The Comedy Club Mystery

by Peter Bartram

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said.

  I grabbed the champagne bottle and swung it at Terry’s head. I missed but the bottle hit his shoulder. The champagne fizzed into his face.

  Tommy turned to his brother. But he should have focused on me. I leant across and tipped the ice bucket into his lap.

  He sucked in a long “Ooooh!” as enough ice to sink a small boat froze his nether regions.

  “This way,” I shouted to Shirley

  But she’d already grabbed her vanity case and leapt off the banquette.

  We left the Hardmanns fumbling with the bucket and bottle as we raced for the door at the side of the stage.

  Chapter 14

  As we reached the door, there was a crash on the other side of the room.

  Glasses broke and crockery shattered. The Hardmanns had overturned the table as they’d scrambled off the banquette. They yelled at the bouncers over by the main door.

  The two oafs stared at one another looking for answers. But neither of them had a clue what had happened. But they would. And then they’d come after us.

  No time to lose.

  I grabbed the handle and yanked open the door.

  Beside me, Shirley screamed: “Move it!”

  We hustled through the door and slammed it after us. There was a bolt at the top. I shot it to lock the door.

  I said: “That should hold them up for a few seconds, but not for long.”

  “I hope you know the way out of here.” Shirley’s words came between pants of breath.

  “There’s an emergency exit at the back of the stage,” I said.

  It was the one at the end of the corridor where Dean had his dressing room. I’d seen the emergency sign when I’d been to interview him.

  We sprinted round to the back of the stage.

  The stripper who’d lost her tassel was standing there. She had them both on now. She was waiting for her cue to go on.

  Her eyes widened in shock as we raced by.

  Shirl’s arm stretched out.

  There was a sharp intake of breath followed by “Ouch!”

  We ran on and Shirl waved one of the tassels in my face.

  “A souvenir of my night as a stripper,” she yelled.

  We skidded around the corner leading to the emergency exit. I could see the green exit sign ahead of us.

  We were both breathing heavily when we reached the door.

  Behind us we could hear the stripper screaming: “I can’t go on only half dressed. It ain’t professional.”

  A couple of gruff voices mumbled something. It sounded like the bouncers had got through the door. I’d bet the Hardmanns weren’t far behind them.

  The exit door had one of those bars you push to open. I gave it a hefty shove but it didn’t shift. Shirley joined me and we pushed down hard. Something cracked and the door swung open.

  We rushed out into a cobbled yard. There was a manhole cover in the far corner. The yard was lit by a light fixed by a bracket to the building’s wall. The yard was surrounded by a 10-foot brick wall. The wall was topped with shards of broken glass embedded in concrete. The sharp bits stuck up like deadly daggers. The only way out of the yard was through a sturdy wooden gate. It was secured with a large padlock.

  We’d raced into our own trap.

  I glanced around the yard. There were stacks of crates with empty beer and wine bottles.

  I said: “Let’s stack these against the door. It will buy us a minute or two to figure a way out.”

  Shirl started to speak. Realised this was no time for debate.

  We set to work like a pair of navvies. Bottles rattled as we heaved the crates in front of the door. We crashed the crates down on top of one another. In less than a minute, we’d built a wall of crates five feet high. We reinforced it with a second layer.

  By the time we’d finished, I reckoned the combined weight of the crates and the bottles had to be half a ton. Enough to hold up a couple a bouncers. But for how long?

  “What now?” Shirley said.

  “Perhaps we can build a staircase of more crates and climb up,” I said.

  “The glass on the wall will cut us to ribbons,” Shirley said.

  I paced around the yard like a caged tiger.

  The wall of crates started to rattle. Behind them one of the crates shifted and toppled backwards.

  It crashed to the ground and the bottles exploded into fragments.

  A volley of swear words came from behind the crates.

  One of the bouncers said: “That’s it. I’m forcing my way through. I’ll smash the frigging lot.”

  Then Tommy Hardmann said: “No you won’t. The brewers give us money back on these bottles. Dismantle the pile carefully. Don’t worry about the runaways they can’t get out of the yard. They’re rats in a trap.”

  Rats in a trap.

  Of course, there was a way out. The way the rats go.

  I hustled over to the corner of the yard where I’d seen the manhole cover.

  I called Shirley over.

  “Help me heave this up,” I said.

  “Where does it lead to?” Shirley said.

  “The sewers.”

  “Ugh. I’m not going down there.”

  “It’s quite safe. The corporation even runs guided tours for tourists around Brighton’s sewers. They’re famous.”

  “I’m wearing heels.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t be stepping into anything you shouldn’t.”

  The manhole cover had a ring in the centre. Shirley put down her vanity case. We both grabbed the manhole ring and heaved.

  The cover shifted up a couple of inches and clanked back shut.

  Behind us, we heard Tommy’s voice shout: “Shift those crates, you lazy oafs.”

  One of the bouncers said: “Your trousers are all wet.”

  The other one said: “Looks like you’ve pissed yourself, boss.”

  Tommy yelled: “Just move the frigging crates.”

  Terry yelled: “Just move the frigging crates.”

  Tommy said: “I just said that.”

  Terry said: “So did I.”

  At the manhole cover, Shirley and I breathed in deeply, puffed out our cheeks, and heaved on the ring.

  The cover came loose with a clump and a clank.

  I peered down the hole. There was a shaft built out of bricks. A vertical metal ladder was fixed to the edge of the shaft by angled brackets.

  I said: “It’s dark, but we’ll take our chance. I think there are lights further on in the part they use for tourist visits.”

  “Don’t need them,” Shirley said.

  She opened her vanity case. “Don’t have a cosh, but I do have this,” she said.

  She handed me a torch.

  I shone the torch down the shaft. It was about twenty feet deep.

  I said: “You go first with the torch. I’ll toss the vanity case down to you when you’re at the bottom, then I’ll come down.”

  Shirley lowered herself into the shaft. I watched her blonde hair bob from side-to-side in the torchlight as she clambered down.

  She looked up when she reached the bottom. I dropped the vanity case. She caught it like Richie Benaud pouching a catch on the boundary.

  I lowered myself into the shaft. Realised that I wouldn’t have the strength to haul the cover closed behind me.

  There was no time to worry about that now.

  Perhaps Tommy and Terry would call off their goons when they saw where we’d gone. After all, they had a club to run with paying punters.

  The punters would be worried about what had happened. They’d fear that trouble would have the Old Bill paying a call. And the people who patronised the Golden Kiss were not the sort who wanted attention from the cops.

  So I figured that Tommy and Terry would hurry back to calm their punters. Free drinks all round.

  Besides, Tommy badly needed to change his trousers.

  And Terry would have champagne soaking through his shirt.
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  Shirley was shifting nervously from foot-to-foot when I reached the bottom of the shaft.

  I gave her a hug and kissed her. “Fancy meeting you here,” I said.

  “Yeah! I go to all the best places.”

  We were standing in a thin tunnel, not more than the width of a single person. It was built out of bricks and had a curving roof, like the arch in a church. The tunnel ran off into the dark in two directions. To the right, it sloped away gently. To the left it rose uphill.

  Shirl said: “Which way, mastermind?”

  “The Golden Kiss is on the cliffs to the east of the Old Steine. That’s where we’ll find an exit. And the Steine is down in the valley. So we head downwards to the right.”

  There was a scuffling sound at the top of the shaft. I looked up and the light darkened as a figure leaned over.

  “Look out!” I shouted.

  I pushed Shirl into the tunnel. A brick shattered into shards on the ground right where we’d been standing.

  “Looks like the Hardmanns’ goons are under orders to follow us,” I said. “We’d better lose them fast.”

  The metal ladder vibrated against the wall as heavy feet descended.

  “Let’s beat it.”

  Shirl led the way with the torch and we hustled along the tunnel.

  Behind me, I heard heavy boots land on the floor.

  A gruff voice shouted up the shaft: “It’s dark down here, Den.”

  An angry voice yelled back: “Do I have to do everything, Bert? I’ll get a torch.”

  I tapped Shirley on the shoulder. “Quick! Turn the torch off before they see the light.”

  The torch died and we stood immobile in the dark.

  I whispered in Shirl’s ear: “If Bert and Den don’t see our light, they won’t know which way we’ve gone. Besides, it’ll take them a few minutes to find a torch of their own.”

  “Why don’t we finish this farce and lend them ours?”

  “We can keep going in the dark by feeling our way along the walls.”

  “Until we end in the shit.”

  “You’ve got the wrong idea about sewers. You could eat a three-course meal down here.”

  “Yeah! Just like back home when I take afternoon tea and biscuits in the dunny… I don’t think.”

  “Just keep moving,” I said.

  Something scuttled between my legs.

  Shirl let out a little “Eeek! Was that what I think it was?”

  “It’s just a rat. Stop moaning. If we were in New York, we’d have alligators to worry about.”

  “Yeah! I just don’t know how lucky I am.”

  But Shirley started to edge forward. I followed close behind.

  After fifty or so yards, the tunnel curved around a bend.

  I said: “I think we can risk the torch again. Bert and Den won’t be able to see the beam now.”

  Shirl flicked on the switch. She ran the beam over the tunnel. Up ahead, it broadened out into a small chamber. We hurried into it.

  The roof was higher and there was some metal machinery in the middle of the floor. It was rusted up and looked as though it hadn’t been used for years. The place had a musty smell like sweaty socks had been left to rot in a damp corner.

  We looked around. Three more tunnels ran out of the chamber – one on the left, one straight ahead and one to the right.

  “Crossroads,” I said.

  “But no signpost to tell us which way to go,” Shirley said.

  I held up my hand and put a finger to my lips.

  We strained our ears. Close by water dripped with a rhythmic plop. Somewhere down one of the tunnels a motor – probably a pump - was running. But the sound was distorted in the chamber. The echo made it difficult to tell which tunnel the sound came from.

  Shirley shone the torch around the chamber. Two sets of green eyes shone out of the darkness from the right-hand tunnel. They disappeared as the beam reached them. The scuttling sound receded as they disappeared into the dark.

  “I’m not going down that one,” Shirl said.

  “Let me have the torch.”

  She gave it to me and I went over to the right tunnel and shone its beam as far as it would reach. The tunnel sloped gently upwards. The green eyes had vanished.

  I trotted round to the other two tunnels. The one straight ahead sloped gently downhill but the left-hand tunnel fell away on a sharper gradient.

  I said: “I think we should take the left tunnel.”

  Shirl said: “I think we should go straight ahead.”

  “The left tunnel slopes faster. It could get us out more quickly.”

  “Or leave us up to our necks in crap. Straight ahead follows the route we’ve taken so far.”

  “I vote left,” I said.

  “I vote straight ahead,” Shirley said.

  “So we go left.”

  “No, the vote was tied.”

  “You want a recount?”

  “I want to sock you on the schnoz.”

  We fell silent.

  Way back in the tunnel we’d just come from, a man grunted in pain.

  A voice said: “I’ve twisted my ankle, Bert.”

  “Keep quiet, Den.”

  “But it hurts. And I’ve got green slime from the walls on my jacket. The boss will kill me.”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t shut up.”

  I looked at Shirley. She stared at me.

  I said: “Okay, straight on.”

  At the same time, Shirl said: “Okay, left.”

  We hurried across the chamber and disappeared into the left tunnel.

  I led the way with the torch.

  The floor was slick with green mould. We had to step slowly. We made sure each foot was firmly planted before we moved the next one.

  Shirl said: “Jeez! We’d be better on skis. Four-inch stilettos don’t make it down here.”

  I whispered: “We better move quietly. The bouncers could be in the chamber soon.”

  Shirley closed up behind me.

  She said: “They won’t know which tunnel we’ve taken.”

  “Sure. There are two chances they’ll make the wrong choice to one they get it right.”

  “I still don’t like those odds.”

  I nodded.

  After about a hundred yards the gradient levelled out. We made better time.

  I held up my hand to listen. I couldn’t hear any footsteps coming up the tunnel behind us. I stared into the darkness ahead. There wasn’t a glimmer of light.

  I said: “I think we’ve thrown them off.”

  “Great. Now let’s get out of here.”

  We picked up speed on more level ground. We curved round a bend. And stopped in our tracks.

  The tunnel forked in two directions. To the left, it fell away gently. To the right, it started to rise again.

  I said: “We should go left.”

  We stood silent and listened. The sound of dripping water echoed from the left tunnel.

  Shirl said: “Give me the torch.”

  I handed it to her. She shone it into the tunnel.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. The floor is moving.”

  I stepped nearer to look.

  “Shine the torch closer to the floor,” I said.

  Shirl moved forward, stooped down. She ran the beam from the torch across the floor. It was shifting about randomly. Then the floor started to move towards us.

  “Cockroaches,” I said. “They’re attracted by the light from the torch.”

  Shirl jumped backwards.

  CRUNCH!

  “Yeuk! I’ve impaled one on my stiletto. It’s wriggling up the heel. Get it off.”

  “Shine the torch on it,” I said.

  The stiletto had sliced through the roach’s crusty shell but its legs were still waving. I knelt down while Shirl lifted her leg. I grabbed her shoe and flicked the roach hard on its shell. It slid off the stiletto and fell onto its back.

  Shirl said: “There’s no way I’m wading
through a sea of roaches. We’ll take the right fork.”

  “I agree.”

  We hurried into the right tunnel and plodded up hill. Shirl led the way with the torch.

  She said: “How far do these tunnels go?”

  I said: “I’ve heard there are forty-four miles of tunnels in the sewer system.”

  “Jeez! I hope you know where we are.”

  “We’re walking up hill slightly, so I guess we must be heading towards the Queen’s Park area of town. We’ll find a turning off to our left soon, so we can head back to the Old Steine and find a way out.”

  But after two hundred yards, the tunnel turned through a dog-leg to the right. We were heading back the way we’d come.

  I said: “I have a feeling this is going to lead us back to the chamber with the machinery.”

  “We’re going round in a circle.”

  “Sure, we should have taken the left fork with the roaches.”

  “No way.”

  Fifty yards on, we came to an alcove set in the wall. There was a sturdy metal door in the alcove. I tried the handle. It was locked.

  I said: “We’d best head back to the chamber and try another route.”

  Shirl said: “Ssssh! There’s a light ahead.”

  We stood as still as statues and strained our ears.

  Bert’s voice echoed down the corridor. “We’ve lost ‘em.”

  Den’s voice said: “We’ll go on another hundred yards, then turn back. We’ll tell the boss they got away.”

  “He won’t like that.”

  I whispered: “We’d better turn back.”

  “I’m not going back to those roaches,” Shirley said.

  “Let’s try and hide ourselves in the alcove. If we switch off the torch and press ourselves in as deep as possible, they’ll pass us by.”

  We hustled back down the tunnel. We could hear Bert and Den’s feet clump closer.

  We pressed into the alcove against the metal door.

  Bert and Den’s footsteps were only ten yards away now.

  Bert said: “If we catch them, we’ll do them and leave what’s left for the rats.”

  Den said: “The boss will like that.”

  “So will the rats.”

  “Swing that torch about. We need to see more up ahead.”

  The beam moved up and threw a shard of light into the alcove.

  When Bert and Den were closer, they couldn’t miss us.

  My heart thumped in my chest. My mouth was dry. My hands were damp. And so was Shirl’s when she pressed hers into mine.