Murder in the Second Row

by Bev Robitai

  Later on, when Simone attempted to climb the path to the cave, she found that the skirt of her costume was too tight to allow her to get up the steps.

  ‘Clara-Jane! Could you come here for a minute, please?’ Adam loudly summoned his wardrobe mistress from backstage and she hurried out, a piece of khaki material hanging round her neck. Adam pointed silently to Simone, who demonstrated the skirt’s restriction. Clara-Jane reddened.

  ‘Sorry Adam, sorry Simone. I’ll see if I can find a wider skirt in wardrobe, or I might be able to let a piece in to give more room. Leave it with me, I’ll sort it out.’

  Despite Adam’s firm control, the cast became increasingly nervous and forgot lines they’d had word-perfect the previous week. Scene changes were slow as new crew members learned the moves, and the whole play felt dull and flat from weeks of repetition.

  Jessica, standing in for the still-absent Austin as stage manager, recognised the symptoms and decided it was a particularly bad attack of the “final week blues”. She did her best to tighten the crew work and to lift morale, but by the time coffee break came along she felt more in need of a good strong vodka and tonic.

  Cast and crew gathered glumly in the Green Room, nursing their mugs quietly. Adam gave them a few minutes to themselves. Once they’d finished their drinks and had time to settle down, he called for their attention.

  ‘We’ve had a few hiccups tonight, but don’t let it affect your core performance. Hold on to the truth of your character and the rest will come. You know the script, you know the moves; trust your instincts and don’t be distracted. That counts just as much in rehearsal as it does in front of an audience. Get your performance up to an acceptable level that you can maintain automatically, so that anything more you can bring to it is a bonus. Always be good, with the option of being great. Now, before we get back to it, let’s do a few relaxation exercises to loosen you all up a bit. You look like you need it!’

  He gathered the cast in a circle and they began some vocal exercises, chanting nonsense syllables to relax their mouths and throat muscles. As the ‘me me me’s’ and ‘mo mo mo’s’ filled the Green Room, Jessica beckoned to the crew and took them up to the Rose Room for their own pep talk.

  ‘Well, team – obviously we need to improve our game a bit too. Has anyone got any suggestions to sort out the problems we’ve found?’

  ‘We’re going to mark the bolts on the hotel set more clearly so we can see when they’re set properly, and I’ll add a couple more as back-up,’ said Howard.

  ‘If those steps up to the cave keep giving trouble, we could make them shallower or try a ramp,’ offered Shane.

  ‘OK, that’s good. Did you have a chance to find a bigger skirt for Simone, Clara-Jane?’

  Clara-Jane grimaced. ‘There wasn’t anything upstairs. I’ve given her a temporary one she can work with tonight and I’ll hunt round the charity shops tomorrow, but if worst comes to worst I’ll just have to sew in a couple of panels. At least black will be easy to match.’

  ‘Right then, let’s get back into it. And keep an eye open for anything else that might go wrong, preferably before it happens! Thanks, guys.’

  The second half of the rehearsal went more smoothly. Right up to the point when every light in the place went out.

  Cast and crew stood motionless, waiting for their eyes to adjust from the bright stage lighting to total darkness. Jessica fumbled for the torch in the stage manager’s corner, but the batteries had been taken out after the previous show and she couldn’t find them nearby. After a few minutes they could see the dimly-glowing exit signs in the wings and made their way slowly backstage.

  ‘Is it a power cut or just us?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘I can see lights up the road,’ reported Howard from over by the window. ‘It looks as if it might be just us.’

  ‘Did we forget to pay the electricity bill?’ asked Clara-Jane brightly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think Gerald would let that happen,’ said Howard, with total confidence. ‘Besides, they don’t just disconnect people any more, do they? Stay here for the moment, I’ll go and check outside,’.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Jessica. They left Adam telling the cast to carry on reciting their lines from where they’d stopped.

  On the pavement, just outside the front door, lay a heavy tangle of wires, visible in the orange glow of the streetlight. High on the front corner of the theatre a broken bracket hung down where the main power supply had been fastened.

  ‘How the hell did that happen? Careful! There’s 300amps per phase going through that lot,’ said Howard, stepping gingerly across the wires. Jessica followed him, looking closely at the tangle.

  ‘Is that a piece of rope in amongst all that other junk?’

  He squinted in the direction she was pointing. ‘Yes, I think you’re right, Jessica. Looks like we’ve been hit by vandals. Bastards!’ He fumed impotently. ‘There’s nothing we can do to fix it tonight – we may as well tell Adam to let the troops go home. It’s black as the ace of spades in there and they’ll be groping about unable to tell their backsides from their elbows. Do you want to call your tame policeman and let him know about this?’

  She didn’t answer. ‘Hey, Jessica! Are you listening? Would you mind?’

  ‘Yeah yeah, just hold your horses a minute, Howard. Something about this reminds me of something I came across recently, but I can’t think what.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘No, can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’ll come to me overnight. All right, I’ll call Jack if you call the power company.’ She grinned at him. ‘Last one to finish their call buys the drinks!’

  They pulled out their cell phones and hit the dial buttons.

  Jessica explained the situation to Jack in a few brief sentences and accepted his offer to notify the duty patrol supervisor. She snapped her phone shut and turned to Howard in triumph. He mouthed that he was stuck on hold. She mimed playing a violin.

  ‘How sad for you! I’m going up the street to the petrol station to get a couple of torches so the cast can get their stuff together and go home. Hang in there, big boy!’

  By the time she came back there was a patrol car parked out front and Howard was showing the officers what he thought had happened. Jessica went inside, following her wavering disc of torchlight along the corridor and backstage to the Green Room where the cast had just reached the last few lines of the show.

  ‘Sorry, team,’ she said, ‘but it looks like we’re done for the night. Our mains electrical supply has been pulled right out of the wall and we’ll have to get the power company in to fix it first thing tomorrow. I’ve got a torch here to give you enough light to grab your gear, and if you give me a minute to check the Box Office I might find a couple more torches to speed things along.’

  ‘Thanks, Jessica,’ said Adam. ‘Do you think the theatre will be back in action by tomorrow’s rehearsal? We could go to another venue but I’d really rather keep using the set at this late stage.’

  ‘See what Howard says, he was talking to the power company just now to report the fault. They may have given him some idea of when it’ll be fixed.’

  ‘Do you think you could get those extra torches soon, please?’ asked Terence. ‘With my night-blindness trouble I’m fumbling in the dark here.’

  ‘Coming right up, Terence,’ said Jessica cheerfully, and skipped off through the make-up room where her torchlight flared brighter in the room-length mirrors. She pushed open the stage door and made her way down the far side of the building to the Box Office.

  Good old Gerald had stashed a row of torches for the Front of House staff to use, all placed neatly in a drawer along with fresh packets of replacement batteries, and it was the work of a moment to load them up and head back to the waiting cast.

  ‘Let there be light!’ she declaimed to the group waiting in the Green Room, and then stopped dead as her brain finally made the connection it had been looking for.

  The LORD will strike you with madness, blind
ness, and panic. You will grope around in broad daylight, just like a blind person groping in the darkness, and you will not succeed at anything you do.

  Chapter 11

  On Saturday morning, once power had been restored to the theatre, Jessica joined the members of the construction team and stage crew who were having their own practice session. It was proving difficult to manage the scene change, from the complicated hotel set at the end of Act One, to the Petra rocks and tent of Act Two, so they wanted to work out a better technique. One thing that Adam insisted on was fast, efficient scene changes, saying that nothing undermined a performance more than leaving the audience sitting waiting in the dark.

  They tried several combinations of movements until Howard was satisfied that they had found the best sequence, then they practised doing the change that way many times over. After an hour, they had reduced the time needed for the scene change from one and a half minutes to forty-five seconds.

  ‘Well done, team,’ said Howard, easing his aching shoulders. ‘Adam should be happy with that. Jessica, if Austin ever shows his face here again and decides to join us as stage manager, can you fill him in on how we’re doing it?’

  ‘Sure. I wish we knew where he was and if he plans on turning up. I’d prefer to be free to troubleshoot during the run of show, and it’s really too late to get someone else in to stage-manage at this point in the game.’

  ‘Are the police still looking for him? He must have found a good hiding place, wherever he is.’ Shane appeared to relish the idea of Austin being a fugitive from justice. He pulled out an imaginary pistol and ducked behind the hotel desk, popping his head up to yell ‘You’ll never take me alive, copper!’

  ‘Suits me, Shane,’ said Howard, without bothering to look up. ‘Bang, you’re dead. Now go and get the spray oil and lubricate those bolts and hinges, would you?’

  Shane stood up and walked zombie-like to the workshop, returning with the spray-can. ‘I am Shane the Undead,’ he intoned. ‘Here to anoint you with the sacred oil of the Underworld.’

  ‘Shane, what on earth did your Mum put on your cereal this morning?’ asked Jessica. ‘A great big spoonful of idiot powder? Settle down, boy, we’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Mum’s been doing heaps of baking for the Green Room suppers. Muffins, fruit loaves, slices – the freezer’s chockfull.’ He rubbed his tummy. ‘S’good stuff, too, I tried some when she wasn’t looking.’

  The crew perked up. Shane’s Mum Erica was legendary for her suppers, and always made sure the stage crew got their share at interval once the scene changes were over. Other less thoughtful providers sometimes forgot and allowed the actors to scoff the lot.

  ‘Can you ask her to do some of her cheese scones too?’ asked Howard. ‘If it’s not too much bother? They’re my favourite and MaryAnn doesn’t let me get near that sort of thing at home. All we have is fresh fruit and salads – far too healthy.’

  Discussion of their preferred treats kept them happily entertained while they finished the session, by which time most of the cast had arrived and had filed through to the Green Room.

  Jessica went to get a drink of water, but as she pushed open the stage door there was a sudden hush in the conversation. Stewart was sitting at the table, with Phil, Pippa and Simone looking over his shoulder. On the table were two sheets of purple paper. Jessica hurried over.

  ‘What have you got there, Stewart? Aren’t those the religious notes that came in the letterbox? What are you doing with them?’

  He grabbed them up guiltily. ‘I got the first one out of the rubbish bin – you’d thrown it away so I figured it didn’t matter. Then Gerald showed me this other one and I wanted to see if anyone else had seen any, or could tell us anything about them. I’m sorry if that was wrong.’

  She forced herself to lighten her expression.

  ‘No, that’s OK Stewart. I’m sure they’re not important. Just a load of old rubbish. The bin was the right place for them.’

  ‘Actually, Jessica, I think they might be a genuine threat,’ said Phil, looking worried. ‘The wording is pretty specific if you read it carefully.’

  Pippa, still reading over Stewart’s shoulder, gasped suddenly.

  ‘Look at this!’ She grabbed the page from his hand and pointed. ‘This is hideous! …until at last you are completely destroyed for doing evil…. Blindness and panic – groping in the darkness – isn’t that exactly what happened last night? My God, somebody wants us dead! What are they going to do next?’

  An excited chatter burst out among the cast, taking on a note of panic as they imagined the possibilities. Jessica cursed inwardly. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid, and by letting the notes out of her control she had allowed it to happen. She took a deep breath and chose a relaxed but commanding tone.

  ‘Don’t get too concerned, people. I’m sure these are just a minor annoyance and that last night’s power cut was simply a coincidence. I’ve told the police about them anyway, just in case, and they’re keeping a close eye on the place. The instant anyone with a nine-foot flaming sword approaches the door they’ll be arrested, OK?’

  A ripple of laughter rewarded her speech.

  ‘Has there been any mention of plagues of boils?’ asked Terence. ‘Only, with my eczema, I really wouldn’t want to be exposed to any irritating skin conditions.’

  She blessed him silently as the rest of the cast hooted with mirth. Another crisis averted. As casually and discreetly as possible, she took the notes from Stewart and promised herself that she’d pass them on to Jack the first chance she got. In fact, it would make a good excuse to see him again.

  Jack raised his eyebrows as he read through the pages. He had answered her request for a meeting by inviting himself round to her place for dinner on Saturday night.

  ‘It does look as if somebody’s still fairly upset with you, doesn’t it? Pulling down your power lines was a nasty stunt. I guess that placatory letter from the vicar didn’t quite do the trick after all.’

  ‘No, and your ninety percent certainty that it wouldn’t escalate looks like a non-flyer as well, doesn’t it? Am I right in thinking that the damage to the power lines was deliberate?’

  ‘Yes, it was. Once the power guys untangled the mess they found a length of rope with weights on the end. It seems someone threw the weighted rope over the wires so that it wrapped around, then pulled hard enough to rip them down.’

  ‘How come they didn’t get electrocuted?’

  ‘Well, there was a rubber bungee cord at the scene as well. One theory is that he fastened the bungee cord to the end of the rope, looped it round a tow-bar, and just drove off. The Faraday Cage effect of the car would protect him from shocks.’

  ‘Bastard!’ exclaimed Jessica. ‘How bloody dare he?’ She paced about her living room, almost steaming from the ears. She whirled and faced Jack.

  ‘We have to catch this lunatic, Jack. I’ve got a show to put on next week and I won’t have this dickhead getting in our way. If he makes any kind of move during a performance the news media will get onto it and then we’re screwed. Anything that stops people from coming to the show is going to threaten our very survival.’ She eyed him fiercely. ‘So, my long arm of the law, what are you going to do about it?’

  He sat back on her comfy sofa and crossed denim-clad legs. ‘I guess this isn’t the point where I explain about budget restraints and lack of police resources, is it?’

  ‘No it bloody isn’t! That would just get you the “what do we pay our taxes for?” speech. I’m expecting better things from you, Jack.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ His lazy smile stopped her in her tracks. His dark brown eyes held a glint that she found a little bit disconcerting. The promise of the “better things” that she could expect was being telegraphed across the room. A room that suddenly seemed very small, and rather warm.

  ‘Stop that!’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Stop sitting there like the hero of some romantic novel. You’ll be running yo
ur fingers through your unruly hair in a minute, I know your sort. Chest hair will be curling softly from the V-neck of your shirt and there’ll be a waft of citrus-scented aftershave.’

  ‘You read a lot of these novels, do you?’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘So what usually happens once the waft of aftershave reaches our heroine’s delicate upturned nose? Does she swoon, or does that come later?’

  ‘Look mate, swooning went out with whalebone corsets. Today’s women are made of tougher stuff. It takes more than finely-chiselled features and eyes like chips of ice to make us weak at the knees. We don’t fall for that arrogant macho stuff any more – oh!’

  Jack had reached for her hand and pulled her onto the sofa beside him. ‘You don’t? I shall have to revise my whole seduction technique then.’ He chuckled at her expression. ‘Relax, Jessica, that was a joke. Look, we’re friends, we feel an attraction for each other, but there’s no rule that says we have to manufacture a capital-R Romance just yet. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.’

  She gave him a surprised look. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘It is easy. At least, it should be. Most people try too hard.’

  ‘And here I was thinking we were on the verge of discovering our hidden passion for each other. Alone in my living room, meaningful looks, all that stuff. I suppose it was a bit of a cliché, wasn’t it?’

  There was a pause.

  Without another word he slipped his hand under her hair, pulled her face towards him and kissed her. The kiss lasted quite a while. Finally he released her and they pulled apart, breathing a little faster.

  ‘OK, sometimes they do get it right.’

  ‘Who?’ she murmured.

  ‘Romance writers. Sometimes the scene does call for a sudden passionate embrace.’

  She raised an eyebrow and smiled slowly. ‘Go on then. What’s on the next page?’

  He showed her.

  Several pages later they were almost at the next chapter when she laughingly called a halt. ‘OK, mister, that’ll do. You came round for dinner, remember, and to help me figure out how to keep the theatre safe. Let’s at least have something to eat. I’m starving!’