Body on the Stage

by Bev Robitai

  There was a hint of smugness in Vincenzo’s voice.

  Dennis rolled his eyes at the barefaced nerve of the man and made his way back to his car.

  The next construction session was manic.

  “Come on guys, we have to get all the sets completed and out of the way ready for the dance rehearsals,” said Tony. “It’s going to be tight timing but we can do it if we pull finger. Jessica, get the painters to finish that house set then we can stash it against the wall. Fenton, you and Dennis go up top and make sure the fly floor is clear and all the ropes are secure. We don’t want those drops coming loose. Gazza, how’s the patch panel looking?”

  “It’s all good. Everything’s plugged in and live. When’s the sound guy coming in to set up speakers?”

  “Good question – let’s check on that at the next production meeting. What’s the matter, Dennis? Just follow Fenton up the ladder on the wall over there, he’ll show you where to go.” Tony bustled off towards the workshop leaving a flurry of activity in his wake.

  “Off you go Doc,” said Gazza. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

  “Seriously? You’re sending me up through that little access hole? You realise that could lead to a Winnie the Pooh moment, don’t you? I’d hate to have to starve myself up there for days just to get unstuck.”

  Gazza eyed him judiciously. “You’ve shrunk already, Doc. You’re smaller than Tony is and he has no trouble getting through. Go on, give it a try.”

  Dennis walked over to the bottom of the ladder and looked up to where Fenton’s skinny legs were disappearing from view high above. He placed his hands on the rectangular wooden rungs and began to climb. Fenton’s head appeared in the distant opening. “Up you come, Dennis. Not far to go now. Just don’t look down!”

  “Thanks for that,” puffed Dennis. His legs were stronger than he’d expected, and he had no trouble holding on. It was just his mind that didn’t seem sure he could make it. He ignored it and carried on, reaching the access hole and finding to his relief that it looked considerably wider close to. He hauled himself up the last few rungs, passed easily through the hole, and stepped cautiously onto the grubby carpeting with enormous relief.

  Around him was a world of slanted wooden ceilings; bare planks inscribed with white chalk names and dates. Several elderly couches were pushed up against the edges of the room, littered with piles of tattered magazines. In the centre of the area was a dark space laced with a network of ropes and wires and long wooden beams. Dennis walked gently, not sure how sound the floor was, and reached the sturdy wooden wall that surrounded the void. He looked down to see small figures on the stage – Jessica’s blonde head and Gazza’s old leather cap close together in conversation.

  “Hey Jessica,” he called down. “I made it up here!” She tilted her face towards him and waved.

  “Good for you, Dennis! Don’t get sidetracked by those grubby magazines, will you!”

  “Good on ya, Doc. Told you.” Gazza gave him a thumbs-up and headed off towards the side of the stage.

  Fenton called across to him from the other side of the fly-floor, his pale face glimmering in the dim light. “Can you go along the line of ropes and check that they’re all made fast to the cleats? Coil up any loose ends and hang them over the top peg. If you see anything that looks odd, give me a shout and I’ll check it.”

  “It all looks bloody odd to me! How is this place even legal? It looks like a whole bunch of fatal accidents waiting to happen!” Dennis walked along the wall, muttering to himself. “Falling from a great height, tripping on wrinkled carpet, impaling yourself on a metal cleat, strangling in a coil of rope, or being hit by a swinging weight.” His foot clinked against a pile of empty bottles. “And it seems dying of alcohol poisoning is yet another option. This whole place is a death trap.”

  “Death Trap?” said Fenton, appearing beside him. “We did that in the nineties. See, there’s my dad’s name on the roof.” He pointed to a plank inscribed with ‘Death Trap 1995’ and a list of names beneath.

  “No, I meant – oh never mind. This place is obviously a law unto itself. Look, does everything seem OK up here? Are we done? I think I’d rather be down on solid ground if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. Head on down, I’ll just be a few more minutes.” He grinned suddenly. “Hey, now you’re up here, do you want to have a look at the ceiling over the auditorium and see where we’re going to lower a body through?”

  “A body?” said Dennis, startled. “Whose body?”

  “Whichever thespian was daft enough to volunteer, I guess. Probably Warwick, since his strip character is going to be the fireman, and it makes more sense for a fireman to make an entrance that way.”

  “Oh, so you mean a live body then. That’s a relief!”

  “Well yeah, I don’t think the girls would get much of a kick out of a dead body being lowered in amongst them, do you? So, you coming to take a look then?”

  Dennis tamped down feelings of unease at the thought of walking on a ceiling far above the rows of hard wooden seat backs. If these guys did it all the time it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Yes, OK. Lead the way then.”

  He followed Fenton around to the front of the fly floor where it met the apex of the auditorium roof, giving access to a triangular space barely high enough to stand up in. They threaded between the angled rafters, treading carefully on broad planks that had been nailed over the rows of joists. Ahead of them, light shone up through a circular hole where the plaster ceiling rose was suspended, along with the ornate chandelier beneath it. Fenton pulled a torch from his pocket and played the beam over a sturdy hook with a rope and wires hanging from it.

  “We’ll lower the rose and chandelier down to the floor in the next couple of weeks and store them away, then we’ll cover the hole with some sort of polythene to disguise it from below. Our lucky fireman will have plenty of space to slip through – he just has to be fit enough to climb down the rope with all his gear on.”

  Dennis shuddered. “Rather him than me. I hope Warwick isn’t afraid of heights. At least he’ll be plenty strong enough – have you seen how much muscle he’s packed on over the last couple of weeks? He must be fitting in extra sessions somehow, probably with Ricky or Mark. They’re outstripping the rest of us mortals.”

  “Ha, don’t talk to me about muscles.” Fenton held out his skinny arm. “If I had one it would be lonely. Come on Doc, let’s get back down for a nice medicinal cup of tea, eh?”

  They made their way back to the fly floor ladder and Dennis envied the easy way Fenton swung himself through the hole to climb down. When he came to do it himself, he almost froze. There was something uncomfortably strange about a hole in the floor with such a long way to fall beneath it. It took all his courage to force himself to leave the relative safety of solid floorboards and cling to the rungs of the ladder. Once he was in position it wasn’t too hard to climb down, as long as he focused on gripping each rung firmly. It was almost an anticlimax to step onto the stage and realise the ordeal was over. But he smiled to himself, recognising that he had overcome a barrier. Why if this kept up, he might one day return to pre-Louise levels of confidence and be able to take on the world!

  “Dennis, you look happy,” said Jessica, smiling at him. “Did you enjoy your little tour up above? It’s a cool place, isn’t it? I love all the little nooks and crannies that hardly anyone gets to see.”

  “Oh yes, it’s great. Hey, are you coming for a cuppa? I’m just going to put the kettle on.” Dennis headed out back to the Green Room. Jessica watched him, nodding contentedly. The therapeutic effects of the theatre weren’t limited to stage performances. Backstage worked its magic on lost souls just as well.

  Vincenzo didn’t turn up for work next day.

  When Dennis arrived at the gym that evening, Cathy greeted him with a worried frown.

  “Hi Dennis, how are you doing? Vincenzo didn’t say anything to you last night, did he? He didn�
�t come in today and he’s not answering his phone. I just wondered if he’d mentioned going away, or if he wasn’t feeling well?”

  “No, I don’t think I spoke to him last night. The rest of the actors were doing their workout as usual and I joined in with them. Maybe he just took a day off to have a break or get something done. Was there anything he missed being away today?”

  “Yes! He missed two classes he should have been teaching and I had to take them myself. He must be ill – I’m sure he wouldn’t just not turn up. If he’s at home and too sick to answer the phone I should really go round and check on him. Oh God, I should probably have done that sooner, shouldn’t I?” Her blue eyes were full of concern.

  “Hey, stop panicking! I’m sure he’s fine. Has he done this sort of thing before?”

  “No, never. He’s always been very professional and reliable. I mean, I know I said I had doubts about him in some ways, but never like this. He knows he’s needed, and I’m sure he wouldn’t skip work for no apparent reason.” She looked pale, with dark shadows under her eyes, and her glorious auburn hair lay damply against her neck.

  “Have you managed to get through the day all right?” said Dennis gently. “Do you need to take a break? Have you been eating when you should?”

  She smiled weakly. “I thought I was supposed to be the one dishing out health advice.”

  “You can dish it out all right, but can you take it?”

  “Dammit, you’re right. I needed somebody to remind me of that.” She glanced about her. “I think I have some protein bars in my desk. I should have one of those I guess. Then I’ll go round to Vincenzo’s place and make sure he’s all right.”

  Dennis stood taller. “We’re going to do better than that. I’m going to come with you, right now – we’ll find some proper food first and then we’ll both go round to Vincenzo’s. Go and get changed and I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”

  She shot him a startled look but obeyed his instructions, returning to the reception area wearing jeans and a tailored jacket instead of tights and exercise top. He escorted her firmly down the stairs and out of the gym.

  “Right,” he said, unlocking his car, “what fast food meets your health guidelines? There must be something we can eat that isn’t greasy hamburgers full of fat and carbs. What do you recommend?”

  “Some of the sandwich franchises are OK, or we can get chicken salads at most of the takeout places.” She leaned back with a sigh. “I appreciate this, Dennis. It’s nice being taken care of for a change.”

  They picked up salads and diet sodas at the drive-through and Dennis drove to a nearby park overlooking the river where they sat at a picnic table and ate quietly. In the fading light he was pleased to see colour return to her cheeks, and once she’d eaten, her demeanour brightened.

  “Oh God, that’s better. I didn’t realise how depleted I was. You’d think a so-called nutrition expert would have more sense, wouldn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “You were distracted, that’s all. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. Running the gym is a full-time job, and you’ve got the extra work for the show. How are the guys’ dance routines coming along?”

  She grinned. “Oh I’m having SO much fun with those! I get to visualise those hunky guys and decide what every woman would like to see them do with their great-looking bodies. I design the ultimate fantasy and they’ll perform it for me!”

  “I wish I could…” he bit off the surprising words that had sprung uninvited from his lips and hoped the twilight would hide his blush.

  “Wish you could what, Dennis? Perform a routine? Would you like me to choreograph one?” She put her hand over his. “I’d be happy to design something that would work for you. If you keep up the training you’ve been doing, in a few weeks’ time you’d be ready to perform in public. I know you’re going to look great once your body fat is down around ten percent.”

  “Don’t be silly! That’s crazy talk!” He bustled about gathering up the food wrappings and dumped them in the litter bin. “That's not what I meant at all. I’ve got no desire to parade my body in public, let alone try to perform a dance routine. God, no!” He turned to face her. “Come on Cathy, we’d better go and see what’s happened to friend Vincenzo, hadn’t we?”

  “Oh! Yes, of course. I’d almost forgotten about him.”

  Chapter Six

  Dennis followed Cathy’s directions to Vincenzo’s place, a rented apartment in a large wooden villa overlooking the river.

  “You looked after me very well back there,” she said. “For a while I stopped worrying completely. It was really nice. Thank you.”

  “All part of the service. Right, let’s go door-knocking.”

  They followed a path round to the side of the house where French windows opened onto a wide wooden deck.

  “Is this his front door?” asked Dennis.

  “Yes, when the house was divided up they made each apartment fit the existing doorways so they didn’t lose the original character of the building.”

  “Nice.”

  Dennis knocked sharply on the glass, then spotted a discreet door-bell button and pushed that as well. They waited.

  Nobody came.

  He knocked again, harder this time, and held his finger on the bell for several seconds. When there was still no reply he turned to Cathy. “Nobody home, by the looks of things.”

  “Unless he’s in bed and too weak to move,” she said. “Can you see any open windows we could call through and listen for a response?”

  They moved further round the house and pushed their way past bushes growing along the back wall. There was one small window partly open, but it was too high up for them to reach or to look through.

  “Hello! Vincenzo! Are you there?” Cathy called as loudly as she could.

  Silence.

  Dennis rapped hard on the wall with his knuckles then rubbed them ruefully. “I don’t think we’re going to get a reply,” he said. “Perhaps we should ask one of the other tenants if they’ve seen him.”

  A tall grey-haired man answered their knock on his door, holding an earthenware mug with a tea-bag tag hanging over the edge. “Hi, can I help you?”

  “We were just wondering if you’ve seen Vincenzo Barino,” said Cathy. “I’m his boss and he didn’t turn up for work today and he isn’t answering his phone.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “And are you the enforcer?” he asked Dennis. “Come to drag him back to his desk?”

  “Me? No! I just came for moral support. Cathy was worried that he might be too sick to come to the door so we thought we’d ask around and see if you’d heard or seen him since yesterday afternoon.”

  “I haven’t, no. But I can tell you you’re not the only person who’s been asking. Either he’s behind in his rent and the debt collection boys are after him, or he’s got some very heavy-looking friends. Some huge dude was around yesterday but there was nothing I could tell him either.”

  “Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good.” Cathy fumbled in her handbag. “Can I leave you my card in case anything happens? I’d be really grateful to hear from you if you see him. I suppose now I should go and report it to the police or something.”

  “Sure, if I hear him through the wall I’ll give you a call. You can read him the riot act for skipping work, eh? Gotta go, my tea’s getting cold.”

  “Thanks for your help,” said Cathy as the door closed.

  “No problem!” came from inside.

  Cathy and Dennis looked at each other.

  “You really want to go to the police station and make a formal report that he’s missing?” said Dennis. “It’s only been a day at the most since anyone saw him. He might just have taken off for a while, or maybe it’s like the neighbour said and the debt collectors are after him so he’s lying low. You probably don’t want to bring the cops in if that’s what’s going on.”

  Cathy’s hands went to her face. “I just don’t know! What should I do, Dennis?”

 
; He thought for a moment. “Do you know any cops, someone who could ask questions without it being too official?”

  Her eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. Jessica lives with a cop, I’ll give her a call.” Cathy pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts list. She tapped her foot nervously as she pushed the button and waited.

  “Hi Jessica, it’s Cathy here. Could I swing by and talk to your tame policeman? It’s important – yes, right now if that’s OK? Oh great! Bye.”

  “All good?” asked Dennis.

  “Yes,” she smiled, “Jack is there and doesn’t mind being disturbed. They’re only a couple of streets away – let’s go. The sooner I can turn this over to a higher authority the sooner I can stop worrying about it.”

  Jessica opened her panelled wooden front door with a warm welcome. “Hi guys, how nice to see you outside of the theatre. It’s almost like having a social life! Come in. Although it sounds as if it’s not purely a social call. Jack’s in his study – I’ll give him a shout.” She settled them in the comfortably untidy living room and went to fetch Detective Senior Sergeant Jack Matherson.

  When the tall, slim, figure with slightly-greying hair entered the room Dennis felt relieved. Jack had an air of competence and authority that was instantly reassuring.

  “Hi guys, how can I help?”

  “It’s really good of you to make time for this, Jack, I appreciate it.” Cathy took a deep breath. “I may be worrying over nothing, but one of my employees, Vincenzo Barino, didn’t turn up for work today and I haven’t been able to reach him at his home or by phone. It’s not like him to go AWOL, particularly without warning, and I’m not sure what to do next.”

  “One of his neighbours said a big guy had been round looking for him,” supplied Dennis. “I don’t know if that’s relevant but you should probably have all the facts we have.” He debated passing on Simon’s theories about steroids but decided that without hard evidence it was probably just a distraction.