4 Camera ... Action ... Murder!

by Faith Mortimer

  Diana gave herself a mental shake. Thinking pessimistic thoughts like this wouldn’t do anyone any good. Libby was a healthy young woman, and there was no need to be concerned. Libby and Robert would arrive tomorrow as planned. In the meantime, she and Steve had another free day to themselves. Well, at least it was child-free, but Russell seemed to have planned a whole morning’s entertainment for her. Russell was a bit of an enigma. He held strong views, and so far he had never failed to surprise Diana in all the years she had known him. His son seemed entirely different—or was he? He had been having some sort of affair with Caroline despite Duncan’s obvious hold over her. There was something not quite right about the whole thing, and Diana realised she had the perfect opportunity that day to really wheedle more information out of Russell. He had always shown a soft spot for Diana when she lived in Cheltenham, and she hoped she could play on that fact.

  ***

  Diana parked her car and picked her way through the puddles on Regent Street to the Everyman Theatre. She paused before the front of the red-brick building and gazed up at the tall edifice in front of her. Did she really want to rekindle those frightening memories by entering the building? Or was she being stupid? Her attacker had never been apprehended, and although the police had intimated her assailant and the Cheltenham Throttler were one and the same, it had never been proven. Despite their efforts, the police had never found who the sadistic killer was.

  Diana shuddered at the thought of some madman still living a free and normal life. But maybe it wasn’t surprising; even with all the new methods of detection, things often took an age before the labs could process the samples sent to them. People nowadays thought DNA testing was done in a matter of hours, and it simply wasn’t so. Although a medical examiner should know the sex, approximate age and race of a victim’s body, to determine probable ethnicity or do even a partial genetic mapping could take between four and ten days. Of course it depended on the quality of the DNA, and in serious crime cases, the results were pushed through in seventy-two hours. Diana wondered what DNA testing Adam had ordered and whether he had pushed for a speedy lab result. With two murders, she considered it warranted immediate attention. Two murdered women within twenty-four hours! What was the probability of that happening?

  She thought back again to her own attacker and wondered afresh why he hadn’t carried out his atrocities on her. Being grabbed and punched and having your shirt torn from you was bad enough, but she would never know why she had been spared the horror of strangulation like the others. Diana knew four women had been viciously murdered during the attacker’s reign. But why had he stopped? Was he still alive or had he moved on to another area and was still committing his crimes there? She hoped with some bitterness he was dead and had died in agony; he didn’t deserve anything else. Diana pondered over Caroline’s and Isabelle’s killer or killers. Who was he or she? A thought passed through her mind…she wondered if there was any connection between these two and those women from years ago. There didn’t appear to be, so Diana dismissed it as quickly as it had entered her head; the only similarities were Isabelle’s strangulation and the fact that both victims were female.

  Diana didn’t often dwell upon her own attack these days. For weeks afterwards, she suffered from nightmares, and her doctor had prescribed a sedative for her until she got her mind and body back under control. Since then, she knew she had blocked most of the frightening episode from her mind and only recalled snatches and grey pictures. She hoped it would never again rear its frightful head.

  Right now, she was determined to put such thoughts behind her and was prepared to enjoy her visit to the newly renovated theatre. She reminded herself that, although she liked and owed Russell a lot, her prime motive for being with him that day was to extract information from him—if she could. The few hours spent in his company wouldn’t be an arduous task because Russell was a consummate host and knew masses when it came to theatrical history. If Diana learned nothing new concerning Caroline and Isabelle, she would at least be well entertained. She remembered him telling her the other night the theatre was designed by Frank Matcham in 1891 in the Louis XV style and was originally called The Opera House. Diana knew many fine and famous actors had performed here. Russell also mentioned Frank Matcham had received no formal architectural training; instead, he had learnt the practicalities on the job. He had been a formidable architect by all accounts, and during the course of his working life, he had designed and built over 150 theatres and music halls. It was a sad thing that almost eighty-five per cent had been lost by the outbreak of World War One. Now, as Diana stood before the building waiting for Russell to arrive, she recalled that the sum of three million pounds had been spent on the recent improvements.

  “There you are.” A voice broke into her thoughts, startling her. “Let’s get in out of this rain. Thank goodness it’s only a drizzle now. How are you, my dear?” Russell held the door open for Diana from the inside, gave her a peck on the cheek, and stood back to let her in. She had forgotten he said he possessed a key, and he had obviously arrived before her.

  “Hello, Russell. I’m fine, thanks. We were a bit late to bed last night after clearing away, but I dropped off immediately, which isn’t surprising after everything that’s happened these last few days.”

  “Indeed. Would you like to leave your wet raincoat here? It’ll be quite safe…there are only a few people around at this hour. The theatre doesn’t open tonight, so apart from maintenance and the odd rehearsal, it’s a relatively quiet day.” He removed the wet garment from Diana’s hands and took it behind the cloakroom desk and hung it on a hook to dry.

  “Right, where shall we start? You do know this is the oldest surviving example of a Matcham theatre, don’t you? How about a visit backstage and a look at the new dressing rooms? You’ll see an amazing change there, nothing’s the same since our time here…”

  ***

  Diana looked around her with interest; she remembered the years she had spent there. The auditorium was as splendid as ever. Everything was neat and in good taste. She noted the carved heads representing comedy and tragedy and one of Shakespeare. The ornamentation was rich with many bold colours, tints of vellum, and shades of cream picked out in gilt, whereas the overall colour was electric blue. There were private boxes, a grand circle, upper boxes, and an orchestral stall. The whole interior, presented a gorgeous and artistic appearance. Diana realised that in whichever part of the auditorium visitors found themselves, there was a good view of the stage, which, from where she stood at the front of the grand circle, looked huge.

  “What do you think? Impressive, huh?” Russell asked some time later, as he popped a sweet into his mouth. “Oh, sorry, would you like one? Where are my manners?”

  “You’re right the renovations are fabulous.” She eyed the bag of sweets. “No thanks, chocolate’s my weakness. I suppose the stage has a trapdoor? Most have these days.”

  Russell looked towards the stage. “It does, and a vast musicians’ pit. Would you like to go down and take a closer look?”

  For some reason, Diana didn’t want to go any nearer the stage, which was surprising since she had once loved it. Instead, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She stood quite still as she stared towards the back. She remembered.

  She remembered the deathly silence once her friends had disappeared backstage to the dressing rooms. She heard the door slam as it echoed along the corridor. She recalled the director was always berating the cast for allowing doors to bang shut during rehearsals saying ‘silence backstage was as important as during an actual performance’. Diana remembered smiling while she imagined what her friends were up to. She didn’t mind finishing off the painting on her own, there wasn’t much left to do. Then, some minutes later, she remembered the sudden plunge into darkness as the auditorium and stage lights were suddenly extinguished. She made a tentative laugh and called to her friends, telling them to stop arsing around and to put the lights back on. Then ther
e was that silence: a silence which seemed to go on and on until…she heard it. A single muffled footstep off to her right and on the stage. There was a rustle, and she felt something light brush against her foot upon the ladder and then something took hold of her shirt. She screamed and in her terror shied away from whatever had touched her, and then she slipped. She somehow knew that whatever was lurking there was evil and she had to get away.

  Knowing the theatre layout, she rolled from the foot of the ladder, kept low and slithered across the stage as quietly as she could towards the front apron. She kept her wits about her, guessing where the edge of the stage was, and once she reached it knew she could slip down onto the floor in the stalls. There was a series of rapid footsteps away from her, a click, and suddenly there was a single light shining down upon the stage. She cast a look around and saw nobody there, but knowing they would return within seconds she realised she had to get to safety. Scared and hardly daring to breathe, Diana tensed when she heard the footsteps coming back. Where could she go? And that was when she had the idea. The prompt’s pit was just ahead. Two rolls and she disappeared over the edge into the pit. She was lucky that the last prompt had left a cushion on the seat which broke her fall…

  …Diana withheld the scream which was threatening to undo her and crawled as quietly as she could beneath the stage. Her shirt was torn by whoever had grabbed her, and she heard it rip once more as it caught on a protruding nail. If only she could make it to the rear of the theatre and the fire-escape doors…or she could run to the dressing rooms and be safe with her friends. She remembered choking back her sobs of terror and reaching the corridor; help wasn’t far away…she heard footsteps…what happened then?

  “Diana, are you all right?” Russell’s voice again asked a question. “You’ve gone pale, my dear. Would you like to sit down?”

  Diana jerked her head back once she realised where she was. “Sorry, I was daydreaming. What did you say? Am I all right? Yes, I’m fine but I’d rather go and have a coffee. I think I’ve seen as much as I want to.”

  “Of course, if you’re sure. There’s very little else to see, anyway. You’ve seen all the interesting stuff. This way, my dear, it’s a bit of a short cut.” Russell indicated she should go in front of him by standing aside. Diana hesitated for some reason. “What’s the matter?” he asked after peering into her face. “You certainly don’t look fine to me.”

  Diana swallowed. She was near the front of the circle, and the drop down to the stalls made her feel a bit giddy. “Nothing, it’s just a touch of vertigo, probably exacerbated from too much alcohol last night and not enough sleep. You go first and I’ll follow.”

  Russell smiled in sympathy and brushed past her. “I never realised you suffered. If you want to take my arm, then please do. We’ll take this exit door—it leads down the side of the auditorium and goes directly to the front. Do watch your step—the steps are a little tight on this corner.”

  Once they reached the front of the theatre, Diana found she was sweating. For one moment she felt a panic in her throat. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm.

  Russell turned back towards her with a broad smile. “So, what do you think of it all? The renovations are stupendous, don’t you agree? I hope you’ve enjoyed your little visit.”

  Diana forced a smile. “Yes. It is a beautiful theatre. It always was, and now it’s quite magnificent.”

  “Good, good, I knew you’d think that. Now, do you still want to go for coffee, or shall we go straight home for refreshment? It’s only a short step, and the sun’s shining now the rain has stopped. It’s a delightful walk.”

  “I’m happy either way.”

  “Then let’s go home. I’ve made a tasty quiche and salad and a lemon drizzle cake, because I believe it’s your favourite.” He shepherded her towards the front doors.

  Diana laughed. “Russell you remembered! How clever of you.” He really was considerate.

  “Diana, my dear, I remember everything about you. Don’t forget you were with us for some time. I’ll only be a minute while I lock up.” He withdrew a large bunch of keys from his pocket. “I’ll first set the alarm. There…that’s done. Now everything’s all safe and sound. Do you remember the back roads at all? Yes? A couple of minutes off the main drag and we’re suddenly in peace and calm and hidden from the town. I must say, I’m so pleased you made it today. I wonder if Seb’s at home. He left for work early this morning, but he quite obviously wasn’t in the mood.”

  Diana fell in beside him, and after crossing the main road, they came to some gardens. “I remember these,” said Diana. “These are Montpelier Gardens. I always loved the minor roads in Cheltenham. As you said, they’re so peaceful, and some of the houses are simply gorgeous. I suppose parts of it remind me of Bath, but I always preferred Cheltenham. If I recall, your house is just around the corner.”

  Russell looked pleased. “You have a splendid memory. Here we are—home sweet home for Sebastian and me.”

  Russell had stopped outside a gracious Georgian house. The building was three stories high and painted white. The front had a pocket-sized paved garden and wall, with three specimen standard rose bushes set in neatly tilled circular beds. To the left of the chunky, gloss-painted door hung an enormous hanging basket crammed with fuchsias. The whole effect looked neat and well attended.

  “How pretty,” exclaimed Diana. “We can just about grow fuchsias in Cyprus, but they do become heat-stressed in the height of summer. It breaks my heart when I have to cut them right back.”

  Russell looked interested at her comments. “I’m not surprised. Fuchsias are native to the Americas and the West Indies, oh, and a few from New Zealand. They prefer a moist damp climate like England’s much more than your dry, arid Mediterranean one.”

  He opened the front door while Diana was still admiring the flowers and called up the stairs. There was no answer.

  “So, it looks like Sebastian’s decided to stay at work today, after all. I’m pleased because it’s better for him to get stuck back in and get over it. Don’t you agree?”

  Diana followed Russell into the hall and hung her mac on the mahogany coat stand. “I presume you mean, get over Caroline.”

  “Of course, what else? He needs to forget her.” Russell led the way through to the kitchen. It was a large square room with a lofty ceiling, and the units, although old, were made of sturdy oak. One wall was dedicated to a large window overlooking the rear garden. The view was stunning. Diana gave a gasp as she took in the sweep of the emerald lawn against tall and slender trees. The deep and crammed flowerbeds of immense colour and content, running round along the high garden wall, completed the picture.

  “Oh, Russell, this is gorgeous! I knew you had a large garden, but I’d forgotten how beautiful it was.”

  Russell came to stand beside her. He looked delighted at her comment.

  “Thank you, my dear. The garden is one of our greatest pleasures. When Sebastian was small and Emily was still with us, I didn’t spend enough time on it. Emily was more the gardener then. But now that Seb’s grown up, we both enjoy the garden. Seb is by far the keener though. I expect youth has a lot to do with it. I get tired more easily now. It’s Seb who decides what we’re going to grow each year, and he plans accordingly. I’m happy to go along with his suggestions. Seb spends hours reading up on unusual specimens and knows far more than I as a result. The only exception to this is when it comes to roses. He can’t match me there, and he knows it!” Russell gave Diana a smug grin.

  “They’re beautiful. Can we sit outside and eat now that it’s stopped raining?”

  “I don’t see why not. We can easily dry off the chairs. Now would you like coffee or a glass of wine?”

  Diana smiled. “I don’t see why we can’t have coffee now and wine with our lunch.”

  “Splendid idea. I can see we’re of like minds.”

  While Russell filled the coffeemaker and busied himself with the contents of his fridge, Diana as
ked whether she might freshen up. Russell told her where the downstairs cloakroom was and carried on making the meal.

  After washing her hands, Diana made her way back towards the kitchen. She passed open doors leading off the hallway and paused before what was obviously a library-cum-study. She had forgotten how much of a reader Russell was and was staggered by the number of books on the overladen shelves. Intrigued and feeling sure Russell wouldn’t mind a fellow reader looking at his books, she slipped inside to study the titles. She knew he liked history and other non-fiction, and one wall was dedicated to it. Moving along the adjoining wall, a section caught her interest just as her mobile phone rang. Reading the number, she realised the caller was Adam.