IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (good books to read for women TXT) 📕

“That’s an art in itself, Mr Gardener.”

“Are you involved much with make-up?”

“Very little. Over the years of course, with my theatre work, I have applied my own. As I said, my life is scriptwriting these days.”

“Not completely,” said Reilly.

“Sorry?”

“It’s not all writing, is it, Mr Corndell?” retorted Gardener. “I believe you’ve recently accepted a live performance at the University of Leeds.”

“You’re very well informed.”

“It pays to be,” replied Gardener.

“It’s true, then?” asked Reilly.

“Yes, it is. The gentleman who books the entertainment called me a few days previously. May I ask how you knew?”

“My wife’s a theatre critic. She’ll be there. I’m sure she’ll give you a good review.”

“She won’t need to, Mr Reilly, my work speaks for itself.”

“Will it involve make-up?” continued Reilly.

“It most certainly will.”

“Where do you buy it?”

“Quite a few places, the internet mostly. But unfortunately for me, I have recently visited the shop in Leeds where the young girl was killed,” replied Corndell.

“Why unfortunate?” asked Reilly.

“Because despite what you and Mr Gardener say, Mr Reilly, I still feel as if I’m a suspect.”

“Quite the opposite,” replied Gardener. “If you were a suspect, we’d have had you at the station by now. No, my colleague wants to know more about make-up. For our man to be so practised in the art of disguise, he would need quite a lot of different products. We wondered if you’d know what they were and whether or not the shop in Leeds would sell them. Or would you need to be somewhere far more specialised?”

“Oh, I see.” Corndell nodded. “Well, without knowing the extent to which your man is disguising himself, it’s difficult to say. However, if he can pass closely for Leonard White, he must be good.”

“Why would someone use aluminium powder?” inquired Gardener.

“Colouring his hair, particularly white or grey. What about the second murder, did he look like Leonard White then?”

He noticed Gardener glance at Reilly before replying. The detective reached into his pocket and produced an artist impression of the vampire. “From the eyewitness reports we have, we think his disguise was this one.”

“Oh my good God!” shouted Corndell.

“Do you recognise the character?”

“No, but to create an effect like that, you’d need quite a few things. I would imagine flexible collodion for one, which is a plastic skin adhesive. It provides a coating for make-up construction. And then there’s rigid collodion, a liquid used to make scars and pock marks. When you put that stuff on, it draws and puckers the skin. For something like this he obviously used a wig, and then there’s the costume...”

“All of which you can buy at the shop in Leeds?”

“I would imagine so,” he replied. “As I mentioned, I have used the place on occasion, but I don’t think I’ve spent a lot of money there, or taken too much notice of their costumes. You really do have your work cut out, gentlemen.”

A silence followed before Reilly spoke. “Is it true that thespians are a tad superstitious?”

“I’m sorry?” replied Corndell.

“Superstitious,” repeated Reilly. “I’ve heard a lot of strange stories about actors, particularly those in the theatre.”

“Well, of course there are a number of superstitions connected with the theatre.”

“And what are yours?”

“Since you ask, I don’t particularly like live flowers being delivered before a performance. They have a very short life and I believe it reflects the life of the play. I’m not particularly keen about whistling on stage, it’s bad luck and can lead to accidents. And under no circumstances do I like someone wishing me good luck.”

“And away from the stage?” Reilly persisted.

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“I couldn’t help noticing when we drove up to the house that it’s surrounded by poplar trees. As you draw closer you have bay trees, or laurels if you like. And then, as sure as God’s my witness, if you haven’t got houseleek placed in the roof.”

“You’re... very observant, Mr Reilly.”

“It’s my job.”

“To answer your question, you’re quite correct about the trees. If you’re that knowledgeable, perhaps you know that laurel trees guard the doors of great men’s houses.”

“I certainly do, but I also know that the bay tree is said to keep away witches, devils, and bad luck, and that a house guarded by such a tree should never be struck by lightning.”

“I can’t say I know anything about that, Mr Reilly,” replied Corndell. “And I’m certainly not aware of houseleek, as you call it.”

“Are you not? So, you haven’t placed it there as a protection against lightning?”

“I can’t have done, can I? Which begs the question, which one of us is really superstitious?”

Reilly made no reply.

“Tell me, Mr Reilly, where did you learn about myths and superstitions?”

“I’m Irish, Mr Corndell. We invented most of them.”

“Oh, does that mean they’re not true, then?”

“You tell me,” retorted Reilly. “You’re the superstitious one. There’s no shortage of the colour red around here. Your hall has a tiled floor which contains red, and then there are red velvet drapes leading into each of the rooms, and they all seem to have something red in them.”

“Red is my favourite colour, Mr Reilly, mostly because it’s the colour of Aries, but also because it’s associated with good luck, health, and joy, and hence the living body as opposed to the corpse.”

“And you’re not superstitious? I’ll bet you know as well as I do about the references in folklore to the use of threads, ribbons, wool, or pieces of flannel which prevent a variety of ailments,” continued Reilly. “And isn’t red thread used as a protection against witchcraft?”

“Is there anything else I can help you gentlemen with?”

“And it has nothing to do with it being