Murder in the Second Row

by Bev Robitai

  I attended the Regent Theatre’s opening night of Appointment with Death last night, and it was electric. From the moment the curtain went up on the hotel in Jerusalem to when it went down on the rose-red rocks of Petra, the audience was kept in suspense by a classic Agatha Christie whodunit. Veteran director Adam Bryant drew a masterful performance from the whole cast, with the standout role being Simone Duchaine playing Ada Boynton – I wanted to kill her myself. You’ll have to go to the show to find out who did, though, I’m not going to spoil the suspense by telling you. Unless you send an envelope of used notes to Brad Bannerman, care of Whetford Classic Radio.

  You know folks, when global warming has hit and the oil’s all gone, there’s a fair chance we’ll be left in the dark without our TV and our DVDs and even – shock, horror – even radio. Our entertainment will have to go back to the olden days of real human beings on a stage. If you don’t want to get stuck watching your Uncle Arthur do charades, you’d better keep supporting the Regent Theatre.

  Appointment with Death is playing all this week at the Regent so dust off your detective deerstalkers and make a night of it. If you miss this then you haven’t got a clue.

  ‘Oh, that’s great!’ She turned to Howard and beamed. ‘I want to kiss that man and bear his children!’

  ‘Steady on girl, dinner and a movie should thank him enough. Don’t go overboard.’

  They pulled up at the theatre and he let her out at the door. She keyed in the code and opened up, limping inside to sniff the air. The usual mix of paint and rope had perfume traces from last night’s crowd mingled with it, and just a hint of damp carpet from the bar.

  ‘What time did it break up here last night?’ she asked Howard when he caught up with her after parking the van.

  ‘About 1.30am, I think. I pushed the last few out to let Matt and Paul get some sleep. I expect a couple of the crew will have sore heads today but the cast all behaved themselves.’

  ‘That’s good. I don’t think I’d want to see Simone with a hangover.’

  ‘No, nor Terence. Imagine what gruesome symptoms he’d come up with.’

  Chortling, they went backstage where Jessica set the season clock to “second night” and taped up the radio review for all to read. Then she mentally braced herself for the fallout from the newspaper crit.

  As she had expected, as soon as the cast arrived they went straight into a major grouch session about the newspaper piece.

  ‘Did you see what they said? “Amateur cast”. That’s as bad as “amateurish” to anyone reading it.’

  ‘And what about “SOME strong performances”? Does that mean the rest of us were crap?’

  ‘How can you stage an Agatha Christie without it being “dated”? The old trout died over thirty years ago and most of her plays are set in the early half of last century. What does he expect us to do – re-write it in the present day?’

  ‘Take it easy, guys,’ said Jessica. ‘The radio review was much better. Go take a look; I’ve put it up by the clock.’

  There was a scramble to get close enough to read the typed page.

  ‘Now that’s more like it,’ said Pippa with satisfaction.

  ‘Shouldn’t there be two Ns in “whodunit”?’ said Phil.

  ‘Ha, “veteran director” – Adam’s not going to like that!’

  ‘Hey this Bannerman guy’s OK. We should invite him to the Final Night party.’

  ‘When did this go out, Jessica?’

  She winced inwardly. Just when she’d turned their mood around to positive, someone had to ask the awkward question.

  ‘It hasn’t been broadcast yet. There was a bomb scare at the radio station as you probably know, so the Arts programme was cancelled. But they did promise to play it before the end of our run.’ She mentally crossed her fingers.

  ‘Hope they do it sooner rather than later, then.’ Phil looked over to the door. ‘Hi Simone, you must be feeling pretty happy with the review? Looks like you were the only person the critic liked.’

  Simone frowned. ‘I wasn’t at all pleased with his comments. Quite apart from his abysmally ignorant remarks about the show in general, I felt that “kept the audience’s attention with her performance” was wide open to misinterpretation. They might have been watching to see what mistake was made next.’

  ‘Come on guys, let’s just focus on the good points, shall we?’ said Jessica. ‘It was “an above average production” with “some strong performances”. And the radio guy was really enthusiastic. “It was electric.” “A masterful performance from the whole cast”. Keep those words in your head when you go on tonight, and give this audience their money’s worth, just like you did yesterday.’

  ‘What’s the house tonight, Jessica?’

  ‘I haven’t checked yet, Phil. I’ll go and have a look.’ She stood up and took a few steps, discreetly trying to keep her weight on the heel of her injured foot, but sharp-eyed Stewart spotted it immediately.

  ‘Are you hurt, Jessica? What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing, it’s just a sore toe.’ She waved it away as inconsequential.

  ‘You have to be careful with toes. I had an ingrown toenail once that needed surgery. It got a very nasty fungal infection under the nail, right in the corner, and the doctor had to remove the whole thing.’

  ‘Yes, thank you Terence. It’s just slightly injured, nothing life-threatening I assure you.’

  She hobbled to the box office. ‘How’s the house, Gerald?’

  He didn’t say anything, just turned the computer screen towards her. Her face fell. About half the downstairs was booked, but the back half and upstairs circle were empty. She sighed.

  ‘Well, it’s not the worst house we’ve ever had. I suppose you saw the newspaper crit? It certainly hasn’t helped, has it?’

  ‘You can’t win with those things. If they’re too favourable the public think that some friend of the theatre has written it and they disregard it – if it’s unfavourable then they have an immediate excuse not to make the effort to go to the show.’

  ‘Remind me again why we do this?’

  ‘We’re keepers of the flame, my dear. Slaves toiling in the service of culture and history.’

  ‘And what if one day we tired of the struggle and just stopped toiling?’

  ‘Two words. Shopping Mall.’

  Chapter 15

  Jessica returned to the Green Room with dispiriting news of the second night’s audience numbers and addressed the cast.

  ‘If any of you can help with promoting the show, I’d be very glad of your assistance. Since Nick’s been banged up in the clink I’ve had to do publicity myself and I just don’t have the contacts that he does. Please, if you have social groups that you belong to, get a poster on their notice-board and take some flyers with you. Do the same at your workplace. Email all your friends – promise them that seven incredibly wonderful lucky things will happen to them in seven days if they come to the show and forward your email to everyone they know.’

  There was a ripple of laughter.

  ‘Wow, Jessica, that’s viral marketing – very hip, very now,’ grinned Phil. ‘It’s verging on spam, but in a good cause.’

  ‘Hey, I’ll use any method that’s free and helps the theatre. Whatever gets people in the door works for me.’

  ‘I suppose I could suggest it as an outing for my chapter of the Red Hatters,’ said Simone grudgingly. ‘It’s a little tame for them but they would probably make allowances since I’m personally involved.’

  ‘What are the Red Hatters?’ Phil whispered in Jessica’s ear. She chuckled.

  ‘They’re a group of menopausal matrons who let rip once they’ve reached their mature years and do all the fun things they’ve been missing out on while rearing children or working on their careers. We’d better seat them well back or they’ll be throwing their knickers on stage for you.’

  Horror raced fear across his face and won hands down. ‘Do they do that sort of thing?’

 
; ‘Possibly. But don’t worry, they’ll be easy to recognise. Just watch out for red hats and purple outfits. I don’t think they bring men along, so at least the Shaggers’ Shield should be safe.’

  Phil retreated with a shudder and went to sit close to Pippa.

  ‘So these Red Hat ladies, Simone, they’re game for a bit of fun, are they? They like a bit of a laugh?’ Austin winked and looked at her knowingly.

  ‘I’m certain that whatever you had to offer would indeed cause them to laugh, Mr Sudgeway.’

  His jaw dropped as her words registered, and sniggers ran round the room.

  ‘She got you that time, Austin!’

  ‘Ooh, that’s harsh!’

  ‘Nice one, Simone.’

  She acknowledged them with a small smile and a tilt of the head. ‘If I was in the habit of procuring gentlemen for my friends, I would seek someone of a higher calibre, I assure you.’

  Austin pouted and consulted his watch. ‘Five minute call!’

  Jessica stayed backstage during the performance as it was just too painful to limp all the way out to the auditorium. There were enough people in the auditorium for the actors to work to and she could tell from the first few minutes that it was a responsive audience. Their laughs could be heard through the back wall of the stage whenever one of the “dated comic characters” had an amusing line.

  When Erica came in with a basket of goodies, Jessica helped her prepare and set out the food ready for interval. The wall-mounted water heater began a steaming shriek as it came to the boil and Jessica grabbed a tea-towel to muffle it. The actors who were first off the stage as interval approached, came out back and grabbed their cups of tea or coffee, radiating the intense energy that comes from a strongly-focused performance. They were high with the adrenaline rush of remembering all the lines and cues and moves they needed to be in the right place at the right time. In contrast, the stage crew were laid back and relatively relaxed, eyeing the excitable actors with amused tolerance.

  ‘There’s a weird woman in the second row,’ said Howard. ‘Just sitting there glaring – hardly reacts at all.’

  ‘Better than that guy with the neighing laugh on prompt side,’ said Phil. ‘He nearly threw me off my cue when he was braying so loudly after the dragoman’s line about Balaam’s ass.’

  Austin called beginners for Act Two so they hurriedly gulped their coffee and went back to work.

  After the show, Jessica limped out to the foyer to assess the crowd’s mood and to see how they’d enjoyed the show. The murmurs were more subdued than the previous night but generally sounded positive. Once all the patrons had left she went over to the bar.

  ‘You’re not staying open tonight for the cast and crew, are you Greg? Let’s shunt them all home and shut up shop. Our security guys would appreciate an early night, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yeah, I wasn’t planning on another party night. The beer’s almost run out and I need to re-stock tomorrow. My other half will be happy to see me home, too. Hey, did that lady find you?’

  ‘What lady was that?’

  ‘Dunno. She asked if you were here so I pointed you out when you came in. I assumed she’d go and talk to you.’

  ‘Nope, didn’t see her. I guess it wasn’t important. She can get my autograph some other time!’

  She slowly collected up empty glasses from around the foyer and lined them up on the bar ready to be washed. There were several beer bottles out on the street so she picked them up for the recycling bin and brought in the “No Parking” signs that held spaces open, out front, in case a fire engine needed access.

  At last Howard was finished with setting the stage and appeared in the foyer to take her home.

  ‘Wait here, Jessica, I’ll bring the van round. Can’t have our little princess waiting on the street, can we?’ He ducked out of the door as she pretended to throw a bottle at him.

  Minutes later he tooted from the street and she limped to the front door to meet him. On her way out, she inadvertently banged her sore toe against the door frame. With a gasp of pain she hopped to Howard’s van, rested one hand on the roof and bent over to check her foot. As she did so something flew past her ear and shattered the passenger window with an explosion of crackling glass.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Howard popped out of the driver’s door like a jack-in-the-box. ‘What on earth was that?’

  They heard scuffling noises, getting fainter as someone ran off down the narrow alleyway beside the theatre.

  ‘Oh hell, look at that, there’s bloody glass everywhere.’ He walked around the front of the car muttering darkly. ‘And I’ll bet the insurance glass cover only means windscreens not windows. Blasted vandals. You all right, Jessica?’ he asked, a bit late.

  She was looking into the car through the rim of broken glass around the window frame. There was a heavy stone on the passenger seat in a pool of glittering shards. She wasn’t quite sure under the orange streetlights, but the paper wrapped around it appeared to be purple.

  ‘Not really,’ she said shakily. ‘I think we’d better call Jack for this one.’

  Jack sat beside Jessica on the foyer sofa. She wrapped her hands round the mug of hot coffee that Greg had made for her and tried to stop her teeth from chattering.

  ‘It’s a b-bit chilly tonight, isn’t it?’ she said, knowing perfectly well that it wasn’t.

  ‘It is for someone suffering from shock,’ said Jack, knowing perfectly well that she was. ‘Now just take me through it one more time. You came outside, the stone came at you just as you bent down, and you heard someone running through the alley, right?’

  ‘That’s it, apart from Howard pacing about madly, cursing at his broken window.’

  Howard, who’d just come in after taping plastic over the shattered glass, looked at her reproachfully.

  ‘Hey, I’ve only had the van six months, I’m allowed to be upset when it’s damaged. At least I stayed round to look after you and didn’t go chasing after the little brats that did it.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Jack. ‘Especially as I don’t think it was kids aiming at your car. I’m afraid it was someone actually trying to harm Jessica. If that stone had hit her in the head it would have done very serious damage. The message that was wrapped round it made the intention pretty clear.’ He read him the note.

  My hand shall be the first raised to slay you; the rest of the people shall join in with me. I shall stone you to death, because you sought to lead us astray from the LORD, our God. Cursed be he who does the LORD’s work remissly, cursed he who holds back his sword from blood.”

  Jessica shuddered.

  ‘I’m not sure I like being the target of a raving lunatic. It was bad enough when they were attacking the theatre, but now it’s become a bit too personal.’ She turned big brown eyes to Jack. ‘I don’t suppose I could have you as a permanent bodyguard until they’re caught? I’m sure it’s the only way I’d ever get any sleep.’

  Howard saw the look Jack was giving her. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I can see my cue to leave. Let me know if there’s anything you need, Jess, but I’m guessing there won’t be.’ He grinned and left them alone in the foyer.

  ‘Um, I’m going to need a ride back to my place, Jack. Is that all right?’

  His smile sent new and much nicer shivers down her spine. He stood up and pulled her gently to her feet then cupped a hand round the back of her head, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Her arms went round his neck and pulled him down harder. She let the heat from his body soak into hers, pressing against him first for comfort, then with increasingly urgent desire. Finally he broke free with a chuckle.

  ‘All right miss, that’s enough, we have to get you home now. You need to be tucked up safe and warm in bed. I’ll even let you play with the emergency light on the way, if you like.’

  ‘And the siren?’

  ‘No.’

  He supported her as far as the door then checked outside and came back for her. ‘All clear, come on.’

  D
espite Jack’s reassuring presence she couldn’t repress a shudder as she reached his car. The image of a big rock rushing towards her head made a cold sweat break out. She got in hurriedly and breathed a sigh of relief as Jack closed the door.

  He drove off quickly and smoothly, but she was puzzled to see that he was driving away from her place instead of towards it.

  ‘Where are we going, Jack? It’s a bit late to be out sightseeing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Just making sure we’re alone. I don’t want to worry you, but if there’s somebody who’s determined to do you harm, I’d rather not lead them to where you live. It’s a good thing your name’s a nice common one – they’d have trouble identifying you from the phonebook. I assume you’re just listed as “J. Jones”?’

  ‘Of course. There are a hundred and thirty five Joneses listed in the Whetford phonebook so I should be pretty safe.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Greg said there was some woman asking for me in the bar tonight but I never found out who it was.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose it’s relevant.’

  ‘Right now, everything is relevant,’ he said. “I’ll talk to Greg on Monday.

  Jack pulled in to the police station car park and switched off the engine, winding his window down to listen for any vehicles idling out on the street or driving away. Satisfied that all was clear, he drove Jessica home and firmly locked her in the car while he checked all round her house for any signs of tampering.

  She resisted the temptation to fiddle with the alley lights or the radio, content to wait patiently until he reappeared on her garden path. When he had escorted her inside they stood awkwardly for a moment. She had sudden doubts about whether they were on the same page or not.

  ‘Um, is it really OK for you to stay the night, Jack? Purely for protective purposes of course – no pressure. I’d very much like you to stay if you can.’