Murder Most Unstraightlike

Chapter 4 (no way out)

I do find it frustrating that we never manage to find ourselves on the spot when  a murder takes place. This particular day we were forced to leave the theatre a few minutes early, as the stage manager Theresa had come back too soon, and subsequently fainted. Miss Crompton asked us to take her home to the flat they shared, so of course we had to. We reached her and Miss Crompton's flat and Bridget was ushering her to bed, when we noticed that there was only one double bed in the room. We all noticed it at the same time, and began to cotton on to what that meant. I felt myself blushing, and I quickly retreated into the corridor. Everyone knew that Miss Crompton and Theresa lived together, but I had never given it much thought until now. It's embarrassing to admit it, but I hated any mention of adult relationships, and more so, I had not expected to be reminded so obviously of my secret here. It was scary to be caught off guard like this, but comforting to know that I was not alone in my...less that traditional attraction.                   I had also not given much thought before now to the fact that Martita lived here too. She had told Hazel and I about having to run away from Portugal to pursue a career on the stage, and I remembered how I'd been paying attention to her more avidly than I'd ever listened to anyone. I knew how felt closer to Miss Crompton than she ever had to her own mother, and I could not help feeling for her. I feel the same way about Uncle Felix, of course.

I had just finished telephoning the doctor when Hazel nudged me on the shoulder.                            "I think Martita's packing up!" she whispered frantically. "I think she's leaving, Daisy!"                     She could not be. If she was, she was being idiotic and dramatic. Still, I must admit that I was worried for her, and I could not hide my worry from Hazel. She was about to ask me about it, but I snatched up the phone to call Uncle Felix before she could.

We discovered the body the next morning. Rose was missing, and Hazel and I remembered that some of the threats had been alluding to her being thrown down a well. Upon entering the well room, we saw exactly that, and even I had to admit that it was not a pleasant sight. We raised the alarm immediately, and the policemen were called. We were waiting in the stalls when the policemen arrived, and I was shocked to see inspector Priestly among them. Why was he always everywhere?                                                                                                                                                                            His presence here was good news for the detective society however, as he allowed us to hide and listen to his interviews. Hazel, being smaller and knowing how to write in shorthand, hid in the wardrobe of the interview room while I eavesdropped on the suspects' conversations in the waiting area. I tried not to think about it yet, but I knew that the only suspects were the principle cast members, and I was uncomfortably aware of how suspicious Martita seemed. I have had an experience more than once before of having to suspect someone I cared about, and I was not of the desire to repeat it again, especially since I already felt guilty for the way I felt about Martita. If she turned out to be a murderer, I didn't know what I'd do with myself.

Once the interviews were over, Hazel and I pooled our information, and we departed down the main stairs together in rather high spirits. That is, until we ran into inspector Priestly. he was conversing with another policeman, and my stomach plummeted when I heard what they were saying.                                                                                                                                                                                        "..my main suspect. Watch her especially."                                                                                                                "Yes sir, I'll watch Miss Torerra."                                                                                                                                      It was as though an invisible hand had punched me in the chest, knocking all the breath out of my lungs. I froze, my heart and mind racing, my body beginning to shake infuriatingly once again. I reached out my hand and squeezed Hazel's wrist, hard, as inspector Priestly turned to us.                                                                                                                                                                                               "Ah, Miss Wells! Miss Wong!" he said.                                                                                                                          "We heard what you just said! We heard!" I told him, my voice shaking uncontrollably.                      "Indeed." the inspector said, "do you have something to say to me, madam super?"                           His infuriating smirk was plastered across his face, but I was not amused. I tried arguing with her, I really did, but Hazel was watching my shaking hands and pink face, I could hear my heart pounding, and every thought and feeling I'd been having over these past weeks were all spilling over each other in my head until I couldn't stand it any longer. I hurtled out of the stairwell, only half conscious of Hazel's hand still in mine.