Blood Will Have Blood by Linda Barnes Read Free Book Online

performance at Phelps’s Boston Rep was the thing to do. He held the most marvelous parties, right up until the end. Thought he’d turn Boston into Broadway. No one knew how badly off he really was. The family had generations of wealth behind it. Or so everyone thought.”
    â€œWhat happened to them?”
    â€œThe Phelps family? I don’t know. He had children, I’m sure.’ There was a huge turnout at the funeral. Would you like me to find out?”
    â€œI can—”
    â€œI would like to help, Michael. And I do enjoy snooping. One of the few vocations eminently suited to the elderly.”
    â€œWell, I could use someone to do a résumé check. See if these folks have all done what they’ve claimed.”
    â€œWonderful.” Aunt Mary beamed. “And what about money, Michael? Who has a major financial interest in Darien’s success or failure? He’s no Sam Phelps; he can’t handle everything on his own. I could ask around Massachusetts Council of Arts membership, a sound credit rating, a reputation as an eccentric, and dithery ways go far when asking impertinent questions.”
    â€œTerrific.” Spraggue smiled at his anything-but-dithery aunt. “I’ll keep my eye on the cast. If my eye will stay open.”
    â€œEarly rehearsal tomorrow?”
    â€œTwo-one, Two-two, and Two-three. All scenes I yak my head off in.”
    â€œDon’t drive back to Cambridge then,” Mary said earnestly. “The tower room is always ready for you here. Dora cherishes the thought that someday you’ll get fed up with your own cooking and move back.”
    â€œIf I ever do, it’ll be for Dora’s strawberry tarts.”
    â€œSeriously, Michael, it is your house—”
    â€œAnd you live in it for me. It’s too damn big, Mary. I’m uncomfortable here. We’ve been through this—”
    Aunt Mary rang the bell on the desk top. Pierce ushered Spraggue out, wished him a safe drive. The butler refused to respond to Spraggue’s wink. Sometimes the dignity of his position overcame the memories of the hide-and-seek games he had played with Michael many years before.
    Spraggue drove home at a leisurely speed. The wine had left him relaxed, a little high. To pass the time, he recited his lines, enjoying the baritone echo in the small space. Act Two, scene one finished. Now Two-two. Then Two-three. Numbers.
    He pulled the car off to the side of Hammond Street, flicked on the dome light. Then he began to fumble methodically through his pockets. The note, Greg’s note in the bloody sack. What were the numbers?
    He found it finally, carefully placed in his wallet. Yes. Four numbers—one Roman, three Arabic. The first one, Roman: that would be the act number. Then the scene. Then the line. Act One, scene five, line thirty-eight.
    Spraggue’s fingers scrabbled through the blue-bound Dracula script. Act One. Act one, scene two. Scene three. He flipped the page, stopped, turned back.
    He was wrong. Dracula had no fifth scene in the first act.
    He drove the rest of the way home in silence.

Chapter Seven
    For the fourth time in two minutes, Darien glared at his wristwatch.
    â€œI’ve called his apartment twice, Mr. Darien,” Karen Snow said. “No answer.” She hesitated, then added, “Look, he only lives a few blocks from here. I could walk over and—”
    â€œI’m sure you have a great deal of work to do here!” said Darien loudly. “Technical rehearsal tomorrow. Don’t tell me you can spare the time! If Eddie Lafferty isn’t ready to go onstage in ten minutes, we’ll rehearse with his understudy. And make sure Lafferty is fined!”
    â€œArthur—” The stage manager’s voice was soft, but the protest was there.
    â€œIt’s his business to be here! What’s the matter with you, Karen?”
    The stage manager’s face became stonier than ever.