Murder in the Second Row

Smashwords
Edition from Avenue Publishing

Copyright
belongs to Bev Robitai

No reproduction
without permission unless for review.

‘Are you sure
we can’t advertise for a tart?’

‘Yeah, one with
great big wobbling jugs! I do like a good handful.’

‘No, we
absolutely can’t. It’s against the discrimination laws – in job ads
you can’t specify age, race or gender, or rule anybody out if
they’re disabled.’

‘Are you
positive about that? I mean, we need a call-girl, right? We’ve got
to say we want a young woman, otherwise what’s the point? I mean, I
know we can’t say “total slut with long hair and big tits”, but
surely we can at least make the ad clear enough to get a
female?’

‘Suppose some
legless old guy read our carefully non-specific ad and thought he
might fit the bill? What would we do when he turned up to audition?
An old man couldn’t possibly play a call-girl.’

‘Oh, you’d be
surprised. I knew an old guy once who made damned good money on the
game. Used to take his teeth out and, you know …’

Jessica tuned
out the babble of voices and inwardly rolled her eyes. Getting this
committee to make a decision was like herding delinquent sheep. She
cleared her throat and spoke firmly.

‘Mr Chairman,
have we even decided to do that show? We were going to discuss Adam
Bryant’s offer to direct Appointment with Death, weren’t we?’

‘Yes, thank
you, Jessica. You’re quite right. Come on guys, let’s keep to the
agenda, shall we?’ The president of the Regent Theatre Society,
Howard Daniels, consulted his notes and peered over his reading
glasses. ‘Adam’s made a generous offer to direct a show for us in
between his other engagements, and he’s suggesting an Agatha
Christie to get bums on seats. Are we in favour?’

Jessica watched
the other members murmuring to each other, and made a bet with
herself that ever-cautious Gerald would be the first to speak.
Moments later Gerald raised his hand.

‘Mr Chairman,
as treasurer I have to ask – can we afford Adam? He’s very
expensive compared to some of our local directors, and you saw in
my report how low the current account is. It’s exposing the theatre
to quite a risk to take him on again if the show doesn’t make
money. And what about the roof repairs? Shouldn’t we be focusing on
doing those before we do another show?’

Jessica caught
Howard’s eye and he nodded permission for her to speak.

‘Come on
Gerald,’ she said persuasively, ‘any show is a risk, but Adam
Bryant’s the best shot we’ve got at putting on a money-spinner. He
knows what works with audiences, and I’m sure he’ll keep to a small
budget since our resources are so low.’ She looked round the group,
meeting all the eyes turned on her. ‘We need to do this, and we
need to get it right. You all know what state the theatre is in. We
have to get some money flowing in to fix it up before those damn
developers convince the council it would be better pulled
down.’

She gestured
towards the wood-panelled walls and glass-fronted bookshelves
filled with old play scripts. ‘We can’t let the old girl down after
all she’s come through. There’s a hundred and thirty years of
history here in these slightly rotten walls and we’re the ones
responsible for protecting them. Fixing the roof is good, Gerald,
but we need more cash-flow to keep her running after that. If we do
this show well and make a decent amount from it, we’ll be able to
fix the roof, replace the broken seats, and put a bit into a fund
to raise awareness of the theatre. We’re going to need public
support more than anything else to keep this place alive.’

‘Well said,
Jessica!’ Clara-Jane Smisek, Head of Wardrobe, applauded her
warmly. ‘We all love the Regent, and if we can put together a
strong team for this show I’m sure we can pull it off successfully.
Then we’ll be working from a position of strength. That’s a lot
better than begging for money to save a dying duck.’

There were
general murmurs of approval.

‘Well,
Jessica,’ said Howard with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Seeing as you’ve
got such strong feelings on the subject, could you fit in being
production manager for the show as well as theatre manager? I know
we’re keeping you pretty busy already with running the place day to
day, but do you think you could take it on?’

Jessica nodded.
‘Considering the rest of you fit in theatre on top of your normal
jobs, I’d look a bit feeble if I said no, wouldn’t I?’ Grinning
wickedly, she eyed her fellow committee members. ‘Are you sure you
trust me with so much raw power? I might run amok, you know.’

‘We’ll take our
chances with you,’ said the Chairman briskly. ‘Right, let’s make it
official. The motion is that the Regent Theatre Society will stage
Appointment with Death, with Jessica Jones as production manager.
Can I have a proposer and seconder? Clara-Jane, thank you. Gary to
second, thanks. Got that in the minutes, Fenton? Right, let’s move
on to the next item on the agenda.’

‘Does this mean
we don’t get a tart, then?’

‘That’s right,
Austin. No tart, well-jugged or otherwise, OK? I’m fairly certain
that the redoubtable Mrs Christie refrained from including any such
insalubrious characters in the cast list for Appointment with
Death.’ Howard aimed a meaningful glance over his glasses until
Austin subsided, fingering his stubbly grey chin and sulking.

The meeting
stretched on late into the evening.

By the end of
the session they had set dates for the run of show and its first
production meeting, and the secretary had instructions to write to
Adam Bryant accepting his offer to direct. Heads of Department had
been appointed.

The wheels were
in motion and the juggernaut was starting to move.

Jessica’s love
affair with the Regent Theatre had begun as soon as she’d walked
through the stage door into its secret inner spaces where members
of the public weren’t allowed. Sure, she’d had a childish crush on
the place when she was a kid watching pantomimes and musicals, but
now it was the real thing. Back then, she’d been awed by the red
velvet curtains and gold plasterwork, the cherubs over the
proscenium arch and the imagined luxury of the private boxes. Now,
she was free to go behind the public façade to explore every quirky
corner, crooked passageway, and dimly-lit storeroom, from the
roof-beams to the basement. Her recently-acquired theatre manager’s
master key gave her full access to the entire building – a
privilege only shared by the society’s President.

She unlocked
the narrow cubby-hole of an office that was now her official
domain. Tattered lace curtains twitched in a draught blowing
through the warped wooden window-frame, stirring papers on her
desk. She straightened them up, added the pile of notes she’d taken
at the meeting, locked up again and went home.

Auditions. A
time when adrenaline levels run almost as high as on Opening Night.
A time when new faces enter the theatre world and old friendships
are re-kindled. A time when Jessica found herself running round
like a fidgety ferret with all four feet on fire.

She checked the
piles of photocopied scripts for the fifth time. She went outside
to make sure that the signs guiding newcomers to the foyer hadn’t
blown away. She rearranged the few chairs and the sofa in the foyer
and patted her clipboard. She was ready.

Society
President Howard Daniels came through the side door followed by
director Adam Bryant. She was struck by the contrast between
Howard’s solidly masculine maturity and Adam’s elegant iron-grey
curls and willowy frame. ‘All set, Jessica? You know the drill –
it’s not really a closed audition but Adam would prefer as few
people as possible roaming round the auditorium, OK?’

‘Hi, Jessica.’
Adam Bryant’s blue eyes looked directly into hers. ‘It’s nice to
see you again. So you’re our production manager, I hear. With your
organising skills I know you’ll do a fantastic job.’

She stammered a
reply, trying not to blush, and was rewarded by a crinkling round
the blue eyes. Adam turned back to Howard.

‘Are you coming
in to help vet them, Howard? Good. Let’s get on with it, shall we?
Jessica, send the first one in as soon as they arrive. I’ll send a
runner to let you know when we need the next one. Let’s hope we get
a good turnout.’

Half an hour
later, the foyer was scattered with actors waiting for their turn
to perform. Most sprawled on the floor, studying their pages of
script with rapt attention. Jessica took their details as they
arrived and fed the aspiring thespians through to the auditorium as
they were requested.

She was pleased
to see some new faces in the mix. The society could always use new
members – their subscriptions would be put to good use and if they
were keen enough to help with running the place as well, that was a
bonus.

Something about
the couple on the sofa caught her attention. She knew Phil and
Pippa Jessop had been doing shows together for years, but today
they seemed oddly ill-at-ease and were sitting as far apart as
possible. Pippa was frowning intently at her script, and Phil’s
foot was jiggling nervously. Surely they weren’t anxious about
auditioning? She went over and sat in a chair beside Pippa, leaning
forward, including Phil in the conversation.

‘Hi guys, how
are you doing? Nice to see you back. Which roles are you aiming for
this time?’ She kept her tone light, hoping to reduce the gloom
that seemed to hang over them.

‘Hi, Jessica,’
said Phil, smiling at her. ‘Thought I’d read for Lennox, or maybe
the Jefferson Cope role. Has anyone else got their name down for
him?’

Jessica
consulted her clipboard.

‘Not so far –
looks like you’ll get an easy run at it. What about you,
Pippa?’

‘Oh, whoever’s
going, I don’t mind. So long as it’s not the dreaded Ada Boynton.
I’d hate anyone to think I could play that fat old harridan.’ She
gave Phil a look as if daring him to comment.

‘OK then,’ said
Jessica brightly. ‘I’ll give you a call when you’re needed.’ She
retreated to sit on the steps leading into the auditorium and
peeked through the door to see how things were going.

Up on stage a
young fair-haired lad stood in a circle of light, the script
visibly shaking in his hand. He read haltingly, stumbling over
unfamiliar words, and Jessica could see the sweat breaking out on
his blushing face. She winced at his nervousness. Sometimes their
enthusiasm to be onstage far outshone their talent. No doubt Adam
would send him packing at the first opportunity.

‘Thank you,
Stewart,’ Adam called gently. ‘Could you turn to the second page
and read from the top please?’

Sounding
encouraged that he hadn’t been sent off, Stewart read a few more
lines. His voice grew stronger, and Jessica was surprised to see
him beginning to add appropriate gestures as he spoke. He sounded
increasingly confident with every line. Adam, the professional, had
seen something in this young man that she had missed.

‘Go upstage and
walk back down reading those same lines,’ Adam instructed. She
heard him murmur something to Howard sitting beside him.

Just then the
side door to the foyer banged open. Jessica eased away from the
auditorium door and looked up to see a heavily made-up girl making
an entrance. Artfully tousled hair hung casually to her bare
shoulders, its highlights matching the shiny red top that stretched
tightly across her generous breasts. Jessica stifled a sigh. Tamara
Fitzpatrick – trouble on two legs. Even more trouble off them.

‘Hello all.
What’s new in the zoo?’ Tamara surveyed the assorted faces in the
foyer, zeroing in on Phil Jessop. ‘Mr Jessop! Wow, awesome to see
you here. Bit of a change from school, eh?’