Free Murder at the Castle by Jeanne M. Dams

can be a very great help if you will. Please ask the musicians, and the crew and so on, to stand clear, but to
stay on the premises
.’ He already had his phone out and was punching in the familiar number. ‘And someone – ah, Inga, my dear. Would you go up to the balcony – gallery – whatever the thing is called, and make sure no one disturbs anything up there.’
    Inga looked horrified. ‘Then you think . . .?’
    â€˜I don’t think anything at the moment, but you know any sudden death must be investigated. Go, child!’
    She went.
    I very much wanted, needed, to talk to Alan, but now was perhaps not the time. He had his hands full. I would wait until the official police arrived.
    Meanwhile I tried to make myself useful. I thought I could perhaps assist Sir John, who seemed to have his hands very full of assorted musicians, all of whom were upset. He didn’t seem to be doing too well himself, for that matter. There was sweat on his brow, and his hands were trembling.
    â€˜Sir John,’ I said tentatively. He turned around and looked at me blankly.
    â€˜Do I know you?’
    â€˜No, but I’m a good friend of Nigel Evans.’ Then, when he still looked blank, ‘Nigel Evans. Your tenor.’
    â€˜Oh, yes, of course. Did you want to speak to him? Because I think he’s still up . . .’ He gestured towards the balcony, without looking at it.
    â€˜No, I don’t need him. I think you need help, though, and I came to offer it. You’ll forgive me for saying you don’t look at all well. May I bring you some water?’
    â€˜No, no, I’m fine, really. Someone told me to . . .’ He looked helplessly at the crowd of musicians, who were milling around and getting far too close to the pathetic body of Graciosa.
    â€˜That someone was my husband, and he wouldn’t want you to overtax yourself. If you’ll sit down, I’ll find someone to bring you some water – and is there some medication you should be taking?’ I didn’t quite want to say so, but the poor man looked very much as if he might be having a heart attack.
    â€˜No, I . . . Very well. I do feel a bit odd. But it’s nothing serious, madam, I do assure you.’
    â€˜Good.’ I half pushed him into the chair recently occupied by the concertmaster, and snagged a wandering clarinettist. ‘Go to the gift shop and buy this man some water,’ I ordered her. ‘Do you have money?’
    She took a good look at Sir John, then nodded and set off at a brisk pace.
    â€˜But the musicians . . .’
    â€˜You leave the crowd control to me. I used to be good at it.’
    I grabbed Sir John’s microphone from its stand and bellowed into it. ‘Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention, please! QUIET, please!’ These were not the schoolchildren I used to be able to quell with my voice alone, but they responded gratifyingly. ‘Thank you,’ I said in a slightly more restrained tone. ‘As you know, there has been a tragic accident. If you have not already realized it, I am sorry to tell you that Madame de la Rosa died in the fall.’ A little ripple of shock and unease. ‘The police will be here soon, but until they arrive, you are asked please to keep well away from the scene of the accident, but remain within the castle precincts. Thank you.’
    â€˜What will happen with the festival?’ shouted one of the crowd.
    There were murmurs of disapproval, and I was a little shocked myself, but it was a legitimate question.
    â€˜I don’t know. I’m sure Sir John will work that out with the police, and you’ll be informed as soon as possible.’ I switched off the mike and put it back on its stand. The noise level picked up again as everyone began to buzz about the situation, but over it I heard, with great relief, the sound of sirens. The Force had arrived.
    Then of course Alan was kept busy talking to the officer