‘And here’s another thing. Why use Tony’s knife? If Harriet Throsby had been stabbed with a kitchen knife, there could have been a million and one suspects. Anyone in London could have killed her. But by using one of the Macbeth daggers, the killer narrowed the number of suspects down to the people who are here today.’ Hawthorne swept his hand across the whole group of us. ‘Only one of you sitting in this theatre could have got your hands on the Macbeth dagger.’
‘I couldn’t have got it,’ Olivia said.
‘That’s true,’ Hawthorne agreed. ‘But someone could have got it for you.’
‘And who might that have been?’
‘Your friend, Sky Palmer.’
‘We hardly know each other.’
‘Really?’ Hawthorne went over to her. ‘When we were at your home, you told your dad he didn’t need to pretend any more.’
‘So what?’
‘So why are you still pretending now? What are you afraid of? Your mum isn’t here to call you out any more.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Arthur Throsby demanded.
It was Sky Palmer who answered. ‘He’s talking about me.’ She stood up and went over to Olivia, resting her hands on her shoulders. ‘You might as well tell him. He knows.’
Olivia glanced briefly at her father, then placed one of her own hands on Sky’s. ‘We’re together,’ she said, simply.
Sky glared at Hawthorne. ‘Who told you?’
‘Nobody needed to tell me. It might have just been a coincidence that Olivia was wearing a T-shirt printed with a well-known gay icon at the first-night party. But obviously the two of you were close. She’d been round to your place loads of times.’
‘I never said that,’ Sky protested.
‘No. But when we met at the theatre you mentioned all the CCTV cameras along the canal, which meant you knew the flat was near one. And you must have been there because you’d seen them.’ Sky said nothing, so he went on. ‘Why else would Olivia have bust into her mum’s computer and sent you the review? I did wonder why you were hiding your relationship – I mean, these days, two girls like you should be out having a nice time – but it all made sense when I talked to Harriet’s old editor in Bristol. He said that Harriet slated the first play she ever reviewed because she hated gay relationships. I could imagine that would have made life awkward for you.’
These last words had been addressed to Olivia, who nodded. ‘I couldn’t tell her. It would have been more trouble than it was worth.’
‘I hate to say this, but it does give you both a real reason to want to do away with her.’
Sky looked Hawthorne straight in the eye. ‘I can’t disagree with that.’ She dragged another chair from the side and sat down next to Olivia.
Hawthorne walked back to the centre of the stage.
‘It’s a funny thing about you theatre people,’ he went on, ‘but nothing is ever straightforward, is it! These two aren’t the only ones lying about their relationships. What about Jordan and Maureen? Now there’s an odd couple if ever I saw one.’
‘What are you insinuating?’ Maureen was outraged.
‘Don’t worry, darling. I know you two haven’t been to bed together. But are you going to tell me you’re not just a little bit in love with him?’ Maureen made no reply, so he went on. ‘When we were in your office, you leapt in to defend him – what he’d said about Harriet in the green room at the theatre. He was joking. He didn’t mean it. You wouldn’t even consider that he might have killed her, even though secretly you believed that he’d made good on his threat and done exactly that.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘Because he’d asked you to cover up for him the night before the murder and you’d agreed. He never actually left the theatre. You know that. You lied to the police … and to me.’
‘Leave her alone!’ This was Jordan Williams, getting angrily to his feet.
‘Are you going to deny it, Jordan?’ Hawthorne smiled. ‘We know you’d been arguing with your wife. We know she didn’t come to the first night. And there were a whole load of clothes in your dressing room … You’d even brought along your wedding photograph – the two of you outside Islington Registry Office. You’d had a fight, hadn’t you? You had nowhere else to go, so you were camping out at the theatre.’
‘This has nothing to do with the death of Harriet Throsby!’