Body on the Stage (21 page)

“I’m fine,” muttered Mark. He
got up and headed towards the toilets where they heard the door
slam.

Jessica walked into the room
then and stopped in her tracks.

“Bloody hell, you could cut the
air in here with a knife! What’s been going on? Everything OK?”

“Oh, just fine,” said Simon. “A
bit of brotherly rivalry, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” He
looked meaningfully at Warwick and Ricky. “Is there, guys?”

“No,” they growled, unwilling to
meet his eyes.

“Right,” said Jessica
sceptically. “I’ll believe you. Just sort out whatever it is before
Adam gets here, will you? I don’t want him to think we’re a bunch
of amateurs who don’t know how to behave in a theatre. Put your
differences aside, whatever they are, and try to be professional,
please.” She looked at Dennis and Simon. “I’m glad the grown-ups
are looking after things. Thank you, chaps.”

Simon bowed elegantly. “At your
service, milady,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

Dennis shuffled his feet. “No
problem.”

Fenton came into the Green Room
and addressed the actors. “Adam’s here,” he said. “Can you all come
out on stage please?” Dennis started guiltily, realising he’d
forgotten to send Tony out to talk to Adam. Too late now.

The performers got up and headed
for the door, where Simon called back “Come on Mark, we’re on,
dude.”

A faint reply came from the
locked toilet. “Be there in a minute.”

Dennis looked at Tony and Gazza.
“That got a bit nasty, didn’t it? Are things normally this tense
backstage when a show is in rehearsal?”

“Nope, these guys are setting
new records,” said Gazza. “You sometimes see nerves around tech
rehearsals and final dress, but never arguments like this unless
somebody’s missus runs off with the wrong guy. I’ve seen that a few
times.”

“I hope they all stick it out
for the season,” said Tony, looking worried. “If one of them gets
the pip and pulls out we’ll be in a fix.”

“You have an understudy though,
don’t you?” said Dennis. “Jayden is back-up if anyone gets sick or
injured, isn’t he? At least I thought that was the plan.”

“That would give us the four
strippers, yes, but we’d still need to train up a new guy to take
the rest of the role of whoever pulled out. There’s a whole play
before the dance routines. In some shows we’ve had people go on in
emergencies reading from the script when there was no time to learn
the lines, but it’s not a good look.” He stood up and stretched.
“Best those guys sort out their differences soon and calm down a
bit, otherwise it’ll be you, me and Gazza up there pole-dancing on
stage and I don’t think that’s quite what the customers will be
looking for.”

“Speak for yourself,” said
Gazza. “I think the Doc here is looking almost ready to take it on,
and Fenton would make a very good pole.”

“Oh yes, I’d pay good money to
watch that!” giggled Jessica. “Right chaps, I’ll be up in the
office if anyone needs me. Try to keep things ticking along here,
will you? So far we seem to be running quite smoothly and I’d very
much like to keep it that way.”

“Roger that,” said Tony,
saluting. “We will keep calm and carry on.” As Jessica left through
the stage door he turned to the others. “Right, actors on stage,
crew to the workshop, men. Quick march!”

Like a shortened line of the
seven dwarfs, they filed out through the make-up room and down to
the workshop. Dennis, bringing up the rear, caught a glimpse of
Mark on his way to the stage door, looking as if all the weight of
the world was on his shoulders.

Partway into the evening session
Dennis was making a drinks run across the road when he ran into
Jack Matherson outside the theatre.

“Hello Jack, what brings you
here tonight? Have you come to sweep the lovely Jessica off her
feet and take her out for dinner?”

Jack smiled faintly. “I wish I
could, but no, I’m here on business, and she’s not going to like
it. I want to talk to the guys while they’re here instead of trying
to catch them all separately during the day, and she’ll tan my hide
for interrupting rehearsal to do it.”

“Surely she’d understand that
police business takes precedence over rehearsal, wouldn’t she?”

“You haven’t known her too long,
have you Dennis! Theatre is far more important than the real world,
didn’t you know that?” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I’d
better go and let her know what’s going on so she can yell at me in
private before I get started.”

They entered the theatre
together just as Jessica came down the stairs from the office. When
she saw Jack she ran straight to him and buried her face against
his shoulder, holding him for a long moment. Jack’s eyebrows rose
in surprise and Dennis turned away, embarrassed. Jessica looked up,
her face pale.

“Jack! You heard about Howard?
How did you know? God, I’m so glad you’re here. I only just found
out myself.”

He frowned. “Heard what, Jess?
What’s happened?”

“You don’t know? I just got a
phone-call…” she trailed off, plainly struggling to control her
voice. After a deep breath she continued. “There’s been an
accident, overseas. You know Howard and Maryann were off on a
cruise? They were in the islands, having a stopover on one of the
coral beaches. One of the young female passengers got into
difficulties swimming and Howard, well, he tried to rescue her. He
got her to shore safely, but his heart gave out right there on the
beach. There was nothing they could do.” Her control faltered and
Jack quietly passed her his handkerchief.

“That’s a sad loss,” he said.
“Poor Maryann, she must be devastated.” He saw Dennis looking
anxious beside him. “Howard was the president of the theatre,” he
explained. “A great guy, it’s a real shame you won’t get to know
him.”

Jessica pulled herself together
and stuffed the damp hanky in her pocket. “So why are you here,
Jack, if it wasn’t to bring the sad tidings?”

He hesitated. “Well actually, I
wanted to have a talk to your actors, and I thought it would be a
lot more efficient if I could grab them while they’re all here in
one place. Would that be all right, or would you prefer that I wait
for a better time? I wasn’t expecting you to be dealing with such
tragic news.”

She shrugged. “It’s Adam’s call.
He’s in control of them for the evening. Maybe you could watch from
the back stalls until there’s a break, and do it then. But it’s
fine with me.”

“Perfect,” he said with relief,
giving her an extra hug. “Do you want me to break the news about
Howard to the troops while I’m here, to save you doing it? After
all, it’s one of the things I’m trained for.”

She considered for a moment. “I
should do it myself, but I’m going to say yes please. I’d hate to
snivel in front of those guys. Thank you. I’ll come with you though
– I should be there when they hear about it. Most of the actors
won’t know who he is, but our committee is going to be devastated.
We should tell them and the crew first.”

“They’re down in the workshop,”
said Dennis. “I was just going out to get some cold drinks but it
sounds as if they may need something stronger.”

“Good idea. I know I do.” She
pulled some cash from her pocket. “Could you extend your drinks run
to pick up a bottle of whisky, please Dennis? And some ginger ale
to go with it? Thanks so much.” She turned to Jack. “Let’s go
through to the workshop before you speak to the actors, if that’s
OK? I’d like to get this over with.”

When Dennis returned he found a
subdued group of construction crew gathered in the Green Room. He
cracked the seal on the whisky bottle and poured a generous slug
into the only drinking receptacles available, the scuffed
smoked-glass mugs. They raised a toast to their late president and
drank solemnly, clearly shaken by the news. Dennis felt awkward,
uninvolved, an outsider in the face of their loss. It was
heartening though to realise that up till that moment he had been a
full member of the theatre community – only recognising the shared
camaraderie as it was temporarily withdrawn.

“I’ll go and see if the actors
are near taking a break,” he said to Jack, and slipped away through
the stage door.

He paused in the wings. Ricky
was doing some kind of routine with a leather jacket and a guitar,
thrashing his way around the stage with little skill and less
coordination. It didn’t look to Dennis as if he would ever reach a
polished level of performance if this was the best he could do with
only three weeks left until opening night. The strains of ‘Wild
Thing’ echoed round the auditorium as Ricky fought with his jacket
like a man possessed. Finally he wrenched it off his shoulders,
swung it around his head a few times, and flung it across the stage
five seconds after the music stopped. Once he’d gathered up his
widely-strewn clothes and shoes, he hurried off into the wings and
Warwick prepared to make his entrance through the spangly foil
curtain hanging across the back. Mark, acting as MC, called out
“That was Barry, the bass guitar bandit!” Then he announced Warwick
as the next act, and ‘Sultans of Swing’ started playing as Warwick
toyed with his shiny satin turban and tried to walk like an
Egyptian. Dennis shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t seen many
shows at the Regent Theatre but the ones he had had all been very
professional. He’d never seen one that looked as rough as this.
Still perhaps all rehearsals were this bad and that’s why they
needed to practise so much. He had to assume Adam knew what he was
doing.

Warwick looked grim as he
shuffled and minced his way around the stage, escaping with obvious
relief as Mark announced the entrance of an actor Dennis hadn’t met
yet, a slight, pale chap dressed in a Roman toga. He too marched
about gesticulating dramatically, not looking like any strip
routine Dennis had even seen. When the guy lay down on the stage
and tried to feed himself grapes from a bunch held in his toes,
Dennis couldn’t take any more. He made his way through to the
auditorium where Adam sat in the stalls making notes.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he
whispered, “but are you coming up to a break any time soon?”

Adam ignored him until the Roman
had left the stage, then leaned over. “There’s one more piece of
dance in this set then a scene change. Did you need something?”

Dennis explained about Jack’s
request and Adam sighed. “I suppose we must bow to the forces of
the law,” he said. “He can have them for fifteen minutes but then I
want them back. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

Dennis bit back the obvious
comment before it left his lips. “I’ll let Jack know,” he said, and
retreated to the Green Room.

“Adam says they’re taking a
break shortly,” he told Jack, who nodded.

“Thanks for that, Dennis. I
suppose he wasn’t too happy at having his rehearsal
interrupted?”

“No, he was quite happy to
co-operate. He knows your enquiries take precedence.” Dennis didn’t
mention the ‘fifteen minutes only’ ultimatum. Jack plainly knew the
theatre scene and would only take as long as he needed to get the
answers he sought. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Dennis nodded towards the solemn group gathered around the table
with the whisky bottle.

“Just let them get on with it
for now. It’ll take a while for them to process the information.
When they’re ready to get back to work, just keep an eye out for
anyone losing focus and drifting off in thought, especially if they
happen to have a power tool in their hand. You’ll be the only one
with a clear head, so you may need to think for them at times.”

“Understood.” Dennis felt
responsibility descending on his shoulders. He braced himself.
“Should I remove the whisky, do you think?”

“Sure, file it away somewhere
safe in case it’s needed again.” Jack grinned. “I’m sure you can
find somewhere secure where nobody will stumble over it. Right, I’m
going to tackle those actors now. Come and join us in the
auditorium would you, Dennis? I’ll see you out there.” He went over
to Jessica, gave her a quick hug, and strode through the stage
door.

Dennis angled his way to the
table and casually picked up the whisky bottle, stepping back
between the chairs. A sinewy arm snaked out and a firm hand grasped
his wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going
with that, Doc?” Gazza growled, staring up at him.

“Er, just pouring another round,
if you want one?” Dennis uncapped the bottle and topped up Gazza’s
mug. “Anyone else?”

After pouring a little in the
rest of the mugs held out to him he escaped with the remains,
walking as unobtrusively as possible towards the Rose Room where he
hid the bottle behind a dusty row of leather-bound books in the
bookcase. They appeared to have been untouched for some time,
possibly decades, so it was probably a safe hiding place. He closed
the glass door of the bookcase quietly and made a quick exit to the
auditorium.

The five actors were slouched in
the front row while Jack sat on the edge of the stage. Dennis sat
down quickly next to Simon on the end of the row.

“I want to hear anything that
could remotely be relevant,” Jack was saying. “Even if you think
it’s too insignificant to mention, spit it out anyway. We have
people who can assess the significance later in relation to other
pieces of evidence you don’t know about, so your additional input
may be just what makes the difference.” He leaned back onto his
hands. “We’re definitely looking at a homicide here – there’s no
chance it was an accidental drowning. So somebody wanted Mr
Vincenzo Barino dead. What can you tell me?”

Dennis and Simon looked at each
other and shrugged. Warwick and Mark gazed stonily ahead. Ricky
shifted in his seat, and Jayden looked blank. The silence became
uncomfortable.

“Er, there have been some
rumours…” Dennis began. The others stared at him.