The red-bricked building is three storeys high and has five white arched doorways opening onto the street. After Lincoln’s assassination, the theatre closed and it temporarily became a storage unit for twelve years before being transformed back into a theatre. Tragedy struck the historic building for a second time in 1893 when it collapsed, killing twenty-two people, but has since been renovated to its former self and was taken over by the National Park Association to serve not only as a theatre, but also a museum to Abraham Lincoln’s last night on Earth.
Darnell and Vanessa were welcomed to the site by Kenny May, who appeared surprised at the detectives’ formal attire, more fitting for a state dinner rather than the pursuit of criminals. Kenny’s muscular physique was almost bursting out of his uniform; a white shirt, black trousers and a red waistcoat, similar to the uniforms Vanessa had witnessed on the ushers on Broadway. His black bow-tie just about made it around his large neck. Kenny was bald with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw, which made Vanessa turn a light shade of red.
‘Let’s start with the museum,’ Kenny suggested as he walked them around the room of artefacts and information boards showcasing the struggles that Lincoln faced during the Civil War and his life in the White House. Equally, just as much space was offered to Lincoln’s own killer. John Wilkes Booth was a successful actor, who had toured America and had taken lead roles in a number of Shakespearean plays. His fame turned to infamy when on the 15th April 1865, Wilkes Booth stepped onto the stage mid-performance, retrieved his gun and shot Abraham Lincoln, sitting in the audience, in the head. The presidential box was one of the closest to the stage, offering a perfect view for both The President for a bird’s eye view of the performance and for John Wilkes Booth, who needed a clear view of his victim before he shot him.
‘So what made him turn on Lincoln?’ Darnell asked, stroking his chin. ‘Looking at his history, he had an amazing career and earned some pretty good dollar too! Why would he risk all that to kill the president?’
‘Well that wasn’t his original plan. He just wanted to abduct the president and exchange him for the release of the Confederate soldiers who he’d had arrested after the war.’
Darnell and Vanessa turned to each other with a glance of familiarity. The same president had now been abducted again but they were yet to see what the culprit wanted in exchange for the body.
‘So Wilkes was a Confederate? And wanted the slave trade to continue?’ Vanessa asked. She knew the answers already from her qualifications but she was keen not to be the know-it-all girl today, especially as she had finally formed such a close bond with Darnell.
‘That’s right. He wanted the Union to be broken up and he wanted the South to have access to their slaves again. He was particularly seething when Lincoln suggested we offer the former slaves voting rights.’
‘And we know that Lincoln wanted that for a fact, do we?’ Darnell asked, naturally suspicious of Lincoln’s intentions after all that they had come across on their journey. His speeches and letters prior to becoming president had suggested an alternative plan of colonising the Africans.
‘Indeed we do, he said it on the steps of the White House. It’s well documented. Wilkes was actually there when he said it and was heard grumbling that it effectively gave them citizenship in the country.’
‘So why did the plan to kidnap Lincoln change?’ Vanessa moved the conversation on.
‘Well how easy do you think it is to kidnap a president? He’s one of the most protected men in the world, even back then. A bullet to the head whilst he’s at his most relaxed in the theatre would be far simpler than trying to throw him into the back of a horse and carriage whilst he’s tied up. Today it’s much harder to kill a head of state, but even JFK got assassinated despite all of his security.’
‘So where was this graffiti you’ve found?’
‘That’s in the theatre upstairs.’
The three of them made their way up a flight of stairs and into a grand theatre. A red carpet led up to a wooden stage. A safety curtain covered the performance space with just the proscenium in view. Row behind row of golden-brown seats were tiered up to a doorway leading out to a bar. Above two white tiers offered further seating for the 665 capacity entertainment complex and to the right of the stage, the presidential box gave its guests a prime view of the performance. Red velvet drapes closed in on the box and the United States flag hung to one side.
‘That’s where Lincoln was sitting on the night he was murdered,’ said Kenny, pointing at the box.
‘And where is the graffiti we’ve been brought here to see?’ asked Vanessa.
‘It’s just here. One moment, please.’ Kenny left the stalls and walked up a couple of steps onto the stage. He slid behind the safety curtain and disappeared backstage. A screech and the sound of rumbling echoed behind them as the safety curtain lifted up, offering the detectives full view of the production. At the back, a black screen raised out of the floor and up to the ceiling. Upon it was the familiar symbol they’d followed throughout their investigation.
‘It’s the biggest one yet,’ Darnell noted. They were left alone to observe the graffiti, which they now knew to mean so much more than some petty vandalism.
‘This is the end of Lincoln’s journey. We’re here. And what is this telling us? We’ve learned nothing new here. This isn’t telling us anything which we didn’t
