Murder in the Second Row (8 page)

Jessica hid a
smile; this was a side of Nick she hadn’t seen before.

‘I’ve got some,
thanks. Little blue ones. Jolly good they are too – d’you want
one?’

‘Austin!’ The
entire planning committee voiced their disapproval.

Nick sighed
wearily. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to hold this meeting
in a wine bar. Should we go back to the Regent, do you think?’

‘No, of course
not,’ said Clara-Jane. ‘This was a great idea, Nick. It’s nice to
get a change of scene. I’m sure Austin was only joking and will
stop now.’ She looked hard at Austin to reinforce the message.
‘Perhaps you could get us some water, Austin?’

‘All right, all
right,’ he muttered, and stomped off to the bar.

‘Don’t let him
get to you, Nick,’ she advised. ‘OK, he’s sleazy and disgusting at
times but he’s a damn good stage manager, and has more theatre
experience than all the rest of us put together.’

‘He’s probably
had more than his share of all sorts of experiences,’ said MaryAnn
tartly. ‘I sometimes feel like making Howard have an extra shower
when he’s been around Austin for a day.’

Jessica saw
Austin, carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle, weaving unsteadily
back towards their table. ‘Anyway, Nick,’ she broke in quickly,
‘what have you got in mind for publicity so far?’

He brightened.
‘Clara-Jane’s been a busy girl and made a whole set of t-shirts
already – the ones with the knives in the back. I figured we could
grab as many society members as we can spare from show preparation
and fit them out to go to the Kite Festival next weekend. They can
wander through the crowd and hand out flyers about the theatre.
I’ve already spoken with the organisers and they’re OK with
it.’

‘Great!’ said
Jessica. ‘Well done Nick, and well done Clara-Jane. Hey, who’s
really photogenic that we could get to wear one? If we could score
a picture in the paper that would really help.’

‘I can only say
this because Pippa’s not here,’ said Phil, ‘but how about Tamara? I
can’t think of anyone who fills out a t-shirt quite so, er,
spectacularly.’

‘Good point. Or
should I say good points!’ said Clara-Jane. ‘We might as well use
her assets for a worthy cause for a change.’

‘Do you think
that photographer, Bruce, would go along to the fair and take some
shots of her, just in case the newspaper photographer doesn’t show
up?’

‘I don’t think
so, Jessica!’ Clara-Jane looked slightly stunned at the suggestion.
‘They don’t get on at all. Didn’t you notice the chill in the air
when he was taking the promo photos last night?’

‘Oh God, don’t
say she’s had an affair with him, too,’ groaned Phil. ‘I mean, as
well as the other guys she’s slept with. Not me,’ he made sure they
understood.

‘Of course not
Phil, we know you’re pure as the driven snow!’ quipped Clara-Jane.
‘Didn’t you know? Bruce is her step-father. Apparently both her
parents are very up-tight, conservative types who couldn’t handle
her behaviour. He threw her out of the house when she turned
eighteen, hoping it would shock her out her wild ways, but it
didn’t seem to have much effect except that they don’t speak to
each other any more.’

Clara-Jane
paused. ‘At least, that’s what she told me, anyway. I’m not sure
that it’s an entirely accurate picture. She does have a habit of
embroidering the truth when it suits her.’

‘Good knockers,
though,’ mused Austin, gazing into space. ‘Especially in a really
skin-tight little shirt. Makes bulges in all the right places.’

‘Austin,’ said
Jessica, ‘just this once, I have to agree with you.’

As the meeting
concluded and they were leaving the wine bar, Jessica felt a hand
on her arm.

‘Would you like
to grab a cup of coffee someplace, Jess?’ Nick’s dark eyes gazed
into hers.

‘Oh, not
tonight, Nick – it’s getting a bit late and I think I’ve had enough
of the theatre for now.’

‘I wasn’t
intending to talk about theatre stuff,’ he assured her. ‘I just
thought it would be nice to take a break, relax a bit, spend some
time together. Come on, just one little coffee, what harm could it
do?’

He smiled his
most charming smile, but she just couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm
to spend any more of the evening with him.

‘Not this time,
Nick. Sorry. I want to head on home.’

‘Can I at least
walk you back to your place then? It’s dark and I’d feel better if
I knew you were home safely.’

She stared at
him. ‘Nick, I’m starting to feel like I need protection from you!
Honestly mate, you need to back off a notch or two, OK? It’s kind
of you to offer, but no.’

He stood stock
still. ‘Fine, walk home alone then. But don’t come crying to me if
you get mugged or abducted on the way.’ He turned away abruptly,
spitting out a low ‘Good night, Jessica,’ in a tone that implied
anything but.

She winced
inwardly, then shrugged it off. He’d get over it. It must have been
the wine talking. Perhaps a walk home in the night air would cool
his head.

Early the
following night in the empty Green Room, Jessica pinned the Show
Clock up on the wall. It was divided into segments, for the weeks
leading up to the show and the actual whole run, right up to final
night. She set the pointer at 8 weeks to opening night, knowing
that it would spur both actors and stage crew to greater efforts
when they saw how time was getting steadily shorter.

A door-slam and
a low giggle alerted her that someone else was arriving early for
rehearsal. Nobody appeared in the Green Room, so after a few
minutes she popped her head through the heavy stage door to see who
had arrived. In the dimly-lit corridor, two figures were welded
together, leaning against the wall. Jessica saw a glimpse of red
hair and rolled her eyes. Tamara. Entangled with what was possibly
another victim to add to the notches on her bedpost. Surely her
fret-worked bed frame must be in imminent danger of collapsing in
pieces on the floor by now. Jessica closed the door quietly and
went to check the state of the kitchen.

Shortly
afterwards, she had an odd feeling of déjà vu when Nick and Tamara
came into the kitchen, Tamara hanging onto his arm and laughing up
at him. This time he didn’t detach her grip. In fact, he pulled her
closer and brushed her tousled hair back with his other hand.
Jessica put a cup down on the bench with enough of a bang to let
them know they weren’t alone. Nick looked up.

‘Oh, hi
Jessica,’ he said, very casually. ‘You’re here early, too. I just
gave Tamara a lift here so she could try on one of the promo
t-shirts.’ He smiled down at Tamara. ‘We’ll make sure you get one
without a real knife in the back.’

Jessica thought
that a mistake, but whatever. ‘Clara-Jane’s not here yet. Do you
need me to unlock Wardrobe for you?’

He frowned.
‘Doesn’t my key open Wardrobe? I guess it doesn’t. Oh, all right
then.’

Jessica ran
easily up the narrow stairs to the wardrobe department and unlocked
the door, while Nick and Tamara playfully squashed against each
other, slowly climbing the steps. She let them pass her at the door
and immediately headed down again, unwilling to be a part of
whatever game Nick was playing. Let them fool around any way they
wanted, as long as they put down a dustsheet and didn’t mess up the
costumes. She hoped Clara-Jane wouldn’t be too annoyed that Jessica
had let them loose in her domain. It was a relief to have Nick’s
attention focused on someone else, but did it have to be Tamara?
That was almost insulting.

Arriving at the
theatre, Clara-Jane was genuinely horrified on hearing Jessica’s
confession. She dropped her purple velvet shoulder bag on the Green
Room floor and gasped.

‘He’s doing
what? With her? That stupid, stupid man. I really thought he had
more sense, not to mention more taste. What is he thinking?’ She
shook her head. ‘No, he isn’t thinking. Not with his brain,
anyway.’ She looked sideways at Jessica. ‘You don’t look too
concerned about it.’

‘No, I’m not.
Nick was getting a bit intense, actually. I’m glad he’s found
another target. I just wish it wasn’t Tamara because there’s no way
it’ll last beyond the end of next week.’

‘Oh, you don’t
know that. Perhaps she’s finally found a love that’ll last her a
lifetime.’

They
chuckled.

Clara-Jane eyed
Jessica thoughtfully. ‘Just to satisfy my curiosity – why don’t you
like the idea of going out with Nick? He’s a nice guy, and he
seemed pretty keen on you till you slammed the door in his face, so
to speak. Just what is it that you’re looking for, girl?’

Jessica
considered for a moment.

‘Someone who’s
got more to them than just a pretty face. A guy who’s got presence
as well as charm. Nick always strikes me as being so smooth and
polished that you can’t see beyond the surface; and there might be
nothing much there anyway. I don’t know, maybe I’m being a bit
harsh, but that’s my gut feeling. Perhaps it’s because he’s in
advertising – he seems all image and façade.’ She rested her chin
on her hand. ‘What am I looking for? A grown-up, I guess. A man
with some history and some depth.’

‘And yet,’ said
Clara-Jane teasingly, ‘a man who’s still in touch with his inner
child, with a wicked sense of humour. Let’s face it Jessica, you
need someone who can appreciate your occasional inspired
lunacy.’

The wardrobe
door slammed shut and stairs creaked overhead as footsteps
descended.

Nick ushered
Tamara into the Green Room with a proprietary air, beating out a
drum roll on the doorframe.

‘Ladies and
gentlemen, our new promotions model, Miss Tamara Fitzpatrick!’

Tamara pulled
the small t-shirt even tighter and jiggled her boobs. Across her
prominent chest were the ever-so-slightly distorted words “The
Regent Theatre has an appointment…”

She turned
round to display the knife-handle protruding from her back, above
the words “an Appointment with Death!”

Despite her
feelings about the model, Jessica was impressed.

‘How did you
get the knife to stick out like that, Clara-Jane?’

‘It’s only
plastic. I just melted it a bit and bent the blade at right-angles
halfway down, then glued it in place. Works well, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s going to
get us a lot of attention,’ said Nick. Tamara slapped his arm
playfully. ‘And Tamara will obviously catch every guy’s eye. I’ll
make sure we find ourselves in front of the press photographer a
few times; our little model here will do the rest, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sure she
will, too’ said Clara-Jane drily. ‘You’d better take it off now so
that it doesn’t get crushed before the weekend, Tamara. No! Not
right here! Go into one of the dressing rooms, girl. There’ll be
mature gentlemen arriving any minute; let’s not risk their dicky
tickers.’

Right on cue,
Austin came through the stage door, brightening visibly at the
sight of Tamara’s curvaceous lettering. He hurried over and made a
big show of reading the slogan slowly and carefully, back and
front.

‘If the
theatre’s got an appointment, can I have the one afterwards?’

Tamara made a
face and disappeared into the main dressing room.

‘I must be
losing my touch,’ Austin smirked, ‘as the leper said to the
actress. How are we, boys and girls? Ready for another night of
dramatic intercourse?’

‘No, just a
rehearsal I think, Austin,’ deadpanned Jessica. ‘Let’s go see if
everyone has arrived, shall we?’ She spun him round and propelled
him towards the stage door.

Onstage, Adam
was gathering the cast.

Jessica left
them to it and retraced her steps to the Green Room where
Clara-Jane was laying out Nadine’s nurse-like outfit and some Arab
costumes on the big props table.

‘I’ve figured
it out,’ announced Clara-Jane. ‘He’s doing it to make you jealous.
It’s the only explanation for such an obvious about-face.’

‘Oh hell, you
could be right. Damn, just when I thought he was off my case.’ She
picked up a headdress and pulled it over her eyes. ‘Can you direct
me to the nearest camel, please, memsahib? I am wanting to be
leaving this oasis pretty damn quick.’

‘Don’t play
with the props, dear,’ Gert admonished automatically, as she walked
past on the way to the downstairs props room. Jessica put the
headdress back and followed Gert down the stairs to the
low-ceilinged basement area where she and her band of props helpers
created the many weird items needed on stage. Jessica prowled
around the shelves, fingering masks and implements, until Gert
asked her to stop.

‘What are you
doing, Jessica?’

‘Oh, just
hiding, I guess. Is there anything I can help you with down here?
I’d like to stay out of the way for a while.’

‘Yes, all right
dear. You could rub some stain on this wooden box, if you like.’
She handed Jessica a slim rectangular lidded box. ‘It’s the
doctor’s medical case so we need it to look well-used and
much-travelled. Rags are over there and the tin of stain is behind
you on the tray.’

Jessica spent
half an hour contentedly staining and polishing until the box was
done. ‘There you are, Gert. Is that OK? I’d better go and check on
the rehearsal, but thanks for the safe haven.’

‘Any time,
Jessica. We can always use an extra pair of hands down here.’

Hoping to avoid
running into Nick, Jessica took a route through the Green Room,
letting herself out of the back door, then walked along the narrow
alley that ran beside the theatre to the street out front. She came
in through the main entrance, nipping smartly up the stairs to the
circle, slipping into one of the private boxes. Since they were
seldom used, they were empty of furnishings, except for the
tattiest of the theatre’s old chairs. The advantage was that from
the box she could see the stage without being seen herself, and
wouldn’t distract the cast.