The next day, Lucien went straight to the morgue after breakfast to start on the autopsy. He arrived before Dr. Harvey for possibly the first time ever. He began to examine the body, now that it'd had time to rest overnight. Any bruising would begin to show, perhaps giving an idea as to the cause of death.
"Would you stop that?"
Lucien looked up to see Alice enter. "Good morning, Dr. Harvey. Sorry I didn't wait. I was eager to get started."
"Yes, I do know how you like a mysterious death," she replied knowingly. "Any theories so far?"
"He was bright red when I got there last night, which makes me think oxygen deprivation."
"Asphyxiation, perhaps?"
"I haven't noticed any external signs of strangling or smothering, but it is possible."
Alice nodded. "Let's get started, then."
Their examination of the body yielded no answers. There was no evidence of anything supporting murder. Lucien did have another theory, but it was a bit ridiculous of thing to happen in Ballarat to a butler, so he kept it to himself. He simply asked Alice to get a toxicology report and to call him with the results.
After the autopsy, Lucien went straight home. Jean had rearranged his appointments to come in to see him after his police business was finished. His first patient was already waiting for him, so he went straight into his surgery. Thankfully things with Mrs. Toohey went rather quicker than expected, prescribing a stronger antihistamine for her allergies, so Lucien had a little time before the next appointment.
"Jean, dear, have you been practicing your lines?" he asked, joining her in the kitchen. He was pleased to see the script open on the table.
"I haven't had much time yet this morning, but I am trying."
"Let's run through it a bit before Mr. Abernathy gets here," he suggested.
She put down her feather duster and took the welcome distraction from the housework.
They spent the next half hour going through all of Jean's scenes. She very nearly had it, but she still felt quite unsure of herself. It would take more work to allow her to be confident with the dialogue.
The doorbell rang and Lucien stood to greet Mr. Abernathy. "You're doing beautifully, Jean," he told her. "We'll go through it one last time after this appointment, and you should be all ready for rehearsal this afternoon!"
Jean did appreciate his help. She felt even more pressure to get her lines learned now, since she knew she'd be using rehearsal time to try to get information from Susan Tyneman.
By the time Lucien drove her to the theater, the scenes were running through her mind on a constant loop. They discussed Lucien's theory on the drive over.
"I don't know what to look for yet, since we still don't have a definitive cause of death. But at the moment, it looks to me like poisoning."
"Poisoning?" Jean asked in surprise.
"I'm waiting for the toxicology results from Alice, but since we've ruled out natural causes and most other things I'd have guessed, my money is on cyanide," he told her.
Jean's brow furrowed. "Cyanide? But why would…" She trailed off. The only thing she knew about cyanide was the stories of spies using the poison when they got captured.
"It could be from a number of different things, but we won't know for sure until later." Lucien parked the car outside the theater. "Now, Susan will likely still be rather shaken after last night. Assuming she comes to rehearsal at all. But anything you can learn from her could be a help."
"Of course. I'll see what I can find out."
"Thank you, Jean. And break a leg, as they say," he said cheerfully.
She shook her head in feigned exasperation. "It's only a rehearsal, Lucien."
"Well, you know all your lines now, anyway."
"I hope so."
"You'll be brilliant," he told her confidently. He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back later to drive you home."
Jean went into the theater, wondering first if Susan Tyneman would even be there, and if she was, wondering how she could get Susan to open up to her. But her concerns were unfounded. Susan was already there, sitting quietly backstage, but as soon as she saw Jean, she jumped up to greet her.
"Oh Jean, I'm so glad you're here," Susan said.
"Of course, Susan. We have rehearsal three days a week," Jean replied cautiously. "I'm glad to see you here as well. I wasn't sure you'd be out and about after last night."
Susan sighed sadly. "Well, the show must go on."
Jean gave a strained smile. "Of course. How are you doing? How's Patrick?"
"Oh you know Patrick. He's not really himself unless he's angry about something," Susan lamented.
This was the opening Jean had been looking for. "Is Patrick angry about something? I wouldn't think anger would be the most obvious response to a thing like this."
"No, he's annoyed with the police, wishing we would get answers faster so we can go home. The whole affair is quite an interference, you know."
"I can imagine," Jean replied, doing her best to not be repulsed by the Tynemans' callousness.
She was saved by Robert, calling them all to rehearsal. They'd be working on one of Jean's scenes today, so it was lucky she'd done so much practicing with Lucien.
Meanwhile, Lucien had gone to the police station to speak with Frank Carlyle. "Ah, Frank, any more information from the Tynemans?"
"They were pretty shaken. But they're staying at the Colonist's Club for the time being. Their kitchen may be a crime scene. You have a cause of death for me yet?"
"We ruled out a lot of things, but nothing definitive at the moment. I'm waiting for the toxicology report," Lucien replied.
The phone rang, and Bill Hobart answered it. He hung up quickly. "Sir, there's been an accident at Tyneman Electronics."
Lucien followed Frank and Bill as they rushed out. They arrived at the electronics shop to find Patrick standing outside, yelling at everyone crowded around. Frank went to go calm him down.
"What's happened, Patrick?"
"THE BLOODY CEILING COLLAPSED!" Patrick bellowed.
Lucien went right into the store. The showroom seemed untouched. A bit dusty, but nothing else. He made his way to the back and found what should have been Patrick Tyenman's office covered in rubble. A large portion of the ceiling had come crashing down beside the desk. Drywall dust, asbestos insulation, electrical wiring, and wood foundation beams littered the floor.
Frank came to join Lucien. "Good god!" he exclaimed.
Lucien nodded. "I think someone's trying to kill Patrick Tyneman."
"I think you're right," the Chief Superintendent agreed. "He's not going to like it, but I'll have to bring him into the station for questioning."
"No, he won't like that at all."
Back at the station, Patrick sat in the interview room with arms folded obstinately. "This is bloody ridiculous," he grumbled.
"Patrick, you might be in real danger. Last night, your butler dies. Today, the ceiling in your office comes down right next to your desk. It's a miracle you weren't hurt!" Frank chided.
"Well, we don't know he wasn't hurt. He hasn't let me examine him," Lucien interjected.
"I'm fine!" Patrick insisted. "Nothing hit me. I coughed on some dust, and that's all. And as I already told you, I went downstairs last night and found Conroy dead on the floor. I haven't done anything!" he maintained.
"Well I wouldn't go that far," Lucien scoffed. "Patrick, you have a certain position in this town, and the way you do business can rub people the wrong way. Now, can you think of anything else that's happened recently that might have been an attempt to harm you? Or anyone who might have a motive to do so?"
Patrick frowned. He thought for a moment. "About a week ago, I was visiting the footwear factory and some of the chemical dye splashed out of one of the machines as I went by. One of the workers got some burns on his arms, but he's fine. That was just a machinery malfunction though. And a few days ago, at the golf club, my usual chair in the clubhouse practically disintegrated. Serves that bloke right. Taking my chair after the staff warned him? He deserves to fall flat on his ass."
Frank's eyes were wide. "Patrick, this is very serious! Dr. Blake is right, someone is trying to kill you!"
But Patrick wouldn't be persuaded. He stood up from the table. "When someone starts shooting at me, I'll be concerned. Until then, a series of foolish coincidences aren't going to scare me!" He walked toward the door, but Lucien blocked him.
"A man died, Patrick! Someone who lived in your house!"
"When you can show me he didn't just have a heart attack, then maybe I'll worry," Patrick sneered. He nudged Lucien aside and left the police station.
Frank joined Lucien by the door and they watched Patrick Tyneman storm out. "I think I'll have Ned tail him for the time being."
"Good luck with that. But it's probably for the best."
"And we need that cause of death, Doc," Frank reminded.
"It takes a little time. But Alice should have the results later this afternoon." Lucien checked his watch. It wasn't quite time for him to pick up Jean from rehearsals, so he went home to catch up on some paperwork.
Mattie had the day off, so she was in the sitting room when Lucien arrived. "You've been gone a while," she noted.
"Yes, well, it seems someone may be making attempts on Patrick Tyneman's life."
"Oh my goodness! I know he's not anyone's favorite person, but that's terrifying!" Mattie exclaimed.
"And Patrick refuses to believe it. He's being thoroughly uncooperative. And without his help, the list of suspects is seemingly endless."
"Well sure, he's got business interests everywhere."
Lucien nodded. "He has the footwear factory, the electronics store, the Courier, though that mostly belongs to Edward now. And beyond that, Patrick is on the boards for the hospital, the golf club, the Colonist's Club…"
"And he sponsors the Church Dramatic Society and the horse races, and he's active in the Council," Mattie added. She sighed, "Yes, I see what you mean, the possibilities are endless."
The telephone rang and Lucien went to answer it. It was Alice, confirming his theory that Conroy had been killed with an extremely high dosage of cyanide, which had prevented his body from processing oxygen, giving his skin that red hue just before death. His entire body had suffocated.
Lucien hung up the phone. "Mattie, are you busy?"
She put down the magazine she'd been perusing. "Not particularly, why?"
"Could you help me with a little research?"
Mattie nodded. "Of course. What do you need?"
"I need to know all the ways a person could get ahold of cyanide."
Before Lucien could explain any further, the phone rang again. "This is Doctor Blake."
Jean's voice sounded on the line. "Lucien, I don't want you to panic. I am fine. No one is hurt."
"What happened?"
"During rehearsal, one of the lights fell and crashed on the stage right in front of where Susan and I were standing. She fainted from shock, which I can't really blame her for, but other than some fright, everyone is just fine," she assured him.
"I'm coming right away." He hung up and raced out the door. Despite Jean's words, he couldn't help himself from panicking.
He arrived at the theater in half the time it would have normally taken. He'd driven as fast as the car would allow. After parking in a rather haphazard fashion, Lucien ran inside the theater, shouting for his wife.
She appeared in the hallway, looking rather cross. "Lucien! Quit shouting!"
He ran to her and took her in his arms. "Are you alright? Jean, are you sure you're alright?"
At first, she was tense in his embrace, but she quickly relaxed into him. "Yes, I'm fine!" she insisted. "Having a giant light fixture fall two feet away gave me a bit of a start, but I'm fine! Not one shard of glass even touched me."
Lucien couldn't help himself. He held her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks and her forehead and her hair and her nose and her lips.
And while Jean did enjoy his affectionate nature, she knew they were in public. "Lucien, please," she hissed, breaking away from him.
All he could do was stare at her, scrutinizing every inch of her, just to be sure that not one bit of her had been hurt in any way. Even after he was satisfied she was alright, it took a few moments for his heart to stop racing. She reached out to hold his hand, which he brought up to his lips for a soft kiss. His eyes were locked with hers, and she gave him an appreciative smile.
"You should have a look at Susan Tyneman. I think she's alright, but she did faint, so it might be good for you to see to her, since you're here," Jean suggested.
Lucien nodded and followed her through the halls to the backstage area, holding her hand the whole time.
"Susan, Dr. Blake is here. He wants to make sure you're alright," Jean said gently. It was only then that she let go of her husband's hand.
"Oh Jean, it was so kind of you to call the doctor for me," Susan said breathily from where she lay on the sofa.
Jean couldn't help but think that seeing to Susan had been rather far down on the list of reasons she'd called Lucien, but it led to the same outcome. She stood aside as Lucien took Susan's pulse and checked her for any injury. He gave her a clean bill of health, but prescribed plenty of rest after such a shock to her system.
He stood and moved away from the small crowd surrounding Susan. "Jean, might I have a word?" He gestured to the hallway outside. Jean followed him away from prying eyes and ears. "The reason I was so worried is because I think someone is after the Tyenmans. I thought it was just Patrick, but after this, it looks like Susan is a target as well. God forbid anything happen to them, but the last thing I want is for you to get caught up in this mess."
A noise further down the hall prevented Jean from answering. Both Blakes turned to see Lisa Baxter put her hands over her mouth to keep from audibly sobbing as she cried. Jean's maternal instincts kicked in, and she rushed to young Lisa's side. "Shh, it's alright, Lisa," she said soothingly.
Lucien was concerned as well. "Lisa, are you hurt?" he asked. His father had been physician to the entire Baxter family, and they were among the patients Lucien had inherited.
Lisa shook her head and just cried in Jean's arms.
When he was convinced that Lisa was just afraid and upset, Lucien knew he wasn't needed. He left Jean and Lisa to find Robert, the show's director. He and a few of the stage hands were huddled on the stage, trying to figure out what had happened.
"Robert, is there a reason my wife was nearly killed onstage today?" Lucien asked pointedly. Rationally, he knew it likely wasn't Robert's fault. But the idea that anything could have happened to Jean had frightened him, and that fear was quickly converted to anger.
"I can't understand it, Dr. Blake. Sid checked the lights just this morning and they were all in working order. And other than the main lights, we don't use anything fancy for rehearsals," Robert answered, ignoring Lucien's veiled accusations.
Sid chimed in, "I checked those fastenings just a few hours ago. Everything was as it should be. Unless someone went up to the rafters and loosened them, there's no way that light could have fallen."
Lucien frowned. "Robert, I'm going to need the name of every single person who's been in the theater today."
It was some time before the Blakes were able to go home. Jean was very quiet in the car. The idea that someone was trying to kill Patrick and Susan Tyneman frightened her more than she had expected. Perhaps it was because the Tynemans had always been such a Ballarat institution; the family had owned half the town for Jean's whole life. They were invincible. They had their enemies, as anyone in their position, and as pompous and obnoxious as they were, Jean did not wish any harm to them. And, suddenly finding herself so close to Susan worried Jean just as it did Lucien.
Lucien's mind was preoccupied with the implications of the day. He was comforted only by the way Jean rested her head on his shoulder as he drove.