Murder in the Second Row (18 page)

‘Yes, of
course,’ she said. ‘But first I must ask that if any of you suffers
from a heart condition, would you please stay seated in the foyer
while we go into the auditorium.’

There were
excited whispers among the spectators.

‘And if any of
you are particularly sensitive to psychic influences, I would ask
you to remain outside as well. The theatre has several resident
ghosts and they don’t always welcome our intrusion into their
world.’

By now everyone
in the group was eager to get inside to see for themselves. Jessica
asked for silence. She moved towards the doors to the auditorium,
the crowd instantly making way for her. She paused on the steps and
spoke with authority.

‘Please stay
together and walk slowly towards the stage. Stop at the foot of
those steps and only then turn and look back.’

Eyes wide, they
followed her instructions without argument, filing down the aisle
between the rows of seats until they reached the front of the room.
Assembled in the open space between the seats and the stage, they
turned as one and looked back at the auditorium. Jessica spoke in a
quiet voice so that they strained to hear her.

‘If you count
three seats along from the aisle in row L, that’s three from the
back on the right hand side, you may see the shape of the grey
lady. She was a devoted regular theatre-goer who passed away one
evening in the middle of a show, sometime in the 1920s.’

Heads nodded as
they counted off the seats and stared hard at L13.

‘I see her!’
The bottle-blonde cried out excitedly, and was shushed by the rest
of the group. They peered all the harder, hoping to see a wispy
grey shape for themselves.

‘Another of our
spirit friends hovers above row J, that’s five from the back wall,
also on the right. Tragically, he plunged to his death from the
balcony above. Nobody is quite sure why he jumped.’

There was an
awed silence while they studied the rows of plain brown seat
backs.

‘He’s telling
me it was because of a lost love,’ confided a grey-haired lady in a
hushed whisper. ‘She was drowned at sea and he never got over
it.’

The crowd
murmured in sympathy.

‘Can you
imagine how these poor lost souls would feel if their quiet refuge
here was turned into a shopping mall?’ Jessica asked them. ‘We
can’t let that happen, can we?’

They all shook
their heads. She led them up the steps onto the stage and allowed
them one last look before taking them backstage for the rest of the
tour. Stewart stood to attention as they came through and Jessica
winked at him. Once she had led them through the rest of building
and along the side corridor to the foyer, she gave them a few final
words.

‘I hope you’ve
seen how special the Regent Theatre is, and how important it is to
keep it safe for the future. We’re relying on people like you to
speak up on our behalf – not just for the living theatre-goers, but
for those who have gone before. Now, are there any questions?’

‘Yeah. We
didn’t see any bloodstains. Where was the murder done?’ A
pot-bellied man in a black t-shirt and grubby jeans sounded
aggrieved.

‘Ah,’ said
Jessica. ‘Out of deference to the victim’s grieving family we’ve
given a promise not to talk about the recent homicide. But I can
tell you that the entire auditorium carpet has been steam-cleaned
in the last week.’

There were
nodded heads and sighs of satisfaction. Jessica moved towards the
exit.

‘Thank you all
so much for coming. If you’d like to make a donation there’s a
collection box by the door on your way out.’

She saw them
off, picked up the day’s mail, and went backstage to find
Stewart.

‘Look at this,’
she crowed, shaking the collection box. ‘Heaps of dosh! It looks
like this crazy idea might just work after all!’

‘That’s great!
And if that lot tell their friends, we might get even more people
tomorrow.’

He stopped,
seeing her face change as she flicked through the mail.

‘What’s
up?’

She looked at
him, frowning, and held out a folded sheet of purple paper. He took
it and started to read out loud.

“
The LORD is
a jealous God, filled with vengeance and wrath. He takes revenge on
all who oppose him and furiously destroys his enemies! The LORD is
slow to get angry, but his power is great, and he never lets the
guilty go unpunished.

Who can stand
before his fierce anger? Who can survive his burning fury? His rage
blazes forth like fire, and the mountains crumble to dust in his
presence. But he sweeps away his enemies in an overwhelming flood.
He pursues his foes into the darkness of night.”

‘Yikes,’
Stewart expostulated, ‘this is a bit heavy, isn’t it? Do you think
somebody’s trying to tell us something?’

‘I’d hate to
think what.’ She took it back, gave it a cursory glance then
screwed it into a ball. ‘It’s probably just one of those religious
nutters, stuffing vague warnings into everyone’s letterboxes to
keep them on the straight and narrow. They do so love to tell
people how to live their lives. I think we’ll file that one in the
round file, don’t you? No point in writing it up as “correspondence
received” when there’s no return address on it.’

She arced it
across the room. One shot, neatly into the bin.

Above the bin
was the season clock. She moved the hand round to “5 weeks till
Opening Night” and winked at him.

‘Not long to go
now. Right, I’m going to go and write up these donations and put
them into Gerald’s pigeonhole. He’ll think it’s Christmas!’

When she’d
gone, Stewart retrieved the scrunched-up letter and smoothed it
out. Something about the heavy purple paper had looked faintly
familiar. He folded it up and slipped it into his pocket to puzzle
over later.

Jessica got
home around lunch time to find an unfamiliar car parked in her
driveway. She peered inside it as she walked past but saw nothing
indicating who it might belong to except a dark jacket folded
neatly on the back seat.

‘Hi Jessica,’ a
voice called from her veranda as a tall figure uncoiled from her
sun-lounger. ‘I hope you don’t mind that I made myself comfortable
while I waited for you.’

‘Detective
Senior Sergeant Matherson, this is a surprise. Are you looking for
further assistance with your enquiries?’ She kept her tone cool, a
little wary after their previous encounter. She didn’t like being
made to feel like a complete idiot.

He came down
the shallow steps to meet her. ‘Actually, I am. But first I wanted
to apologise for my ill-considered statement at dinner. It wasn’t
very smart to take a beautiful woman out for the evening and then
talk about a wife, however mythical. I saw how uncomfortable it
made you and I’m very sorry.’

She waved it
away as inconsequential despite the annoyance it had caused her.
‘Hasn’t crossed my mind since, Jack. Forget about it.’

‘Good. So long
as you’re not unhappy in my company. Now, I was wondering if you
happen to know where Austin Sudgeway might be. We’d rather like to
speak to him but he doesn’t appear to be at home, and hasn’t been
there for the last week. Did he have a trip planned, do you
know?’

She frowned,
thinking back to conversations with Austin over the past couple of
weeks. ‘I don’t recall him mentioning anything. Maybe some family
emergency has come up and he didn’t have time to let any of us
know. I think he has a brother down south somewhere.’

‘We’ve spoken
to him – no help at all. Does Austin have a cell phone number?
There wasn’t one on the crew list you gave us.’

‘No, he’s a bit
anti-technology. No cell phone, and I’m not sure if he’s even got a
computer to go online with. He’s the sort that still carries a
chequebook rather than use a cash machine.’

Jack rolled his
eyes. ‘Honestly, sometimes it’s as if people just don’t want to
have their movements traced. How are we expected to breach his
civil rights if he leaves no digital trail whatsoever?’

She smiled
despite herself. ‘I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. The theatre is his
second home and I doubt he’ll stay away for long.’

‘Unless he’s
hiding for some reason,’ said Jack gravely. ‘Do you think that’s
possible?’

‘Nah, not
Austin. Really, he’s pretty harmless. A bit sleazy at times, but
the worst you could say about him is that he makes horribly
inappropriate jokes. Not really an offence you could lock him up
for, is it?’

‘Not unless we
had much bigger jails! But seriously Jessica, if you do hear from
him, would you let me know as soon as possible? It really is
important that we speak to him, if only to rule him out as a
suspect.’

‘Sure, fair
enough. Is there anyone else you’ve got your eye on that I need to
hunt down for you? Since you seem to be having a bit of trouble
locating people?’

He eyed her
sternly. ‘All right, Miss, that’ll be enough of your lip. Now then,
is there any chance of a cup of coffee since I’ve been waiting
patiently for so long?’

She rapidly
weighed up her intention of doing an hour’s housework against the
chance to enjoy a chat with a handsome copper, and decided the
vacuuming could definitely wait. ‘Come on inside.’

She unlocked
the front door, solid wood with a leadlight window, and he followed
her up the wood-panelled hall to the kitchen.

‘This is a
lovely old place,’ he said, looking round appreciatively. ‘Did you
do it up yourself?’

‘Yes, with a
bit of help from the theatre guys. Gazza sorted out the wiring
because that was a bit tired, then he and Howard gave me a hand
with some of the heavy work like replacing the kitchen bench and
cupboards. The painting and varnishing I did myself.’

She filled the
kettle and reached for two mugs hanging on a mug tree.

‘You’ve done a
very nice job. I’m in a police house for now, so it’s pretty
nondescript. When I get a bit more settled I’ll look round for
something like this that has more character.’ He looked momentarily
self-conscious. ‘I’ve decided to try some of that “quality of life”
thing that people keep talking about. After eighteen years in the
force it’s probably time that my career isn’t the most important
thing in my life.’

‘Wow. That’s a
tricky step for a guy to take. Whetford’s a good place for it,
though. We’re very hot on “work-life balance” and “finding
yourself” and alternative lifestyles. You want an aura analysis or
chakra readings, let me know and I’ll hook you up.’

His dark eyes
regarded her with mild suspicion. ‘You wouldn’t be poking fun at my
life-changing aspirations, would you? That wouldn’t be very
kind.’

She spread her
hands in innocence. ‘Who, me? No, of course not.’ She grinned. ‘I’m
just helping you with your enquiries, like a good citizen
should.’

She poured milk
into his coffee and handed it to him. ‘Speaking of which, why did
you pull Phil in for questioning like that? Surely you didn’t need
to haul him down to the station and get him publicly humiliated?
There can’t have been much evidence to base that on.’

He frowned.
‘You’re right, actually, but keep that to yourself. It was D.I.
Carthew’s idea, hoping that giving our best suspect a fright might
shake loose more information. It’s not the way I would have gone
about it.’

‘Of course not.
You’d have given him a psychic reading and known straight away he
was innocent, wouldn’t you? I mean, his aura alone would have told
you how sweet and harmless he is.’

Jack stared at
her. He pointed to his forehead. ‘See these worry lines? Do you
know what caused them? Eighteen years of talking to people like
you. If I stay here any longer I’ll need botox to maintain what
looks I have left.’

‘Awwww, poor
Jack! You’re wrong though. I don’t cause frown lines, I cause
these.’ She reached over and traced his laugh lines with her
finger. ‘These are much more fun. And they add to your good looks,
so you should be thanking me.’

‘I? Thank you?’
He gestured dramatically, feeding her the next line.

‘You’re
welcome!’ she laughed.

He looked at
her over the rim of his coffee mug. ‘Do you have any thoughts about
who we should be looking at as a suspect? Is there anyone at the
theatre who’s been acting strangely recently?’

‘What? This is
amateur theatre we’re talking about! Everyone is strange to start
with. But I know what you mean.’ She struggled with her conscience
for a while, then sighed. ‘All right, officer, I’ll come clean.
Nick has been bothering me a bit. A while ago he was all over me
like a rash, but when I told him I wasn’t interested he switched
straight to Tamara and was playing sucky face with her all round
the theatre. I thought maybe he was trying to make me jealous, but
who knows? There might have been some other motivation going on.
And it did worry me that he had those bruises and scratches on his
face. Did he explain those to you?’

‘Yes, he said
he fell on some rocks. We did check under Tamara’s fingernails but
there was no tissue of any kind so it appears that she didn’t
scratch him.’

‘So he’s
innocent then?’

‘Not
necessarily. There’s just no evidence either way at present. We
have some DNA tests under way and those results will be back in
another week or so. Sadly, it’s not quite as fast as they magically
perform them on C.S.I.’

‘How did she
die?’ Jessica asked, hesitantly.

‘She was
muffled with the sleeve of her cardigan and stabbed with a very
thin blade of some kind.’

‘God. That’s
horrible.’

‘Homicides
usually are, I’m afraid.’

‘Hang on a
minute – a cardigan? That doesn’t sound like Tamara. She wouldn’t
be seen dead in a cardigan – oh. She was, wasn’t she. But honestly,
she wouldn’t normally wear something so… conservative. I’ll bet the
last time she wore a cardie was as part of her school uniform.’