The name was familiar to Jane from her reading. “Sage McCormick was an actress in the late 1800s, right?”
“All our rooms are now named for famous actors or actresses who came out West to play at the Gilded Lily,” Henri said. “Sage, yes—she was one of the finest. She was in Antigone and Macbeth and starred in a few other plays out here. She was involved in a wonderful and lascivious scandal, too—absolutely a divine woman.” He seemed delighted with the shocking behavior of the Gilded Lily’s old star. “I’ll get your bag.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Jane said, but Henri had grabbed it already.
“Tut, tut,” he said. “You may be a very capable agent, Ms. Everett, but here in Lily...a gent is a gent!”
“Well, thank you, then,” Jane said.
Jennie showed the way up the curving staircase. The landing led to a balcony in a horseshoe shape. Jane looked down at the bar over a carved wooden railing, then followed Jennie to the room at the far end of the horseshoe. This room probably afforded the most privacy, as there was only one neighbor.
“The Sage McCormick suite,” Jennie said, opening the door with a flourish.
It was a charming room. The bed was covered with a quilt—flowers on white—and the drapes were a filmy white with a crimson underlay.
“Those doors are for your outdoor balcony. It overlooks the side street but also gives you a view of the main street, although obstructed, I admit,” Jennie said.
“And the dressing room through here...” Henri entered with her bag, throwing open a door at the rear of the spacious room. “It’s still a dressing room, with a lovely new bath. Nothing was really undone. The first bathrooms were put in during the 1910s. We’ve just updated. And, you’ll note, this one retains a dressing table and these old wooden armoires. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
They were. The matching armoires were oak, with the symbols of comedy and tragedy carved on each side and on the doors. “They were a gift to Sage when she was here,” Henri said reverently. “A patron of the arts was so delighted that he had these made for her!”
Jane peeked beyond. The bathroom was recently updated and had a tiled shower and whirlpool bath. The color scheme throughout was crimson and white with black edging.
“This is really lovely. Thank you,” Jane said again.
“It’s our best suite!” Henri gestured expansively around him.
“How come neither of you are in here?” Jane asked, smiling. “And what about your stars? I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“Oh,” Jennie said. “Our ‘stars’ tend to be superstitious. They’re in the other rooms on this level.” With a quick grin she added, “And Henri and I are quite happy in our own rooms...”
Jane waited for her to say more.
Henri spoke instead. “Sage McCormick...” His voice trailed off. “Well, theater folk are a superstitious bunch. I mean, you know about her, don’t you?”
“I know a little,” Jane said. “She disappeared, didn’t she?”
“From this room,” Jennie explained. “There’s all kinds of speculation. Some people believe she was a laudanum addict, and that she wandered off and met with a bad end at the hands of outlaws or Indians. Laudanum was used like candy back then. Lord knows how many people died from overusing it. Like today’s over-the-counter pills. Too much and—”
“And some people believe she simply left Lily with her new love—supposedly she intended to elope—and changed her identity,” Henri said impatiently. “Prior to that, she’d met and married a local man and they had a child together.”
“Really? But she still kept her room at the Gilded Lily?” Jane asked.
“Of course. She was the star.” Henri spoke as if this was all that needed to be said.
“Anyway, the last time anyone reported seeing her was when she retired to this room after a performance,” Henri went on.
“Her esteemed rendition of Antigone!” Jennie said.
“What about the husband? Was he a suspect?” Jane asked.
“Her husband was downstairs in the bar, waiting for her. He was with a group of local ranchers and businessmen. One of her costars went up to get her, and Sage was gone. Just...gone. No one could find her, and she was never seen again,” Jennie told her.
“Oh, dear! You’re not superstitious, are you?” Henri asked. “I understood that you’re a forensic artist but a law enforcement official, too.”
Jane nodded. “I’ll be fine here.”
“Well, settle in, then. And, please, when you’re ready, come on down. We’ll be in the theater—I’ll be giving notes on last night’s performance. Join us whenever you’re ready.”
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt a rehearsal.”