You think Lane was killed?” Rose asked Neil as they sat together in the car, waiting for the police. A soft rain had begun to fall, tapping like the fingers of little hands on the roof.
Neil shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. The police will run some tests on the clothes and blood.”
Neil could hear the sirens in the distance growing closer. “I do know the clothes were his.”
“Because of the smell?”
“Yes.” He paused. “There was a clean slice in the back of the jacket when I picked it up.”
“Looked like something a knife would leave behind,” Larry said.
Neil nodded.
“Maybe the same blokes who smashed down my door also took care of His Lordship?”
“And how do we know they aren’t still around?” Larry said, peering in the passenger-side mirror.
Rose turned the ignition on the car. “Better safe than sorry.”
“If Lane was killed,” Larry said, “then why remove the body and take all his clothes off?”
“Dunno,” Rose said. “Maybe it was easier to dump him on the banks of the Thames if he was naked?”
Neil was absorbed in thought. Larry’s question was a good one. Why strip a dead or wounded man of his clothes? Who had beaten him up so badly, or shot him or stabbed him in the first place?
One thing he was sure of, this case was getting more dangerous by the second.
Neil stared out the window. Something caught his eye. The poster in the window of the ticket booth wasn’t old and worn, like the theater, but seemed brand-new. Neil wiped the fog off his window and peered at the print.
There was a picture of a skull in a crown and the words—in large print—
MACBETH
Shakespeare’s greatest play
Starring Cullen Skink, star of stage and screen, in the title role!
Tickets on sale now for a limited run!
See scheduled shows below
Neil looked closely at the dates. Opening night was scheduled for the next night, and the show was on for the whole month.
“Seriously? Someone is actually putting on a play in this dump?” Neil said. “Maybe they’re going for Larry’s ‘authentic’ look.”
“Ha-ha,” Larry said. “Not that I know what you’re talking about, but ha-ha anyway.”
“I’m looking at that,” Neil said, pointing out the window at the poster.
“Who’d buy tickets for that?” Rose said. “This looks like a place for a proper mugging, not a play.”
The sirens got closer and closer.
“Anyway, we’ll see what the coppers have to say about all this soon enough,” Rose said. “And don’t mention the booby traps at me office if you can avoid it.”
Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of shattering glass. Then there was a loud crack from somewhere behind them, and the passenger-side mirror disintegrated into a thousand shards.
“Get down!” Rose yelled. She gunned the engine and the car shot off.
“Why are the police shooting at us?” Neil yelled, ducking back down into the crevice between the backseat and the front.
“Time for questions later! Hold on!” Rose yelled. She could barely see above the dashboard and was honking her horn to clear any pedestrians from their path.
“Look out, you gabblers!” she hollered.
Larry looked at her. “Gabblers? That’s a new one on me.”
“I just made it up!” she yelled over the sound of the roaring engine and the screeching tires. Neil dared to peek over the top of the seat and wished he hadn’t. Rose was barreling out into a giant circle of traffic, heading the wrong direction. Two red double-decker buses were headed straight for them.
“Look out!” Neil yelled.
Rose gave the engine even more gas and swerved right toward the nearest bus. It swerved away at the last second and the tiny car snuck between the buses, shooting out the other side. Rose slammed on the brakes and they came to a sudden stop.
There were still sirens coming from somewhere behind them.
“That was awesome!” Larry was beaming. “What’s next?”
“Just watch!” Rose said, grinning maniacally. She gunned the engine and spun the car sharply to their left. To Neil’s shock and horror, they now sped toward a large stone staircase. Rose gave a loud “huzzah” and they hurtled down the steps.
Neil’s head banged against the roof of the car despite his seat belt, and his teeth chattered. The car shook so much he was worried it would fall apart.
Rose rolled down her window and yelled for people to get out of the way.
“Are we on a sidewalk?” Neil said as the tiny car jumped the last step and zoomed alongside the river, scattering shrieking pedestrians before them.
“No cop car can fit on this bit of pavement,” Rose yelled over the noise.
“You should race Formula One!” Larry said.
“More like a demolition derby,” Neil said, his teeth rattling.
They passed by an enormous Ferris wheel, and then Rose took a sharp right turn underneath a train bridge. It looked like a forest of concrete, with walls—big, thick, graffiti-covered walls.
“Can we slow down?” Neil called out as they swerved in between the pillars, nearly hitting at least three skateboarders.
“Soon, dearie. Almost there,” Rose said. She swerved between two pillars, sending yet another skateboarding graffiti artist flying away, swearing, and then straightened out the car.
Neil could see a narrow beam of light under the far end of the tunnel. It was a ramp of some kind, not much wider than the car. Rose hit the ramp at top speed. The front of the car bounced a foot in the air and landed with a thud.
“This is so cool!” Larry said, laughing even more.
The sides of the car scraped the concrete walls, sending sparks flying. “Where’s the gas tank on this thing?” Neil asked nervously.
“It’s not on the side of the car, now, is it?” Rose called. “We’d be little itty bits if it were.”
The car careened up and up and then seemed to be flying. They landed with yet another thud in the middle of a walled parking lot, and Rose slammed on the brake sagain, sending the car sliding sideways. They stopped just before a pair of large metal doors.
Rose turned off the ignition with a satisfied sigh. “Well, I think we can safely assume we’ve lost whoever was trailing us.”
“Nice work!” Larry said, jumping out of the passenger-side door. “Let’s do it again!”
Neil didn’t need a super nose to smell the burning rubber. He undid his seat belt, shaking the whole time, and climbed out of the car. He wanted to kiss the ground, the first unmoving thing he’d had under his feet in what seemed like days.
“Where are we?” Larry asked.
“The loading dock of the South Docks Historical Society. I’m a card-carrying member. In fact, I’m the only card-carrying member.” She squeezed herself in between the car and the doors and started to punch in numbers on a keypad on the wall.
The building was concrete and steel. No windows. It was tucked into an alley between the train bridge and a row of other, equally ugly buildings. There was a street nearby. Neil could hear cars, but he couldn’t see them. You’d have to know it was there to find it.
Rose saw him looking around. “It’s the back of the National Theatre building. It looks like a loading dock, but it’s actually a false front—or false back, to be more accurate. It’s one of my satellite offices and the place where I do a lot of my actual Shakespeare research.”
“Who are you?” Neil asked, his eyes narrowing. “I mean really.”
Rose didn’t answer but opened the doors.
“I think she’s Aphrodite,” Larry said, laughing.
“Keep that up, you bonehead, and I’ll aphro-bitey your head off.”
“She even likes puns!” Larry beamed at Neil, who just rolled his eyes.
The doors swung open, and Rose waved for Larry and Neil to head inside.
“Now, to get to work.”