Dead Woman's Shoes: 1 (Lexy Lomax Mysteries) (22 page)

“Especially as Tristan is still the leading man,” Edward was saying. “Sheri-Anne doesn’t help, little mare. She’s positively basking in the fact that the ageing company stud gets to canoodle up against her while his wife watches with slitted eyes from the sidelines. And to make it even more exciting, Sheri-Anne’s latest beau, Lance – the lad over there with the six-pack who does a couple of walk-ons – is also pacing up and down the set, clocking Tristan’s every move, and cracking his knuckles like a rabid gorilla. It’s more entertaining than the bloody production.”

Lexy fixed her gaze on the hapless Lance. So he was Sheri-Anne’s boyfriend. He only looked about seventeen. Unlikely to be affluent enough to take her to swanky bistros. “What does he do?” she asked Edward.

“Student – agricultural college, I think. His dad’s a farmer.”

Lexy gave a mute nod, wondering if Lance had an inkling that Sheri-Anne’s taste might also run to someone more mature. With eyes like melting toffee. Speaking of which, the vet was descending the steps at the side of the stage. He gave her a surprised wave and a flash of the healthy white teeth.

She forced her attention back to Edward, who was happily continuing his monologue. “Mind you, even Sheri’s a bit off-colour today. Not her usual smouldering self.”

She certainly looked tense, Lexy thought. The girl had stepped outside the stage door into a side alley, and was smoking a cigarette in quick, anxious draws. She snapped something at the still hovering Lance.

“Anyway, Tammy and Tristan retired home early.” Edward was still prattling on. “Straight after Triss’s love scene with Sheri-Anne. Odd, that. But Maurice is in an unexpectedly good mood today, even though Guy turned up late, and Hope didn’t turn up at all, so he waved them graciously away.”

“Which one’s Maurice?” asked Lexy.

Edward indicated the slim, dapper man, who was heading towards them.

“And, of course, Avril didn’t turn up again.” Edward gave Lexy an inane smile. “Can’t imagine what’s happened to her.”

She glowered at him.

“Neither can I,” said Maurice, arriving at their side. “Still, it made for a nice bit of peace and quiet. Apart from the Caradoc histrionics, of course. I mean, what was that was all about?”

Edward opened his mouth to explain.

“Perhaps Avril’s ill?” A slight, serious man with a 1930s hair style, who had been singing next to Edward on the stage, joined them. His face lit up when he saw Kinky.

Edward gave Lexy a significant look. Lexy furiously ignored him, and turned to the man, who had bent down to fuss Kinky.

“Hello – I’m Peter,” he said, offering her a hand.

Edward’s on-off-on-again lover. Lexy introduced herself.

“Must go and grab a coffee,” said Edward. “I’m simply gagging. I’ll get you both one, too.”

Peter frowned up at him. “Don’t bother, I’ll get my own.”

“Nonsense.” Edward rolled his eyes and marched off, Maurice at his side. “Now then,” Lexy heard him say, “Tammy and Tristan – therein lies a...”

Lexy caught Peter’s look of affectionate exasperation.

“How’s the rehearsal going?” she asked him.

“Apart from the off-stage dramas?” He gave her a wry look. “Not bad on the whole.” He stroked Kinky’s ears. “It’s a change from The Scottish Play, at any rate.”

“So you go in for the heavyweight stuff, as well?”

Peter grimaced, nodding. “Maurice decided to do Shakespeare at Easter. Naturally, he had to pick on the most unremitting one.”

“Oh, I don’t know – he could have chosen
King Lear
.”

“Or
Titus Andronicus.
” He grinned. “Perhaps we got off lightly after all. Anyway, we all insisted on
South Pacific
for the summer run. Aren’t you gorgeous, eh?” he added.

“Huh?” said Lexy.

“Aren’t you a darling little doggie?”

Lexy, relieved, smiled at Kinky. “Oh – yeah, he’s really cute.” When he isn’t trying to kill things.

She studied Peter covertly, trying to equate this congenial man with the less flattering picture Edward had painted of him as secretive and duplicitous. Appearances could be deceptive, as she was now well aware.

When Lexy looked up again, a cloud still on her brow, Sheri-Anne Davis was stalking artfully across the foyer, her little designer handbag dangling from her shoulder.

“Would you mind watching Kinky a moment?” Lexy asked Peter, quickly. As he was already clasping the chihuahua to his chest, she didn’t think he’d have a problem with it. Kinky gave her a long-suffering look.

Lexy walked into the foyer. Sheri-Anne was just disappearing through the door to the Ladies. Beside it was another door, marked CLOPWOLDE AMATEUR DRAMATICS – PRIVATE. Lexy approached this second one, pressed her ear against it and, after a quick look round, tried the handle. The door opened, and she slipped in. Inside was a row of lockers, some bearing the names of the cast, including Avril Todd. Various props stood around, among them a large fake palm tree and a pile of coconuts.

Lexy ran her eyes swiftly over the lockers. Looked simple enough. She approached Avril’s, digging in her bag for a hairpin that had never been used for its original purpose.

In a few moments she had released the catch, and the grey metal door swung open. Just a hobby she used to have.

It was empty inside, apart from something that looked like a huge Hawaiian shirt. Lexy swallowed. Must be Avril’s
South Pacific
costume. She wouldn’t be wearing that again, unless she had asked to be buried in it.

Disappointed, Lexy closed the locker door, and moved to the one marked
Sheri-Anne Davis
. Unlikely to have anything of interest in it, but it was worth a shot. The catch dropped in the same obliging way, and Lexy found herself gazing at a selection of flimsy garments. She shuffled through them, not knowing what she was looking for. A plastic bag with what looked like a brick in it lay on the floor. She heard a toilet flush next door, and hastily withdrew. She was about to pull the locker door shut when a small, gold powder compact caught her eye. She grasped it, and flipped it open.

Inside was no powder, but a tightly folded sheet of paper. She drew it out, looked at it quickly, then replaced it, shutting the locker just as Sheri-Anne Davis walked in.

“Hi, Sheri-Anne,” Lexy breezed.

The girl jumped. Up close, her pretty, leonine face was white and drawn.

“What are you doing in here? It’s private.” Her eye flicked to her locker.

Lexy kept her own eyes firmly on Sheri-Anne. “Just fetching something for Edward,” she said, patting her pocket. “See you in a bit.”

She ducked out of the locker room and into the toilets next door, locked herself in a cubicle, and only then allowed herself a shaky exhalation.

The message was made up in a familiar way, of letters cut out of a magazine.

LEAVE £10,000 IN TWENTY POUND NOTES IN THE PALM TREE AFTER THE REHEARSAL ON SUNDAY OR I TALK

Lexy blew her spiky fringe upwards. Well, hello. This was Avril Todd going for the jackpot. She must have found out something very juicy about Sheri-Anne. And if she had run true to form she had probably played cat and mouse with her for a while – then, seeing the letters were hitting home, she’d gone for the kill.

Only trouble was, so had someone else.

Lexy unlocked the cubicle and let herself out. She heard the locker room door shut and, peering out of the Ladies, she saw Sheri-Anne pass through the foyer and through the double doors into the rehearsal hall. No wonder she looked so haggard and jumpy. What had she been up to that would be worth ten grand for Avril Todd to keep quiet? How would she pay that kind of money? She was an eighteen-year-old trainee veterinary nurse. She’d be on a pittance.

Or a scam.

Looking around intently, Lexy slid back into the locker room, seized an old smock from a hook and wrapped it around her hand. She approached the fake palm tree and parted its floppy green plastic leaves. The top of the trunk was hollow, forming a cavity that dropped down about eight inches. Her ears straining for the sound of someone coming out of the hall, Lexy stuck her hand into it and felt around. Her fingers almost immediately closed around something. She drew it up. It was the brick-shaped parcel inside a plastic bag that she had just noticed in Sheri-Anne’s locker. The girl must have transferred it to the palm tree. Lexy took a peek, then, heart thudding, she dropped the package back into the palm, flung the smock into a corner and slipped back out of the door.

Well, that was Sheri-Anne off the suspect list. She’d just made the cash drop, which meant she didn’t know her blackmailer was dead.

Moments later, Lexy was back in the hall. The small cast was huddled around Maurice on the stage. Peter was still clutching Kinky, who was by now looking positively martyred.

The group hug was broken up by the warble of a mobile phone. It was Maurice’s. He looked at the phone’s display screen, frowned, withdrew apologetically and took the call. Lexy watched his face slowly pale as he listened, shaking his head, making little sounds of shocked disbelief.

Peter, Sheri-Anne, Lance, Guy and finally Edward fell silent one by one, as if each were hushed by an invisible finger.

Maurice finished the call and looked down at his polished black slip-ons.

“Listen up, everyone. I’ve just had a call from Roderick Todd. It’s... er... very bad news, I’m afraid.”

Lexy gave an anguished look at Guy Ellenger. His eyes met hers briefly. Edward glanced significantly at Lexy, and she mouthed back both at him and Guy.
Act surprised.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Avril died on Friday night,” said Maurice in a sepulchral voice.

There was a gasp of shock from the assembled players. Edward’s was a little over the top.

Lexy watched Sheri-Anne’s reaction. Her bland face registered surprise, but not concern.

“How did she die?” Peter was asking “Where? Was there an accident?”

Maurice held up his hands. “I don’t know any details. All he said was Avril was dead.” He shook his head. “That’s knocked me for six. I think we’d better wrap up. If I find out any more I’ll keep you posted.”

The cast filed down the steps. Lexy saw Guy disappear through a side door.

“Dead? Avril? I can’t believe it!” Edward expostulated.

“I heard there was a pile-up on the A12 yesterday,” Lance supplied.

“How awful. Avril wasn’t exactly a cautious driver, was she?”

Sheri-Anne Davis went straight through the foyer and outside, flipping open her mobile phone. Lexy stood just inside the large double door pretending to study the village hall meeting schedule. She heard the click of a cigarette lighter and smelt a wisp of acrid smoke. Then Sheri-Anne began speaking quietly.

“It’s me. I’ve done it. Hope the bastard’s happy now. No, I’m not hanging around, I don’t give a toss who it is. We’re out of here next week – that’s all I care about. You, me, and our passports to Paradiso Beach.” She gave a throaty giggle. Lexy frowned. Was Sheri-Anne speaking to the vet? “Speaking of which, it went really well at the barn on Friday evening... things got... you know... pretty hot...” Lexy stiffened. Friday evening? Sheri-Anne had been at the surgery on Friday evening. She’d agreed to give Guy Ellenger an alibi.

Lexy thought back to the call Guy had made.
Look, I haven’t got much time. Can I ask a favour? A really huge one? Yes? Let me tell you what it is first. You know you were at the surgery yesterday evening? What? Yes – the surgery, like you said you...

Lexy gave a short, scornful exhalation. Sheri-Anne hadn’t been at the surgery at all. She’d been up to business of her own, and Lexy had a pretty shrewd idea what that might have been. But Sheri-Anne was obviously a very quick thinker, and after a momentary pause for thought, she’d gone along with Guy’s request to provide him with an alibi, even though she hadn’t been at the surgery either. Because Sheri-Anne Davis had realised that it would provide a perfect alibi for whatever she had been up to, too. Not so dumb after all. But who was Sheri-Anne’s partner-in-crime? And where had Guy really been? He’d already killed once. Would he do it again?

Lexy hauled her mind back to the phone conversation she was eavesdropping on.

“...and, oh yeah,” Sheri-Anne continued, “listen to this – we’ve just been told that Avril Todd’s kicked the bucket.”

There was a silence. Lexy screwed up her whole face in an effort to overhear the call.

“...didn’t say how. Maurice told us, her husband rang him a few minutes ago. Just said she’d died. Perhaps she had a heart attack – whatever. Anyway, meet you tomorrow night at nine and we’ll do the test, just to make sure. Love you, bye-ee.”

Lexy walked slowly back into the hall, her head in a whirl. She rescued Kinky from Peter, who seemed set to take him home. The chihuahua gave her a chilling look.

“Do you want a lift back, sweetie?” asked Edward, who had been waiting with Peter.

“No, I won’t, thanks. Still got some stuff to do.”

“Sure?”

“Uh-huh – but thanks again.”

“Well, see you soon. Come round whenever you like. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Thanks. Likewise. Er... you don’t happen to know where Sheri-Anne lives, do you? She left her purse in the Ladies and she’s gone home.” She was getting far too good at lying.

Edward shook his head.

“Bartholomew Lane,” said Peter. “It’s over the back of the high street; second turning after the Post Office. Not sure what number, but anyone’d tell you up there.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll find it. Bye.” Lexy launched herself hastily through the front doors before Edward offered to take her there, too.

16

An hour later found Lexy lounging on the grubby chintz sofa in Otter’s End, knocking back a bottle of cold lager.

She checked her watch. Excellent. Her take-away would be arriving in just under half an hour. Seeing as she had spent much of the last two days anticipating a Thai meal, Lexy had decided to treat herself to one anyway. And it would be all the more pleasant for not having to sit opposite DI Creepster Milo.

She glanced with satisfaction through the open hatch into the kitchen, where cupboards were now stocked with numerous cans and packets. From the same kitchen came the heartening sound of a small dog crunching his way through a double helping of Doggy Chomps, which had been on introductory offer in the Co-op.