Dixon Hawke: Leading Lady: Part One

Hawke leaned forward, gravely. “When you say ‘disappeared’ do you mean voluntarily, or against her will?

The doorbell of Dixon Hawke’s flat rang sharply, and the detective and Tommy Burke, who were going through some records, looked up at each other.

They heard the bustling footsteps of their housekeeper, Mrs Benvie, and then a deep, cultured voice: “I must see Dixon Hawke at once.”

Tommy made a face.

“That’s a gentleman I’m not going to like,” he said. “He’ll expect all the world for sixpence, and be annoyed if he doesn’t get it!”

Hawke chuckled, while a mutter of conversation ensued downstairs.

As the housekeeper came up to announce the caller, Hawke said: “I’ve often told you not to judge by appearances, old son.

“Now you’re going one better and judging before you’ve had a chance even to see the visitor.”

“I’ll bet you he’s dressed to kill, and got wavy hair,” said Tommy promptly.

He had some cause for being pleased with his guess a few minutes later, for the man who was ushered into the study was certainly dressed to perfection.

But his hair was smooth, straight and wellgroomed, all in keeping with a dark, handsome face with a rather long nose, and a pair of flashing brown eyes.

Tommy knew him the moment he set eyes on the gentleman.

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“Ah, Mr Hawke.” The man stepped across the room and offered a lean, brown-tanned hand. He was tall and well-built – a man fit to be a screen idol.

And, in fact, he was next door to one, for Hawke, as well as Tommy, recognised Julius C. Barber, one of the most popular serious stage actors of the day.

His manner just then was nervous and jumpy. His voice seemed to be controlled by a great effort.

Tommy told himself that Barber was suffering under the strain of considerable emotion, and the dislike he had conceived for the man’s abrupt manner with the housekeeper disappeared.

“I suppose you’ve recognised me,” went on Barber. “I – ”

“Of course we have,” said Hawke with a smile. “Sit down, please.

“We were just going to have tea. Will you join us?” He did not wait for an answer, but rang the bell. Tea for three was ordered, although Barber looked impatient at the delay.

As soon as the door had closed behind Mrs Benvie, he burst out: “I don’t like to be abrupt, Hawke, but I really haven’t time for talking over tea. I have to be at the theatre for a special scene rehearsal – we’re putting on a new show tonight.

“One of the first in London for a long time. It’s – it’s absolutely essential that I should be there, as well as Miss Drayton – my leading lady. I – ” Again Hawke interrupted him.

“I won’t keep you long enough to make you late, believe me! And you’ll forgive me for saying that you look in need of a little refreshment! First-night nerves, I suppose?”

“I wish to heaven that was all,” snapped Barber. “I hardly know where to begin, but – well, Miss Drayton’s missing.” He flung the words out as if they were a challenge.

“She hasn’t been seen since the rehearsal yesterday afternoon. Another was called for this morning and an understudy had to take her part. But without Miss Drayton the show will flop – I know it!”

Hawke leaned forward, gravely.

“When you say ‘disappeared ’ do you mean voluntarily, or against her will?”

“I don’t know – that’s the devil of it! I – curse it, Hawke, of course it’s against her will!”

Barber glared, and Hawke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He passed the obvious contradiction and inquired: “What makes you think so?”

Anxious

“She’s never missed a rehearsal before – she’s absolutely dead keen on this play. And we haven’t heard a word from her for 24 hours!”

He paused as the housekeeper brought in tea. Barber accepted a cup and some biscuits. The tea seemed to do him good and he was more collected as he went on.

“I’m afraid I’m rather woolly-headed this afternoon – it’s my own play, and I’m particularly anxious for a big send-off. You will hardly need telling why I’ve come – I want you to find her.”

“So I gathered,” said Hawke somewhat drily. “But what help can you give me?”

“None – none at all. I lunched with her yesterday and we went straight to rehearsal afterwards. Later, she said she had an appointment with a hairdresser and went off in a cab straight from the theatre.

“She hasn’t been seen or heard of since. If a rumour leaks out that anything’s the matter with her, it will ruin the first night. People won’t go to see an understudy, I tell you!

“The circumstances are difficult enough as it is – we have to start at six o’clock to let the audience get home before dark, and – ”

“Six o’clock tonight! And it’s now four!” Hawke exclaimed. “Why on earth did you leave it so long in coming to me?”

“I tried everything I could,” declared Barber. “I’ve been waiting desperately hour by hour in the hope that she would turn up. If I go to the police, the press will get to hear of it. You’re my one hope, Hawke. Will you try to find her?”

Detained

Hawke pushed his tea to one side.

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised. “Well go to her flat immediately, and we can talk on the way.” “Good. I’ve a taxi waiting outside,” said Barber. On the journey to Alice Drayton’s Westminster flat, Barber went into rather more detail. The actress had been very keen on the play, but something had been worrying her.

She would tell no one what it was, but several people knew it existed. But, he claimed, he would not believe that she would let him and the rest of the cast down. Wherever she was, she was being detained against her will.

“Who might do that?” demanded Hawke. “I haven’t the faintest idea. On the surface of it, it’s absurd. But there can be no other explanation, Hawke!”

It was clear, nevertheless, that Barber was afraid there was. He had contradicted himself more than once and to Tommy it seemed as if the man was close to an emotional breakdown.

They reached the flat at last and went up to it in the lift of the block where it was situated. As they neared the door, it opened.

Barber drew up sharply. More tomorrow.

Two collections of Dixon Hawke stories are available from www.dcthomsonshop.co.uk or freephone 0800 318 846.