by Trevor Hopkins

I was genuinely puzzled. Tillyfor clearly thought I should know who he was, but it was a name unknown to me. She looked at me disbelieving for a long moment.

"You know, Mister Big?" she said, adding when I showed no glimmer of recognition, "Dalgrin Balloch, the impresario and stage angel? He owns the Midnight Square Theatre?"

"I've never heard of him," I said levelly, "I assume he's your boss?"

"Well, sort of," she demurred, "I don't really have much to do with him. He turns up every now and then, during rehearsals, mainly. Shouts at everybody for twenty minutes, then disappears. Everybody's a bit afraid of him."

"Sounds like a good boss," I said ironically, "Not there most of the time. So who does tell you what to do when Balloch's absent?"

"Oh, that's Forgandenny," Tillyfor said, smiling wanly, "Artistic Director. He's a real sweetie. Used to be a dancer himself. Likes all the girls to look their best. Always ready with a needle and thread to adjust the costumes. Only gets really bitchy when you make a mistake on stage for a second time."

"And you've asked this Forgandenny about your sister?"

"Of course. He said he'd like to get another girl like me in the chorus. But he said he hadn't spoken to Tillykerie."

I elected to reserve judgement on that. I considered that the Director of a popular stage show with a high turnover of players would be approached all the time by athletic dancers. Maybe he wouldn't remember. I added him to a short list of people to talk to - currently, a short list of one.

"So, tell me about seeing Balloch outside your apartment," I said, changing the subject.

Tillyfor blinked, frowning slightly.

"When I ran out into the street, I thought I saw somebody at the end of the block. I didn't realise who it was for a moment. I was in a panic, and he's not somebody I know hardly at all well. So I looked all around for Tillykerie. When I realised who it was I had spotted, I turned back, intending to call out to him, ask him if he had seen her. But I couldn't see him either. Completely disappeared."

"So you're not sure he was actually there?" I pressed.

She looked uncertain.

"I'm pretty sure he was," she said hesitantly, not sounding at all positive.

"And was there anybody else around?" I added.

"No, nobody. The streets were deserted. That's why I couldn't understand how Tillykerie could have just disappeared. Or Balloch, for that matter."

I added Balloch's name to my list, with a couple of question marks for good measure. The half-remembered observations of a panicked girl in the middle of the night were hardly a sound basis for an investigative lead. But I had a hunch about this; Tillyfor would remember Balloch by sight well enough, and somebody with that kind of wealth and clout could conceivably have access to all kinds of grey-area or flat-out illegal magic.

"Okay," I said formally, "I'll take your case."

Tillyfor's face lit up in a wide smile.

"Thank you," she gushed, "Thank you so much."

I swept up my still-full shot-glass and held it up in a toast. Tillyfor leaned forward, picked up her own glass again and returning the salute.

"I'll drink to that," I said, sipping my mediocre scotch.

Tillyfor drained the last drops from her glass, barely flinching at the burn in her throat.

"So where are you going to start?" she said hoarsely.

"I'll walk you home," I replied gallantly, "Take a look at the street around your apartment. Then I'm going to find a way to get closer to this Balloch."

"How are you going to do that?" she wondered aloud.

I drained the last of my whiskey.

"Don't worry," I replied confidently, "I have a cunning plan."

Part 7 Part 9