Authors: Peter Lovesey
Titus gave a gasp, rolled his eyes upwards and fainted.
H
edley Shearman tried phoning Frenchay Hospital for the fourth time that afternoon and was told all calls about Clarion Calhoun’s condition were being referred to her agent, Tilda Box.
‘I’m not press,’ Hedley said. ‘I’m the director of the Theatre Royal. I have a right to know what’s going on.’
‘We’re not at liberty to say anything over the phone,’ the hospital spokesman said. ‘Ms Box is personally handling all enquiries. Would you like a note of the number?’
‘Personally’ turned out to be misleading. The agency had installed one of those infuriating filter systems. ‘If you are enquiring about Miss Clarion Calhoun, press four.’ When Hedley obeyed, he got an insipid rendering of Greensleeves for six minutes interspersed with assurances that he was moving up the queue, followed finally by another recorded message: ‘Miss Clarion Calhoun remains in Frenchay Hospital. There is no change in her condition. She is unable to speak on the phone or receive visitors. We thank her many friends and fans for their good wishes for her recovery and will update this message as and when we have more news.’ So much for the age of instant communication.
‘They’ve put up the shutters and I’m not sure why,’ he told Francis Melmot, the human steeple, who was back, making him feel even more like a dwarf.
‘Doing their job,’ Melmot said as if he had inside knowledge. ‘They don’t want hordes of fans trying to see her.’
‘Yes, but we’re not fans. We have every right to know what’s going on.’
‘Look at it from Clarion’s point of view. She’ll be distressed. The first instinct of any woman whose looks are blemished, however slightly, is to hide herself away. It’s understandable, Hedley. You drove her to the hospital. Just how badly is her face affected?’
‘I couldn’t see. For one thing I was driving and for another she kept the towel pressed to her face.’
‘Surely you got a better look when you got to A & E?’
‘No, they took her straight inside, still covering up. But it must have been serious for them to transfer her to Frenchay.’
‘They’d be ultra-careful with a patient as famous as Clarion.’
‘I don’t know if that’s true. They make their decisions entirely on medical grounds, don’t they?’
‘Hedley, if I was a young doctor presented with a superstar hysterical about the state of her face I’d be only too pleased to refer her to someone else.’
‘What are you suggesting – that she might not be as badly hurt as we fear?’
‘That’s a possibility.’
‘A hope, more like. They’ve retained her in Frenchay and all I get on the phone is that there’s no change.’
‘No change from what? Red cheeks?’
‘It must be more serious than that. One of the cast tried visiting her this morning and was turned away by a security guard.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into that. These celebs surround themselves with security.’
‘But why?’
‘She’s buying time while she considers her next move.’
This possibility plunged Shearman into greater panic. ‘I think we’ve got to get our own house in order. I had to speak to Martina, the press officer. She was giving statements off the cuff. A few words out of turn and we could find we’re admitting to negligence.’
Even Melmot’s self-possession took a knock. ‘There’s no question of that, is there?’
‘I’m afraid there is – if, as we suspect, the make-up caused the damage. The police spent some time questioning Denise Pearsall. She’s gone home, very anxious.’
‘I’m not surprised. Is she coming in tonight?’
‘She has to. Gisella the understudy will need all the support we can give her.’
Abruptly Melmot changed tack. He was all vigilance now. ‘Be sure to see Denise the moment she arrives and impound her make-up. We don’t want anyone else ending up in Frenchay.’
‘Gisella’s a professional,’ Shearman said. ‘She’ll do her own make-up.’
Melmot gave him a sharp look. ‘I hope you’re not implying that Clarion was out of her depth.’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘You’re right about publicity. Make it clear that no one speaks to the press except the press officer and she must get everything vetted by you. Incidentally, what did you say to the police this morning?’
‘That was very bizarre. They don’t have a clue what’s going on. The sergeant was all mouth and trousers, quoting Keats and strutting around my office like Olivier doing
Henry V
. The theatre has that effect on some people. It’s a good thing some of us have our feet on the ground.’
‘What did they want? It’s no business of the police.’
‘Apparently they follow up anything unusual that shows up in Accident and Emergency. It was a routine visit, as far as I could make out.’
‘They won’t be back?’
‘I hope not.’
Melmot made an effort to sound calm again. ‘We can get through this if we act responsibly. Tomorrow’s headlines will be about something else. Performances continue, don’t they?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Business as usual. That’s the way forward.’
When Peter Diamond walked into the Garrick’s Head with Titus O’Driscoll hanging onto his arm for support, there was a collective intake of breath not unlike the scene in
Lawrence of Arabia
when Lawrence enters the officers’ mess in Cairo accompanied by a native tribesman. The barmaid called out, ‘Ooh, look at these two. Are we an item already?’
‘A glass of water and a cup of weak tea,’ Diamond said through clenched teeth.
‘On a bender, are we?’ she said, and then, after a closer look, ‘What’s up, Titus?’ She added with a giggle, ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Diamond said, after helping Titus into a chair. ‘He passed out. Plenty of sugar in the tea.’
‘Sorry, love. I had no idea,’ she said as she dropped a teabag into a pot and filled it with water from the urn. ‘What could have caused that?’
‘It was all those stairs backstage,’ Diamond said. ‘The blood runs from your head, makes you giddy. How are you doing, Titus?’
The voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Coming round, I think.’
‘Hurry up with the tea,’ Diamond said.
She brought it to the table and set it in front of Titus. ‘Did you see something?’
‘I don’t remember.’ He turned to face Diamond. ‘Where were we when this happened?’
‘In the number one dressing room.’
‘It’s all a blur.’
‘We’d just about finished the tour,’ Diamond said.
‘I thought it was supposed to be a ghost hunt,’ the barmaid said.
‘Yes, we toured the places where the grey lady is said to appear. Titus was in good form, telling me everything. Then out of nowhere he rolled his eyes and his knees went. Luckily I managed to catch him before he fell.’
Titus said with a flicker of animation, ‘Did you? How gallant.’
‘I didn’t have much choice. You fell into my arms.’
‘Oh my word. And I don’t remember any of this. Is that how I recovered – in your arms?’
‘No, I let you sink to the floor. When anyone faints, they re cover quickly in the horizontal position. You soon came round.’
Titus remained grateful. ‘Peter, I can’t thank you enough. I was in good hands, literally. Let me buy you a drink.’
‘Not just now.’ He looked at the clock. ‘Is it as late as that? I must get back to work.’
‘Do you have a card, or something? We must meet again.’
‘No, I don’t.’
Titus fished in his pocket. ‘Have one of mine, and do give me a call. There’s a lot more I could show you – of the theatre, I mean.’
Diamond glanced at the card. There was an icon of two theatrical masks. As well as a dramaturge, Titus was an MA (Oxon) and a freelance lecturer. Below his name were the words ‘The Paragon’ – which only a Bathonian would recognise as a street name. ‘Thanks for showing me round.’
‘Next time, we’ll arrange for the grey lady to materialise.’
‘I doubt if she’ll do it for the likes of me.’
After Diamond had left, the barmaid said, ‘Seems a nice fellow. I wonder what he does for a living.’
‘That much I do remember,’ Titus said. ‘He’s some sort of policeman, unfortunately.’
‘What, without a uniform?’
‘A detective, I expect.’
‘What’s unfortunate about it?’
‘They can never leave the job behind. They’re not encouraged to make friends outside the police.’
‘Do you fancy him, Titus?’
‘He has a certain butch quality that may mean anything, or nothing. And I had a sense that he lives alone. Do you think I did the right thing, giving him my card?’
‘Who can say? One thing is certain.’
‘And what is that?’
‘You’re known to the police now.’
Back in Manvers Street, Diamond decided to update two of his colleagues, DCI Keith Halliwell and DC Ingeborg Smith. ‘All of this could come to nothing,’ he summed up, ‘but as Georgina put it to me, sitting behind her desk, we must be primed, ready to spring into action.’
Halliwell, his deputy and mainstay, said, ‘Just because Georgina doesn’t want to miss her chance to sing in
Sweeney Todd
.’
‘Be fair,’ Ingeborg said. ‘The story is all over the papers. If there
is
a crime involved, we’ll be in the thick of it.’
‘Sorry I spoke.’
Diamond said, ‘Let’s cut to the chase. Suppose it really is a crime. Who’s in the frame?’
‘The dresser,’ Halliwell said at once.
‘Too obvious,’ Ingeborg said.
‘Who do you suggest, then?’
‘The understudy.’
‘Isn’t that obvious, too?’
‘Makes sense,’ Diamond said. ‘She gets the leading role for the rest of the week. But how would she get to damage Clarion’s face?’
‘By adding something to the make-up,’ Ingeborg said. ‘We’d need to know who got made up before Clarion.’
‘All of them did their own except Clarion,’ Diamond told them. ‘She isn’t used to stage make-up, so she got help.’
‘Do we know the understudy’s name?’ Halliwell asked.
‘Gisella Watling.’
‘She’ll be one of the cast, as like as not,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Understudies usually have a small part in the play, ready to step in when necessary.’
‘Done some acting, have you?’ Halliwell said.
She gave him a sharp look. ‘No, I was a critic.’
‘A
critic
?’
‘If you’re a journo, as I was, it’s a good way to get complimentary tickets.’
Diamond steered them back on track. ‘There are four women in
I Am a Camera.
I can tell you that much.’
‘So there it is,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Our understudy has a dressing room of her own. How about this? Before the show, while Clarion is being made up, this Gisella calls at the number one dressing room to wish her luck and switches the foundation so that Clarion gets a faceful of vitriol.’
‘What’s that?’ Halliwell asked.
‘Sulphuric acid, but I wasn’t speaking literally.’
Halliwell exchanged a look with Diamond. Sometimes Ingeborg was too clever by half. ‘The motive being…?’
‘Ambition,’ Diamond said. ‘Acting brings it out in people. They all want the star role.’
‘It’s a vicious way to get it.’
‘I’m sure the damage was worse than Gisella intended,’ Ingeborg said. ‘She didn’t think it would disfigure Clarion for life.’
‘Before we pin it on the understudy, let’s think who else could be a suspect,’ Diamond said. ‘Do we know anything about Clarion’s personal life?’
‘Don’t look at me, guv,’ Ingeborg said. ‘I’m not a fan and never was.’
‘But you know where to look?’
‘On any newsstand. She’s one of those celebs with a paparazzi following.’ She gave a shrug and a smile. ‘Okay, I should have seen that coming. I’ll do a profile.’
‘Some rival singer could have got to her,’ Halliwell said.
‘Would they bother?’ Diamond said. ‘I get the impression her career was on the skids.’
‘A crazy fan, then?’
‘The problem with these suggestions is that the rival or the fan would have to get backstage before the show. Not impossible, but it’s much more likely it was an inside job – someone who could get past the stage-door keeper without being challenged.’
‘Plenty of people work backstage,’ Ingeborg said. ‘It isn’t just the actors. The director, for one.’
‘Hedley Shearman.’
‘He’s the theatre director. I meant the director of the play. Sandy someone.’
‘Block-Swell. Sandy Block-Swell. He wasn’t even there on the first night. After the dress rehearsal he said he was certain everything would be all right, and he pissed off to Hollywood to direct a film.’
‘Sod you lot, I’m all right.’
‘Apparently he’s like that. But you’re right, Inge. We need to find out who was around on the night it happened.’
‘I sense a job coming my way,’ Halliwell said.
They knew Diamond’s methods, these two. He shook his head. ‘Not a job exactly. We don’t have a case yet.’
‘Call it what you like, guv, it amounts to the same thing.’
‘More like a perk than a job. If you happen to be free this evening I’ll treat you to a theatre visit, the pair of you.’
‘Me and him?’ Ingeborg said, turning pale. Keith Halliwell was at least twenty years her senior, and married. She had an image to keep up.