Murder in the Second Row

by Bev Robitai

  With a show of reluctance he allowed her to untangle herself, and followed her to the kitchen where she prepared a salad and sliced some cold chicken. He made himself useful by warming a couple of crusty rolls under the grill and opening a bottle of chilled white wine.

  They ate at her small wooden dining table by the light of two candles from her civil emergency pack. It was rather special. In fact, Jessica had decided that the evening was too special to bring down to earth by talking about the theatre’s problems, but Jack surprised her by raising the subject himself.

  ‘So, Miss Theatre Manager, how are we going to look after your precious historic building for the next two weeks? Any ideas?’

  She got up from her chair, walked round the table and kissed him. He looked at her enquiringly.

  ‘That was for the “we” part of the question, Jack. It’s nice to know you’re on my side, thank you. I did have a thought, actually. I could invite some of the guys from the football club to come and keep an eye on the place. They’re big and fit and not scared to get tough with anybody who gives them a problem.’

  ‘And how would you deploy these deadly weapons?’

  She shook her head and shrugged. ‘That’s the thing, I just don’t know. I can hardly ask them to stand outside all night on guard duty, can I? It wouldn’t be fair when they have to work the next day.’

  ‘Well, what about making up beds for them inside? At least they’d be on the spot to deal with any trouble, assuming it was noisy enough to wake them up.’

  ‘Yeah, that could work. And I can use them as doormen during the show when the audience is coming and going, to stop any obvious loonies from getting in. Thanks Jack, you’re a gem.’

  ‘All part of the service, ma’am.’

  She looked into his chocolate-brown eyes and smiled. ‘What’s the rest of the service, then?’

  He showed her that, too.

  Jessica practically skipped onto the stage on Sunday morning, earning immediate suspicion from the rest of the staging team who were preparing to hang the lights for the show.

  ‘You’re looking far too happy for a Sunday morning. What did you get up to last night? Come on, tell Uncle Howard all about it.’

  Jessica tried for an enigmatic smile but it came out as smugly satisfied instead, fuelling their interest immediately.

  ‘I’ll bet you were helping the police with their enquiries, weren’t you?’

  ‘How long is the long arm of the law, exactly?’

  ‘Did he use his baton?’

  ‘I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations,’ said Jessica, blushing despite herself. ‘Just shut up, will you? Haven’t we got lights to hang here?’

  ‘Oh yes, and they need to be well-hung, too – but you’ll know all about that, eh Jessica?’

  ‘Guys!’ she pleaded. ‘Enough already. I refuse to put up with this for the rest of the day. If you want my help then keep quiet about my private life, OK?’

  She knew they wouldn’t be able to resist the occasional comment but at least it wouldn’t be a constant barrage of innuendo.

  Gazza’s lighting plan lay on the floor and he had already brought out all the lights he needed from the theatre’s own supply beneath the stage. The hired ones were in boxes along the corridor, where Howard and Shane were unpacking them and bringing them up to the apron at the front of the stage. Jessica picked up a large silver parcan and hung it on the lighting bar, which had been lowered from the fly floor to about chest height. She tightened the clamp and fastened the safety wire, then stood lost in thought until Gazza flicked a rubber wire tie at her.

  ‘Oy, wake up. One of these comes next. Come on, we don’t want to be here all night as well as all day.’

  Guiltily she pushed all the dreamily enjoyable thoughts of Jack out of her mind and got back to work.

  By lunchtime they had completed all three lighting bars and Gazza was up a ladder rigging the perches at the sides of the stage. The conversation had moved round to the vandalism of the power supply.

  ‘I don’t suppose we could pin it on the developers, could we?’ suggested Howard. ‘It might turn public opinion in our favour if they were accused of playing dirty tricks like that.’

  ‘That would be fine if they’d actually done it,’ said Jessica, ‘but unfortunately I don’t think they did. It does look more like the work of a deranged crank than a business organisation. The footage from the security camera showed one figure, not a gang, but there wasn’t enough detail to identify the person. Just someone tall and thin in a hoodie.’

  ‘They could have hired said deranged crank to do their dirty work for them.’

  ‘Nah, too easy for the crank to blow the whistle on them. No, I think Bayldon Oliver will carry on attacking us through the media as usual, and the nutter will keep trying in person.’

  ‘Do we have a plan for dealing with that, Jessica?’

  ‘Yes. We do. I thought I’d get the guys from the football club to give us a hand. We’ve got a couple of beds in the furniture bay, haven’t we? I’ll set up one in the foyer and one in the Green Room and the guys can sleep comfortably but spring into action if needed.’

  ‘So you’re not going to set up a sweet little love nest in your office and have your policeman friend over for a slumber party then?’ Gazza chuckled from up his ladder.

  ‘Gazza,’ said Jessica sweetly, aiming a rubber tie upwards. ‘You do realise how vulnerable you are in those shorts, don’t you? I can see quite a long way up them, you know.’

  He squawked and snapped his legs closer together, causing the ladder to sway dramatically.

  ‘Get away from me woman. You need my skills for this job. Knocking me down with a shot to the goolies is not an option.’

  ‘Jessica, leave our Head of Lighting alone,’ ordered Howard. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to take all these lights down after the show without him. He doesn’t escape pack-out that easily.’

  At last, all the parcans, floods and Fresnels were hung, each with the correct coloured gel in the filter holder to give the appropriate colour on stage. The bundles of wires were tied off and plugged into the patch panel, ready for programming into the lighting desk. Gazza’s work was really beginning now and Jessica didn’t envy his job for the following day either, when levels and cues would be set.

  For the next night’s demanding lighting session, she made sure there was a table set up in the middle of the auditorium with two of the best chairs she could find. She put a jug of water and some glasses ready, and a bowl of sweets. Directors were known to get tetchy during these difficult technical evenings, even Adam, and staving off hunger was one way she could help.

  Adam had called for a few volunteers from the cast, but the rest of the bodies needed were usually supplied by stage crew. Jessica offered herself also as a stand-in. It wasn’t hard, just a matter of standing where she was told or moving from one spot to another, but it felt like a performance, and was about as close as she would ever get to stardom on the stage.

  Adam called for the opening scene. The stage crew had already put the table and chairs in place on the hotel set and had taken up the places where the actors would be standing or sitting. Gazza, sitting next to Adam in the auditorium, brought up the lights and they decided on the brightness that was required. The cue for that level of light was programmed into the lighting desk so that it would appear at the touch of a button when needed.

  The process was followed for every scene. Jessica stood patiently as requested, trying not to squint into the dazzling lights when the rest of the room was so black. Adam’s disembodied voice came out of the darkness.

  ‘Jessica, can you come down stage left next to Stewart please? Mark that spot, Stewart.’

  Stewart pulled off two strips of masking tape and made a small cross on the stage at her feet.

  ‘How are you doing, Stewie?’ she whispered.

  ‘Fine, thanks. Hey, Jessica, when do we get our tickets for opening night? I want to make sure my Mum and Da
d come to the show.’

  ‘Stewart, go up to the hotel desk please and stand behind it.’ Adam’s voice was terse.

  Jessica waved him away. ‘I’ll talk to you afterwards.’

  The evening wore on. Adam munched bananas for the stress-relieving properties of the potassium. Gazza just got on with the job, no doubt promising himself a couple of beers at the end of the night. Finally, a little after midnight, levels and cues were at last complete. Jessica caught up with Stewart and assured him that tickets for cast and crew would be handed out the next night. Too tired to celebrate, everyone went quietly home to bed, knowing that the next night held the terrors of The Technical.

  All through the day on Tuesday Jessica had a feeling of impending doom. She organised the football guys and set up their accommodation, all the while keeping an ear open for any strange noises about the place. Eventually, she accepted that it was just nerves, and a perfectly normal feeling to have before a Technical rehearsal.

  She checked the Green Room notice-board to make sure everyone had looked at the draft programme and had ticked that their names were spelled correctly. There were a couple of extra names scrawled in as props helpers so she jotted them down and went up to her office to add them on the computer. As an afterthought she wondered if she should put in a note about Tamara – perhaps an “In memory of…”, but decided against it. The only people who would be touched by such a gesture were the girl’s parents, and they certainly didn’t seem keen on any further public mention of their wayward daughter.

  She heard the front door open.

  The sound of quiet voices drifted up the stairs. One voice sounded familiar. Jessica leaped to her feet and bounded down the stairs.

  ‘Austin! I thought it was you. Where the hell have you been?’

  He was standing in the corridor holding a young Korean woman by the hand, looking oddly sheepish.

  ‘Hello, Jessica. I’d like you to meet Joy Chung. Joy and I are getting married.’ He looked down at Joy and simpered. She smiled back at him and giggled.

  ‘That’s, ah, lovely, Austin. Congratulations. Have you been out of the country all this time? Is that why the police haven’t been able to find you anywhere?’

  ‘What? Are they still looking for me? I thought they’d have solved the case by now, that’s why I came back.’ He ran a wrinkled hand through his sparse grey hair and looked panicked. Joy Chung held his arm tightly.

  ‘They’ve got Nick in custody at the moment, for what that’s worth, and yes, they really want to talk to you, Austin. If I were you I’d go straight down to the station and make contact with Senior Sergeant Jack Matherson. He’s overseeing the case, and I promise he has enough intelligence to hear your story without jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘Oh God, I should have stayed in Korea. All right, I’ll go. Come on my little lotus flower, I’ll take you home first.’ He turned back to Jessica. ‘I suppose it’s no use asking you to say you haven’t seen me?’ He read her expression correctly and answered his own question. ‘Thought not.’

  ‘Austin, please try to convince them you’re innocent. We really do need you as stage manager. And hey, if you succeed, you’ll be here in time for the Technical tonight. You wouldn’t want to miss that!’ She gave him a bright smile which he returned weakly.

  ‘Righto miss, I’ll do me best. Come on petal, let’s go. Your big tiger man has to go and see the policeman now.’

  They left arm in arm, with Jessica staring after them, faintly aghast.

  She went back up to her office and phoned Jack to let him know that Austin had been sighted and was on his way to the station.

  ‘If you could possibly let him out by this evening I’d be very grateful. Assuming he didn’t actually do it, of course.’

  Jack’s voice deepened on the other end of the phone. ‘How grateful, exactly?’

  She smiled, feeling her skin heat up as if he’d breathed on her. ‘I’ll leave that to your imagination. I promise I’ll make it worth your while, OK?’

  ‘And when can I collect on this rash pledge, Jessica?’

  She looked at the calendar and groaned. ‘If it’s an evening you’re talking about, I’ll be free in about two weeks. Want to pencil something in? Of course, if I could have my promotions manager back that would help too. Any progress there?’

  ‘Sorry, not yet. The technical guys are working through the processing of the evidence and it all takes time. Hang in there, Jessica. I’m thinking of you.’

  She spent the rest of the day preparing for the Technical.. Cans of caffeine drink went into the fridge, the coffee supply was topped up, and plenty of fresh milk was on hand. Shane’s Mum had thoughtfully sent in a couple of fruit loaves to keep the company going until her duties started on opening night, so Jessica sliced them, filled a couple of plates, and covered them with plastic wrap.

  The props table was covered with white paper and the outline of every item was neatly labelled in Gert’s shaky capitals. Dressing rooms had been allocated and there was a list of names on the door of each one. Clara-Jane had already been in and hung the costumes ready for each actor, clearly marked with their name on every hanger. The make-up room had a row of chairs in front of the mirror so that the make-up ladies could do the finishing touches on each actor’s face and hair.

  Jessica looked round approvingly. She liked to have everything completely ready for a Technical as though it was a Dress rehearsal, because even though the actors weren’t in full costume there was no guarantee that a director wouldn’t yell for a particular outfit to be worn to check it under the lighting. She had done all she could to smooth the path. The rest of the night was down to the director, the skill of the crew and the patience of the actors.

  At 6.45pm they began to turn up. Everyone greeted each other politely and was on their best behaviour, knowing that a smooth run depended on cheerful co-operation. Even Simone had toned down her booming voice and was being pleasant for once.

  At 6.55pm Austin arrived, red and sweating. The crew greeted him warmly and he kept quietly in the background while Adam gathered the entire company in the Green Room for a few words.

  ‘I can see from your demeanour that most of you know what to expect tonight - thank you for being prepared. This is the first time for you to perform under the stage lights, so make sure you hit your marks and check for the hot spots you should be standing in. We’ll do a cue-to-cue run, which means that actors should be ready to jump ahead a few lines from time to time. We will work on each cue until it’s right, so there will be some repetition involved. Stage crew, I want to see smooth scene changes and quick responses to cues. Austin, glad you could make it. Jessica will fill you in on any changes you’ve missed. I know you all want to make this show as polished and professional as possible, so let’s get started and see how well we can do.’

  At 7pm precisely, the curtain rose, the lights came up, and the show began.

  To Jessica’s delight, it went like a dream. For the first time in all her theatre experience, the process was virtually faultless. Apart from a couple of changes to light levels, the entire show ran as scripted and they finished astonishingly early for a Technical – well before midnight. All cues were written into the cue script, the lighting desk was fully programmed, and even the pre-show and interval music was organised.

  When the curtain came down after the last line, Adam burst into genuine applause, and gratefully sent everyone home with their complimentary tickets for family or friends and pats on the back for a job well done.

  Before he left, Jessica explained to him that there would be a couple of guys sleeping on the premises to guard against possible threats to the building, and he nodded approvingly. Howard and Jessica stayed long enough to see that Matt and Paul from the football club were bedded down safely, then they too went home for a well-deserved rest.

  At 3am Jessica woke suddenly. She sat up in bed, hot and sweaty with her mind racing furiously. Had she sent the ticket to the newspaper for the critic to at
tend opening night? No, she hadn’t. With Nick in custody, the remainder of the publicity duties weighed heavily on her shoulders and she wasn’t quite sure she’d remembered everything. She got out of bed and found pen and paper so she could list all the things that needed to be done. From long experience she knew that if she didn’t make a list, she would lie in bed for hours worrying about missing something vital. Once she’d covered all aspects of advertising and promotion she felt better. She’d have time to drop critic tickets in to the paper and the radio station next morning, and the show programmes would be ready for collection early on Friday. There was nothing to worry about.

  She slept soundly for the rest of the night.

  In the morning paper, beneath the dramatic headline, was a grim picture of the smouldering husk of a building with fire crews hosing down the last remaining hot spots.

  Chapter 12

  Arsonist Targets Mall Developers screamed the Whetford Press. Jessica munched her toast and read the article carefully. The offices of Bayldon Oliver had been set alight in the early hours of the morning and apparently the police suspected a link to other recent attacks on downtown buildings. She picked up her phone.

  ‘Jack? What’s the story with Bayldon Oliver’s fire? I don’t suppose there’s a chance this is serious enough to shut them down? I could do without having them to worry about.’

  ‘Actually it looks like you may have something in common with them after all.’

  ‘What?’ She sprayed toast across the table and hurriedly wiped it up.

  ‘There was a note left outside the building. A purple note. Sound familiar?’

  ‘Not a religious note, by any chance?’

  ‘Funny you should ask. Hold on a second, I’ll read you the juicy bits. The LORD is a jealous God, filled with vengeance and wrath. He takes revenge on all who oppose him and furiously destroys his enemies! The LORD is slow to get angry, but his power is great, and he never lets the guilty go unpunished. Who can stand before his fierce anger? Who can survive his burning fury? His rage blazes forth like fire… Well, you get the picture. It looks like Bayldon Oliver has done something to upset your nutter.’