more, though I've never thrown anything away in my life. Things just evaporate, don't they?" She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering whether she'd earned her five pounds. "Tell you what, we'll ask the Virgin." She got up and walked to the door; "Fennan... Fennan...." she said. "Half a sec, that does ring a bell. I wonder why. Well I'm damned--of course--the music case." She opened the door. "Where's the Virgin?" she said, talking to someone on the stage. "God knows." "Helpful pig," said Mrs. Oriel, and closed the door again. She turned to Mendel: "The Virgin's our white hope. English rose, local solicitor's stage-struck daughter, all lisle stockings and get-me-if-you-can. We loathe her. She gets a part occasionally because her father pays tuition fees. She does seating in the evenings sometimes when there's a rush--she and Mrs. Torr, the cleaner, who does cloaks. When things are quiet, Mrs. Torr does the whole thing and the Virgin mopes about in the wings hoping the female lead will drop dead." She paused. "I'm damned sure I remember 'Fennan.' Damn sure I do. I wonder where that cow is." She disappeared for a couple of minutes and returned with a tall and rather pretty girl with fuzzy blonde hair and pink cheeks--good at tennis and swimming. "This is Elizabeth Pidgeon. She may be able to help. Darling, we want to find out a Mrs. Fennan, a club member. Didn't you tell me something about her?" "Oh, yes, Ludo." She must have thought she sounded sweet. She smiled vapidly at Mendel, put her head on one side and twined her fingers together. Mendel jerked his head towards her. "Do you know her?" asked Mrs. Oriel. "Oh yes, Ludo. She's madly musical; at least I think she must be because she always brings her music. She's madly thin and odd. She's foreign, isn't she, Ludo?" "Why odd?" asked Mendel. "Oh, well, last time she came she got in a frightful pet about the seat next to her. It was a club reservation you see and simply hours after twenty past. We'd just started the panto season and there were millions of people wanting seats so I let it go. She kept on saying she was sure the person would come because he always did." "Did he?" asked Mendel. "No. I let the seat go. She must have been in an awful pet because she left after the second act, and forgot to collect her music case." "This person she was so sure would turn up," said Mendel; "is he friendly with Mrs. Fennan?" Ludo Oriel gave Mendel a suggestive wink. "Well, gosh, I should think so, he's her husband, isn't he?" Mendel looked at her for a minute and then smiled: "Couldn't we find a chair for Elizabeth?" he said. "Gosh, thanks," said the Virgin, and sat on the edge of an old gilt chair like the prompter's chair in the wings. She put her red, fat hands on her knees and leaned forward, smiling all the time, thrilled to be the centre of so much interest. Mrs. Oriel looked at her venomously. "What makes you think he was her husband, Elizabeth?" There was an edge to his voice which had not been there before. "I see. What else can you remember about that evening, Elizabeth?" "Oh, well, lots really because you see I felt awful about her leaving in such a pet and then later that night she rang up. Mrs. Fennan did, I mean. She said her name and said she'd left early and forgotten her music case. She'd lost the ticket for it, too, and was in a frightful state. It sounded as if she was crying. I heard someone's voice in the background, and then she said someone would drop in and get it if that would be all right without the ticket. I said of course, and half an hour later the man came. He's rather super. Tall and fair." "I see," said Mendel; "thank you very much, Elizabeth, you've been very helpful." "Gosh, that's O. K." She got up. "Incidentally," said Mendel. "This man who collected her music case--he wasn't by any chance the same man who sits beside her in the theatre, was he?" "Rather. Gosh, sorry, I should have said that." "Did you talk to him?" "Well, just to say
Chelsea Camaron, Mj Fields