Sylvia spoke up, then. She said, "Lucy's just been telling us what happened. There's no actual evidence that that potion was behind the murder."

  I was happy to hear those words, and fervently hoped they would turn out to be true. "It could simply be an unfortunate coincidence that while a number of people were under the influence of this spell, a young man was murdered."

  Margaret Twig nodded but did not look entirely relieved. "The trouble is that the effects last about three days. Those affected will be spellbound until tomorrow, so they may continue to act irrationally."

  I put down my coffee and stood. "I'm going up there. I'm going to talk to every single person who was there last night, and everyone I can find who has anything to do with this play. Someone must've seen or heard something. Ellen Barrymore, the director, is holding an impromptu get together in the theater this evening. Everyone will be there.”

  "And if you don't find out anything? What then?"

  I looked at Margaret steadily. "The police have the wrong man as their prime suspect. Charlie Wright no more killed Jeremy Booth than I did. I will not see an innocent man punished for a crime he didn't commit. If he's arrested, I will tell the police about the potion."

  Lavinia gasped and Margaret said, "Lucy, if you do that, you will be expelled from our coven and shunned."

  I wasn't surprised. They hadn’t come here on a social visit, after all.

  I wasn't about to be intimidated by these two and so I kept my voice calm. "I understand. Even though we made the potion at your cottage, with your ingredients, under your supervision, I will not reveal that to the police. I will say that I made the potion myself, here in my kitchen."

  Gran exclaimed, "No! Lucy, this isn't your fault."

  I was still looking at Lavinia and Margaret. "Yes, it is. I have let myself be pushed into things I wasn't ready for. I had no more business making a love potion than attempting to knit a Scandinavian sweater." I shrugged. "At least if I end up in jail, I'll have plenty of time to improve my knitting skills."

  “You won’t go to jail,” Rafe said, in a confident tone.

  “You’ll bake me a cake with a file in it?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in fake innocence.

  “No. Spirit you out of the country before you’re incarcerated.”

  “But I don’t want to be a refugee from justice.” I stroked Nyx and immediately felt comforted. “Sylvia, do you believe an actor would murder another actor in order to get their part?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It would depend on the part.”

  “Seriously?”

  She seemed to be thinking harder about the question. “And the venue. No one would kill for a part in the local am-dram, but to perform Hamlet or Lady Macbeth in the West End, with a brilliant cast?” She dipped her head back and forth. “That might be worth getting blood on one’s hands.”

  “This is a college production,” Lavinia said, sounding scornful.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. “But Ellen Barrymore is directing it and her next gig is as the artistic director at the Neptune Theatre in London. I’m wondering whether he might have been killed by his understudy.”

  Sylvia looked unimpressed. “That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Not if someone else gets blamed. Someone like Charlie.”

  Margaret put down her coffee. “I don’t care who killed him, so long as it wasn’t caused by that wretched potion.”

  For once, Margaret and I were in agreement.

  Rafe said, “Then there’s that missing girl, also one of the troupe of actors. It’s too much of a coincidence that two actors could be harmed within a week. They must be connected.”

  I blew out a breath. “That makes sense, but why? How?”

  “I don’t know, but I propose to find out.”

  I was delighted he was going to help, though I’d never doubted he’d end up getting involved. He might be controlling, but he was also good. “Great. Here’s what I know. William Matthews says he bumped into Sofia Bazzano after she’d found out she got a tiny part in the production. She was crying. He says he took her to the pub to cheer her up. Police have him on CCTV, in the pub with Sofia. He claims he left her there.”

  “How much of that story can be corroborated?”

  “Ellen Barrymore told the police that she had spoken with Sofia and she was upset.” I sighed, feeling like Alice in not wanting Will to have had a hand in Jeremy’s death. “And Will is Jeremy’s understudy.”

  “So he gains the most in this death.”

  “There’s one more thing. Jeremy told Scarlett that he had a secret. It seemed to be about his career, but he wouldn’t tell her any more.”

  Rafe nodded. “I’ll see if I can find out any more about this missing girl.” Then he looked at me. “If Jeremy had a secret, who would he tell?”

  I put up my hands. “How would I know?”

  “Think, Lucy. If a man is in love with a woman, he wants to impress her. If Jeremy Booth had something that he thought would make him more desirable, he’d tell the woman. So, who was he infatuated with thanks to that potion?”

  My breath drew in on a gasp, all on its own. “Alice!”

  Chapter 18

  I jumped out of my seat. "I’ll call Alice right away and see if Jeremy told her anything about a secret. Then I'm going up to the college.” I pretty much repeated what I had said to Alice, that emotions were running high and all the people leaving flowers and tributes for Jeremy were going to have stories and memories to share. Someone was going to let something slip, I was sure of it.

  Margaret Twig shrugged. "Well, it's as good a plan is any."

  Sylvia reminded me that actors were adept at playing characters quite different than who they really were. "You must see what's behind the mask. If you can, make the mask slip.”

  Gran and Lavinia both nodded. Only Rafe looked unconvinced. He said, "Before you start provoking actors and pushing their masks around, don’t forget that the killer could be there, too. And from behind that mask the murderer will be watching everyone. If Lucy provokes the wrong person, she’ll put herself in danger. We can't have that."

  Margaret looked at Rafe and then at me and one of her very irritating knowing smiles curved her lips. She said, "Why don't I put a protection spell on Lucy."

  I wasn't falling for that. I said, "Thank you all the same, but I’ll cast my own protection spell."

  Her eyebrows raised in exaggerated surprise. "You know how to do a protection spell?"

  I didn't really, but wasn't about to admit that. With as much dignity as I could muster, I said, "I've been practicing."

  Gran, always my greatest fan, said, "Of course, she has. Lucy's an excellent witch. She just needs to be left to go at her own pace.”

  I grabbed one more gingersnap cookie for the road and then walked up to Cardinal College, for the second time that day, and with a much heavier heart.

  On the way, I called Alice’s mobile.

  I’d worried she’d switch it off while canvassing door to door, but clearly she’d forgotten. She answered right away. “Lucy, is there any news? Is Charlie all right?”

  “I imagine so. They’re only questioning him, you know. Not torturing a confession out of him.” I heard a truck drive by so she must be out on the street. “Have you had any luck?”

  “Not yet. Someone thinks they saw the car, but they aren’t positive, and they didn’t remember anyone being inside.”

  “Well, keep looking. Someone must have seen him.” Then I asked her if Jeremy had said anything to her about exciting news or career prospects.

  “In the pub, you mean?”

  “Anytime.”

  “I wasn’t really paying that much attention to him in the pub. I was trying to watch Charlie without him realizing. It was obvious he didn’t like me talking to Jeremy so I started to feel hopeful.”

  Poor Jeremy. On his last evening, he’d been hitting on a girl who wasn’t even listening. “Do you remember anything?”

  “There was one thing. I thought it was a bit odd. He said he was going to be a star, which I thought was idle boasting. Then he looked over at Miles and said, “There’s more than one way to the top without stabbing your friends in the back.”

  “There’s more than one way to the top without stabbing your friends in the back? That’s what he said?” It was difficult to be certain because it sounded breezy where she was so the sound quality wasn’t great.

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you have any idea what Jeremy meant? Did he have an agent or had he gone to auditions? Was Miles going to auditions behind his back?”

  “I really don’t know. As I said, I wasn’t that interested.”

  Of course, she couldn’t have known how important that conversation would be, in retrospect, but I wished she’d listened a bit better. “Okay, thanks. I hope you find someone who remembers Charlie.”

  “Me, too. At least I’m finally meeting some of my neighbors.”

  As I continued toward the college I wondered what Jeremy had meant. If Alice had heard him correctly he seemed to have some resentment toward Miles. Miles had insisted it was a friendly rivalry, but maybe they’d been more competitive than friendly. I wondered if they were already auditioning on a professional level. Then I thought about the actual words. He’d talked about being stabbed in the back, and then he’d been hit on the back of the head, and laid down with a sword by his side. It was as close to stabbing someone in the back as the killer could manage without an actual sword.

  When I got to the theater wing, there were even more people than I had imagined. This had clearly become the unofficial spot to gather and mourn and, I supposed, for the curious to gossip and ask questions.

  As I grew closer I recognized Polly. She looked every inch the tragic heroine as she walked toward where the gathering of flowers and small gifts was growing. She held a single red rose in her hand.

  Jeremy wasn't the only victim in this. All the people who had cared for him were also affected. When I caught sight of Polly's face I knew that was no mask. I was looking at real grief.

  I was about to walk forward and offer what comfort I could when Scarlett walked across in front of my vision and put her arms around Polly. They cried together for a few minutes and then Scarlett stood while Polly knelt and oh so carefully placed her single rose on the ground.

  I looked around at the crying faces, the stunned looking faces, and realized that for most of the students milling around, if they'd ever experienced death it had likely been a grandparent or great grandparent. To lose someone so young, so like them, had put them all in shock. I was pretty shocked, too, but, sadly, I'd had more experience of both death and murder. I was also uncomfortably aware that the murderer was very likely someone associated with this production.

  I glanced over to find Miles and Liam and Will standing in a huddle. Miles looked as though he’d been crying. He was smoking a cigarette, something I’d never seen him do, and as he lifted his hand to take a drag, I could see that he was shaking.

  Liam looked far too serious for the man who was normally the comedian in the group. Will looked as though he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He put them in his pockets, then took them out and rubbed them as though they were cold.

  I didn't want Will to turn out to be the murderer, but then I didn't want anyone to turn out to be a murderer. I'd been enjoying the rehearsals and getting to know the actors and crew. I liked these people. However, there was no doubting the fact that the only person I knew who stood to gain from Jeremy's death was Will.

  For any of these actors, their big break into show business could be mere weeks away.

  There was also the possibility that the murderer didn't even have a classic motive. Perhaps this was someone who liked to kill. Again, my gaze went to Will. He'd been the last person connected to Jeremy to see Sofia. She'd now been missing for five days. I didn't want to take that line of thought any further. It was too horrifying.

  I hoped Rafe would find some news of her.

  Perhaps a further investigation into Will’s background would be a good idea.

  Miles saw me and, after hesitating, tossed his cigarette to the ground and walked toward me. I doubted very much that smoking was allowed in this area but it felt like none of the normal rules applied. No doubt, half of these people were meant to be in classes, or studying, but there was a collective urge to band together in grief and shock.

  As he came towards me, I saw that all the cockiness was gone. His usual swaggering bravado was nowhere in evidence. I thought of Sylvia telling me to see behind the mask but I didn't need to provoke Miles to see his mask slip. Jeremy's murder had done that. He looked like a vulnerable and frightened boy. His eyes were half wild.

  "It's my fault," he said. "If it wasn't for me, Jeremy would still be alive."

  He reached into his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes and lit another with shaking fingers.

  Was he just being dramatic, or was he admitting to murder? I did what Sylvia had suggested. I pushed. "What do you mean?"

  He blinked and then those wild eyes focused properly on my face. He shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. It's just, he was my mate, you know? My wingman. Sure, we jostled for parts, and girls, but it was only for fun."

  I felt confused. "Miles, none of that makes you guilty of his death."

  A little of the bravado returned and he smirked at me. "That's where you're wrong." He leaned closer to deliver the last line and I smelled the alcohol on his breath.

  I was about to suggest he go back to his room and have a nap. But, Sylvia had also reminded me that actors were always playing parts. His role today? Confused and grieving student, feeling that a friendly rivalry somehow implicated him in Jeremy’s murder would be very clever if he was actually hiding something much darker.

  What if Miles’s rivalry with Jeremy had not been quite as friendly as he was maintaining? Jealousy could drive people to desperate acts.

  My conversation with Alice was still very much in my mind. Jeremy had said Miles stabbed him in the back. I looked Miles right in the bloodshot eye. “I always sensed there was conflict between you and Jeremy?”

  He shook his head, sadly. “My mistress with a monster is in love.”

  I wanted to stamp my foot. Or slap him. “Stop quoting the play to me. This is serious.”

  “Serious as the grave.”

  “What mistress? What monster?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m not myself.”

  Before I could probe further, hoping that the alcohol would free his tongue, he said, with a kind of desperation, "Oh God, she can't see me like this." I turned to see what was causing his agitation and Ellen Barrymore had stepped out. She seemed to be looking for someone.

  Miles said, "Here," and shoved the burning cigarette at me. I took it instinctively. I’d never smoked and I certainly didn't want to be scolded by the great Ellen Barrymore for smoking outside her theater. No one was looking, so I muttered a spell under my breath that extinguished the cigarette and then tucked it into my pocket before anyone noticed.

  The director caught sight of Polly and Scarlett still standing by the flowers. She went up to them and I watched her put an arm around each of the young women.

  The three of them looked over at us and then Miles said, urgently, "She can't see me like this. I've been drinking. Tell her I've gone back to my room."

  I agreed that I would and he turned to leave.

  I kept looking for the thing that didn't fit. The person who should be there and wasn't, the one who was there and shouldn't be, the streak of blood overlooked on a jacket. I didn't even know what I was looking for. But, I became aware that my fingers were tingling and I had a feeling like fingers were stroking my back. I turned around and saw a student walking towards us wearing jeans and a college sweatshirt. Her long hair needed a wash and a comb and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them.

  I didn't recognize her from rehearsals, and yet, she was familiar. When she grew closer I gave a gasp. Miles must've heard me for he turned around and cried out the name that was echoing in my head. "Sofia?"

  Chapter 19

  And it was. This was the girl whose face I had seen on posters all over campus and around town. Sofia Bazzano. Only minutes ago I had imagined Will as her murderer, but here she was, looking perfectly healthy.

  "Miles!" she said, and her face lit up. She’d been pretty even in a candid shot on a poster but when she looked at Miles her whole face lit up.

  He looked so pale I thought he might collapse. I put a hand out but he pulled himself together. He glanced behind him, and then strode forward. In a low, furious, undertone he said, "Get out of here. You've got to leave, now."

  As though she couldn’t take in his words, she continued walking towards him with her arms held out as though looking for a hug. He stepped back and shook his head. "I'm serious. Go home. I'll call you."

  She dropped her arms and looked as though she were about to cry. "I don't understand what's going on.” There were dark circles under her eyes and a stain on her sweatshirt that might have been spilled tea. I got the impression that Sofia was usually much better turned out. “Miles?"

  He shook his head and stepped back.

  I spoke up. "Are you Sofia Bazzano?"

  She seemed to drag her gaze away from Miles with difficulty. She looked at me and I could see her searching her memory, trying to place me. I said, "You don't know me. My name is Lucy Swift. Have you seen the police?"

  She shook her head, looking miserable. "I didn't know what to do, or where to go. I was on my way back to my room, when I saw Miles."

  I understood the urge to bolt for home, but she needed to see the police and soon. "You've been reported as a missing person. There are posters up all over campus, the police are looking for you."

  "But I didn't do anything wrong. I think I was kidnapped."