal powder.”
    My change of expression must have concerned him because he asked, “What’s the matter, Jess?”
    “I was just thinking that whoever did this might be long gone from Mohawk House by now. It’s a shame there wasn’t a way to contain everyone within the hotel.”
    “Chances are the frightful weather has done a good job of that. But I’ll get Egmon to station his people at the exits,” Larry said, sounding grateful he had a reason to leave. “Maybe the killer hasn’t had a chance to escape yet.”
    “He’s definitely dead,” Chasseur said, standing and pulling a white handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped his hands, although there’d been no blood on Paul’s shoulder or wrist.
    “Do you think the killer’s escaped already?” Georgie asked. She’d been keeping her distance from Paul’s body.
    “With the barn door open, I’ll bet that horse is already gone,” Chasseur said.
    “Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “If the killer is staying in the hotel, it might raise less suspicion to simply stay put.”
    Georgie offered, “The killer might be milling around with the people who’re still out there.” She pointed to the curtain.
    “Are people still in the auditorium?” I asked.
    She nodded, her pale face even more ashen under the harsh stage lights.
    “Let me see what I can do,” I said.
    I parted the heavy curtain and descended the stairs to where a dozen hangers-on were gathered in a tight circle, whispering among themselves. I hoped our backstage conversations hadn’t carried out to the auditorium. Whoever shot Paul couldn’t be certain if he was