Leaman’s eyes gleamed like the brass fittings on the bar.
‘Titus fainted and I caught him before he fell,’ Diamond explained, as if catching gay men was as commonplace as tying shoelaces.
‘And the reason I fainted is one of the great unsolved mysteries,’ Titus said. ‘I have a theory of my own too embarrassing to mention in present company. Well, I will.’
This had gone far enough. ‘No, you won’t,’ Diamond said at once, ‘because it wouldn’t be right.’ With the case just about to be put to bed there was no need to hold back. ‘You passed out because you saw a dead butterfly in Clarion’s dressing room.’
For a moment Titus was speechless. Then: ‘Oh my word!’ He had lost so much colour that there was danger of another fainting episode.
‘You still don’t remember?’
‘Now tell me it was a tortoiseshell. It was? No wonder I collapsed.’ His blue eyes widened and he said in a doom-laden voice, ‘The curse strikes again.’
‘Nobody ever mentioned a curse that I’m aware of.’
Titus was in Hammer Horror mode. ‘The death of Reg Maddox all those years ago after the dead butterfly was found on the stage. If that doesn’t have the force of a curse, I don’t know what does.’
‘But Clarion didn’t die.’
‘Denise did, the day we discovered it. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I know what theatre people are like about superstitions. It could have caused a panic.’
‘Really.’ Titus rolled his eyes and made an expansive gesture with his arms. ‘As if we’re the sort of people who panic. Where is the butterfly now?’
‘In a drawer in my office,’ Diamond said. ‘It’s been there since Tuesday, and I’m still breathing.’
‘Mock the dark forces at your peril. I’m in urgent need of a drink.’
Diamond nodded to the barmaid, who said, ‘Water, Titus?’
He pursed his lips and turned away, so she poured him a glass of wine. She was enjoying every second of this.
‘It’s summer,’ Diamond said. ‘Butterflies get trapped all the time in places like this.’
‘That’s not the issue,’ Titus said after taking a sip. ‘They become an omen when they die.’
‘They’re short-lived anyway. I dare say there are others lying around the theatre.’ He turned to Leaman for support. ‘When you were doing your search, did you notice any?’
Leaman shook his head. ‘I wasn’t looking for butterflies.’ A simple statement and a reminder how single-minded he was.
‘What did you hope to find?’ Titus asked Leaman.
‘A handbag.’
‘Any particular handbag?’
‘The one belonging to Denise Pearsall.’
Diamond said, ‘I suppose you wouldn’t know where it is?’
Titus cocked an eyebrow. ‘Are you implying that I picked it up? No, I did not.’
‘What would Titus want with a handbag?’ the barmaid said and shrieked with laughter. She could get away with stuff like that.
Diamond wasn’t amused and didn’t smile. His thoughts hadn’t moved on since the remark about butterflies. Painstaking as John Leaman was in tracking anything down, he could have missed other items of importance. Tunnel vision, they called it in CID. ‘Titus,’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘Our tour backstage was cut short. Would you mind showing me the rest?’ An inner voice shrieked that he must be crazy, volunteering to go back into the theatre, but he’d been steeling himself for this. Backstage was less of a problem for him than the auditorium itself.
‘As I recall it,’ Titus said without enthusiasm, ‘we weren’t on a tour. We were ghost-hunting.’
‘So we were.’
Titus softened a little. ‘True, we didn’t look at all the dressing rooms. Number eight is renowned for psychic phenomena.’ He sighed. ‘But I don’t believe you’re interested in the occult.’
The barmaid said, ‘He could be interested in you, Titus.’ She was making mischief and Diamond let it pass. She was an unlikely ally.
Titus drank most of the wine at a gulp. ‘What about your colleague?’ he asked Diamond.
‘He’ll wait here.’
‘Just the two of us?’
‘That’s it.’
‘If you insist, then.’ He drained his glass and left it on the bar.
On their way through the foyer, Titus said, ‘I’m under no illusions, Peter. You’re a detective on a case. What I
