“I’m sorry to do this to you, Lizzie, but can we start over again? Can you tell me everything you told me before? When was the last time you saw George? Did anything unusual happen that day? His father gave me the name of this music hall as a contact point, but he wasn’t sure if it was still true, so maybe start with why he might have said that.”
Lizzie had been lost in her own thoughts as he spoke, obviously listening with only one ear. But at the mention of the father, she seemed to find a steady point to hold on to. “George didn’t think his father approved of his work in the city. I’ve never met his father, but I know he’s never made the effort to visit us. Shame, really. George has made a real name for himself recently.”
“He works as a magician, doesn’t he?” Ian casually opened his watch to get another reading, wondering if Lizzie knew of George’s magical heredity. He was reasonably certain she was pure mortal, but it never hurt to check, especially for those attracted to the stage.
“He was still doing his magic act when we first met. We got hired on at the Wilshire at the same time two years ago. He had a natural gift for doing tricks, you know? Never even rehearsed. But it wasn’t what he wanted to do. Not long term.”
“What did he want?”
Lizzie picked up a stick of lip color and turned toward the vanity mirror. “Like I told you last time, he’s an actor now,” she said, as if George had achieved the highest rung one could reach. She drew a layer of rose pink on her lips that accentuated her flawless skin and brown eyes. “He got the lead in a new play by Jacques Dubois. Not in one of those West End house productions but very up and coming. In the city proper at the Belfry Theater.” She stopped and pressed her lips together. “Only it’s an odd play. About man’s duality and inner demons. Half-man, half-beast storyline. Don’t get me wrong, he was perfect for the role, but the burden of taking on such a disturbed character changed him.”
“Oh? How so?” Ian asked.
Lizzie hesitated, as though unsure how much she should share, then apparently erred on the side of more was better if it meant finding George and bringing him home. “He got real philosophical, you know? Asking questions about the meaning of life. The inequality of power. He was always a serious man, but he knew how to have a good laugh too. It’s why I fell in love with him. But after performing the role for a couple of weeks, he began sulking during the day. I’d catch him staring out the window in the middle of the afternoon. Just watching the crowds and carriages going by for an hour or more, and all the time talking about how depraved people really were on the inside. And how if only there were windows on people’s brains, you could see what despicable thoughts they were truly having.”
Ian didn’t think it out of the ordinary for someone working in the arts to be moody, but if the behavior was unusual for George, the development could be significant. “Tell me again about the day he disappeared.”
Lizzie’s shoulders fell as she put the cap back on her lipstick. “He was supposed to meet me here to escort me home. His play ends about eleven. I don’t finish here until well after one in the morning, so he walks over and waits in the back of the house until my final song.”
“Does he ever stop off for a pint at a pub on his way over? Meet friends? Regularly stop anywhere else in between?”
“You really don’t remember anything I told you before, do you?” She shifted on her seat to look him in the eye. “Must have been some serious knock on the head.” When he didn’t offer any more explanation, she turned back to her mirror and fastened a white gardenia in her hair. “He doesn’t drink. Claims it interferes with his concentration. Only he does sometimes wander the back lanes. Says it helps him clear his mind to walk the quiet streets at night when everyone’s gone to bed.”
Though not thoroughly familiar with the distance on foot from one part of the city to the other, Ian tried to do the math in his head and figured it might take a man about thirty minutes to walk from what he judged to be the city center. “But since he goes to the back of the house to wait, you wouldn’t really know what time he arrives, isn’t that right?”
“Well, isn’t that funny; that’s exactly what you said a few days ago.”
“Suppose it’s how my mind works when it isn’t all a jumble.” Ian felt a slight tingle creep up the back of his neck. His intuition was whispering in his mind’s ear that he was close to discovering something. “Remind me again where the Belfry Theater’s at.”