The Strangling on the Stage

by Simon Brett

Now that there was a corpse involved, Carole Seddon suddenly found the doings of SADOS a lot more interesting. Her voice was full of suppressed excitement as she asked, ‘You say Ritchie Good was hanged, Jude? Was his neck broken?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then it would have been a very painful death.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Humane hangmen usually arrange it so that the force of the drop breaks the victim’s neck. Then death – or at least unconsciousness – is more or less instantaneous. If the neck isn’t broken, the victim dies slowly of strangulation. It can take ten – or in some cases up to twenty – minutes. Pretty nasty way to go.’

  Jude looked at her friend in surprise. ‘Is that something you learned at the Home Office? I know there was a lot of back-stabbing there; I didn’t know they went in for strangulation too.’

  ‘Ha, ha, very funny. No, it’s just information I picked up,’ Carole replied airily. She had an increasing interest in the mechanics of crime, and had started filling directories on her laptop with the fruits of her research on the subject. But it was not a hobby she ever talked about, even to Jude.

  It was the Tuesday, two days after Ritchie Good’s death. They were having coffee at Woodside Cottage. The two women hadn’t seen each other for a few days. Carole’s daughter-in-law Gaby had been struck down at the weekend by a particularly nasty bout of a sickness bug and Granny had been summoned to the rescue in their house in Fulham. Since Carole absolutely worshipped her granddaughter Lily, this was no hardship for her. And with Gaby confined to bed, she even got over her customary unease at staying anywhere other than High Tor. She had taken Gulliver with her, and she was much entertained by the bonding between dog and granddaughter.

  Because of her absence from Fethering till the Tuesday afternoon, this was the first Carole had heard about the death in St Mary’s Hall. Jude recognized the sparkle of interest in her pale-blue eyes as she asked, ‘So do you reckon that this Ritchie Good person was murdered?’

  ‘I really don’t know. It’s an odd one. I’ve been going through the facts, revisualizing everything I saw on Sunday night. And it strikes me there are two major questions that need asking. First, who switched the safe noose with the Velcro joint in it for the real, unbroken one? And, second, why on earth did Ritchie allow the noose to be put around his neck?’

  ‘Are you sure he didn’t put it there himself?’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘To commit suicide. Come on, you saw more of him than I did, Jude. I just exchanged a few words with him in the Cricketers. Did anything he said to you make you think he might have depressive tendencies?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so armoured in self-esteem as Ritchie Good. He wouldn’t want to deny the world the pleasure of his company. He would have regarded that as a terrible deprivation for everyone else on the planet. No, what happened to him is a complete mystery.’

  ‘Intriguing, though,’ said Carole, and behind their rimless glasses there was even more sparkle in her pale-blue eyes.

  ‘Hello, Mike Winstone.’ The voice answering Jude’s call had its bonhomie firmly fixed in place.

  ‘Hello, it’s Jude. Remember, you came round with the champagne to say thank you …?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. How the devil are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. And you?’

  ‘Never better.’

  ‘I was actually ringing about Hester …’

  ‘Oh yes?’ For the first time there was a less welcoming tone in his voice.

  ‘When I last saw her on Sunday she was in a terrible state.’

  ‘Well, she’s fine now,’ said Mike Winstone curtly.

  ‘But it looked as if she was about to be taken away by the police.’

  ‘She did go with them to the station, where she made a statement and then was allowed to come home.’

  ‘So is she there now? Would it be possible for me to speak to her?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible.’

  ‘But she is there, is she?’

  ‘No. No, she’s not.’ He spoke as if he had just thought of the answer. ‘Hester’s gone to stay with a friend.’

  And that was all Jude got out of him. Except for the impression that he was lying.

  FIFTEEN

  A text had gone round to all the Devil’s Disciple company to say that the Tuesday rehearsal was cancelled. The police were yet to finish their investigations at St Mary’s Hall, but there was a hope the SADOS could resume their schedule on the Thursday. They’d receive a confirmatory text from Davina Vere Smith if that proved to be the case.

  Jude was not surprised by the cancellation, but it did raise the question of what the police were investigating. An accident? Or something more serious? She couldn’t get out of her mind what Hester had said in St Mary’s Hall after Jude discovered Ritchie Good’s body.

  If only she could contact Hester … Partly to find out what had happened to her at the police station, what she’d been asked, what she had told them. But more than that, the healer in Jude was worried by the state in which she had last seen the woman. Though the incident in the car park had been almost too trivial to count as a suicide attempt, it still raised the possibility that, when faced with increased stress, the woman might try again.

  Jude hoped the ‘friend’ that Mike had said Hester was staying with was of the sensitive and nurturing kind. And yet at the same time the suspicion recurred as to whether the ‘friend’ even existed. Was it just a covering lie from her husband for the fact that Hester was in police custody? Or had she actually been at home with him when he had taken Jude’s call?

  If so, she didn’t think Mike Winstone would necessarily come out very well in the sensitive and nurturing stakes. Jude was seriously worried about Hester.

  Later in the day, after she’d had coffee with Carole, she had a call from Davina Vere Smith. ‘You got the text, did you?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Any news yet from the police on whether Thursday’s rehearsal’s likely to be on?’

  ‘When they were last in touch, things were looking quite hopeful.’

  ‘Good. And how’re you going to replace Ritchie?’

  ‘Olly Pinto will be playing Dick Dudgeon.’

  ‘He’ll be pleased.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Davina rather sharply.

  ‘Just that Olly seems to think he should have had the part in the first place.’

  ‘Mm. Maybe you’re right. Yes, Olly has served his time in supporting roles. And at least he is a member of SADOS, which is more than Ritchie ever was.’ There was an undercurrent of resentment in these words. Jude was reminded once again of Ritchie’s outsider status in the society. His behaviour had only been tolerated because of his talent. In the world of amateur dramatics loyalty to an individual group counted for quite a lot. And there was a nit-picking punctiliousness about details like whether someone involved in a production had actually paid his subscription or not.

  With this came another thought, that Davina might actually relish working with Olly Pinto more than she did with Ritchie Good. The younger man would probably be more malleable, more inclined to listen to the director’s ideas about the play and less likely just to follow his own agenda. Jude wondered how many more members of the Devil’s Disciple company might regard Ritchie’s death as something of a bonus.

  ‘Anyway, Jude, the reason for my call –’ oh yes, of course, there must be a reason – ‘is that it seems Hester Winstone won’t be able to take any further part in the production.’

  ‘Ah. Do you know anything about where she is? Or indeed how she is?’

  ‘No. I spoke to her husband. He said she was staying with a friend.’ At least Mike’s story was consistent.

  ‘He didn’t say any more?’

  ‘No, Jude.’

  ‘Didn’t say what was wrong with her?’

  ‘He didn’t say that there was anything wrong with her. All he said was that He
ster wouldn’t be able to continue being our prompter for The Devil’s Disciple.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘And he seemed quite gleeful as he passed on the news.’ Jude could picture that. Mike Winstone had always resented his wife’s involvement in SADOS. ‘Which does put me in a bit of a bind.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, it means we haven’t got a prompter. And just at this stage of the production, when I’m trying to get everyone off the book … we need one more than ever.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘And the trouble is that there are plenty of SADOS members who might be happy to take on the role, but they’re all friends of Elizaveta’s.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’

  ‘And since Elizaveta’s boycotting the production – and incidentally being very shirty with me – none of them will help me out. They’re all part of her inner circle, you know, the lot who were always going to little “drinkies things” at Elizaveta and Freddie’s … which I used to be, but I’ve somehow blotted my copybook with Elizaveta. Anyway, if she makes it a three-line whip on the potential prompters, none of them would dare go against her.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘But I was talking to Storm Lavelle, who surprisingly now seems to be a fixture at Elizaveta’s “drinkies things” –’ Jude found herself starting to grin as she realized which way the conversation was heading – ‘and she said you had a friend who might be prepared to step into the breach …?’

  ‘Well, I could ask her,’ said Jude, suppressing a giggle.

  ‘What – me? Are you asking me to get involved in amateur dramatics?’ The way the last two words were spoken, they could have been some unhealthy sexual practice.

  Jude had gone round to High Tor as soon as she’d ended the call from Davina Vere Smith. She was mischievously intrigued as to how the proposal would be greeted. And her neighbour’s reaction did not disappoint.

  ‘I thought,’ Carole went on, ‘I had made clear my views on amateur dramatics.’

  ‘Oh yes, you certainly have. But I thought, you know, helping people out when they’re in a bit of a spot …’

  ‘There are people I might help out when they’re in a spot, but not people who indulge in amateur dramatics.’

  ‘So your answer to taking over as prompter is no?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘That’s rather a pity.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, I thought you might be able to help me on the investigation.’

  ‘The investigation?’

  ‘Into Ritchie Good’s death.’

  Carole’s expression changed instantly from disapproval to alert interest. ‘Oh yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘And, if you were, kind of … embedded in the production of The Devil’s Disciple … well, we’d both be on the spot … and able to investigate, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘That is a thought, yes.’ Carole was clearly intrigued. ‘You said earlier this afternoon that you didn’t know whether it was murder.’

  ‘No, but it’s certainly suspicious.’

  ‘Yes.’ Carole nodded slowly, but with mounting enthusiasm. ‘Suspicious, hm …’

  ‘Well, come on, there is something odd about it. The doctored noose was definitely changed for the real one. I suppose it’s possible Ritchie himself might have done that, but it doesn’t seem likely.’

  ‘So you reckon someone in the Devil’s Disciple company did it?’

  ‘Seems the most likely possibility, yes.’

  ‘Hm.’ Carole tapped her steepled hands together in front of her mouth as she tried to control her racing thoughts. A spark of excitement had been ignited in her pale-blue eyes. ‘Ooh, it’s frustrating not to know all the people involved.’

  ‘Well, there’s a very good way of getting to know them,’ said Jude teasingly.

  ‘What, you mean if I took over from Hester Winstone as prompter?

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s for me,’ said Carole Seddon, in characteristically wet blanket mode.

  It was only half an hour later that the phone rang in High Tor.

  ‘Is that Carole Seddon?’

  It was a female voice she didn’t recognize. ‘Yes,’ she replied cautiously.

  ‘Good afternoon. My name’s Davina Vere Smith.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘I gather Jude’s asked you about taking over as prompter for the SADOS Devil’s Disciple.’

  ‘Yes. And I told her I’m afraid I can’t do it.’

  ‘I wonder if you could be persuaded.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Carole.

  It was pure curiosity that had made her agree to meet Davina Vere Smith in the Crown and Anchor that evening. Ted Crisp greeted her in his customary lugubrious style. ‘On your own, are you? No Jude?’

  Carole had been intending to have a soft drink, but Ted had already started pouring a large Chilean Chardonnay, so it seemed churlish to tell him to stop. ‘I’m meeting someone.’

  ‘New boyfriend?’

  ‘No,’ came the chilling reply. Carole knew that Ted’s words had reminded both of them of their brief and unlikely affair. The thought that it had happened still gave her a frisson of disbelief … and excitement.

  ‘Do you know the best way to serve turkey?’ asked Ted.

  Carole, not expecting a culinary question at that moment, replied that she didn’t.

  ‘Join the Turkish army!’ said Ted heartily.

  It took Carole a moment to register that it was one of his jokes. ‘Oh, really,’ she said, with annoyance that was only partially feigned.

  ‘Excuse me, are you Carole?’

  She turned to face a short woman with blond (almost definitely blonded) hair bunched into a pigtail. She wore grey leggings and a purple cardigan, unbuttoned enough to reveal an extremely well-preserved cleavage. A star-shaped silver pendant hung around her neck.

  ‘Yes. You must be Davina.’

  ‘Mm. I saw you in the Cricketers when you brought over Jude’s chaise longue.’

  ‘But we weren’t introduced then, were we?’

  ‘No.’ Davina pointed to the wine glass Ted Crisp had just placed on the counter. ‘Is that yours?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll pay for it.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for you to—’

  ‘Of course I will.’ Davina grinned at the landlord. ‘And I’ll have a large G and T, please.’

  When they were settled into one of the alcoves, the director said, ‘Feels odd to me, being here on a Tuesday.’

  ‘Oh? Why?’

  ‘Tuesdays are always SADOS rehearsal days. But today … well, did Jude tell you what happened on Sunday?’

  ‘Yes. I was very sorry to hear about it.’ A conventional expression of condolence, though even as she said it, Carole wondered why she felt obliged to say the words. She had only met Ritchie Good once and she hadn’t taken to him then.

  ‘It was a terrible shock for everyone.’ But Davina’s response also sounded purely conventional. She didn’t appear to feel any grief for her lead actor’s demise. ‘And it’s going to cause a lot of readjustment in my production of The Devil’s Disciple.’

  ‘I’m sure it will.’

  ‘Which is why I wanted to meet you, Carole.’

  ‘Yes, you said.’ The words came out more brusquely than intended.

  ‘Jude thought you’d make a really good prompter.’

  ‘I’ve no idea whether I would or not. I’ve never had anything to do with amateur dramatics.’ Still a bit frosty.

  But Davina Vere Smith persevered. ‘I’m sure you’d enjoy it if you did agree to join us. The SADOS are a very friendly bunch.’

  Bunch of self-dramatizing poseurs, was Carole’s unspoken thought. What she said was, ‘As I told Jude, it’s really not my sort of thing.’

  ‘Then why did you agree to meet me? If you’ve already made up your mind to say no?’

  It was a good question. Carole was forced to ad
mit to herself that she was more than a little intrigued by the whole SADOS set-up. Particularly now there was an unexplained death in the company. She decided to change the direction of the conversation to a little probing. ‘Going back to what happened to your actor on Sunday … What was his name?’ she asked, knowing full well.

  ‘Ritchie Good.’

  ‘Yes. Presumably it was some kind of ghastly accident …?’

  ‘Oh, it must have been, yes. Not that you’d think that from the theories some of the Devil’s Disciple company are coming up with.’

  ‘You mean some of them think it wasn’t an accident?’

  ‘From the texts and phone calls I’ve had in the last twenty-four hours you’d think they’re all auditioning for the part of the detective in an Agatha Christie thriller.’

  ‘Some of them think it was murder?’

  ‘And how!’ said Davina Vere Smith.

  Which was what persuaded Carole Seddon to take over the role of prompter in the SADOS production of The Devil’s Disciple.

  When Jude was informed of the decision, she didn’t think it was the moment to bring up her neighbour’s previous assertion that ‘The day I get involved in amateur dramatics you have my full permission to have me sectioned.’

  SIXTEEN

  It was striking to Jude how little Ritchie Good was mentioned after the Thursday rehearsal following his death. Carole hadn’t been there that evening, but she noticed the same once she started attending rehearsals. The Thursday, only four days after the tragedy, had witnessed a lot of emotional outpourings (some of them possibly even genuine), as members of the Devil’s Disciple company expressed their shock at what had happened.

  Very little actual rehearsal got done that evening, which was annoying for the director because prurient interest had ensured that, for the first time, every member of her cast had turned up. But whenever Davina Vere Smith tried to focus their attention on the play, someone else would have hysterics, or go into a routine about how they ‘couldn’t do the scene without imagining doing it with Ritchie’.

  Even Olly Pinto did a big number about how dreadful he felt. This wasn’t the way that he had wanted to get the part of Dick Dudgeon. He was going to suffer every time he said one of the lines that rightfully belonged to Ritchie Good. But, nonetheless, he would pull out all the stops to match up to Ritchie’s performance. He would do his best ‘for Ritchie’. In fact, he asked Davina at one point during that emotional Thursday evening rehearsal whether they could put in the programme the fact that he would be ‘dedicating’ his performance to ‘the memory of Ritchie Good’.