Murder in the Second Row (3 page)

‘So, nothing
new there, then,’ said Jessica. ‘Our happy band of stage crew is
back in the theatre again.’ She grinned. ‘I can hardly wait.’

On the night of
the first read-through a trio of newcomers, clutching their
scripts, hovered nervously at the Green Room door. Jessica watched
with some amusement as Gerald the Treasurer pounced on them.
Despite his slight frame and mousy colouring, he was a force to be
reckoned with when it came to financial matters.

‘Welcome to the
Regent Theatre. You’ve been cast in the show? Very good. Here are
some forms to fill in so you can join the Society. Students, are
you? There’s the student rate, just tick that box and make out a
cheque the way it says underneath. Or cash is fine if you’ve got it
with you.’

‘But look, I
don’t want to join anything – I’m just in the show.’ The
dark-haired boy looked mildly resentful.

‘Compulsory,
I’m afraid. Can’t go on stage unless you’re a member. Just fill out
the details and give it back to me before the read-through, all
right?’

Gerald spotted
another victim and moved away, preparing a form and a pen.

Jessica crossed
over to them.

‘Hi guys, nice
to have you with us. When you’re done with the forms, could you
give me a hand to put out some of those chairs please?’ She pointed
to stacks of shabby grey vinyl chairs leaning against the wall.
‘We’ll need about twenty three, in a circle round the room.
Thanks.’

She left them
usefully employed and looked around for any more new faces.

Phil and Pippa
Jessop had arrived and were chatting to Clara-Jane, looking
slightly happier than they had at auditions. Young Stewart was
making himself a coffee and still seemed a little nervous. Three or
four regular actors had turned up again and were catching up with
their news since the last show they’d been in together.

There was a
thunderous hammering on the back door. Stewart gasped and spilt his
coffee. Being nearest to the door, he pushed the security buttons
and opened it warily.

‘Oh do get out
of the way!’ boomed Simone. ‘Why didn’t this door open? We always
come in this way. If the damn thing is sticking then somebody
should fix it.’

Jessica moved
quickly to rescue the tongue-tied blushing Stewart, explaining to
the formidable Mrs Duchaine that a security lock had been added to
the back door after an attempted break-in, and that now all
personnel had to come and go through the stage door at the front of
the building.

‘Utterly
ridiculous! Never had a problem with burglars before. Don’t know
what this town is coming to.’ The crowd parted before her as she
steamed in through the door.

Just then Nick
and Tamara arrived. She was hanging onto his arm and laughing up at
him, but when he saw Jessica waving him over he gently detached her
grip and excused himself.

‘Hello,
Jessica. What’s up?’

‘Hi Nick, you
remember Simone Duchaine, don’t you? She was brilliant in Hay
Fever, and is playing Ada Boynton for us. Simone, this is Nick
Usher, our top PR and promotions man. I’m sure he’d be happy to get
you some coffee and look after you.’

Mollified by
the prompt attention, Simone allowed herself to be seated in the
only intact chair in the room. Jessica avoided meeting Nick’s eye,
certain he’d be signalling that she owed him big time.

Howard and
Gazza came in together and Jessica could see that Gazza wasn’t
happy about something. She caught their conversation as they walked
past her to the Rose Room.

‘I don’t see
why we have to be here – we’re stage crew. We’re going to be
sitting through the whole damn show umpteen dozen times as it
is.’

‘It was Adam’s
idea to let us get the flavour of the play so we can design
everything to suit, Gazza. But maybe we can escape quietly if it
gets too boring.’

‘Yeah, right.’
Exit Gazza, grumbling.

‘Jessica!
Looking lovely as always.’ Nick had escaped briefly from his
schmoozing duties with Simone.

She looked down
at her faded jeans and sweatshirt.

‘What, these
old things? Leave the clever lines to the actors, Nick. But thanks
for your help with Simone, anyway. Did you see Adam on your way
in?’

‘He’ll be along
in another ten minutes or so. He wanted to allow time for all the
admin stuff first, like Gerald doing his thing with membership
forms and Clara-Jane getting everyone measured up for
wardrobe.’

True to form,
Adam made his entrance once the crowd had quietened down and taken
their seats.

‘Good
afternoon, everyone. Thanks for coming, particularly the stage crew
who don’t normally get to sit in on read-throughs. I wanted you to
get a feel for the atmosphere that we want to create as it’s a key
element of the drama. Gazza, your lighting is going to be very
important to set the mood.’

Gazza
straightened up and looked more attentive, pushing his ancient cap
to the back of his head, pleased someone recognised his importance
to the show.

Adam continued.
‘Performers, this is your chance to hear the whole play since there
will always be parts you miss when you’re backstage. Simone, I’m
particularly grateful that you’ll be giving us the benefit of your
abilities. Only an actor with your range and experience would be
able to handle the difficult character of Ada Boynton and make her
come alive.’

Simone
positively glowed.

‘And you
younger ones will learn a lot from the more experienced cast
members who will, I’m sure, do their best to be good role models
for you.’

There was a
general murmur of assent.

Jessica was
impressed once more by the way Adam seemed to speak to the heart of
everyone in the room. He had a charisma that inspired people to do
things even better than they thought they could. Secretly, she
wished that she had some hidden performance talent that might
somehow be spotted. Then maybe she too could join the select group
of performers who got all the attention. Smiling at her own daft
idea, she sat back to hear the play being read.

Adam ran
through the cast list to explain who was playing which role. When
he named Tamara Fitzpatrick as playing Nadine Boynton, there was a
sharp intake of breath from both the Jessops. Pippa was quickly
expressionless, but Phil looked worried.

Jessica checked
the casting notes and realised that Phil was playing Nadine’s
husband. It would have been uncomfortable for any teacher and
student, but with sultry young Tamara as part of the equation,
Phil, her school teacher, might well have his hands full.

The play began,
and Jessica was drawn into the dated but still chilling tale of a
family ruled by their sadistic and manipulative stepmother. By the
time the last line was spoken, the entire room was quiet and
thoughtful. Even Howard and Gazza had been won over.

‘Excellent.
Thank you, everyone,’ said Adam. He looked at each person around
the circle. ‘I think you’ve all got a sense of the power that this
play can have when it’s performed to its full potential. I know
some of the humour is a bit contrived, but it’s a foil to that
sense of menacing evil that Agatha Christie does so well. Go home
and study your scripts and I’ll see you at the first rehearsal next
Sunday.’

Jessica saw
Howard open his mouth and quickly forestalled his question.

‘The rehearsal
will be up in the Rose Room, won’t it Adam? So that construction
can get started on the stage?’

‘Yes, 2pm
Sunday in the Rose Room. Thanks everybody.’

‘Thanks,
Adam’

‘That was
great!’

Excited actors
left the room, chattering like sparrows. Jessica saw Gazza’s lips
form the words “bloody thespians” as he and Howard watched them
depart.

The day after
the read-through Jessica arrived at the theatre full of enthusiasm.
She unlocked the maroon-painted stage door and checked for mail.
Inhaling the familiar scent of old wood, rope, dust and perfume,
she bounded up the creaky stairs to her office two at a time. Today
was going to be busy, getting the theatre ready for a touring show
due to perform that night and the following day. Thankfully they
didn’t need much in the way of staging, but the place always needed
to be in tip-top order for any production company that rented
it.

She started her
usual walk through the building to check the most important
areas.

The foyer was
tidy, smelling faintly of stale alcohol but more strongly of lemon
wax polish now that the cleaner had been through. Even the classic
red patterned carpet looked brighter than usual. Jessica
straightened a picture and looked into the box office. Booking
supplies and torches for the visiting touring company were at the
ready, and several colours of roll tickets nestled neatly in the
drawer. She knew Gerald would take care of the cash box, turning up
with it on time and filled with the appropriate denominations of
notes and coins. There were times when his irritatingly anal
attention to detail was definitely an asset.

Both sets of
patrons’ toilets were as good as they were going to get. Clean and
well-supplied with toilet paper, but cramped and old with ugly
pipes running across walls and ceilings. Perhaps one day there’d be
money to do a proper refurbishment.

Jessica padded
along the rest of the OP corridor towards the stage and opened the
heavily-carpeted door that muffled offstage noise. She paused for a
moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light in the wings, not
wanting to trip on the three black-painted steps leading up to the
stage. She carried on along the side of the stage, through another
thickly-carpeted door into the backstage area, and into the main
dressing room. Testing the lights, she saw two dead bulbs over the
mirror and swiftly replaced them from a supply in the cupboard
beneath.

The second
dressing room was in good shape, except for a small lipstick kiss
which she quickly wiped off the mirror with her sleeve.

Past the
dressing rooms she walked through the make-up room and into the
Green Room, where she stopped in surprise.

‘Oh, hello
Gerald! Fancy seeing you here. Haven’t you got an office to go
to?’

He looked up
from the papers he was studying.

‘Hello Jessica.
I just wanted to double-check some figures before work. Would you
come and have a look at these please? As production manager you
need to see the budget breakdown I’ve worked out.’

‘Hold on while
I get a coffee. My brain needs artificial assistance to do maths at
this hour of the day.’

She made
herself a mug of instant and sat down beside him.

‘OK, fire away
Gerald. What have you got?’

‘Well, working
on the usual estimate of a nine-night run at half-houses, that
gives us this figure for the gross box office takings.’ He pointed
with his neatly sharpened yellow pencil. ‘Out of that, take the
budgets we worked out for staging the show, along with the rights
and Adam’s director’s fee, and if all goes well we’ll have a
reasonable profit.’

‘Excellent! Why
aren’t you dancing on the table, Gerald?’

‘Because here’s
the quote for roof repairs.’ He pushed it across. ‘To do the full
job, it’s only just under our estimated profit.’

‘But it’s
under, Gerald! We can do it! And if the show does better than
expected, there’ll be enough to fix the seats and start that
fighting fund we need. That’s great!’

He allowed
himself a small smile.

‘Perhaps you’re
right, Jessica. I do tend to look for problems. The rental that’s
coming in today will cover the next mortgage payment, and there
shouldn’t be anything else that needs expenditure until after the
show. But I won’t dance on the table just yet, if that’s all right.
Perhaps at the Final Night Party?’

He gathered up
his papers and slipped them into his briefcase.

‘The rental!
Glad you mentioned it, Gerald. I’d better finish my checking –
they’re due to turn up in an hour or so. Catch you later.’

Jessica jumped
up, rinsed out her mug in the kitchen sink, and climbed the two
uneven steps to inspect the backstage toilets. One toilet roll
holder needed tightening so she backtracked through the make-up
room to fetch a screwdriver from the workshop.

It was another
of her favourite places in the building. Old iron tools were hung
on pegboards above the workbench, and faintly-scrawled pencil
measurements left from shows in the previous century reminded
present-day set builders that they belonged to a strong tradition.
A few pin-ups, smutty jokes and limericks added to the
ambiance.

Jessica
selected a sturdy flathead screwdriver and fixed the dangling
holder in minutes.

Back in the
Green Room, the kitchen was tidy enough. She refilled the
wall-mounted water heater and put out clean tea-towels. She went
out through the left-hand stage door, across the side of the stage
past the stage-manager’s corner, and through the heavy door into
the corridor. The public didn’t get to this area so it was strictly
functional. The concrete floor was spattered with paint from
generations of sign-writing, and the solid wooden panels that made
up the billboard across the front of the theatre were lined up
waiting to be painted for the next show.

At the far end
of the corridor Jessica stopped just before reaching the front
door, and pushed open the swing door into the foyer. This time she
took the elegant sweeping staircase up to the circle gallery where
the seats were ornate moulded gilt affairs with red velvet bases
and backs. The top edge of the circle rail was covered in the same
red velvet, and more of it hung at the sides of a private box on
each side of the auditorium. Jessica moved silently across the
thick carpet to check the upstairs toilets.