Murder at the Opera House by Dawn Brookes

Author:Dawn Brookes [Brookes, Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dawn Brookes
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

Beginning to wish she had gone shopping with Edna, Marjorie felt the hours drag by and she was itching to know what Horace had discovered. As the morning had worn on, the police officers had summoned a few more of the Hagman party for their interviews. Marjorie wondered why she was still sitting in the same place. Frederick hadn’t appeared downstairs at all, so she could only assume he was moping in his room.

It’s time to take action, she concluded, having observed each person before and after their interview. None of them, from what she could gather, was giving anything away, although it was difficult to determine much from where she was sitting. They were clearly quizzing each other as each returned to their seat, but she couldn’t hear anything they were saying.

Just as Marjorie was about to put the book she had been pretending to read away and head over to join the group, Major Jeffries stopped by, having just been interviewed.

“Do you mind if I join you? I’m a bit sick of my lot.”

“Please do,” said Marjorie, putting the book down on the table.

“It’s a complete waste of time, all of this. I can’t see why they don’t just leave us alone.”

“They can’t really, can they? They have to investigate when a woman has been poisoned.”

“So they say, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Dolores did herself in. Has anyone thought of that, eh? Well, they have now, because that’s exactly what I’ve just told them they should look at.”

Suicide hadn’t crossed Marjorie’s mind, which was rather remiss of her, but the thought that Dolores Hagman might have taken her own life didn’t fit with what she’d witnessed on the first day of the holiday.

“I find that difficult to believe. The detective confirmed that Mrs Hagman had telephoned Philippa Trombone. Apparently, she told her friend she was in fear for her life.”

“Is that what she said? Nothing surprises me when it comes to old Dolores. My guess is it was all part of an elaborate plan to sow seeds of doubt that would put us all under suspicion before she damn well killed herself. The woman was a drama queen, nothing more, nothing less. You must have recognised that, even in the brief space of time between you arriving at the hotel and our trip to the opera. Weren’t you sat near her when she was doing all that blasted humming throughout the performance? Hardly normal behaviour, was it?”

“It’s not unheard of for people to lose themselves in a performance. Isn’t there a condition where people can become overwhelmed by artistic beauty?”

“Stendhal syndrome. But I hardly think that applies in this case. The performance was good, but it wasn’t outstanding in any way.”

“Perhaps it was to her,” said Marjorie. “It might have brought back evocative memories of something in her past. Even if that weren’t the case, beauty is very individual, as you well know, Major. What I think is wonderful, you might conclude is ordinary.”

“You make a good point, but not in this case.

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