by Bev Robitai
‘Now that’s out of the way, can you tell me when you last saw Tamara?’
‘Saturday afternoon at rehearsal. As far as I know she was there throughout and I assume she left with the others. I was down in the workshop with the construction guys and we closed up after everyone else had gone.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Um, about five o’clock. Rehearsal was due to end at 4.30. We worked on in the workshop to finish the tent.’
‘Could you see or hear anything from where you were?’
‘No, there’s a soundproof door and blackout between the workshop and the stage. When it’s closed you can just hear really loud bangs or yells but nothing much else.’ She looked worriedly at him. ‘When did it happen? I mean, I know the medical examiner has to complete his post-mortem to give you an accurate time, but could you tell anything roughly from the body?’
He smiled. ‘You’ve been watching a few crime shows, have you? Which ones? “C.S.I.”? “N.C.I.S.”? “Law & Order”?’
‘Yes, all those, and “Inspector Morse” and “Midsomer Murders”.’
‘Ah yes, the delightful hamlet of Midsomer. You’d think people would be falling over themselves to move out of the village, wouldn’t you, with a death rate like that?’
She burst out laughing. ‘I’ve thought the same thing! I do like John Nettles as Inspector Barnaby though. He’s matured very nicely since he played Bergerac.’
Jack ran a hand over his mostly dark brown but slightly greying hair. ‘To return to the matter in hand, what did you do after you left the theatre on Saturday?’
She looked up, screwing her eyes closed in an effort to remember.
‘I just went home, actually. Had a quiet night watching TV and sending a few emails.’
‘Was there anybody else there with you? Husband? Flatmate? Boyfriend?’
She shook her head. ‘Just the cat. He’ll vouch for me.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Home alone on a Saturday night? Is that usual for you?’
She winced. ‘Sadly, yes. Even more sadly, if I’m not home by myself, then I’m here working on a show. At least here I have company.’
His look became more business-like. ‘So, in effect, you have no alibi at all for that night? Is that correct?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘What! You can’t be serious! Does this mean she was murdered?’
He frowned slightly, and his brown eyes darkened. ‘I shouldn’t say until the coroner has seen the body, but it certainly looks that way. That’s why it’s a little unfortunate that you have nobody to corroborate where you spent that evening.’
‘Oh, look here, I didn’t kill Tamara. Why would I kill a member of the cast in a show that’s really important to save this theatre, right on the premises where it would cause maximum disruption?’ She gesticulated wildly. ‘It’s ridiculous!’
Jack regarded her solemnly. ‘Based solely on my initial assessment of your character, Jessica, I think we can very probably rule you out as a likely suspect. But we will check your computer for the times of your emails, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Hey!’ She looked at him cautiously. ‘You’re not trying to shock me into a confession, are you? I don’t know if I can trust you now.’
He cleared his throat and kept a serious face. ‘So, can you tell me who might have come into the theatre between the time you left on Saturday and when Stewart and Nathan came in today?’
She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. ‘Nobody was scheduled to be here, but it’s always possible that one of the crew or committee members could have come in to do some work on something. All the committee members have door keys, and so do each of the heads of department for the show.’
‘But you don’t know for sure if anybody came in?’
‘Yes!’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I did! I was in here by myself. It rained hard on Sunday night so I came in on Monday morning and cleaned up the water that had leaked onto the stage. Oh my God, was she…?’
‘You didn’t go down into the auditorium at all?’
‘No, I didn’t even bother putting the lights on. The roof doesn’t leak in there – we fixed that part several years ago. Dripping on patrons is bad for business.’ She groaned. ‘Dead bodies probably don’t help either.’
‘What did you touch? Light switches for the stage? The door handle?’
‘Well, yes. And the combination lock buttons outside.’ She held up her hands. ‘D’you want to take my dabs then, guv’nor?’
‘Not right now.’ He patted his pockets. ‘I seem to have left my go-go-gadget fingerprint kit in my other suit. It’ll keep. For the moment, tell me about Tamara. Do you have any idea why somebody might want to kill her?’
‘Oh,’ she said, slowly and thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know about wanting to kill her, but I can think of a few people who didn’t like her very much.’ She stopped short. ‘Hang on, this is just speculation, and I might get someone in trouble who doesn’t deserve it.’
‘Jessica, you need to tell me anything that might even possibly be relevant. Don’t worry, we only act on information when it’s fully supported by evidence.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t bang someone up just because I grassed on them? What sort of cop are you?’
‘Jessica.’
‘Sorry. OK, seriously then. Tamara was a fairly stroppy young woman, a bit predatory towards men she fancied. She’d been lusting after Phil, one of the actors in the show, to the point that his wife was quite angry about it. Nothing happened between them, and she’d stopped doing it at least a week ago, after Adam spoke to her.’
‘Who else? You said “a few people”?’
‘Well, Austin might have been a bit annoyed with her too. That’s Austin Sudgeway, he’s the Stage Manager. Tamara told him off rather publicly when he got a bit suggestive. But really, the way he behaves, he must be used to that. Oh, and there was some woman in the theatre the other night who gave Tamara a good talking-to after she’d yelled at Austin. Other than that I don’t know who might have had a problem with her.’
She thought hard, staring at the floor. Then she frowned and shook her head.
‘What?’ asked Jack.
‘Nothing.’
‘Come on, Jessica. Don’t make me go all the way out to the car for the long baton.’
‘No, it really was just a silly thought. It’s not worth mentioning, honestly.’
‘Thumbscrews wouldn’t change your mind?’
‘No. Truly not worth considering.’
He stood up.
‘OK. That will do for now. Jot down your address will you please, so I know where I can find you for further interrogation once you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security.’
Jessica shot him an exasperated glare. ‘Look, I really do want to help you all I can with this investigation. Please, tell me what else I can do to get things moving and make your job easier. If this case is going to be a problem for the Regent Theatre, then that makes it my problem too.’
He looked at her kindly. ‘I admire your dedication, and I appreciate your offer. I’m going to have to get back to you on that one, though. Give me a day or so and I’ll be in touch, all right? If you think of anything, give me a call.’ He handed her his card.
‘What happens now? I mean, in the theatre.’
‘It’s our territory for as long as we need to investigate the crime scene, I’m afraid. There’ll be a junior officer here overnight to keep an eye on things. Once the pathologist has finished his examination we’ll do the C.S.I. bit, then we’ll let you know that the scene has been cleared and you can get back to normal.’
‘The junior officer will be left here in a big dark theatre all by himself with a dead body? That doesn’t seem very fair. You’d better not tell him about the theatre ghosts.’
Jack’s eyes danced. ‘Oh, I think I should. He’s entitled to be fully aware of any crime scene hazards. Thank you for that.’
He moved forward and reached out a hand,
shaking hers with a warm grip. ‘Now I should warn you, Jessica Jones, don’t leave town, will you.’
She deduced from the twinkle in his eye that this time his serious tone was a put-on.
‘Right you are, guv. I’ll be dahn my gaff, all roight?’
The thought of his grin kept her spirits up for the rest of the night.
The following day was a difficult one.
Jessica spent the day at home, making personal phone calls to every member of the cast and crew to let them know what had happened. At lunchtime she met with Adam to decide on a replacement for Tamara. Fortunately, with six weeks still to go before opening night there was plenty of time for a new actor to catch up with learning the lines and moves. She phoned three possibles and set up auditions with Adam at the Musical Society clubrooms that evening.
She bought a sympathy card and addressed it to Mr and Mrs Fitzpatrick, signed it from the Regent Theatre Society, and posted it at the mailbox on the corner of her street.
There was one phone call that she had avoided making.
Nick. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him. Firstly he’d be embarrassed about his drunken visit to her house, and secondly, how was she supposed to sound sympathetic about Tamara’s death when her own relationship with Nick was so questionable?
After battling with the problem for a couple of hours, she gave up and asked Clara-Jane to call him instead. At least condolences would sound better coming from her. There might be theatre publicity problems to deal with later but they could wait a while.
As she got into bed that night, feeling as emotionally wrung out as a damp dishcloth, there was an odd spark of warmth amid the tiredness. After puzzling over it for a while, she figured out it was the memory of her talk with the rather interesting Detective Senior Sergeant Jack Matherson the previous night. She found herself looking forward to their next encounter.
Chapter 7
7 weeks to Opening Night
It was a quiet and sombre group that straggled up the driveway to the Musical Society clubrooms on Thursday night. Greetings were subdued, voices muted.
Jessica stood at the door to point people towards the rehearsal room where Adam was waiting to say a few words. For once everyone arrived in good time and she didn’t have to wait for any last-minute latecomers. She slipped in at the back of the room.
‘It’s been a shock to all of us,’ began Adam. ‘A sudden death is always difficult to accept, particularly when it’s a young person. You will all be feeling sad and emotional to some degree. Use it. Work with it, not against it. You can’t ignore the feelings and you can’t make them go away, but you can use them to make your performance stronger.’
Jessica watched the actors stand up a little straighter. Heads were nodding thoughtfully. Adam’s voice was strong and compelling.
‘Let this tragedy unlock your own inner strength and bring it out on stage. We will all support each other.’
He went on to introduce the new cast member who was taking Tamara’s role. She raised a hand and smiled nervously. By the time he finished speaking, the mood of the group had improved considerably and they broke into enthusiastic applause.
Jessica caught Adam’s eye, gave him a smile and a thumbs up, and slipped away. She was due at another meeting, back at the Bishops Hotel wine bar. The sub-committee had some public relations issues to work on.
As she pulled into the pub car park, she checked her watch. Still five minutes before the meeting was due to start. She didn’t want to find herself alone with Nick before the others arrived so she waited until a trail of blue smoke announced that Clara-Jane’s aging Mitsubishi had pulled up beside her. Jessica got out, pretending to cough and wave away the smoke.
‘When did you last get that thing serviced, Clara-Jane? Are you sure it’s fit to be on the road?’
‘It’s perfectly fine, thank you very much. I put oil in every three minutes and it works like a charm. Besides, when it’s like this I don’t get speeding tickets because the cops can never see my number plate!’
‘Fair enough.’ They started towards the pub doorway. ‘Hey, how did the phone call to Nick go? Thanks for taking that on, by the way.’
‘No problem. He seemed pretty shocked and stunned, as I imagine everyone else was, but he didn’t seem too personally upset. I don’t think he’d formed a very close relationship with her – other than physically, from what we saw the other night.’
Jessica shrugged acknowledgement and pushed open the door, holding it for Clara-Jane to go past her into the wine bar. She heard Clara-Jane exclaim sharply.
‘Good heavens, Nick – are you all right?’
Nick was sitting alone at a table, dressed entirely in black, with puffy red-rimmed eyes. A balled-up handkerchief was clutched in one hand. On his left cheek where Jessica had dressed his grazes with sticking plaster, there was a blue bruise, with three raised welts already scabbed over. His usually smoothly-styled hair was in disarray, sticking out at odd angles.
While Clara-Jane fussed and cooed, Nick’s eyes looked plaintively at Jessica. She couldn’t help feeling that he was aiming for an effect, wearing his injuries like a badge.
‘What happened, Nick? Are you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?’ Clara-Jane sat next to him with a plump arm round his shoulders.
‘I’m fine,’ he said bravely. ‘Really, it’s nothing. Looks worse than it is.’ His eyes were still on Jessica. ‘I got a bit drunk at the weekend, Clara-Jane. Fell over on some rocks, but it’s OK, my face broke my fall. Jessica patched me up.’ He smiled wanly. ‘Then when you rang the other night and told me about – about Tamara, well I went to pieces a bit. Stupid, really. Can’t cure grief with alcohol.’
‘Oh, you poor silly boy. You should have told me how upset you were when I rang you. If I’d known, I’d have come over to make sure you weren’t alone.’
MaryAnn Daniels came in then, tall, elegant, and fresh from the hairdressers. She made similar soothing comments to Nick after getting the short version of events from Clara-Jane, then took a seat on his other side and patted his arm maternally.
Austin made his entrance soon afterwards, plaid shirt strained tightly across his belly. He stared at Nick.
‘Jesus Christ, mate, look at you! Did she fight back or something?’
Four sharply-indrawn breaths alerted him that he just might have put his foot in it.
‘What? It was just a joke, all right? It’s what you say when a guy has a black eye, isn’t it? Doesn’t mean anything. Sorry for any offence.’
‘It’s all right, Austin,’ said Nick wearily. ‘None taken. Shall we just get on with the meeting?’
They settled themselves round the table and pulled out pens and notebooks. Jessica put in Phil’s apology for being at rehearsal and not being able to make it to this meeting.
‘Have you heard anything about the enquiry?’ asked Clara-Jane. Jessica shook her head.
‘All I know from the police is that Stewart and Nathan found Tamara’s body in the back row of the stalls on Tuesday night. I talked to Stewart yesterday when he was a bit less shaken, but he was still feeling the effects of it. He said that he and Nathan had gone in early to do some painting, and for some reason went in through the main auditorium instead of along the corridor. They saw a foot and some clothes in the back row and thought someone had broken in to sleep there. Of course they went to wake the person up and move them out, but found that it was Tamara, and she was dead. The poor kid still went white when he was describing it to me. Nathan called the police on his cell phone and they stood guard to make sure nobody else came near the body.’
Jessica shook her head. ‘It’s hard to believe something like that could happen in such a public place. I mean, people are in and out of the theatre all the time, you’d never know when you might be interrupted, would you?’
‘When exactly did it happen, does anyone know?’ asked Nick.
‘Early guess is sometime Saturday night, I think. The scary thing is I was in the
theatre on Monday drying the stage after Sunday’s rain.’
‘And you didn’t notice anything?’ Clara-Jane asked Jessica, incredulously. ‘Didn’t you feel any bad vibes at all? Nothing remotely creepy about the place?’
‘Not a thing, I’m afraid. I guess I’m not as sensitive to the Other Side as you are.’
‘I shall perform a Cleansing Ceremony as soon as we’re allowed back in. The theatre magnifies emotions and we don’t want harmful feelings clouding the atmosphere.’
‘That sounds like a very good idea,’ said Nick. ‘Now, shall we get down to the meeting, if everyone’s had a chance to let their feelings out?’
Everyone nodded.
‘I know they always say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I’m at a bit of a loss about how we proceed with this. Putting our own painful feelings aside,’ Nick said, with a sideways glance at Jessica, ‘it does give us an opportunity as far as Appointment with Death goes. The hard part will be to capitalise on the publicity without seeming to be exploiting Tamara’s murder. Does anyone have any ideas?’
‘You’re not thinking of tours of the murder site, are you?’ MaryAnn’s tone was sharp. ‘Ghost nights at the theatre? Having ghoulish members of the public pay to sleep where a young girl was killed? I don’t think that would be right.’
‘Good God no!’ Nick was aghast. ‘No, I was thinking of something as low-key as publishing a letter of sympathy to the Fitzpatricks in the paper. It’s genuine, but has the added benefit of keeping our name in public view.’
‘That’s not bad,’ nodded Jessica. ‘Then in a few days we could run another one thanking the police for their sensitive handling of the event and hoping for a successful end to the enquiry very soon.’
‘That’s assuming the police do handle it sensitively,’ sniffed MaryAnn. ‘They’re not exactly renowned for it.’
‘Oh, I thought Detective Senior Sergeant Matherson seemed very much the kind and caring sort of policeman,’ said Jessica, earning looks from both Nick and Clara-Jane. ‘His boss was a bit crusty, but he seemed very nice.’
