Read Online Murder Offstage by L. B. Hathaway - Free Book Online Page B

suddenly, grabbing the matches.
Fear flooded her huge eyes. ‘Do you know where this comes from?’
    Posie shook her head, laughing. ‘No idea. A nightclub? For
bright young things? Somewhere fashionable, I’m guessing?’
    Dolly spoke in hushed tones, entirely serious.
    ‘Don’t joke. It’s a members club, it’s called La Luna .
I don’t know much about it, but Lucky Lucy was definitely a member. She was
proud of it too. I heard her talking about it once, indiscreetly, when she
didn’t know I could hear her. Only a select few know the exact location of the
place. And it rarely opens, so it’s not your regular club. Some of the
orchestra members go, too. After a performance I’ve seen them bundle off in a
taxi, secret-like. Very cloak-and-dagger.’
    ‘But what do they do at this club?’ asked Posie
nervously, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
    ‘No idea.’ Dolly shook her head. ‘Truly, I have no idea.
Drink, smoke, take drugs, dance? Who knows? Whatever the case, I’m sure it
spells trouble. Where did you get these from, anyway?’
    Posie had told her everything so far. No point missing out
key facts now.
    ‘I picked them up off the floor when someone dropped them
accidentally last night. The man who dropped them was called Caspian della
Rosa.’
    Dolly emitted a small high-pitched squeak and covered her
mouth and nose with her hands, as if she had been physically struck.
    ‘What? What is it, Dolly? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!
Does that name mean anything to you?’
    ‘I’ll say,’ she whispered unexpectedly, looking terrified.
    ‘Jeepers. You mean Count Caspian della Rosa; the
richest, most dangerous man in London. He’s the owner of the Athenaeum Theatre.
Scares us all stiff whenever he appears. He’s a nasty piece of work, although
harmless and likeable enough on the surface. Don’t say he’s mixed up in this
somehow?’
    Posie screwed up her nose, biting at her lip. ‘It’s
beginning to look like it,’ she said softly.
    ‘Oh, lovey!’ Dolly said, clutching at Posie’s hand.
    ‘Be careful. And you should know somethin’ else. You said
these matches were dropped accidentally. Well, as sure as bread is bread I can
tell you that the Count is not a man to do anythin ’ accidentally. These
matches were dropped on purpose. To lure you in. It’s a trap, Posie. And it’s
got your name written all over it.’
    ****

 
     
    Six
    For the first time in days a brilliant blue sky arched
over London, with not a cloud to be seen. It was still bitterly cold though,
and the snow packed along the pavement of the Strand showed no sign yet of
melting.
    The chestnut sellers and newspaper boys grouped outside the
newly built Bush House plied their trade cheerfully enough, although close up
they were shivering. Posie noticed that some of the younger lads had wrapped
layers of newspaper underneath their thin coats for added warmth, and the extra
padding made them walk in a curious crab-like manner. They made a strange
contrast to the elegance of the black-suited men in bowler hats who moved in a
constant stream through the shiny gold and burnished glass doors of the
offices.
    It was now almost lunchtime, and as she turned onto the
Kingsway, Posie was relieved to see that the break in the weather had made the
office workers brave the cold; they were out in force, heading for cafés and
cake shops. Posie walked along steadfastly, ducking the crowds of cheerful
girls walking four abreast down the grand boulevard. She was unworried now by
the fact that someone could be following her. If there was someone on
her tail he’d have a hard job keeping track of her here on these busy
pavements.
    This was how Posie liked London best: busy, frantic, people
from all walks of life thronging the roads; a far cry from the ghost-town she
had walked through last night. The bitter cold of the air and the brightness of
the day brought a rosy glow to her cheeks and filled her with a zest for
living.
    She skipped