by Simon Brett
His passenger couldn’t help but be impressed. This was presumably how a public relations agency ferried its celebrity clients around the country. Didn’t they realize that he was only Charles Paris, jobbing actor? A minicab would have been quite sufficient.
The chauffeur ushered him into a reception area almost exactly like the hallway set of a television play in which Charles had played a young member of an Edwardian family about to be decimated by the First World War. (‘Charles Paris showed about as much backbone as an overboiled piece of macaroni.’ – The Spectator.)
There he was met by a young woman with a black trouser suit and a Russian accent. As the chauffeur receded (presumably to pick up some superstar from an airport), she led Charles through a corridor to a door, on which she tapped. Granted admission, she opened the door, ushered him in and said, ‘Your guest, Mr Driscoll.’
That was a surprise to Charles. It had never occurred to him that Peri Maitland wouldn’t be on her own. She was there, of course, dressed in another perfect suit and inhumanly perfect make-up, sitting at a low table on which stood a silver tray bearing a silver coffee pot and bone china cups. The man who rose to greet their guest was around fifty, gym-toned, grey hair worn slightly long but beautifully cut. He wore a tailored black suit with a subtle gridwork of blue lines in the weave and a pink shirt open at the neck. Had Charles Paris, in one of his occasional forays into directing, been casting the part of a PR consultant, he would have rejected the guy as too obvious.
‘Good morning.’ The man gave an unfeasibly firm handshake. ‘I’m Dan.’
‘Charles Paris.’
‘Peri you know obviously.’ The man gestured to a chair. ‘Would you care for some coffee?’
Charles said he would and the man poured it himself, far too modern to let the task be performed by the woman in the room. As he passed the cup across, he said, ‘I’m a director of Pridmore Baines. Though I say it myself, we are one of the most successful public relations companies in the country. In fact, I don’t like the term “public relations”, it’s outdated. I’m sure Peri would agree with me when I say what we do these days is more crisis management, reputation management and damage limitation.’ He smiled a professional smile, leaving it open as to whether what he’d just said was a joke or not. Charles thought it probably wasn’t.
‘And obviously the situation around the Tony Copeland production of Hamlet has given us a few headaches. Events like the accidents to Jared Root and Katrina Selsey … well, let’s just say the management of publicity surrounding them requires very careful handling.’
It all sounded a bit clinical to Charles, but when he thought about it – which he hadn’t much before – he supposed that ‘management of publicity’ was exactly what public relations companies did.
He noticed an anxious look flashed from Peri to her boss. In spite of Dan Driscoll’s slick routine, she still looked nervous and Charles had to remind himself that she had a lot to be nervous about. He was in danger of letting himself be intimidated by their presentation skills, whereas in fact he had the upper hand. He possessed the important information that Peri Maitland had lied to the police. It was time he said something.
‘Listen, Dan, I don’t know if you know why I contacted Peri.’
‘Of course I do. As my employee, she has told me everything.’
‘Well, look, I’m kind of intrigued by Katrina Selsey’s death.’
‘You and the entire country.’
‘Yes, but I’m even more intrigued because I was the person who found her body.’
Dan Driscoll communicated annoyance to his junior. ‘Peri didn’t tell me that.’
‘Well, I did find it,’ Charles went on. ‘So needless to say, I’ve talked to the police about that. They talked to Peri, who told them she was on a train to London before that evening’s performance started. And yet she was seen that same evening at the Grand Theatre helping Katrina Selsey transfer her belongings into the star dressing room.’
‘Who saw me?’ asked Peri, speaking for the first time.
‘I don’t think that’s relevant at the moment,’ said Charles, ‘but I know it’s true. So there’s one simple question that I want answering. Why did you lie to the Detective Constable Whittam, Peri?’
The girl looked instantly across to her boss. She had brought him there for a reason, which was presumably to answer the kind of difficult questions Charles had just asked.
Dan Driscoll smiled the professional smile of the conciliator, and Peri Maitland looked relieved. Charles could see they were quite a team, the two of them. They worked together seamlessly, and he reckoned they had got themselves out of far trickier diplomatic challenges than the one they currently faced.
‘Listen, Charles,’ said Dan. ‘Peri made a mistake. She’s big enough to admit that. We’ve all made mistakes. I’m sure you’ve made mistakes in your life.’
Where shall I start? thought Charles.
‘So what we all have to ask ourselves,’ Dan Driscoll continued silkily, ‘is how much harm Peri’s mistake has caused. And would greater harm be caused by her admitting the mistake more publicly than just to us, or might it be better to leave things as they are?’
‘If it turns out that Katrina Selsey was murdered,’ said Charles, ‘then I don’t think “leaving things as they are” is really an option.’
The PR consultant winced, as if Charles had committed some terrible social faux pas. ‘Now I don’t believe anyone’s mentioned the word “murder”. I think you’re being a little overdramatic there.’ A patronizing smile. ‘A habit to which people in your profession are sometimes prone.’
The old ‘luvvie’ accusation again. ‘Look, I—’
‘Let me continue, Charles. Peri was questioned on the telephone by this Detective Constable Whittam. It was a moment of stress for her. She had only recently heard about Katrina Selsey’s death and suddenly she’s being asked questions on the lines of –’ he dropped into the voice of a standard blundering copper – ‘“Where were you on the night of the fourteenth?” … Like she was some kind of suspect. Peri knew she’d done nothing wrong and she thought, as many of us might, that rather than getting involved in a no doubt time-consuming police enquiry, one small white lie would let her off the hook. So she told Detective Constable Whittam that she had caught an earlier train to London than the one she actually had. End of story.’
He was good, Charles had to admit. The sweet reasonableness with which Dan had put Peri’s case made arguing against it seem almost churlish. But sometimes one just had to be a bit churlish.
‘Listen,’ Charles began, ‘the police are investigating Katrina Selsey’s death. They’re not going to get very far in that process if everybody withholds information from them.’ Which was, when he thought about it, a bit rich from someone who’d failed to report what Dennis Demetriades had told him.
‘Charles, I can see your point,’ said Dan, ‘and I would be in complete agreement with you, but for the fact—’ He was interrupted by his mobile ringing. He checked the display and said, ‘Sorry, I must take this. About Elton,’ he mouthed to Peri Maitland. Putting the phone to his ear and moving to the door, he said, ‘Dan Pridmore. Listen, I gather there’s been a problem, which I’m sure we can sort out without too much aggravation on …’ The door closed behind him.
Charles Paris and Peri Maitland looked at each other. She didn’t seem inclined to talk, and he didn’t think he’d get much out of her until her boss was back in the room. She had become almost like another of the agency’s celebrity clients, who’d stepped over the mark, but whose gaffes and misdemeanours Dan could finesse away by ‘management of publicity’.
‘Would you like some more coffee?’ asked Peri, the perfect hostess.
Charles said he would, but what was in the pot had gone cold, so she rang for the hotel staff. The Russian girl reappeared. Peri gave the order and, taking the tray, the Russian girl left, saying, ‘Yes, of course, Mrs Driscoll.’
And suddenly Charl
es Paris understood. But he didn’t say anything. Not right then. Nor indeed when Peri’s boss reappeared, full of smooth apology. He’d let the conversation run a little longer.
‘Anyway,’ said Dan, ‘we were just arguing – no, that’s too strong a word. We were just discussing whether the police need ever know about Peri’s slight finessing of the truth.’
‘I would say that rather depends on how much she knows.’
‘What do you mean, Charles?’
‘Well, say she actually witnessed Katrina Selsey’s death, then the information she has does become rather important, doesn’t it?’
Charles watched the girl as he said this. Hard to read through her armour of make-up, but he reckoned his words had upset her. Peri opened her mouth to speak, but Dan intervened before she could say anything.
‘Of course she didn’t witness the death. If she’d done that she would have informed the police immediately. Isn’t that right, Peri?’
‘Well …’ But she was only momentarily undecided. ‘Yes, of course I would.’
‘Listen, Charles,’ said Dan, all avuncular now, ‘I spoke of public relations as being at times “damage limitation”, but a lot of it is also “conflict resolution”, and conflicts only arise when the people or groups of people involved have different agendas. So I want to know what your agenda is, Charles.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘What are you hoping to get out of this morning’s meeting? And please don’t say something pious and meaningless like “the truth”.’
‘I wasn’t about to.’
‘Good. I mean, is it money you’re after?’
Charles was shocked. ‘What, you think I’m trying to blackmail you for my silence?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time that kind of thing had happened.’
‘It’d be a first for me.’ He was still shaken by the suggestion he might have been after money. Interesting that the possibility had been raised, though. And it confirmed the direction in which his mind was moving. ‘Dan, there’s a question I’d like to ask you …’
The man spread his hands wide, all bluff honesty. ‘Ask away.’
‘Why are you in this hotel under false names?’
That shook him, but only briefly. The bland exterior was restored as Dan replied, ‘It’s something we do quite a lot in our business. Many of our clients, as you know, are very high profile. So they are frequently booked into hotels under false names. And though Peri and I don’t claim that kind of fame for ourselves, tabloid journalists know our client list and might read something into our booking into a hotel under our own names.’
‘That “something” being the fact that one of your high- profile clients is also booked in under a false name?’
‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ came the well-oiled reply.
‘Well,’ said Charles, deciding finally that the time had come to take charge, ‘that explanation might convince some people, but I’m afraid I don’t buy it.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m a simple soul. I don’t look for more complicated explanations when there’s an obvious one. Your real names are Dan Pridmore and Peri Maitland, and yet you’re booked in here under the names of “Mr and Mrs Driscoll”.’
‘Yes, it seemed a harmless name to choose and—’
‘The obvious – indeed the traditional – reason for two unmarried people booking into a hotel as “Mr and Mrs” is because they’re having an affair.’
Charles Paris knew from the expressions on their faces that he’d got it right. So, taking advantage of the moment of shock, he went on, ‘And I think that’s why you don’t want the police investigating Peri’s movements, why she lied about catching a train back to London when in fact she was coming to join you here. You’re just afraid the details of your affair will somehow get back to your wife.’
Dan Pridmore’s silence was eloquent. He was caught in that oldest and most predictable of scenarios – the boss having it off with his junior from the office.
‘So … you asked about my agenda … I’m not after money. Nor do I have any kind of idealistic notion that “the truth should always out”. I’m quite happy to agree not to mention anything about Peri’s lies to the police.’ His listeners looked relieved at that, but still wary. ‘However,’ Charles went on, ‘my agenda – what I want out of the deal – is that Peri tells me exactly what happened that evening with Katrina Selsey in the Grand Theatre. She tells me that and, so far as I’m concerned, the matter is closed.’
‘Well, I’m sure Peri will be more than happy to—’
Charles cut Dan Pridmore off. ‘My other condition is that she tells me one to one – without you in the room.’
The public relations guru looked across at his mistress. She gave a curt nod and he left.
Peri Maitland stared defiantly at Charles, challenging him to interrogate her. So, if that was the role she had cast him in, it was a role he was happy to play.
‘All right, Peri, let’s go back to the night Katrina died …’ No response. ‘Presumably it was her idea to make the move into the star dressing room?’
‘Are you asking if I suggested it?’ She was very affronted.
‘No, just checking facts. I remember her saying at rehearsal that she ought to be in there … on that occasion when she endearingly described the rest of the company as “nonentities”.’
‘Katrina was very immature, just a spoilt child, really.’
‘Did you like her, Peri?’
The girl shrugged. ‘She was a client. Whether I actually liked her or not wasn’t relevant.’
‘And as a Personal Manager, it was your job to put up with her tantrums and see to it that she always got her own way.’
‘Up to a point, yes. It was very early days in our professional relationship. We hadn’t worked together for much more than a month.’
‘No. I was just thinking a few days back …’
‘Hm?’
‘When Tony Copeland summoned us all in at nine thirty and then bawled Katrina out for Twittering or whatever it is you call it.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well, I was passing the Green Room on my way in that morning … and I heard you and Katrina having the most almighty row.’
‘So?’
‘She was being very demanding, saying that you should concentrate on her rather than your other clients.’
‘As I said, she was very immature. Constantly throwing her toys out of the pram. Anyway, why’s that relevant, Charles?’
‘Well, look, Katrina Selsey’s was a suspicious death. Under which circumstances … it seems reasonable to wonder who might have anything against her.’
Peri Maitland’s thickly-eyelashed eyes widened. ‘Charles, for God’s sake! You’re not suggesting I murdered Katrina, are you?’
‘No. I’m just reviewing possibilities. Making a mental list of people who might have had something against her.’
‘Could be a long list, Charles.’
‘Maybe. She did seem to have the knack of putting people’s backs up.’
‘But it’s also a rather pointless mental list for you to be making.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Katrina wasn’t murdered.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
‘Yes. Her death was accidental.’
‘Perhaps you could tell me what makes you so sure of that, Peri …?’
‘Tell you my exact movements the night she died?’ she asked with a wry smile.
‘That would be very nice, yes.’
‘Very well. I had told everyone in the Hamlet company that I was going to get a cab to Swindon and catch the train for London. And I left the theatre in time to do just that.’
‘Before the performance started?’
‘Yes.’
‘Though, of course, you had no intention of going back to London. You were going to come here to join Dan.’
‘You do make it sound rather squalid, Charles.’ He didn’t say an
ything. She’d used the word; he hadn’t.
‘Anyway, I’m about halfway here in a cab when I get a text from Katrina. She says something really important’s come up and she needs me back at the theatre immediately.’ Peri sighed. ‘The temptation to pretend I hadn’t got the text was huge. And what Katrina regarded as “something really important” could be something really trivial. But looking after her was my job, so I got the cab to turn round and back to the theatre I went. The Stage Doorkeeper fortunately wasn’t in his cubbyhole, so no one saw me arrive.’
She sighed again. ‘And, needless to say, it wasn’t anything important. Just Katrina’s fatuous plan to move her belongings into the star dressing room while Sam Newton-Reid was busy onstage. Well, I’d by then realized that it was often simpler just to go along with what Katrina wanted than to make an issue of it. So I said I’d help her with the stuff, intending to come straight back here and leave her to face the consequences of her selfishness. I cannot imagine that what she’d done would have got much sympathy from the Hamlet company.’
‘That is an understatement.’ Charles Paris looked Peri Maitland steadily in the eye. ‘So what happened?’
Another sigh, but this one was different. The previous ones had been reactions to Katrina Selsey’s solipsistic behaviour. There was more pain this time. It wasn’t easy for Peri to re-create the scene.
‘OK, so we shift Katrina’s stuff into the star dressing room. And we move poor old Sam Newton-Reid’s stuff into the dressing room she’s vacating.’
‘Does anyone see you doing this?’
‘I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone. Everyone was either onstage or in the wings.’
Charles decided to keep quiet about what he’d heard from Dennis Demetriades as, becoming increasingly tense, Peri Maitland went on, ‘OK, the deed was done, my duty had been discharged and I was on my way out of there. But just before I left the dressing room, Katrina said she was going to repair her make-up.’
