Murder in the Second Row (13 page)

‘That’s not
bad,’ nodded Jessica. ‘Then in a few days we could run another one
thanking the police for their sensitive handling of the event and
hoping for a successful end to the enquiry very soon.’

‘That’s
assuming the police do handle it sensitively,’ sniffed MaryAnn.
‘They’re not exactly renowned for it.’

‘Oh, I thought
Detective Senior Sergeant Matherson seemed very much the kind and
caring sort of policeman,’ said Jessica, earning looks from both
Nick and Clara-Jane. ‘His boss was a bit crusty, but he seemed very
nice.’

‘Ah, they’re
all very nice until they get the handcuffs out. Then watch out,
they’ll have their wicked way with you. They can do anything they
want to you while you’re helplessly chained up, can’t they?’

‘Shut up,
Austin.’

‘Righto
then.’

Clara-Jane
spoke up tentatively. ‘One thing we haven’t talked about is the
possibility of cancelling the show. People might expect it, after a
death.’

They sat in
silence, mulling over the suggestion.

‘I don’t think
we can,’ said Jessica at last. ‘There’s too much at stake. If we
don’t do the show, it means the theatre cash flow stops dead, but
the bills don’t. Even if we don’t make the profit we hope for it’s
still better than doing no show at all. Financially, anyway.’

‘That makes
sense. I just thought I should mention it.’

MaryAnn put it
succinctly enough for all of them.

‘The show must
go on.’

Later that
night while getting ready for bed, Jessica wondered how many
different circumstances had prompted the use of that expression in
the past. There were so many things that could go wrong at a
theatre and it was no wonder there was a cast-iron rule about it.
Did the curtain jam and fail to open? Then send the stage manager
out to announce a slight delay, and get the problem fixed as
silently as possible. Did an actor fall off the stage and break his
arm? Send on a replacement, reading the part from a script if
necessary. Did a fire alarm force a full evacuation? Well then, you
damn well played the rest of the show in the car park. That was the
rule. She smiled to herself. It was probably because theatre
managers would do anything to save having to refund ticket costs to
disappointed patrons. As long as you finished the show, they got
what they paid for. The show must indeed go on.

Apparently
Bayldon Oliver, the developers, didn’t share her view. In Friday’s
paper they were quoted:

“The Regent
Theatre is old, dark and dangerous. Small wonder that it has become
a venue for violent crime. There is no place in today’s society for
a decaying anachronism that barely pays its own way and provides a
haven for drop-outs and criminals. It is overdue for removal, to
make way for a new, clean, safe building complex with bright
lights, trained security personnel, and 24-hour monitoring. The new
shopping mall will bring positive benefits to the town with
employment opportunities and business rewards. Why delay its
progress to preserve a sagging wooden structure that houses nothing
but termites and murderers?”

Jessica read
the piece and cursed until the air turned blue. Jellicoe took
fright and fled behind the couch, staring out with wide green eyes.
Jessica paced, picked up the paper and re-read it, then hurled it
down again. Then she reached for a jotter pad and started to write
furiously.

Ten minutes
later she called Nick.

‘Did you see
that piece about the mall developers in tonight’s paper?’ she
demanded. ‘What a load of feckin’ bollocks that was! Have you got
any ideas for rebuttal?’ She didn’t allow him time to reply.
‘Because I certainly have. Let me read this to you Nick. See if it
makes sense.’

She read
through the lines she’d written, stumbling now and again where her
writing had been so violently impassioned that it was barely
legible.

‘Well, what do
you think? Can I send this to the paper?’

‘It’s certainly
a strong piece, Jessica.’ Nick’s voice was cautious. ‘I think it
might be improved even more if we work on it together a little bit.
Some of your suggestions might possibly be libellous, and others
are probably physically impossible. How about I come round and
we’ll put our heads together? I think two brains would be better
than one in this situation.’

‘Fine, whatever
we have to do to put our side of the story and nail these pricks to
the wall. Are you free right now?’

‘Er, yes, I can
be there in ten minutes.’

‘Make it
five.’

Six minutes
later Nick was at her door.

She waved him
in, barely noticing that the bruise on his face had started to turn
yellow and that the scratches had now faded to thin red lines. He
followed her into the living room, sitting warily on the couch as
she expounded her views on Bayldon Oliver and the PR puff
piece.

‘Listen to this
crap, …make way for a new, clean, safe building complex with bright
lights, trained security personnel, and 24-hour monitoring. Mein
Gott, vill there be towers in ze corners mit ze spotlights und
machine-guns? Razor wire und guard dogs?’

She snarled and
threw the newspaper onto the table.

‘How do we
fight this, Nick?’

He paused
thoughtfully, chin in hand.

‘We don’t.’

‘What?’

‘No no, hear me
out. Obviously we do try to put the opposing view, but not as a
direct rebuttal. If we get into a slanging match we won’t win
public approval, and they’re better resourced than we are. No, we
have to be clever about this.’

‘OK, go
on.’

‘We have to
talk up the value of the theatre so that it would look like the
worst sort of cultural vandalism to tear it down.’

‘But we’ve been
trying to do that for years. Every time there’s a threat to the
theatre we trot out the same facts and win a few converts, but then
have to do it all over again when the next threat comes. She
scrubbed at her face wearily.

He shrugged.
‘That’s the nature of conservation. It’s a constant battle to win
hearts and dollars, whether it’s for endangered dolphins or
historic buildings.’ He paused, looking oddly intense. ‘But there’s
one good thing about this battle, Jessica, at least we’re in it
together. We make a good team, you and I. If anybody can save the
theatre, we can.’

She ignored the
comment.

‘So how do we
make the Regent Theatre sound like the most valuable community
asset since the Tree of Knowledge then? Any clever
suggestions?’

‘Well, let’s
start at the beginning. It was built in 1878, right? Let’s see what
else was going on back then, to help people see it in its
historical context. Fire up your computer and we’ll Google it.’

‘What do we
look for?’

‘Type in “what
happened in 1878” and let’s see what we get.’

‘Really? It’s
that easy?’ She typed in what he told her.

Nick leaned in
closer to read the screen. ‘There you are – Wikipedia gives the
year 1878 categorised into events, countries, categories,
everything you need to know. Let’s have a look here.’ He ran down
the list. ‘Ah, here’s something everyone has heard of. Thomas
Edison patented the phonograph, and started the Edison Electric
company. Ooh, here’s another one, Stalin was born.’

‘I’m not sure
that association helps our cause.’

‘You could be
right. Good old Queen Victoria was on the throne with another
twenty-three years to go, and Gilbert and Sullivan wrote HMS
Pinafore.’

‘That’s all
pretty cool.’ She smiled at him and his eyes lit up. She looked
away quickly. ‘What about things that hadn’t been invented yet when
the theatre was built? How about you do it?’ and she vacated the
chair, uncomfortable at his closeness.

He took her
place at the computer and typed a few more characters. Two minutes
later he produced a list of exactly what she’d asked for.

‘OK, it was
built before the use of electric light, escalators, revolving
doors, radio, television, fountain pens and biros, paperclips,
zips, and x-rays. Levi Strauss jeans had been around for five years
and the telephone for two. It was before cash registers, CocaCola,
candy floss and Kodak. There wasn’t even a public electricity
supply here until after 1887.’

‘Ah, now we’re
getting into the meaningful stuff. So our theatre would have been
lit by gaslight?’

‘Hang on, let’s
see what I can find out.’

That question
took a bit more delving into the archives.

‘Looks like it
would have been kerosene and candle lamps.’

Jessica’s face
went dreamy as she pictured the scene. ‘Can you imagine how
romantic that would have looked? The patrons arriving in
horse-drawn cabs. Soft yellow lamplight, elegant ladies in flowing
skirts with bustles, whiskery men in top hats and tails. It was a
different world.’

‘Throw in a bit
of fog and it sounds like Jack the Ripper territory.’

‘Nick,’ she
reproached him. ‘That’s not the golden picture of a glamorous age
that we’re trying to convey here.’

‘Oh, hold on,
he was ten years later, anyway.’ He typed a few more words and
looked up at her, grinning. ‘Gosh, the Regent theatre was running
even before the first Sherlock Holmes story was published!’

‘Cool! Well all
that lot should give us plenty of material to catch the public’s
imagination. How’s a shopping mall going to compete with that?’

‘Ah, this
complex was built before series ten of Big Brother? Ooh, what a
significant cultural milestone.’ Nick printed out a list of
historical events and shut down the computer.

Jessica slapped
him on the back. ‘Good work, Nick. You write up the story and get
the article to the paper tomorrow. Good man. Off you go now, I’ve
got a new rehearsal schedule to organise.’

Once Nick had
left (reluctantly and with many a backward glance), Jessica pulled
out her show folder to work out what alterations she’d need to make
for the changed venue. Of course, it would help to know how long
the theatre would be out of action. She smiled and picked up the
phone.

‘Detective
Senior Sergeant Matherson? Hi, it’s Jessica here. How’s that murder
enquiry going? Can I have my theatre back yet?’

At the other
end of the phone, she could hear the answering smile in his
voice.

‘I’ll answer
that question if you’ll answer two of mine.’

‘OK.’

‘One, have you
had dinner yet?’

‘No.’

‘Two, can you
point me towards a decent restaurant?’

‘Yes.’

‘In that case,
if you’ll come to dinner with me, your answer is “tomorrow”.’

‘Brilliant! In
that case we should celebrate at Etrusco, if you like Italian
food.’

‘I do indeed.
Well that sounds like the very place. I look forward to the
pleasure of your company for dinner there this evening.’

‘Um, let me
just check my diary.’ She paused for the merest split second. ‘Yes,
it appears I’m free tonight. In about an hour, then?’

‘Perfect. I’ll
meet you there if that’s all right, Jessica. It’ll look a bit less
like an off-duty policeman socialising with a potential
suspect.’

‘A suspect?’
Her voice rose. ‘You think I’m still…’ She broke off, hearing his
warm chuckle down the phone line.

He was already
waiting when she entered the restaurant, and he raised a hand in
welcome. As she approached the table he stood up and pulled out her
chair. She sat carefully, placed her purse on the floor, and
surveyed him.

His white shirt
was expensive but he wore it casually, open at the neck and with
the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms with a dusting of brown
hair. His silver watch looked practical and well-worn. No
rings.

He smiled, eyes
crinkling up at the corners with a flash of mischief. ‘You’d
recognise me in a line-up after that appraisal. Did I pass?’

She put her
head on one side and considered. ‘Well, yes, I think I can safely
say Jack, you’re a fair cop.’ Her grin and approving tone were
enough to convey her real message.

‘Well thank
you. You look pretty spectacular yourself, Jessica. That dress has
exactly the effect you hoped for when you chose it to wear
tonight.’

Her cheeks
reddened. How had he known her thoughts so accurately? It was
almost as if he’d been standing in her bedroom watching her try on
outfit after outfit, before throwing caution to the winds and
pulling out the one remotely elegant thing she owned, in the hope
that he might be impressed.

Then her
realistic self kicked in, telling her that his comment would fit
any such occasion. In fact, it was probably a standard line he’d
used lots of times. Still, it was quite a good one. She took a sip
of water to compose herself.

‘Right,’ he
said, ‘I know you’ll have questions about the murder, and there
will be some that I won’t answer, but we’ll spend five minutes
talking about the case and then leave the subject alone for the
night. Deal?’

‘Sure,’ she
agreed. ‘Fine with me. So you said the theatre will be available
tomorrow?’

‘Yes, we’re all
done with the scene exam. There wasn’t too much mess or damage, but
you might want to run a steam cleaner over the carpet in the
auditorium.’

She made a
face.

‘Sorry. One of
the inescapable facts of death, I’m afraid. And you’ll want to do
the whole room. It looks like the deed was actually done in the
second row and the body was dragged up the aisle to the back row,
probably in the hopes it would stay undiscovered for longer.’

A waitress
approached to take drink orders. Jack glanced at the wine list and
looked questioningly at Jessica.

‘Shall we order
a bottle? What sort of wine do you enjoy?’

‘Oh, white for
preference. Is there a Sauvignon Blanc or a Chardonnay you like the
look of?’