Murder in the Second Row (30 page)

‘Toast and
coffee will do nicely, thank you.’

She padded into
the kitchen, leaving him stretched lazily on her pale blue sheets.
After a few minutes he called to her.

‘Jess? You
might want to hear this. Brad Bannerman’s going to talk about the
show.’

She hurried in
and stood by the bed, listening intently to the radio.

‘This is Brad
‘The Man’ Bannerman on Wake up Whetford, and I want to tell you
about a fantastic show I saw on Saturday night.’ He went on to read
his review, then talked warmly about the theatre and how important
it was to the local community. His words were stirring. In fact, if
even half of the people listening followed Brad’s advice and went
to the show, it could well bring in more than enough money to reach
their target.

Jessica’s eyes
unexpectedly filled with tears. The theatre group had struggled for
so long and so hard that when somebody else came along to help it
was almost overwhelming. She held her fingers against trembling
lips.

Jack sat her
gently on the edge of the bed and went to deal with breakfast.

That night
bookings were well up, and they continued to climb for the rest of
the week as word-of-mouth response to the show got around. By the
time the doors opened on Friday night there was a queue of people
right across the front of the theatre waiting for door sales. Even
Gerald had a smile on his face. Jessica was euphoric.

‘Isn’t this
brilliant? D’you reckon we’ll actually get a full house tomorrow
for final night? Wouldn’t that be great?’

‘It certainly
would. That piece on the radio made all the difference to bookings.
You must have made quite an impression on Brad Bannerman for him to
speak so enthusiastically about the theatre. Well done! I tell you
what, you’d better dust off those full house signs just in case
because they haven’t seen the light of day for quite a while.’

Jessica went
down to the theatre early to help out with preparations. Despite
her sore foot she carried cases of wine in to the bar for Greg and
lent a hand with stocking up the sweet counter as well. Excitement
was high, and when the cast arrived the level increased even
more.

Austin gave his
usual final night speech backstage.

‘I don’t want
to see any bloody silliness tonight. No playing tricks on each
other, no changes to the script. This audience has paid to see the
same show as everyone else and we give them that, understood? Now,
there’s a party after the show for cast and crew and your
significant others – that doesn’t mean invite your entire family or
the blokes from the pub. And lastly…’ There was a groan from the
old hands. ‘Yes, you know what I’m about to say - pack out. You are
ALL expected to be here at the theatre bright and early tomorrow to
help with pack out. No exceptions, no excuses except untimely
death. Hungover or not, you can still push a broom around and give
a hand with putting things away. Right, get your heads straight for
tonight’s performance and make it a damn good one.’

Jessica went
out front to check on the house numbers. A queue of patrons was
still filing in through the front door, and when she put her head
out to check, she saw that it stretched right along the street. She
grinned from ear to ear and looked in at the box office to see how
many seats were still vacant. They might just fill them all.

Gerald sent
word backstage to delay starting the show until he’d processed the
remaining customers. He officially announced “Full House” with one
couple left to seat, and squeezed them into one of the private
boxes to avoid turning them away.

Jessica
gleefully put out the Full House signs in front of the theatre, and
photographed them for future promotion purposes. Then she slipped
upstairs into the opposite box and pulled up the scrappy old office
chair to sit in and watch the show. The excited hum from the
audience faded with the house lights, leaving an expectant silence.
The curtain rose and the last performance began.

Jessica leaned
forward on the worn red velvet rail and surveyed the audience. To
her right, tiers of circle seats stretched across the auditorium,
filled with faces reflecting bright light from the stage. Their
attention was riveted on the drama below, but Jessica couldn’t
shake off an odd feeling that she was being watched herself. Down
in the stalls there was a sea of heads with not an empty seat to be
seen. She smiled with satisfaction.

Her only
disappointment was that Jack hadn’t managed to see the whole show.
He had come one night mid-week but had been called away during
interval, and she had realised that with his police duties and her
theatre schedule, they would struggle to have a regular social
life.

Deep in her
pocket, her cell phone vibrated with a text message. She took off
her jacket and pulled it over her head to shield the light from the
phone’s screen.

‘On my way, can
u find me a seat? Lve J’ She grinned and texted him back.

‘Come 2 L-hand
box upstrs. Lve J’

Flushed and
smiling, she smoothed down her hair and pulled forward a second
chair from the dim recesses at the back of the box.

Several minutes
later, a draft of air told her that the door to the box had been
opened. She turned with a smile, but the happily-whispered words of
greeting died on her lips. It wasn’t Jack. Instead, a tall thin
figure was silhouetted against the light from the hallway. An arm
raised. Light glinted off a thin blade.

As the figure
plunged forward, Jessica instinctively threw herself sideways off
the chair and swept it up, jabbing it hard at the figure’s
midsection, the blow landing on a soft spot with satisfying force.
As her assailant folded over, Jessica leaped past into the hallway,
pausing for a split-second to decide which way to run. To the
upstairs toilet to lock herself in and ring for help, or down to
the foyer to find more immediate assistance?

She ran down to
the foyer, looking round urgently for Greg or Matt or even Gerald,
but astonishingly the whole place was empty. Part of her mind made
a note to find out why the entire front-of-house staff had deserted
their posts. Feet sounded on the stairs behind her. She bolted
forward, crashed through the swing door on the other side of the
foyer and bounded up the shabby steps, two at a time, to her
office. She fumbled for her key and had just unlocked the door when
her assailant burst through the door below and started towards the
stairs. In a fleeting glance down, Jessica saw a gaunt woman with
wild hair and staring eyes who looked vaguely familiar. She
desperately searched her mental database for a name.

‘Mrs
Fitzpatrick? Ruth?’

The woman’s
eyes narrowed and she leaped up the stairs, holding the gleaming
blade in front of her with deadly intent. Jessica shot into her
office and slammed the door shut, locked it, and put her foot
against it in a purely reflexive action while she pulled out her
phone. Shaking fingers hit speed-dial.

He didn’t
answer and it went straight to message recorder. ‘Jack! That nutter
– I think it’s Tamara’s mother! She’s here at the theatre and
trying to kill me with a knife. She’s outside the office door
now.’

A blow to the
door made it shudder. Jessica squeaked.

‘Jack, could
you make it quick! And please, try not to disrupt the show. No
sirens…’

A second blow
to the door sent her sprawling as the frame splintered. She picked
herself up and ran to the window, twisting the paint-stiff catch
and heaving up the bottom section with an almighty effort. Tamara’s
mother advanced down the narrow office, eyes glittering.

‘Heathen!’ she
hissed. ‘Vile blasphemer! When I sharpen my flashing sword I will
bring vengeance on my enemies!’

She darted
forward just as Jessica was climbing out of the window, slashing
down with the knife but missing by a fraction as Jessica pulled her
hand away from the sill.

Jessica edged
along the parapet that ran across the front of the theatre. It was
a narrow ledge, purely for decoration, and she was only too well
aware that some of the supporting timbers were well past their
use-by date. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the woman
climbing nimbly out the window and coming after her. She tried to
remember, from the last time they’d had a painting bee up there,
which timbers were rotten. Right in the middle, she recalled. Below
the drama faces plaque. She stepped across that area as widely as
she could reach and looked back. Tamara’s mother was gaining on
her.

In the distance
she heard a siren. As it came closer the sound ceased.

‘Stop,’ called
Jessica. ‘The police are on their way. Stay where you are and don’t
make this any worse. Please Ruth, just stop there.’

Her wild-eyed
assailant strode forward along the ledge, muttering garbled
fragments that Jessica could only partly decipher.

‘All who curse
their father or mother must be put to death! Wicked girl, wicked.
She’s gone.’ She glared at Jessica. ‘You will be an object of
horror to all the kingdoms of the earth. Your dead body will be
food for the birds and wild animals, and no one will be there to
chase them away. The Lord will afflict you with boils and with
tumours, scurvy, and the itch, from which you cannot be cured.’

Jessica only
had time to think that it was just as well Terence wasn’t hearing
all this, when there was a loud cracking sound and her pursuer fell
forwards.

Jack’s car
pulled in sharply on the street below.

Jessica
watched, frozen, as Tamara’s mother pulled herself up bodily and
climbed out of the broken timbers, advancing steadily. Trails of
blood ran down her arms and legs, looking black under the orange
streetlights. Jack’s shout roused Jessica from her horror-struck
daze. She was trapped with nowhere else to climb to. Ruth was just
a few feet away, and she still had the knife in her hand.

Jessica called
out to Jack. ‘Get ready, I’m sliding over the edge!’ She sat on the
edge of the parapet and let herself slide down the steep roof of
the veranda, scraped painfully over the sharp edge, and dropped
vertically, landing neatly in Jack’s arms. As she slid down his
body, her hands went round his biceps.

‘Ooh, have you
been working out?’

‘Jesus, Jess,
not now!’

He put her down
carefully and looked back up. Tamara’s mother stood on the parapet,
shaking with fury, arms stiff and fists clenched. A camera flash
went off, searing the image of the theatre façade on their retinas.
She shrieked, picking up chunks of broken wood and hurling them at
the newspaper photographer, reminding Jessica of King Kong’s
defiant last stand on the Empire State building. Jack ran to move
the photographer back to a safe distance.

With a piercing
scream, Tamara’s mother launched herself from the parapet like an
avenging angel and dived straight towards Jessica with the knife
blade foremost.

Jack whirled
round and started back towards her. There was no time. He couldn’t
reach her.

Jessica looked
up, sidestepped smartly, and watched as the woman’s body hit the
road with a sickening thud. The knife clattered away and lay
still.

Jack moved
Jessica away from the body as two patrol cars pulled up with a
screech of brakes. The arriving officers immediately began
processing the scene, unrolling tape and taking details. Once she’d
given a quick statement, Jessica excused herself. She brushed dust
and debris from her hands and arms, straightened her clothing, and
ducked inside; interval was due to start at any moment.

‘Gerald, keep
the outside doors locked for interval, would you? Nobody can go out
front for a while. I’ll explain later. Tell the smokers tough
titty, they’ll have to wait. But do it nicely, of course.’ She was
determined not to let the real life dramas out in the street spoil
the show’s final performance.

She succeeded.
By the time the show ended, the area outside was cordoned off and
well-screened from view. Departing patrons assumed that there were
some roadworks going on and went home calmly. They would find out
the true events much later when the morning paper came out,
probably with a banner headline, The Mother Did It! above a
dramatic picture of a knife-wielding Ruth poised on the
parapet.

When the last
audience member had finally left the theatre, Jessica went to find
Jack. He was in the corridor talking quietly to Matt, jotting down
a few key words in his notebook.

‘So you didn’t
actually see anything of the woman then?’

‘No, nothing
that registered anyway. We got a bit tied up just before interval
with a girl who fainted in the middle of a row of seats. Gerald and
Greg and I had to squeeze between the rows and carry her out – we
were in the auditorium a fair while. A herd of elephants could have
run through the foyer and we wouldn’t have noticed them.’

‘So that’s why
none of you were on hand to rescue me,’ said Jessica. ‘Damn good
thing you showed up so fast, Jack. I do like a man who responds
promptly to a damsel’s distress call.’

He switched out
of official mode to give her a warm hug. ‘Wild elephants couldn’t
have kept me away. Are you feeling OK now?’

She felt a jolt
in her stomach at the tenderness in his eyes. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I
might have a few bruises tomorrow from clambering round the
woodwork, but hey, it could have been a lot worse. Did you hear
what she was muttering about putting children to death if they
curse their parents? Tamara must have sounded off at her one too
many times. If only the blasted woman hadn’t chosen my theatre to
do the Lord’s work in!’ She took a breath. ‘Jack, I’m guessing
you’d prefer us to cancel tonight’s festivities? We can easily
postpone the Final Night party till tomorrow, and that would keep
people out of your hair while you guys are doing your thing with
the scene.’