Free Blood Will Have Blood by Linda Barnes Page B

Karen.”
    â€œYou look—your head!”
    â€œThe pipe missed. Something spilled—”
    Karen shifted her gaze from Spraggue’s bloody face to the stage. She folded her arms tightly against her chest as if warding off a sudden chill.
    The staircase on stage right, part of the Westenra-house set, had saved Spraggue’s life. Its ornate balustrade lay shattered, but the main platform had held. One end of the iron batten straddled it, ten feet up. On stage left, unimpeded except for rehearsal furniture, the batten had crashed to the stage floor. A pool of dark liquid spread over center stage.
    â€œBlood.” Karen shivered as she knelt by the puddle. “Where would someone get all that blood?”
    Spraggue held up a battered tin bucket. “I was afraid the company ghost was monkeying with the weights. Now it looks as if he had something less lethal on his mind.”
    â€œYou could have been killed.”
    â€œBy mistake. If I hadn’t interrupted him—”
    â€œDid you see him?” Karen asked intently.
    â€œNot to name.”
    The stage manager’s face fell.
    â€œDark eyes, I think . I couldn’t get a fix on height with all these steps and platforms.”
    â€œSex?”
    Spraggue sighed. “A black, shapeless cloak—the same outfit that baffled Eddie yesterday. I thought he was a fool for not noticing more. I’ll have to apologize.”
    â€œBut even with a cape,” Karen insisted, “you can tell something about shape. Can’t you rule Gus Grayling out? He’s fat.”
    â€œWhoever it was moved well, like a thin person. I couldn’t hear footsteps when he ran.”
    â€œWhat about Emma? Can’t you rule her out?”
    â€œI’d hate to think I couldn’t recognize that body anywhere.”
    â€œClose your eyes. See it again, just the way it was,” Karen ordered.
    â€œI’m almost sure it couldn’t have been Emma,” Spraggue said.
    â€œDark eyes,” Karen muttered. “Dark eyes. Darien’s are blue. That lets him out. Eddie can’t see without his glasses.…”
    â€œWait a minute, Karen. I said I thought he had dark eyes. I’m not sure.”
    â€œWhat else have we got to go on?” she said angrily.” You’re a trained observer, as an actor and a detective! I’m just voting to trust your first impression.”
    â€œThanks. But as far as eliminating suspects, you’re the only one absolutely in the clear.”
    â€œMe!” The stage manager’s right hand came up almost automatically and Spraggue prepared to dodge the slap. It never came. Instead Karen began to laugh. “Me,” she repeated incredulously.
    â€œYou all right?” Spraggue asked.
    â€œI will be. I’ve got to get a crew in to clean all this up. Someone to replace the batten.… Darien will have three kinds of fits—”
    â€œLet him,” Spraggue said. “Help me reconstruct the trick. Then you can call Arthur.”
    â€œI’ll look around,” she said, “while you’re cleaning up. You look like Jack the Ripper. Towels and soap in the dressing room. Use cold water. Hot water just sets the stain.”
    â€œBack in two minutes. Look, theorize, but don’t touch anything .”
    Karen searched, her hands firmly clasped behind her back to avoid temptation. By the time Spraggue returned, damp but unbloodied, she had found the bits of rope—one tied around the bucket, one connected to a batten near the fallen pipe.
    â€œThe bucket must have dropped,” she said. “Did you hear it?”
    â€œNo. But if it fell with the pipe, one sound would have drowned out the other.”
    â€œOkay, Spraggue. So what we have is one bucket filled with blood hanging from a batten. Ropes to two different battens. What was our vampire up to?”
    â€œA blood bath, I think,” said Spraggue. “What’s rehearsing