Body on the Stage (16 page)

“You’ll be fine,” he soothed
her, trying to inject as much reassurance in his voice as he could
muster. “You’re a smart woman, and I’m sure you’ll have done a
thorough job of getting the right policy. Anyway, you can’t worry
about it until you look at the paperwork, so relax and put it out
of your mind for now.”

“Thank you.” She leaned against
him for a moment. “Just as well you’re here to stop me from going
completely off the rails.” She stood back, her posture straighter,
head held high. “I feel better already. It’s such a help knowing
somebody else cares about all this.”

“Of course I care,” he said
gently, a warm glow filling him with delight. “I care a lot about
you…”

The Green Room door burst open
and Simon ran into the room. He headed straight for Cathy and
grabbed her hands.

“At last, you’re here! Show me
my routine, you brilliant and talented choreographer. I want to see
what you’ve done for me. Come on, come on, dance!”

Laughing, and with an apologetic
glance to Dennis, Cathy allowed herself to be towed away into the
centre of the room. She handed Simon his printed pages.

“We haven’t quite figured out
your entrance yet, but you’ll be in the police uniform, or
something that looks close enough to one. You’ll be quite stiff,
almost robotic, while you’re a cop.” She demonstrated with a lively
performance, and her solid moves made Dennis think of the
Terminator. She mimed pulling off the outer uniform layers. “OK,
once you’re down to this, you whisk off the shirt and trousers to
reveal your street kid outfit, and your whole body language becomes
fluid and loose. This is where you get to show off all your hip-hop
dance skills.”

Simon watched, entranced, trying
to mirror her moves as she flexed and snapped.

“That’s so cool, Cathy! I love
it!”

By this time several of the
others had come in and were standing in a group by the door
watching the performance. As she finished with a fancy spin on the
floor, they broke into applause. Dennis clapped too, but felt a
sudden pang of sadness. Cathy was obviously far too talented ever
to go out with a plain boring guy like him. She was way out of his
league, and the realisation hurt. He sighed, turned away, and
retreated to the workshop.

“Hey, Doc, how’s it going?” Tony
greeted him, standing at the workbench in a faded
Cats
sweatshirt.

“Oh, fine. You know – can’t
complain.”

“That bad, huh? When my missus
says ‘fine’ in that tone of voice you can bet your bottom dollar
she’s not. What’s up, mate?”

Dennis forced a smile. “Nothing
really, just having an off day. You know how it is. What are we
working on today?” He hoped Tony would stop asking questions and
just let it go.

“Can you face a long boring
job?” A smile played on Tony’s lips.

“Sounds perfect.”

“You’re sure? You don’t mind
boring? Really, really boring?” His eyes twinkled.

“Boring is good. Just tell me
what you need and I’ll get on with it.”

“OK, you asked for it. We need
about five hundred and eighty holes bored in this backdrop, to
spell out
Ladies Night
.” Tony chuckled. “Dude, you walked
right into that one! There you go – the art department has already
drawn out the words, all you have to do is grab the drill and
follow the lines. Get the holes as evenly spaced as possible
because there’ll be lights shining through them and if they’re out
of whack it’ll stand out like dog’s balls.”

“No dog’s balls. Got it. OK,
call me when it’s coffee time. I’ll be over here making a holy
mess.” Dennis picked up the drill and approached the plywood panel
with intent to wound. Once he had made the first few holes he got
into a routine, and the fiddly job was enough to keep his attention
fully focussed. It was a relief to escape his thoughts.

By the time Tony tapped him on
the shoulder and made coffee-drinking gestures, Dennis had regained
his equilibrium. He was able to join the rest of the cast and crew
in the Green Room without shrinking from view.

“Hey, Doc,” said Gazza, lounging
back on one of the old grey chairs. “Look at this – my arm’s healed
up just like a bought one, thanks to your expert touch with the
Dettol.” He showed a neatly mending scratch mark. “Guess they won’t
have to amputate after all.”

“Just as well,” remarked Tony.
“You’re already busier than a one-armed paper-hanger. A one-armed
lighting tech would be unthinkable. Well done, Doc, you did a nice
bit of Repair and Maintenance on our Head of Lighting there. Help
yourself to an extra biscuit.”

“No thanks, I’m staying away
from biscuits at the moment. You and Gazza share it between
you.”

A warm hand landed gently on his
shoulder. “Impressive will-power, ‘Doc’. I’m pleased to see you
sticking to your eating plan in the face of temptation.” He turned
to find Cathy smiling at him. “Is everything OK?’ she asked
quietly. “I saw you looking a bit down in the mouth as you left the
room earlier.”

“Really?” He cast round for a
plausible reason that wouldn’t sound as sappy as the true cause of
his glum look. “Um, well, it was just a hard day at work, that’s
all. Nothing serious.” Time to turn the tables and redirect her
attention. “When will you have a chance to check that insurance
policy?” He could have kicked himself as he watched her smile fade
and worry lines appear on her brow.

“I think I’ll go and do it right
now. Like I said, there’s no news, no sign of Vincenzo, and no cash
reserves to cover my debts – I need to know exactly where I stand
with that insurance. But it’s been a relief to come down here for
rehearsals to get into a different headspace for a while.”

“And I just ruined it for you.”
He smacked his forehead. “I’m so sorry. What an idiot.”

She stopped him. “It’s all
right, nothing that a hug wouldn’t fix.” Her blue eyes looked into
his. He took the hint and stood up, turned, and opened his arms,
wrapping her in a gentle embrace. He was sure he got the most
benefit from the feeling of her body moulded against his and the
scent of her hair as he breathed in, but when they broke apart, her
eyes were sparkling. “Thank you! That was the best hug ever! I feel
ready to take on the world now!”

“That’s funny,” he told her. “I
was thinking the same thing. We should take this and bottle it. It
would be handy for those times when life gets you down, wouldn’t
it?”

Dennis felt a tap on his
shoulder.

“Is this a gentlemen’s excuse
me?” said Nick, the smooth-talking head of promotions. “Mind if I
cut in? If there are hugs going then I want my share.” He swept
Cathy into his arms leaving Dennis standing on the edge of the
group feeling very exposed.

“Actually it’s a ladies’ excuse
me,” said Jessica. She tapped Cathy on the shoulder and took her
place in Nick’s arms, freeing her to return to Dennis.

Nick swung Jessica round with a
grin.

“Jessica! I knew you’d come back
to me! Have you ditched that policeman for good? Couldn’t he
measure up to my charms?”

“Oh he does, Nick, don’t you
worry. I’m just reminding myself of how good I’ve got it at home.
This is a charity dance, my little wallflower.”

“Ouch! After all the trouble
I’ve gone to this week to get advance publicity for the show, and
this is the thanks I get? You ungrateful woman!”

“What advance publicity? What
have you done, Nick?”

He grinned smugly. “What have
the Letters to the Editor been ranting about in the paper all
week?”

She eyed him incredulously.
“That was YOU? You wrote that blistering rant to the paper about
sin and nudity and told people to boycott the show? And you think
that was a GOOD idea?”

He was unrepentant. “Look at the
coverage it has generated. Everybody is talking about
Ladies
Night
and there are plenty of people defending it on our
behalf. The argument is playing out in public, we don’t have to do
a thing, and everyone in town will know the show is on. How can
that be bad?”

She nodded grudgingly. “OK, I
take your point.” She looked over to Dennis who was listening
nearby. “It seems we played right into the hands of Mastermind
here, Dennis, but thanks for writing your letter anyway. I guess it
was all part of the plan.”

“Glad I could help,” he said.
“We certainly had some talk about it at our office. Most of the
women there were concerned whoever wrote to the paper might succeed
in getting the show stopped before they had a chance to see it. It
certainly made them keen to buy tickets.”

Nick crowed with delight and
pumped his arm in a victory gesture. “Yes! Perfect response! See
Jessica, that’s why they pay me the big bucks down at the radio
station – I’m that good! Keep them wondering, Dennis. Tell them to
book for the first week in case it gets taken off by the
anti-nudity brigade in the second week. They wouldn’t want to miss
it, would they?”

“Righto,” said Dennis. He turned
back to Cathy. “Feeling better now? I hate seeing you so worried
when there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“You help just by being around,
actually.”

“Really?” He felt absurdly
pleased.

“It’s reassuring to know there’s
somebody on my side who cares what happens in my life. You’re a
very sweet guy, Dennis.”

He sighed inwardly. Sweet. It
still wasn’t the dangerously sexy image he’d have liked to project,
but it was better than nothing. If only he was a hardened man of
action who could solve all her problems with some daring feat full
of dramatic flair. What would James Bond do in this situation?
Dennis, in his current state, felt more like ‘M’ than 007.

“Hey, you’ve gone sad again.
What are you thinking about now?” Cathy’s wide blue eyes were full
of concern.

“I’m wondering how I can find
some answers about Vincenzo for you,” he said, surprising himself
as the words came out.

“How? I mean, what can we do? TV
detectives seem to get all the answers, don’t they? How do they
tackle something like this? Oh, I suppose we could do a scene
examination around his known places, check out his apartment again,
look around the gym more closely, talk to his known associates and
all that, couldn’t we? Something like that, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I
meant.” Ideas started to form. He grinned suddenly. “Moneypenny,
I’m off on a mission and may be quite some time.”

“No problem, James, I’m coming
with you this time.” With a dazzling smile she linked her arm
through his and they sauntered out of the theatre together, leaving
the coffee-swilling crowd in the Green Room to their own
devices.

Dennis drove Cathy to Vincenzo’s
apartment, thinking they could fit in a good look around while it
was still light, before their commitments at the gym.

They walked round the side of
the old villa onto the deck, cupping their hands to peer in through
the French windows. There was no sign that anything had changed
since their last visit.

“Oh,” said Cathy, “we should
have checked his mailbox as we came in. I’ll go look. You see if
you can find a key hidden anywhere – you know, under a plant pot or
something.”

Dennis watched her shapely rear
end disappear round the end of the house and turned his attention
back to the task at hand. There were several dried-up pots of
indeterminate plant matter on the deck, but none of them had keys
tucked underneath. He checked both pot and saucer, just to be
thorough. It’s what Bond would have done. Or would he have whipped
out a tiny glass-cutter and sliced his way through a pane to gain
entry? That would be much cooler. Dennis got to his feet and
studied the door. ‘If I was a slick Italian playboy, where would I
hide a key?’ he thought. He looked around, spotting a small statue
of a naked woman among some rose bushes. She appeared to be holding
some sort of basket with a stone resting in it. Dennis reached
gingerly between the rose stems and lifted the stone. A brass key
lay exposed to his delighted gaze.

“Cathy!” he called quietly,
“I’ve found it!” Then it occurred to him the key might belong to
one of the other apartments, so he hurried to try it out in
Vincenzo’s door to make sure. It turned freely, but he had to give
the door a strong tug to get it open.

Cathy came back just then, with
a fistful of junk mail.

“Dennis!” she exclaimed, “I’m so
impressed! Where did you find it?”

He showed her the statue and she
made a face. “How typical of him. But well done you to think of it.
Come on, let’s see what we can find out!”

Her enthusiasm evaporated as
they reached the door and Dennis could almost see the cogs turning
in her head as she imagined what might be inside.

“Stop thinking about American
cop shows,” he advised. “I’m sure there won’t be a body sprawled
across the bed or anything as dramatic as that.”

“Can you promise that?”

“No.”

They went in rather reluctantly,
anxious in case their incursion might be contaminating a possible
crime scene. Dennis sniffed cautiously. The air was faintly stuffy
but there was no hint of anything unpleasant. They stood side by
side, looking around Vincenzo’s living room.

“What are we looking for?”
whispered Cathy.

“Clues, I suppose,” he whispered
back. He went over to a desk in the corner where there was a stack
of paperwork and began to leaf through it. Cathy prowled around
opening drawers and feeling through the contents.

“Don’t forget to check the
undersides of the drawers,” Dennis told her. The crims are always
taping envelopes with the vital clues there. Or behind the back
edges, out of sight. Cathy raised her eyebrows.

“Hey, you’re good at this. Are
you sure you don’t work for the Secret Service?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny
that,” he said solemnly. “If we’re done here, let’s check the rest
of the place.” He pretended to draw a gun and took up station on
one side of the doorway. “Cover me, I’m going in.”