Murder in the Second Row (16 page)

* * *

Next day, there
were a few sore heads among the construction crew as they hauled
the hotel set into position.

‘Somebody
remind me why we do this?’ said Howard.

Gazza
grunted.

‘Because it’s
so much fun?’ offered Shane, one of the teenagers on the crew.

‘Why? Because
it’s our duty as highly-educated and well-resourced intellectuals
to bring theatrical culture to a mass audience,’ said Jessica
brightly. ‘Thus expanding their understanding of the world around
them and helping to clarify their place in it.’

‘You had the
low-alcohol beer last night, didn’t you,’ accused Gazza.

‘Yep. That’s
why I was making so much more sense than the rest of you.’

Howard grabbed
Gazza’s cap and threw it at her, spinning it like a nunchuck. She
fielded it neatly and handed it back to its owner.

‘So, Mr
Construction Manager, what’s our task for today?’ Jessica
asked.

‘To sort out
this blasted elevator, mainly. We’re going to need a sliding door
in this wall, and that nuisance of a pointer indicator thingy that
shows what floor the lift’s on.’

‘OK, how about
I take care of the indicator while you guys do the door. Are you up
to it?’

‘As long as you
stop being so bloody cheerful,’ groaned Howard. ‘Thanks for taking
care of that, Jessica – aren’t you wonderful? Now, has anybody seen
my pencil?’

Gazza threw one
at him.

Jessica
retreated to the workshop and busied herself with a piece of
plywood.

After an hour’s
work she had made a passable attempt at a lift indicator. She put a
coat of paint on it and went to see how the guys were doing.

The stage was
littered with tools and covered in drifts of sawdust. Howard and
Shane were holding the sliding door while Gazza checked the
clearance in the doorframe. There didn’t appear to be anything she
could help them with so Jessica grabbed a broom and swept up the
sawdust to clear the work area. Then, once again, she went into the
Green Room to make coffee.

The cast
members were having a break from their rehearsal in the Rose Room.
Simone was complaining to anyone who would listen about the
inconvenience of police interviews.

‘They parked
their police car right outside my house, didn’t even have the
common sense to use an un-marked vehicle. Heaven knows what the
neighbours thought. They might just as well have cordoned off the
garden with police tape and hung a “guilty” sign on the front gate.
I don’t know why we pay our taxes for dolts who treat us like
common criminals.’

‘So they didn’t
find the hydroponic marijuana in your greenhouse then, Simone?’
Pippa asked innocently.

‘Don’t be
absurd. The only thing growing in my greenhouse is a perfectly
splendid crop of tomatoes, thank you very much.’

‘So the P lab
in the cellar remains undiscovered then?’ said Jessica on her way
to the sink.

‘Oh very droll,
dear. I thought you of all people might have had some sense.
Apparently I was wrong.’

‘Sorry, Simone.
I was just trying to keep the mood light. I know it’s been
upsetting for all of us. These little jokes are just our way of
breaking the tension. No harm intended.’

Simone sniffed
haughtily and stalked off, back to the Rose Room.

‘You know, I’m
never quite sure if she’s playing her character or just being
herself,’ said Pippa. ‘Sometimes there’s not much to choose between
them.’

‘That’s one of
the skills of good casting,’ said Adam. ‘Finding actors who can use
the least effort in changing from their normal selves to the
character they’re portraying.’

‘Well, I reckon
you got it dead right with Simone,’ said Pippa. ‘She’s perilously
close to Ada Boynton, and just like in the script there are times
when we all want to do her in!’

There was a
moment’s silence.

‘No,’ said
Jessica at last, having given the matter some thought. ‘I think
just the one murder per season, don’t you? We don’t want to deter
new members, do we?’

The following
night, most of the cast had gathered on the stage ready for
rehearsal when Pippa burst in looking wide-eyed and anxious.

‘Sorry I’m late
everyone, sorry Adam.’ Her normally immaculate appearance had given
way to messed-up hair and a cardigan buttoned up wrongly. ‘I’m
afraid Phil’s not going to make it to rehearsal tonight, Adam…’ her
voice caught and she swallowed hard. ‘He’s been taken in for
questioning. The police came and picked him up about half an hour
ago, they said it was just routine enquiries but they took him away
in a police car. I don’t know what to do.’ She looked around the
group. ‘How can they possibly suspect him? You guys don’t think he
did it, do you?’

The rest of the
cast clustered round her in support. Adam took both her hands in
his and held them clasped against his chest.

‘No, of course
we don’t. All right, Pippa, take it easy now. Take a breath. And
again. Relax those muscles.’ He looked intently into her eyes as
she drew a deep breath and blew it out again. ‘That’s better.’

Jessica darted
out back to the Green Room and returned with a glass of water which
she handed to Adam. He nodded his thanks.

‘Here you are,
Pippa, sip some of this. OK? Feeling calmer now? What do you need
to do? Would you rather be with him at the police station, or do
you think you need to arrange a lawyer for him?’

Pippa shook her
head helplessly.

‘I have no
idea. I just don’t know what to do.’

‘What exactly
did they say to him?’ Jessica asked gently. ‘Did it seem like they
were interested in him for some specific reason?’

‘They said
something about a row at the school, a couple of years ago. Phil
was overheard yelling at Tamara and some bloody little student
remembered it and told the police.’ She looked up at Adam. ‘It
can’t have been anything serious – I certainly don’t remember any
trouble about it at the time.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘It
just doesn’t make any sense. They took a DNA sample as well, right
there in the kitchen. Swabbed inside his cheek just like they do on
TV. It’s all so unreal, and yet it’s happening to us.’

‘OK Pippa,
here’s what I want you to do,’ said Adam firmly. ‘Go and sit down
quietly, let yourself calm down a bit so that you can think
straight. If you want to go home or to the police station and need
company, I’m sure Jessica wouldn’t mind going with you for moral
support.’ His eyes flicked to Jessica for confirmation and she
nodded. ‘We’re going to get on with the rehearsal now, and if you
feel up to it and want to join in that’s fine too. You’ve got five
pages before your first line.’

He shooed her
off to a chair in the wings.

‘Stewart, when
we’ve got past your lines as the clerk can you read Phil’s part
please, from page six onwards?’ Stewart’s head lifted in surprise.
‘Right, let’s get started.’

By the end of
page four, Pippa gave Jessica a thumbs-up and a weak smile, and
went to take her allotted place onstage.

When the
session was over, Adam called Jessica aside for a quiet word.

‘I suppose we’d
better plan for the worst. If Phil is going to be, ah, unavailable,
then I’d like to think we have a replacement ready on standby. At a
pinch, Stewart could do the role with a little extra make-up to age
him a few years. He’s not as strong an actor as Phil, but in this
role it wouldn’t matter too much. It’s probably going to be easier
to replace the hotel clerk as that role can be played by any age.
Can you think of anyone we could draft in at short notice?’

Jessica thought
back to the men who had turned up for auditions.

‘Do you
remember that guy Terence? About forty-five, scrawny sort of chap?
He’s usually available, and he can act OK, he just tends not to get
picked for shows because he’s such a drag backstage.’

‘Frankly,
backstage behaviour is the least of our worries right now. How
about giving him a call to see if he’ll do it? If he’s up to it we
might get him to understudy a couple of the other roles, just in
case the police decide to expand their number of suspects.’

‘Oh God, don’t
say that,’ shuddered Jessica. ‘If you start thinking along those
lines I might just end up in some ultimate casting emergency
playing Simone’s role.’

‘Never, my
dear, it would require far too much make-up and padding.’

Jessica grinned
and blew him a kiss as she went off to her office to call Terence.
The phone rang five or six times before a reedy voice answered.

‘Hello? Terence
here.’

‘Hello Terence,
it’s Jessica, from the Regent Theatre. How are you?’ Immediately
she regretted letting the words out of her mouth, as Terence took
her enquiry literally and began an extensive listing of his various
medical problems. In a micropause between ulcers and piles she
managed to insert her question.

‘Would you be
interested in understudying a couple of roles for us in our current
show, Terence? Adam has asked for you specifically, if you’re
available.’

‘Well, it would
mean learning lines, wouldn’t it? I have been having some memory
lapses now and again, possibly early-onset Alzheimers they think,
but I’d be happy to give it a try with what brain cells I have
left. I’ve been taking Omega 3 capsules and they’re certainly
helping with –’

‘That’s sounds
great, Terence, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. If you can make it to
rehearsal tomorrow night at 7, then Adam will fill you in on the
details. Thanks so much Terence, bye!’

Jessica hung up
the phone and groaned. What misery had she just inflicted on the
entire company?

Banner
headline, Whetford Morning News:

Murder Mystery
Schoolmaster in Detention! A police spokesman said today that
thirty-two year old Philip Nigel Jessop is helping them with their
enquiries into the death of Tamara Margaret Fitzpatrick at the
Regent Theatre on September 23. The dead woman was a former pupil
of Jessop’s at Whetford Girls’ School.

Jessica dropped
the paper onto the table.

‘At least he
hasn’t been arrested yet,’ she told Jellicoe, who was sitting at
her feet listening intently for the word “breakfast”. She read the
rest of the article carefully, then phoned Pippa to offer what
moral support she could.

‘It’s an
absolute nightmare,’ said Pippa. ‘All the school kids that walk
past the house are pointing and staring in. I can just imagine what
sort of vile things they’re saying about Phil. You know what
teenage girls are like. The police have let him come home but
there’s no way he can go to work while this is hanging over him.
He’s just sitting around looking utterly blank. I don’t know how
he’s going to cope if I leave him to go to work myself.’

‘I tell you
what,’ said Jessica. ‘How about I pop round to see how he’s doing a
bit later on, once school’s started? I’m sure I can find something
that I need his help with at the theatre today. At least it would
stop him brooding.’

‘Oh, would you?
Thanks, Jessica. That really would help. I’ll see you tonight then,
OK? God, you’re wonderful.’

Jessica hung up
and smiled.

‘Did you hear
that, Jellicoe? I’m wonderful.’ Jellicoe processed the words,
failed to recognise “breakfast” or “dinner”, and walked away. ‘OK,
fine,’ Jessica called after him. ‘Breakfast is coming, you spoiled
fat lump.’ She shook some cat biscuits into his bowl and earned a
look of thanks.

When she
knocked on Phil’s door he opened it a crack and peered out
cautiously. Seeing Jessica he pulled her quickly inside. ‘Hurry,
before anyone sees you. What with the school kids and the press
it’s a bloody disaster zone out there.’

Jessica obeyed,
blinking at his haggard appearance. He was wearing an old blue
dressing gown and hadn’t shaved or even combed his hair.

‘Whoa, Phil.
You’re not looking the best. I know you’re under pressure, buddy,
but don’t let it get to you this badly. Tell you what, go and tidy
yourself up because I came round to ask if you could give me a hand
at the theatre today – assuming you’re not going in to work. You
should be safe from the general public in there but I’m damned if
I’m going to hang around with you looking like the south end of a
northbound bear.’

That scored a
smile. He disappeared for a while and came back dressed, shaved,
and almost as well-presented as usual.

‘Thanks,
Jessica, that does feel better. I lost the plot for a bit there.
Sorry.’

‘Not a problem.
Now, do you want to hide under a hat and sprint for my car, or walk
out there with your head held high?’

‘Um, hold my
head high, pull down my hat, and get to your car quickly but
without unseemly haste, how’s that?’

‘Done! Come on
then, I need your body.’

He smiled
bravely and made his way to her car without rushing, although she
noticed him glance along the street to check for staring eyes.

At the theatre,
Jessica set him to work with a heat stripper, taking a few of the
many ancient layers of paint off the billboard panels. Phil
crouched on the concrete floor in the corridor, using a wide
scraper to peel back the heat-softened paint onto sheets of
newspaper. She figured it was messy and demanding work that would
occupy his attention for at least a couple of hours, after which he
could paint the boards white. By that time she would have the
design ready to draw onto them and he could tackle that too.

As she sat at
her computer in the office upstairs, it occurred to her that some
people might have felt nervous at being alone in an empty building
with a murder suspect. She snorted to herself. Hey, this was Phil –
she’d known him for years. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. But then her
mind turned up the odd fact of his having a shouting match with
Tamara at school. That behaviour didn’t match what she thought she
knew about him. She frowned. It was horrible, the way suspicion ate
away at your belief in people. How did police officers cope with
everyday interactions when their working life was such a grim
picture of mistrust and betrayal? Perhaps that’s why Jack had been
so equivocal when she’d asked him a personal question – maybe it
became second nature not to trust anyone with those private
details, particularly when they didn’t know the person well. It
must make relationships a bit of a minefield.