Ghost Song (66 page)

‘If Toby really was mixed up in the assassination at Sarajevo,' said Robert, ‘afterwards he'd have been a hunted man—whether he was guilty or innocent. Certainly in this country and possibly abroad as well.'

‘For Toby to take Rinaldi's identity would have been perfectly possible,' said Hilary. ‘They had passports in those days, but there weren't National Insurance numbers or bank cards or driving licences, or any of the things we have now.'

‘And during that war there was a lot of confusion about people missing and turning up again, or being wrongly identified on battlefields,' said Robert. ‘Toby could have got away with it.'

‘But,' said Madeleine, frowning, ‘if Toby took Rinaldi's identity, what happened to the real Rinaldi?'

‘I think the real Rinaldi is who Robert found in the cellar,' said Hilary. ‘We can't know what happened or who shot him, but it would all fit.'

‘I wonder if that's the answer,' said Madeleine slowly. ‘If we take this letter at face value, it means Toby would have had to hide from—well, from people who believed he'd taken part in a political murder, I suppose. Police or governments or both. And where better to hide than in someone else's identity. Hilary, my dear, you shouldn't be researching theatrical history, you should be writing historical mystery thrillers.'

Hilary grinned. ‘If we're right about this, it means you knew Toby Chance quite well. You realize that?'

‘I do realize it. And I'd have to say that I can't imagine the man I knew being involved in murder of any kind,' said Madeleine slowly.

‘Oh, I'm so pleased to hear you say that. What was he like?' Clearly Hilary had been wanting to ask this. She leaned forward eagerly.

Madeleine smiled. ‘He was good-looking and he could be quite mischievous. Witty and charming. His wife—'

‘Wife?'

‘Yes, he was married to a lady called…' She frowned. ‘Hold on, dears, I'll get it in a minute… Something rather foreign-sounding, it was… Sonja, yes, that's it. Sonja. I only met her two or three times, but I know that in her youth she was one of those remarkable ladies who campaigned for women's votes. She was well over fifty when I knew her and I found her a bit alarming, but then I was very young in those days, so I'd likely be alarmed fairly easily.'

‘What else? I mean, what else can you remember about Toby?'

‘I'm not sure what his involvement was in the first world war,' said Madeleine, ‘although I think he was in France for most of it. He was certainly with my father on the ENSA tours in the second world war—North Africa and India and the Middle East. The headquarters for ENSA was Drury Lane, you know; by the end of the war it was a very big and very respected organization. My mother usually went with them, and I think Sonja went as well. I'm remembering my father used to joke about Rinaldi starting off as a stage manager and ending up as a leading performer.'

‘Then Rinaldi—the real Rinaldi—could have been a stage manager?'

‘I think so. It's how people thought of him—of the man I knew,' said Madeleine. ‘Certainly by the time I was in my teens, he was performing on stage. Not in this country though, I don't think.'

‘That would fit if Toby really did use Rinaldi's identity,' said Robert. ‘He couldn't risk being recognized.'

‘But he gradually regained his old life of entertaining audiences,' said Hilary. ‘When did he die?'

‘At the same time as my father. They were both in Italy—Sonja was with them. She usually was—she and Rinaldi were always very close, very in tune with each other. People said it was because they never had children, but I used to think it was more than that. My mother had been dead for some years by then, of course, so it was just the three of them. The car they were in crashed somewhere outside Trieste and they were all killed outright.' She saw Hilary's expression, and reached out a hand to her. ‘It's long enough ago not to matter now,' she said.

‘It is, isn't it?' said Hilary firmly. ‘You know, I've been trying to find Toby—properly find him, I mean. For research and for a possible radio biography and for—well, just because I think he sounds interesting. But I've been looking in the wrong places: I've been looking for Toby Chance, but I should have been looking for Rinaldi. D'you know what his first name was?'

‘I don't think I ever heard it. Everyone just called him Rinaldi. Even Sonja did.'

‘Well, if he was involved in the first world war, we could look up the Debt of Honour Registers and war memorials,' said Hilary. ‘They're all available these days. Rinaldi isn't a common name, not in this country at any rate. I believe I'll talk to Caley Merrick in a bit more detail—he seems to have made it almost a life's work to research the Tarleton's history, he might know all kinds of snippets of useful stuff. I'd like to go through the attic again as well if you don't mind, Madeleine?'

‘You can demolish the entire house as far as I'm concerned. But,' said Madeleine, smiling at Hilary's enthusiasm, ‘don't let's forget the Tarleton and the night to reclaim the past.'

‘Oh, I'm not forgetting it,' said Hilary at once.

‘I
F RINALDI HAD TO
be buried anywhere in the world, he'd want to be here,' said Flora very firmly, ‘in the Tarleton. And I know what we're considering offends every shibboleth, but—'

‘But it would be the solution for Toby,' said Hal.

‘For him to become Rinaldi.' Flora said it cautiously, as if trying it out.

‘Yes.' Hal thrust his hand through his hair distractedly and for a moment there was a startling resemblance to his son. ‘Let's look at the facts before we make the decision. If we let Rinaldi's death be known, arrange a proper burial and so on, we'd end up facing a coroner's jury. I think that's inescapable; bullet wounds can't be concealed.'

‘And,' put in Flora, ‘it would remind people that once upon a time you and I and the Tarleton were part of another coroner's inquest. I wouldn't care about that for myself, but it might mean unwelcome attention.'

‘Rubbish, people are too caught up in the war news,' said Toby. ‘And it was nearly thirty years ago.'

‘No, it's not rubbish,' said Alicia, unexpectedly. ‘Lady Chance is right. Even with wars going on, people still like local scandals. Perhaps they like them even more in times of war, because it's homely. They'd fasten on—on whatever happened between you all those years ago, and they'd pick over the bones like vultures. And thirty years would be a mere fleabite in this situation.'

‘Well spoken,' said Flora, looking at Alicia with approval. ‘Go on, Hal.'

‘Well,' said Hal, ‘thirty-year-old scandals aside, if we let Rinaldi's death be known, there's no guarantee the truth would be believed. I'd put money on Anton Reznik being out of the country by lunchtime tomorrow, anyway. And whether we were believed or not wouldn't matter, because by then the whole Sarajevo business would have blown up in our faces. Everything we've striven to keep secret—everything the government wants us to keep secret—would be public knowledge. There'd have to be an inquiry—even perhaps a trial.'

‘I'd face a trial,' said Toby. ‘I'd fight to prove my innocence. And if we could prove it was Anton who killed Rinaldi that would discredit the statement he made in Bosnia, wouldn't it?'

‘It might,' said Hal a bit dubiously.

‘And it might not,' said Alicia. ‘Toby, earlier on, you told me something that Anton said while you were in the cellar. He said if you hadn't escaped him in Sarajevo, he was going to make very sure you were found guilty and executed.'

‘He said there would have been other statements as well as his,' remembered Toby.

‘We always knew that,' said Hal. ‘If Anton Reznik and that grisly old baroness could have been discredited, we might have taken the chance and let the whole thing come out, but Reznik has too many followers. Even if Tranz's people had all gone underground, he'd have found half a dozen eye-witnesses—all probably perfectly reputable people—prepared to describe how Toby helped activate the bomb or even fired one of the shots.'

Flora said, ‘And there's Sonja to consider. A trial would drag her in.'

‘There's also this,' said Alicia. ‘Rinaldi was trying to save you from Anton tonight, Toby. He was, you know. How—how
ungrateful
it would be if you let that go to waste.'

They looked at one another. ‘Then,' said Toby, ‘we leave Rinaldi where he is. And I become Rinaldi.'

‘Also, we build a wall to hide his body and hope it's not discovered until it's so far in the future it will have ceased to matter,' said Hal. ‘Dear God, I don't believe this conversation is real. I don't believe the situation is real, either. We're discussing the concealment of a body, denying it Christian burial— D'you realize that in the past few days I've gone from being a respectable and respected member of His Majesty's Foreign Office to a man committing half the crimes in the Newgate calendar. Toby, you're the most infuriating liability—' He broke off.

‘Sir Hal,' said Alicia, ‘can it really make any difference to Rinaldi's immortal soul if he's dropped in the ground at Highgate Cemetery with a few prayers chanted over him, or left quietly at rest in the theatre that represented his life.'

‘You appear to have the soul of a pagan, Mrs Darke,' said Hal.

‘Paganism is a very interesting religion, Sir Hal. You should try some of its traditions for yourself.' The look she gave him was nearly, but not quite, an invitation.

‘Let's examine the practicalities,' said Flora. ‘Would building such a wall be a problem?'

‘If Rinaldi was here,' began Toby, and then broke off. ‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I suspect we'll keep talking about him as if he's still alive. But I don't think a wall would be too difficult to build. It might take three or four days. The difficult part will be to get the materials into the theatre without being noticed, but the ghost legend ought to cover that. The ghost can carry in hods of bricks—that will have to be Frank's task; I don't think he'll mind, though. And he and I will build the wall together. Neither of us is the best in the world at practical things, but we'll manage it.' He paused again, and said, ‘We'll treat that dear old boy with respect, of course.'

‘We know that.'

‘You do realize,' said Toby suddenly, ‘that it will mean sealing off almost half the entire under-stage area?'

‘Yes,' said Flora. ‘I'd seen that ten minutes ago.'

‘We'll need to make sure no one can get down there any other way. It won't matter about the cellar door because once the wall's in place, anyone going down those steps will just see a blank wall. But the grave trap itself will have to be sealed.'

There was a sudden silence.

‘Sealed on stage, d'you mean?' said Flora.

‘Yes. We've got to make very sure no one can get down to the cellar and find Rinaldi's body. So the floor of the trap will have to stay up—to be permanently flush with the stage,' he said, by way of explanation for Alicia. ‘We'll have to disable the pulleys and nail the floor itself into position—with steel brackets or something like that, so no one can lower it and get under the stage that way. I think I can manage that,' said Toby. ‘There are plenty of odds and ends of timber and bits of steel brackets in the carpenter's room.'

‘You're right,' said Hal. ‘We can't risk that body being found for a very long time. Not until there's no longer the possibility of identification. If you do take Rinaldi's identity, it's vital the real person is never found.'

‘Can we do it, though? There are dozens of people in London who'd know you both,' said Flora.

‘But I'm not going to be in London,' said Toby. ‘I'm going to be somewhere in Europe—France probably, helping the war effort. I don't know yet what form that help will be, but I'll certainly do something. There's no reason why strangers wouldn't accept that I'm called Rinaldi, is there? Or is there? If you see any flaws, for goodness' sake say so now.'

‘I can't see any flaws,' said Hal, frowning. ‘No, I think that will hold water.'

‘Is the grave trap ever used?' asked Alicia.

‘Only occasionally,' said Toby. ‘It's sometimes useful for Christmas shows and pantomimes. Or for moving heavy scenery—it saves dragging things down the stairs.'

‘People will ask why it's nailed up,' said Flora a bit doubtfully. ‘Which is the one thing we can't risk.'

‘You're right,' said Toby. ‘What do we do? Is there an answer to this?'

‘I think there is,' said Flora. ‘It's an answer that would solve just about everything, but it's not an answer I like.' She looked at him. ‘You already know, don't you?'

‘We've got to close the theatre,' said Toby. ‘Indefinitely.'

‘Yes.'