Murder in the Second Row

Murder in the Second Row

Bev Robitai

Smashwords Edition from Avenue Publishing

Copyright belongs to Bev Robitai

No reproduction without permission unless for review.

Chapter 1

‘Are you sure we can’t advertise for a tart?’

‘Yeah, one with great big wobbling jugs! I do like a good handful.’

‘No, we absolutely can’t. It’s against the discrimination laws – in job ads you can’t specify age, race or gender, or rule anybody out if they’re disabled.’

‘Are you positive about that? I mean, we need a call-girl, right? We’ve got to say we want a young woman, otherwise what’s the point? I mean, I know we can’t say total slut with long hair and big tits, but surely we can at least make the ad clear enough to get a female?’

‘Suppose some legless old guy read our carefully non-specific ad and thought he might fit the bill? What would we do when he turned up to audition? An old man couldn’t possibly play a call-girl.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised. I knew an old guy once who made damned good money on the game. Used to take his teeth out and, you know …’

Jessica tuned out the babble of voices and inwardly rolled her eyes. Getting this committee to make a decision was like herding delinquent sheep. She cleared her throat and spoke firmly.

‘Mr Chairman, have we even decided to do that show? We were going to discuss Adam Bryant’s offer to direct Appointment with Death, weren’t we?’

‘Yes, thank you, Jessica. You’re quite right. Come on guys, let’s keep to the agenda, shall we?’ The president of the Regent Theatre Society, Howard Daniels, consulted his notes and peered over his reading glasses. ‘Adam’s made a generous offer to direct a show for us in between his other engagements, and he’s suggesting an Agatha Christie to get bums on seats. Are we in favour?’

Jessica watched the other members murmuring to each other, and made a bet with herself that ever-cautious Gerald would be the first to speak. Moments later Gerald raised his hand.

‘Mr Chairman, as treasurer I have to ask – can we afford Adam? He’s very expensive compared to some of our local directors, and you saw in my report how low the current account is. It’s exposing the theatre to quite a risk to take him on again if the show doesn’t make money. And what about the roof repairs? Shouldn’t we be focusing on doing those before we do another show?’

Jessica caught Howard’s eye and he nodded permission for her to speak.

‘Come on Gerald,’ she said persuasively, ‘any show is a risk, but Adam Bryant’s the best shot we’ve got at putting on a money-spinner. He knows what works with audiences, and I’m sure he’ll keep to a small budget since our resources are so low.’ She looked round the group, meeting all the eyes turned on her. ‘We need to do this, and we need to get it right. You all know what state the theatre is in. We have to get some money flowing in to fix it up before those damn developers convince the council it would be better pulled down.’

She gestured towards the wood-panelled walls and glass-fronted bookshelves filled with old play scripts. ‘We can’t let the old girl down after all she’s come through. There’s a hundred and thirty years of history here in these slightly rotten walls and we’re the ones responsible for protecting them. Fixing the roof is good, Gerald, but we need more cash-flow to keep her running after that. If we do this show well and make a decent amount from it, we’ll be able to fix the roof, replace the broken seats, and put a bit into a fund to raise awareness of the theatre. We’re going to need public support more than anything else to keep this place alive.’

‘Well said, Jessica!’ Clara-Jane Smisek, Head of Wardrobe, applauded her warmly. ‘We all love the Regent, and if we can put together a strong team for this show I’m sure we can pull it off successfully. Then we’ll be working from a position of strength. That’s a lot better than begging for money to save a dying duck.’

There were general murmurs of approval.

‘Well, Jessica,’ said Howard with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Seeing as you’ve got such strong feelings on the subject, could you fit in being production manager for the show as well as theatre manager? I know we’re keeping you pretty busy already with running the place day to day, but do you think you could take it on?’

Jessica nodded. ‘Considering the rest of you fit in theatre on top of your normal jobs, I’d look a bit feeble if I said no, wouldn’t I?’ Grinning wickedly, she eyed her fellow committee members. ‘Are you sure you trust me with so much raw power? I might run amok, you know.’

‘We’ll take our chances with you,’ said the Chairman briskly. ‘Right, let’s make it official. The motion is that the Regent Theatre Society will stage Appointment with Death, with Jessica Jones as production manager. Can I have a proposer and seconder? Clara-Jane, thank you. Gary to second, thanks. Got that in the minutes, Fenton? Right, let’s move on to the next item on the agenda.’

‘Does this mean we don’t get a tart, then?’

‘That’s right, Austin. No tart, well-jugged or otherwise, OK? I’m fairly certain that the redoubtable Mrs Christie refrained from including any such insalubrious characters in the cast list for Appointment with Death.’ Howard aimed a meaningful glance over his glasses until Austin subsided, fingering his stubbly grey chin and sulking.

The meeting stretched on late into the evening.

By the end of the session they had set dates for the run of show and its first production meeting, and the secretary had instructions to write to Adam Bryant accepting his offer to direct. Heads of Department had been appointed.

The wheels were in motion and the juggernaut was starting to move.

Jessica’s love affair with the Regent Theatre had begun as soon as she’d walked through the stage door into its secret inner spaces where members of the public weren’t allowed. Sure, she’d had a childish crush on the place when she was a kid watching pantomimes and musicals, but now it was the real thing. Back then, she’d been awed by the red velvet curtains and gold plasterwork, the cherubs over the proscenium arch and the imagined luxury of the private boxes. Now, she was free to go behind the public façade to explore every quirky corner, crooked passageway, and dimly-lit storeroom, from the roof-beams to the basement. Her recently-acquired theatre manager’s master key gave her full access to the entire building – a privilege only shared by the society’s President.

She unlocked the narrow cubby-hole of an office that was now her official domain. Tattered lace curtains twitched in a draught blowing through the warped wooden window-frame, stirring papers on her desk. She straightened them up, added the pile of notes she’d taken at the meeting, locked up again and went home.

12 weeks from Opening Night

Auditions. A time when adrenaline levels run almost as high as on Opening Night. A time when new faces enter the theatre world and old friendships are re-kindled. A time when Jessica found herself running round like a fidgety ferret with all four feet on fire.

She checked the piles of photocopied scripts for the fifth time. She went outside to make sure that the signs guiding newcomers to the foyer hadn’t blown away. She rearranged the few chairs and the sofa in the foyer and patted her clipboard. She was ready.

Society President Howard Daniels came through the side door followed by director Adam Bryant. She was struck by the contrast between Howard’s solidly masculine maturity and Adam’s elegant iron-grey curls and willowy frame. ‘All set, Jessica? You know the drill – it’s not really a closed audition but Adam would prefer as few people as possible roaming round the auditorium, OK?’

‘Hi, Jessica.’ Adam Bryant’s blue eyes looked directly into hers. ‘It’s nice to see you again. So you’re our production manager, I hear. With your organising skills I know you’ll do a fantastic job.’

She stammered a reply, trying not to blush, and was rewarded by a crinkling round the blue eyes. Adam turned back to Howard.

‘Are you coming in to help vet them, Howard? Good. Let’s get on with it, shall we? Jessica, send the first one in as soon as they arrive. I’ll send a runner to let you know when we need the next one. Let’s hope we get a good turnout.’

Half an hour later, the foyer was scattered with actors waiting for their turn to perform. Most sprawled on the floor, studying their pages of script with rapt attention. Jessica took their details as they arrived and fed the aspiring thespians through to the auditorium as they were requested.

She was pleased to see some new faces in the mix. The society could always use new members – their subscriptions would be put to good use and if they were keen enough to help with running the place as well, that was a bonus.

Something about the couple on the sofa caught her attention. She knew Phil and Pippa Jessop had been doing shows together for years, but today they seemed oddly ill-at-ease and were sitting as far apart as possible. Pippa was frowning intently at her script, and Phil’s foot was jiggling nervously. Surely they weren’t anxious about auditioning? She went over and sat in a chair beside Pippa, leaning forward, including Phil in the conversation.

‘Hi guys, how are you doing? Nice to see you back. Which roles are you aiming for this time?’ She kept her tone light, hoping to reduce the gloom that seemed to hang over them.

‘Hi, Jessica,’ said Phil, smiling at her. ‘Thought I’d read for Lennox, or maybe the Jefferson Cope role. Has anyone else got their name down for him?’

Jessica consulted her clipboard.

‘Not so far – looks like you’ll get an easy run at it. What about you, Pippa?’

‘Oh, whoever’s going, I don’t mind. So long as it’s not the dreaded Ada Boynton. I’d hate anyone to think I could play that fat old harridan.’ She gave Phil a look as if daring him to comment.

‘OK then,’ said Jessica brightly. ‘I’ll give you a call when you’re needed.’ She retreated to sit on the steps leading into the auditorium and peeked through the door to see how things were going.

Up on stage a young fair-haired lad stood in a circle of light, the script visibly shaking in his hand. He read haltingly, stumbling over unfamiliar words, and Jessica could see the sweat breaking out on his blushing face. She winced at his nervousness. Sometimes their enthusiasm to be onstage far outshone their talent. No doubt Adam would send him packing at the first opportunity.

‘Thank you, Stewart,’ Adam called gently. ‘Could you turn to the second page and read from the top please?’

Sounding encouraged that he hadn’t been sent off, Stewart read a few more lines. His voice grew stronger, and Jessica was surprised to see him beginning to add appropriate gestures as he spoke. He sounded increasingly confident with every line. Adam, the professional, had seen something in this young man that she had missed.

‘Go upstage and walk back down reading those same lines,’ Adam instructed. She heard him murmur something to Howard sitting beside him.

Just then the side door to the foyer banged open. Jessica eased away from the auditorium door and looked up to see a heavily made-up girl making an entrance. Artfully tousled hair hung casually to her bare shoulders, its highlights matching the shiny red top that stretched tightly across her generous breasts. Jessica stifled a sigh. Tamara Fitzpatrick – trouble on two legs. Even more trouble off them.

‘Hello all. What’s new in the zoo?’ Tamara surveyed the assorted faces in the foyer, zeroing in on Phil Jessop. ‘Mr Jessop! Wow, awesome to see you here. Bit of a change from school, eh?’

Jessica noted Phil’s dismay and Pippa’s instant hostility. She moved swiftly to intercede. ‘Hi Tamara, nice to see you. What role would you like to try out for?’

Tamara grabbed the clipboard. ‘Whatcha got? Anything juicy?’ She studied the cast list. ‘Oh, whatever. Put me down for Nadine – I’ll give that a shot since nobody else has. Cheers!’ She handed the clipboard back to Jessica and pushed past her with a squeal.

‘Stewie! How the hell are you? Haven’t seen you in ages!’

Stewart already looked dazed coming out from his ordeal in the auditorium and was quite unprepared for the onslaught. He blinked like an animal caught in the full wattage of Tamara’s headlights. She flung an arm round his shoulders and led him away, the foyer cooling by several degrees at her departure – especially over by the sofa.

By the end of the auditioning session, Jessica’s clipboard was filled with scrawled names and addresses. Every role had been tried out for, and there were even plenty of people volunteering to be on the crew.

When everyone else had gone, she sat down with Adam and Howard to tidy up the details.

‘How was that, Adam? Did you get what you needed out of that lot? There was quite a variety of talent.’

‘An interesting mix, certainly.’ He ran slim fingers through his hair and blew out a sigh, relaxing after the sustained concentration. ‘We’ll have a bit of work to do with some of the new ones but they’ll get there. Phil Jessop will be great as Lennox – he looked as if he were already in character when he came in, very sad and defeated.’

‘We haven’t got anyone right for Ada Boynton yet, have we Adam?’ asked Howard, mopping his brow. ‘That’s going to be a key role to fill.’

‘I agree. Without her there’s no show. Who else can you pull out of the hat, guys? Nobody that came today was really up to the part.’

They racked their brains for talented middle-aged female actors.

‘How about that woman who did Hay Fever a couple of years ago? You remember her name, Howard? Big woman, sailed in like a galleon, looked like she owned the place.’ Adam sketched a large body with his hands.

‘Simone Duchaine!’ chorused Howard and Jessica.

‘You’re right,’ said Jessica reluctantly, ‘she’d be ideal for the role…’

‘But?’

‘Oh, definitely a butt!’ Howard grimaced. ‘Or at least a major pain in one. You’d gone by the end of the run, Adam, you didn’t see her raging tantrum about the hole in the dressing-room wall. She swore she’d been spied on. Honestly, you’d have thought she’d been physically violated by an entire wrestling team on Viagra.’

Adam raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘Even so, she would be ideal. Jessica, can you give her a call please and see if she’ll come and read for me tomorrow? I don’t fly out till five-thirty, so any time before three thirty.’

He rose and stretched his lean frame like a cat. ‘Right, who’s coming for a drink? I want to try out that new wine bar I saw on the way here.’

‘Right with you!’ grinned Howard. ‘Come on Jessica, I’m buying.’

‘Hi, is that Simone? It’s Jessica Jones here – from the Regent Theatre Society. I was production manager for Hay Fever back in ’98.’

‘Ah yes. Hello Jessica.’ Simone’s chilly voice sounded hostile already.

‘How have you been, Simone? We’ve missed you at the theatre you know.’

‘Oh really?’ Her words oozed scorn.

Jessica remembered why they’d been so relieved when she’d stormed off in a huff after Hay Fever’s final performance. ‘Yes,’ she said, trying to sound sincere. ‘There have been several productions that you’d have enjoyed since then.’

‘I don’t think so! If I ever set foot in that decrepit little theatre again it’ll be a cold day in hell. You people have some nerve calling me – what is it, do you need a donation for a new roof, or has the bank foreclosed on the mortgage again?’

‘No, Simone, nothing like that. No, it’s just that a director has been asking if you might be available. There’s a role that has just come up that he thinks you’d be perfect for.’

‘Who’s the director? What show? If you think I’m wasting my time again on one of your tin-pot little productions you can take a running jump.’

Jessica left a silence to let Simone hear her own words. There was a sniff, then the formidable lady backed down a fraction.

‘Well?’

‘Actually it’s Adam Bryant who’s directing.’ She’ll have to be impressed by that, thought Jessica, since he’s the best in the country. Now she just had to convince her about the role.

‘And? What’s the show?’

Jessica brain buzzed. This was where it might get a little sticky. She’d know the show. She’d guess the part she was wanted for. She was a disturbingly close match for Ada, the fat, evil, toad-like mother who warps her children’s minds with her cold manipulation.

‘It’s an Agatha Christie classic – Appointment with Death. Adam’s doing it as a full-on production with a top-class set and wardrobe – it’ll be spectacular. He thinks the time’s right for a return to the old favourites, and let’s face it, Agatha Christie is a real old favourite. He wants you for one of the lead roles, Simone.’

Jessica clamped her mouth shut. Damn, she was babbling like an idiot. Shut up and wait for the scream of outrage. There was a pause. She could hear Simone breathing. She braced herself.

‘Really? Adam thought of me for the role?’

‘Er, yes. Yes he did.’

‘We-ell, I suppose that might be interesting. When do rehearsals start?’

What! Was this the famously snotty Simone Duchaine? She was actually sounding keen! What was going on? Was the devil strapping on his ice-skates?

‘Actually we’ve only just held auditions. Rehearsals are a couple of weeks away once Adam’s free to fly down here and stay. If you could pop along to the theatre tomorrow, Adam will go through the script with you and see how you feel about it. Does two o’clock sound all right, Simone?’

‘Yes, Jessica, that will be fine. You can relax now dear, you’ve found your Ginevra.’

She hung up.

Ginevra? The waiflike teenage daughter? Jessica smacked her forehead. Houston, we have a problem.

Briefly tempted to let Simone hear the bad news from Adam when she turned up to read the part, Jessica reluctantly shouldered her responsibilities and picked up the phone.

Chapter 2

11 Weeks from Opening Night

Jessica was pleased to see that almost everybody had turned up on time for the first production meeting. Once the social chitchat in the Green Room was over and everyone had coffees in their hands, she herded them through into the Rose Room.

‘Hi everyone. Thanks for being so punctual. Who are we still waiting for? Nick? We’ll leave promotions till last then and hope he shows up soon. Right, Heads of Departments – who wants to go first? Clara-Jane? What sort of budget do you think wardrobe will need?’

‘It shouldn’t be too bad.’ Clara-Jane tucked long hair behind her ear and consulted her notes. ‘We’ve got quite a bit of Arab stuff in the theatre wardrobe already, and I’m pretty sure the Musical Society will have a few good 1930s outfits we can borrow. As long as they’ll do them as reciprocals, I think my budget will only be about seven hundred.’

‘Excellent! We’re going to need all the extra cash we can get. What about you, Gert? How does the props list look?’

White-haired Gert fumbled for her reading glasses.

‘Just a minute, dear. Almost ready – there!’ She looked up and beamed. ‘Lots and lots of suitcases. We’ll be able to use those lovely travelling baskets that are in the upstairs props cage, too. I’ve wanted to use them for years. There’s nothing we have to make, so my budget’s low. Perhaps just six hundred, to get a few odds and ends and some nice old chairs and tables for the hotel if I can’t borrow them from anywhere. All right, dear?’

‘Thanks, Gert. Have you got enough helpers to collect what you need, and to run props during the show?’

‘Yes thank you, Jessica. There are some quite bright youngsters I’ve worked with before and they’re very keen to help.’

The door banged open and Nick Usher breezed in on a waft of expensive aftershave. He sketched a bow to the rest of the production team before kneeling at Jessica’s feet.

‘My humblest apologies, Jessica, for being so unforgivably late.’ He sprang to his feet and turned around, presenting the seat of his jeans. ‘I’m ready to take my punishment like a man.’

‘I think we’ll take that as read,’ said Jessica drily. ‘Nick – Sit!’

He subsided into one of the battered armchairs and grinned at her.

‘Right, where were we before Mr Usher decided to grace us with his presence? Ah yes – set construction. Switch hats from President to construction manager, Howard, and tell us what you need.’

Light from the Rose Room chandelier gleamed on the silver streaks in Howard’s hair as he leaned forward to speak.

‘Bit hard to say at this point. Adam’s asked some arty student to design the set and he hasn’t shown me any plans or sketches yet, so I don’t know exactly what we’re going to need. There’s a hotel interior that’s got a bit of construction work in it though, to make a reception counter and an elevator.’

‘A working elevator? Bloody hell, that’ll be a trick. How many people do we have to lift in it? And how am I going to light it?’ Gazza the lighting guy was looking worried.

‘Don’t panic, Gazza, it doesn’t have to move. We just need some sliding doors and a little pointer thingy that someone can operate from behind the set. No problem.’

‘Just as bloody well. I can imagine the fun Health & Safety would have if we tried to lift a bunch of thespians up into the