Woeful Pageants (DI Mills Yorkshire Crimes Thriller Book 1) Read online

  “What’s wrong with my coffee?” Azwer asked, trailing after her.

  Mintie squeezed Silas’s hand and then let go to follow Martha. Rufus headed towards the stairs on their tails. Estella looked over her shoulder and smiled at Silas as she walked after Rufus. Silas smiled back, and then headed off, shaking his head as he listened to Azwer and Martha.

  “Two pumps of caramel, it’s horrible,” Martha was saying.

  “Flavoursome,” Azwer countered.

  “It tastes like a Werther’s,” Rufus offered. “I’m surprised you have all your teeth.”

  Silas grinned at that as they walked through to their dressing rooms.

  Azwer held onto the door frame to his room and leant out into the hall. “You know what?” he asked. “If it means that none of you greedy bastards steal it, then I’m never going to change my order.”

  Martha rolled her eyes and pushed him into his dressing room, grabbed her own bag, and looked round. “Anyone fancy the pub?” she asked as she pulled her bag over her shoulder.

  “Nah, maybe next time,” Hyde said. “I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow, guys. Mints.” He smiled at her and pushed his hand through his hair as he wandered through to the foyer. Mintie sighed as she went into her dressing room. Silas followed, closed the door, and then leant against it.

  “I thought you hate being called Mints,” he said as he watched her pack her things.

  “I do.”

  “Hyde doesn’t seem to notice.”

  She shrugged as she took her hair down from its bun. “I suppose it’s only fair, given that I call him Heidi.”

  Silas picked up a dried rose from the vase on the desk and twirled it. “The two of you seem to be getting on well.”

  Mintie spun around with her hands on her hips and green eyes flaring. “We’re castmates, Silas, and we’re friends. Why wouldn’t I get along with him? Just because you don’t?”

  “I never said that.”

  “What are you saying?” she demanded.

  She watched him so closely that he felt like squirming. Instead, he shrugged and put the rose back into the vase. “You were good today. Played a convincing couple.” He glanced at her and then back at the vase. “The love scene tomorrow, that should be fun.”

  “Fun? Why would it be fun? It’s work. It’s a play. You’re being ridiculous,” she said with a sigh, and then she shook her head and turned her back on him.

  He stepped to the side whilst looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were cast down, and she fiddled with the makeup she was struggling to zip up. Most of the time, when a play featured a couple, Perry had the two of them play the roles. He often said, usually with a glass of wine in hand and two already drunk, that it was one of the best things about having a couple in the cast. They could always convince the audience of real love, powerful love, which justified all the other mad things that took place in the story. But this time, it was her and Hyde. Perry had said he needed Silas to be the lawyer, which he believed, but he didn’t like it all the same.

  “He likes you, you know?” He continued to watch her face in the mirror.

  She lifted her head and met his eyes in the reflection.

  “No, I didn’t know that,” she said softly. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Why would he? I’m your boyfriend.”

  “Did he tell Martha? Azwer, Rufus?”

  Silas shook his head, and Mintie sighed again, She grabbed her scarf and wound it around her neck.

  “Then, we don’t know that he does, do we? Not that it matters. I don’t like him in that way..” She yanked her coat on as she spoke, fumbled with the buttons, and then gave up on them. Walking over to the door, she stopped within arm’s reach. “Are you going to move?”

  “How do you like him?” Silas asked. “What way?”

  “As a friend,” Mintie said in a clipped tone. “The same way I like Azwer and Rufus. The same way you like Martha.”

  Silas cocked his head to the side, observing her. He didn’t say anything, and she shoved past him. She reached for the door handle to push the door open, but he moved and blocked her in with his arm.

  “Are you going to run lines with him?” He was suddenly aware of towering over her, something he’d long stopped noticing.

  “No, I’m going home,” she muttered. “I was going to ask you to come with me, but I don’t feel like that now.” She gave another shove to get past his arm. This time, he let her go, and she strode away.

  Silas watched her go, watched her coat hem swing around her legs. There was a clicking sound like a shutting door. He looked over to the stage door, expecting to find Perry or a castmate standing there. Nobody was.

  “Everything alright?” Rufus asked from behind. Silas turned to see him flipping his collar up as he left his room. “Heard raised voices through the wall.”

  “Everything’s fine,” Silas snapped and raked his hands through his hair. “She’s just tired.”

  “Long day,” Rufus remarked. “You want a lift?”

  “Nah, I’m gonna walk tonight. Get a bit of fresh air.”

  Rufus nodded and turned when his sister appeared from her room across the hall. Unlike Rufus, Estella did not have her coat on. “You ready to go?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “You head on. I need to tidy up in here. I’ll meet you at home.” Rufus hesitated, glanced between them before nodding to himself, and left through the doors out to the foyer.

  Silas sighed slowly and leant against the wall next to Mintie’s door. Estella looked him over with a raised eyebrow.

  “She’s just tired?” she asked with a slow smile growing over her face.

  “She is. We all are.”

  “What was it about this time?” She walked over and stood, close enough that her blonde hair tickled his shoulder. “Did she find an earring or something and accuse you of the worst?”

  “I started it this time,” Silas informed her.

  Estella blinked. “You did? Over what?”

  “Hyde,” he muttered, glaring at the opposite door. “He likes her. Always hanging around. And that scene they’ve got tomorrow.” He shook his head. “I’m not happy about it.”

  “You’re jealous?” she asked with a light laugh. “I didn’t think you got jealous.”

  Silas turned to look at her. “It’s quite simple, Estella. I don’t like men ogling and flirting with my girl. Mintie barely notices, but she will when he’s groping her on stage tomorrow.”

  “It’s just a play,” Estella said quietly. “They’re acting, Silas.”

  “So were we,” he reminded her. “To start with.”

  She smiled, and her eyes roamed his face. “You think that she’ll cheat on you? You should dump her, then Silas. Free yourself up,” she added as she trailed her hand down his arm.

  “Perry likes having a couple,” he told her, “and I like having Mintie.”

  “Perry can pick another couple. Mintie can find another theatre, and you,” she leant in, and her breath brushed his cheek, “can have someone else instead.”

  He turned to her, almost nose to nose. “Who?”

  Estella laughed, shoving him back. “Don’t be a tease, Silas Hunter, it’s not attractive.”

  “Look who’s talking,” he replied.

  He took her face in her hands. The others were gone by then, and they were the only two left in the theatre. There was not a sound in the hall but Estella’s soft sigh and the floorboard creaking as he pushed her back against the wall.

  A distant clunk made him step back and dropped his hands from her waist. He looked around, trying to find the source of the noise.

  “What?” Estella grabbed his collar to pull him back, but he pushed her hand away.

  “I heard something. Someone else might be here.”

  “It’s probably just Joseph,” Estella said. “Who cares?”

  Silas turned to her. “I care. Get your coat. I’ll leave a few minutes after you.”

  Estella laughed humourlessly, but one hard look from him had her slipping into her dressing room and grabbing her things. Silas wandered over to the foyer doors and peered through. Nobody was in there, but all the lights were still on.

  He held it open for Estella as she hurried along and grabbed her keys from her bag. “You don’t want to come home with me?” she asked.

  “No,” Silas said shortly.

  Estella’s face fell slightly, but she kept that smile on her face as she walked away. He didn’t watch her walk. Instead, he shut the door behind her and turned around whilst rubbing his hands over his face.

  He was sure he’d heard something. Someone else was there, someone who might have seen. What if they told Mintie? What if she went to Hyde out of revenge, or what if Perry found out?

  Mintie couldn’t leave the theatre, and Silas was furious that Estella had suggested such a thing. Mintie was the best actress they had, and she could have moved on to a much bigger company by then. The seven theatre members had a carefully balanced relationship that meant they trusted each other enough to work well, and the smallest thing could blow that up. If Mintie left, Martha likely wouldn’t be far behind, and Azwer wouldn’t stick around for much longer after that. Mintie held them together. Most of the time, she held Silas together.

  What if someone had seen?

  He grabbed his jacket, slung it over one arm, wandered through the stage door, and headed down the long corridor to the stage itself. A few lights were still on, which meant that Joseph hadn’t been through yet. The kindly old man was probably waiting for them to clear off, or maybe he trusted the cast to do it themselves. Well, it wasn’t hard. Silas crossed the stage and headed down past the rows of chairs to the wall at the back of the room. He hit a few switches, and the room slowly darkened,
shadows crawling in from the sides. One light was still on over the stage, and it cast a single, ghoulish light.

  Silas wandered down a few aisles before taking a seat to stare at the stage. He’d always loved acting, even as a boy, but he’d never stood out before, never been the eye-catching lead. And then, he met Mintie. She lit a fuse in him, something that flitted from passionate and yearning to annoyed and bored. One moment, she irritated him to no end, and he could think of nothing else but finding someone else to pass the time with. The next, he’d be on his knees, watching her like she was some sort of deity. If she found out about Estella, she’d leave and never take him back. He knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t leave—it would destroy him.

  Another clanging noise broke into his thoughts. Silas looked up at the catwalk that ran above the stage, where the techs worked their magic. Silas leant forward, eyes narrowing in on a dark figure. Was someone hiding up there? Had they seen him and Estella?

  He left his jacket on the chair and moved quietly down the aisle, feet quiet on the carpeted floor. He kept his eyes on the stage, on that shadowed shape above, to make sure it didn’t move as he edged his way along. Silas skirted around the edge of the stage, went to the side to avoid the stairs and the stage light, swung one leg up, and pushed himself onto the side. He inched past the heavy curtains and into the dark wings. He could see the light on the stage still, a single bright spotlight. He’d stood in it night after night, but seeing alone made him nervous. There was something jarring about it, without someone there to fill the space. It had to be what stage fright was like, or as close to it as he would ever come.

  Silas reached the steps to the catwalk, but the platform itself was marred from view by all the wires and ropes that hung in a tangled mess. He wasn’t sure who had done that, but the stage techs would be furious about it. He climbed carefully up the rickety metal stairs.

  He’d been up there a few times in a fanciful retelling of Romeo and Juliet that had leant into the warehouse feel of things. Mintie had been his Juliet, with her red hair loose around her shoulders, smiling down as he climbed up to her.

  The shadow was still up there, but Silas couldn’t make out who it was. They were quiet, though.

  “Joseph?” he called whilst hoping for the old man to step into the light. “You alright up here, mate?”

  With one hand gripping the railing, Silas wandered along, stepping carefully around ropes that coiled like snakes by his feet.

  “Joseph, that you?” he asked again.

  The figure turned towards him, and something fell from their pocket as they did. Silas let go of the railing.

  “Oh, hi. What are you doing up here?”

  Silas was good at stage fighting, he was even a decent fencer when the occasion called, but he wasn’t a fighter, not in real life. Couldn’t fight the boys at school who stole his snacks, couldn’t fight his attacker on the catwalk. Couldn’t fight the ropes once he was snared in them. They were too tight around his leg and his neck. Every movement drew them tighter until they dug into his skin. It was so tight. Far, far too tight.

  His lungs burned, and he couldn’t think of how he ended up in the ropes above his beloved stage. He looked up at the catwalk. The metal platform was empty except for his best memory of it, of Mintie, his Juliet, looking down at him.

  He reached out with a leaden arm, but he couldn’t climb to her. His neck went numb as his vision faded. Everything burned, oh how it burned along his insides. He didn’t mind when the darkness came, when it took the burning away. His only, fading, regret was that Mintie’s face vanished with it.

  Two

  Mills

  Winter arrived in a sudden blast that year. October came to an end, and November ushered in frosty mornings and dark evenings, cold nights huddled under sheets, and the heating on all day.

  I woke up with a start, disorientated in a dark room, and lifted my head. My neck was sore, and my back ached. Asleep at my desk, again. At least I was at home instead of the office. I sat up in the chair and stretched slowly, with every major muscle protesting.

  Something was stuck to my face, and I reached up, fumbled along my cheek until my fingers hit paper, and then I pulled the sticky note off. My lamp was off, which meant the bulb must have blown out, so I stood up on uncertain legs, felt my way to the wall and along until I found the light switch. I groped at the panel until it clicked, and the lights flooded on, the brightness startling me. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, fighting back the headache that started to emerge, blinking as my eyes adjusted, and looked at my desk.

  The case file was open, with my notes sprawled over the surface. It was a good thing I had copies, since there was a ring from a coffee mug on one page, and I got the feeling that I might have drooled on a few others. I groaned, made my way over to flip my phone the right way up, and tapped the screen. Four in the morning, brilliant. I half heartedly tidied up, shoving everything into one pile and shoving that into one of the drawers.

  My late night overtime hadn’t brought up anything new, but I couldn’t sit there and watch tv or relax, not with the girl still missing. I couldn’t do anything about it at four in the morning either. With my desk reasonably tidy, I shuffled towards the door, hit the lights off, and felt my way along to my bedroom, where I collapsed under the sheets, still in my trousers and shirt. I expected to fall asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, but nothing happened. I lay in the dark room, staring at the ceiling, waiting to get tired again. I was tired, I supposed. Waiting to fall asleep again, then, but it didn’t come. I rolled onto my side and stared at my alarm clock, at the luminous time shining out at me. Half four. A quarter to five. A quarter past five.

  “That’s it,” I muttered. I threw the covers back, strode over to my chest of drawers, and pulled out some running gear. If I was up that early, I might as well do something useful about it. I changed, making sure I wore long layers, before stepping out of the house. The early morning chill attacked my bare skin, and the faint light of sunrise was barely starting to glimmer. It was some hours before it would rise completely, but I knew the streets and this route well enough to run it in the dark. Outside my door, I jogged in place to warm up, stretched quickly, and then took off before I had the chance to think myself out of it.

  As I ran, my breath fogged in the cold, nose and cheeks were sure to be turning pink, and my feet pounded the road. Thoughts about the case fell back further and further in my mind. The girl’s face grew distant, unfocused, and the weight of it left my shoulders, if only for a bit.

  People in the neighbouring houses started to stir as I ran my usual route. A light on here, and another there in an upstairs room. The street lights turned off as the sun continued to rise, but my place was still dark when I got back home. Sweaty and out of breath, I let myself into the house, beelined upstairs, and practically fell into the shower, where I scrubbed the heat back into my limbs.

  Reluctantly, I got out and wrapped a towel around my waist. My phone flashed and buzzed on my bedside table as I padded towards my wardrobe, and I reached for it to find Fry’s number lighting up the screen.

  I answered quickly, holding the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I shivered and reached for clothes.

  “Morning, Fry,” I greeted her.

  “Morning, sir. Did I wake you?” She asked.

  “No, no, I was up.” There was a small pause. No doubt she knew very well what had me up so early in the day. In her moment of quiet, I heard noise around her, the faint howling of sirens, the buzz of people, familiar voices shouting out familiar phrases. A crime scene. “What’s happened?” I put her on speaker whilst I pulled a pair of trousers on.

  “Dead body sir, found at the Gate Theatre.”

  “Homicide?” I asked.

  “Undetermined, sir. Dr Crowe is on her way in now.”

  “SOCO?”

  “On scene.”

  I pulled a jumper over my head and ruffled my damp hair. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Right you are,” she answered. Then, in a softer voice, she added, “I’ve got coffee.”

  “Bless you,” I said with all sincerity.

  I hung up and then sat on the edge of my bed to hurriedly pull on a pair of socks that I wasn’t sure matched. Rushing through the house, I grabbed my shoes and coat, a scarf and my bag, threw it all in the car, and turned the heaters up full blast. I was starving, and other than a stashed granola bar that I got from my glove compartment, I would have to wait.