Body on the Stage

by Bev Robitai

  “No, don’t hold back,” said Gazza. “Tell us what you really think.”

  “Well where is he when we need him, eh? Here we are, hard out in training for showing off our bodies in front of thousands of women, and what’s Vincenzo doing? Floating down a bloody river!”

  “Yeah, pretty thoughtless to let himself drown like that, eh?” Gazza’s sarcasm fell on deaf ears.

  “What he hell was he doing up the valley in the first place? It’s no time of year to go swimming.” Ricky looked at Mark and Warwick, smirking. “Perhaps he was taking a girlfriend for a secluded walk. I’ve seen him leching around all the pretty chicky-babes at the gym – even Sherry and Leonie.”

  Warwick stood up so suddenly his chair fell over backwards with a clatter.

  “You little shit! Christ, you’re a troublemaker. Leonie wouldn’t give Vincenzo the time of day. She’s got class, unlike you, you short-arse little turd. No woman would bother giving you a second look.”

  Ricky leapt to his feet and bristled belligerently.

  “Screw you, what do you know? At least I can satisfy a woman so she doesn’t go looking for other men.” They looked ready to come to blows at any second.

  Simon moved in towards the table on one side and Dennis approached from the other.

  “Guys, take it down a notch,” said Dennis uneasily.

  “Play nicely, children,” drawled Simon. “Or there’ll be tears before bedtime.” He pushed Ricky gently into his chair. “Don’t let our esteemed director catch you at each others’ throats or you’ll both be out on your ears and it would be such a bore having to train new guys to replace you. Take a seat, Warwick. Deep breaths, both of you, just calm down, OK?” He looked at Mark. “Are you all right mate? You’ve gone a funny colour.”

  “I’m fine,” muttered Mark. He got up and headed towards the toilets where they heard the door slam.

  Jessica walked into the room then and stopped in her tracks.

  “Bloody hell, you could cut the air in here with a knife! What’s been going on? Everything OK?”

  “Oh, just fine,” said Simon. “A bit of brotherly rivalry, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” He looked meaningfully at Warwick and Ricky. “Is there, guys?”

  “No,” they growled, unwilling to meet his eyes.

  “Right,” said Jessica sceptically. “I’ll believe you. Just sort out whatever it is before Adam gets here, will you? I don’t want him to think we’re a bunch of amateurs who don’t know how to behave in a theatre. Put your differences aside, whatever they are, and try to be professional, please.” She looked at Dennis and Simon. “I’m glad the grown-ups are looking after things. Thank you, chaps.”

  Simon bowed elegantly. “At your service, milady,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

  Dennis shuffled his feet. “No problem.”

  Fenton came into the Green Room and addressed the actors. “Adam’s here,” he said. “Can you all come out on stage please?” Dennis started guiltily, realising he’d forgotten to send Tony out to talk to Adam. Too late now.

  The performers got up and headed for the door, where Simon called back “Come on Mark, we’re on, dude.”

  A faint reply came from the locked toilet. “Be there in a minute.”

  Dennis looked at Tony and Gazza. “That got a bit nasty, didn’t it? Are things normally this tense backstage when a show is in rehearsal?”

  “Nope, these guys are setting new records,” said Gazza. “You sometimes see nerves around tech rehearsals and final dress, but never arguments like this unless somebody’s missus runs off with the wrong guy. I’ve seen that a few times.”

  “I hope they all stick it out for the season,” said Tony, looking worried. “If one of them gets the pip and pulls out we’ll be in a fix.”

  “You have an understudy though, don’t you?” said Dennis. “Jayden is back-up if anyone gets sick or injured, isn’t he? At least I thought that was the plan.”

  “That would give us the four strippers, yes, but we’d still need to train up a new guy to take the rest of the role of whoever pulled out. There’s a whole play before the dance routines. In some shows we’ve had people go on in emergencies reading from the script when there was no time to learn the lines, but it’s not a good look.” He stood up and stretched. “Best those guys sort out their differences soon and calm down a bit, otherwise it’ll be you, me and Gazza up there pole-dancing on stage and I don’t think that’s quite what the customers will be looking for.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Gazza. “I think the Doc here is looking almost ready to take it on, and Fenton would make a very good pole.”

  “Oh yes, I’d pay good money to watch that!” giggled Jessica. “Right chaps, I’ll be up in the office if anyone needs me. Try to keep things ticking along here, will you? So far we seem to be running quite smoothly and I’d very much like to keep it that way.”

  “Roger that,” said Tony, saluting. “We will keep calm and carry on.” As Jessica left through the stage door he turned to the others. “Right, actors on stage, crew to the workshop, men. Quick march!”

  Like a shortened line of the seven dwarfs, they filed out through the make-up room and down to the workshop. Dennis, bringing up the rear, caught a glimpse of Mark on his way to the stage door, looking as if all the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

  Partway into the evening session Dennis was making a drinks run across the road when he ran into Jack Matherson outside the theatre.

  “Hello Jack, what brings you here tonight? Have you come to sweep the lovely Jessica off her feet and take her out for dinner?”

  Jack smiled faintly. “I wish I could, but no, I’m here on business, and she’s not going to like it. I want to talk to the guys while they’re here instead of trying to catch them all separately during the day, and she’ll tan my hide for interrupting rehearsal to do it.”

  “Surely she’d understand that police business takes precedence over rehearsal, wouldn’t she?”

  “You haven’t known her too long, have you Dennis! Theatre is far more important than the real world, didn’t you know that?” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I’d better go and let her know what’s going on so she can yell at me in private before I get started.”

  They entered the theatre together just as Jessica came down the stairs from the office. When she saw Jack she ran straight to him and buried her face against his shoulder, holding him for a long moment. Jack’s eyebrows rose in surprise and Dennis turned away, embarrassed. Jessica looked up, her face pale.

  “Jack! You heard about Howard? How did you know? God, I’m so glad you’re here. I only just found out myself.”

  He frowned. “Heard what, Jess? What’s happened?”

  “You don’t know? I just got a phone-call…” she trailed off, plainly struggling to control her voice. After a deep breath she continued. “There’s been an accident, overseas. You know Howard and Maryann were off on a cruise? They were in the islands, having a stopover on one of the coral beaches. One of the young female passengers got into difficulties swimming and Howard, well, he tried to rescue her. He got her to shore safely, but his heart gave out right there on the beach. There was nothing they could do.” Her control faltered and Jack quietly passed her his handkerchief.

  “That’s a sad loss,” he said. “Poor Maryann, she must be devastated.” He saw Dennis looking anxious beside him. “Howard was the president of the theatre,” he explained. “A great guy, it’s a real shame you won’t get to know him.”

  Jessica pulled herself together and stuffed the damp hanky in her pocket. “So why are you here, Jack, if it wasn’t to bring the sad tidings?”

  He hesitated. “Well actually, I wanted to have a talk to your actors, and I thought it would be a lot more efficient if I could grab them while they’re all here in one place. Would that be all right, or would you prefer that I wait for a better time? I wasn’t expecting you to be dealing with such tragic news.”

  She shrugged.
“It’s Adam’s call. He’s in control of them for the evening. Maybe you could watch from the back stalls until there’s a break, and do it then. But it’s fine with me.”

  “Perfect,” he said with relief, giving her an extra hug. “Do you want me to break the news about Howard to the troops while I’m here, to save you doing it? After all, it’s one of the things I’m trained for.”

  She considered for a moment. “I should do it myself, but I’m going to say yes please. I’d hate to snivel in front of those guys. Thank you. I’ll come with you though – I should be there when they hear about it. Most of the actors won’t know who he is, but our committee is going to be devastated. We should tell them and the crew first.”

  “They’re down in the workshop,” said Dennis. “I was just going out to get some cold drinks but it sounds as if they may need something stronger.”

  “Good idea. I know I do.” She pulled some cash from her pocket. “Could you extend your drinks run to pick up a bottle of whisky, please Dennis? And some ginger ale to go with it? Thanks so much.” She turned to Jack. “Let’s go through to the workshop before you speak to the actors, if that’s OK? I’d like to get this over with.”

  When Dennis returned he found a subdued group of construction crew gathered in the Green Room. He cracked the seal on the whisky bottle and poured a generous slug into the only drinking receptacles available, the scuffed smoked-glass mugs. They raised a toast to their late president and drank solemnly, clearly shaken by the news. Dennis felt awkward, uninvolved, an outsider in the face of their loss. It was heartening though to realise that up till that moment he had been a full member of the theatre community – only recognising the shared camaraderie as it was temporarily withdrawn.

  “I’ll go and see if the actors are near taking a break,” he said to Jack, and slipped away through the stage door.

  He paused in the wings. Ricky was doing some kind of routine with a leather jacket and a guitar, thrashing his way around the stage with little skill and less coordination. It didn’t look to Dennis as if he would ever reach a polished level of performance if this was the best he could do with only three weeks left until opening night. The strains of ‘Wild Thing’ echoed round the auditorium as Ricky fought with his jacket like a man possessed. Finally he wrenched it off his shoulders, swung it around his head a few times, and flung it across the stage five seconds after the music stopped. Once he’d gathered up his widely-strewn clothes and shoes, he hurried off into the wings and Warwick prepared to make his entrance through the spangly foil curtain hanging across the back. Mark, acting as MC, called out “That was Barry, the bass guitar bandit!” Then he announced Warwick as the next act, and ‘Sultans of Swing’ started playing as Warwick toyed with his shiny satin turban and tried to walk like an Egyptian. Dennis shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t seen many shows at the Regent Theatre but the ones he had had all been very professional. He’d never seen one that looked as rough as this. Still perhaps all rehearsals were this bad and that’s why they needed to practise so much. He had to assume Adam knew what he was doing.

  Warwick looked grim as he shuffled and minced his way around the stage, escaping with obvious relief as Mark announced the entrance of an actor Dennis hadn’t met yet, a slight, pale chap dressed in a Roman toga. He too marched about gesticulating dramatically, not looking like any strip routine Dennis had even seen. When the guy lay down on the stage and tried to feed himself grapes from a bunch held in his toes, Dennis couldn’t take any more. He made his way through to the auditorium where Adam sat in the stalls making notes.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he whispered, “but are you coming up to a break any time soon?”

  Adam ignored him until the Roman had left the stage, then leaned over. “There’s one more piece of dance in this set then a scene change. Did you need something?”

  Dennis explained about Jack’s request and Adam sighed. “I suppose we must bow to the forces of the law,” he said. “He can have them for fifteen minutes but then I want them back. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

  Dennis bit back the obvious comment before it left his lips. “I’ll let Jack know,” he said, and retreated to the Green Room.

  “Adam says they’re taking a break shortly,” he told Jack, who nodded.

  “Thanks for that, Dennis. I suppose he wasn’t too happy at having his rehearsal interrupted?”

  “No, he was quite happy to co-operate. He knows your enquiries take precedence.” Dennis didn’t mention the ‘fifteen minutes only’ ultimatum. Jack plainly knew the theatre scene and would only take as long as he needed to get the answers he sought. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” Dennis nodded towards the solemn group gathered around the table with the whisky bottle.

  “Just let them get on with it for now. It’ll take a while for them to process the information. When they’re ready to get back to work, just keep an eye out for anyone losing focus and drifting off in thought, especially if they happen to have a power tool in their hand. You’ll be the only one with a clear head, so you may need to think for them at times.”

  “Understood.” Dennis felt responsibility descending on his shoulders. He braced himself. “Should I remove the whisky, do you think?”

  “Sure, file it away somewhere safe in case it’s needed again.” Jack grinned. “I’m sure you can find somewhere secure where nobody will stumble over it. Right, I’m going to tackle those actors now. Come and join us in the auditorium would you, Dennis? I’ll see you out there.” He went over to Jessica, gave her a quick hug, and strode through the stage door.

  Dennis angled his way to the table and casually picked up the whisky bottle, stepping back between the chairs. A sinewy arm snaked out and a firm hand grasped his wrist.

  “Where do you think you’re going with that, Doc?” Gazza growled, staring up at him.

  “Er, just pouring another round, if you want one?” Dennis uncapped the bottle and topped up Gazza’s mug. “Anyone else?”

  After pouring a little in the rest of the mugs held out to him he escaped with the remains, walking as unobtrusively as possible towards the Rose Room where he hid the bottle behind a dusty row of leather-bound books in the bookcase. They appeared to have been untouched for some time, possibly decades, so it was probably a safe hiding place. He closed the glass door of the bookcase quietly and made a quick exit to the auditorium.

  The five actors were slouched in the front row while Jack sat on the edge of the stage. Dennis sat down quickly next to Simon on the end of the row.

  “I want to hear anything that could remotely be relevant,” Jack was saying. “Even if you think it’s too insignificant to mention, spit it out anyway. We have people who can assess the significance later in relation to other pieces of evidence you don’t know about, so your additional input may be just what makes the difference.” He leaned back onto his hands. “We’re definitely looking at a homicide here – there’s no chance it was an accidental drowning. So somebody wanted Mr Vincenzo Barino dead. What can you tell me?”

  Dennis and Simon looked at each other and shrugged. Warwick and Mark gazed stonily ahead. Ricky shifted in his seat, and Jayden looked blank. The silence became uncomfortable.

  “Er, there have been some rumours…” Dennis began. The others stared at him.

  “Go on,” encouraged Jack. “I’d appreciate anything you can tell me.”

  “Even if it’s just hearsay?”

  “Sure. I won’t hold you responsible for any inaccuracies, I promise!” Jack’s eyes were friendly, inviting confidence.

  “Well there was talk Vincenzo might have been supplying steroids to some of the guys.”

  “Bullshit!” muttered Warwick, and there was a rumble of agreement from Mark.

  “He never bloody gave me any,” complained Ricky. “I wanted him to but he said no. Said his training methods were enough and I just had to work at it.”

  “OK, that’s an interesting angle, certainly. Thank you Dennis, we
’ll look into it.” He looked at them searchingly. “What about Vincenzo and women? Any comments?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a bark of bitter laughter from Warwick.

  “Yes?” enquired Jack. “Something to say on the subject of Vincenzo’s love life?”

  “I thought he was gay,” said Warwick in measured tones, “but it turned out he wasn’t.”

  “Apparently not,” Mark grated. “Appearances can be deceptive, can’t they?”

  “Well I could have told you that,” said Simon. “My gay-dar is pretty finely tuned and I could tell he was a ladies man from the start.”

  “Yeah, all right, you’ve made your point,” growled Mark. “We were just too blind and too bloody stupid to see it, obviously.” He hurled himself out of his seat and took a few steps towards Jack. “Is that all you want from us? Can we get back to rehearsing now? I’ve got nothing more to say here.”

  Jack eyed him curiously. “OK, Mark, we can leave it there if you like.” He addressed the group. “There’s no need for me to disrupt your schedule any more than necessary. If I have any further questions I will come and ask you individually. Thank you for your cooperation, guys.” He caught Dennis’s eye and indicated he’d like him to stay as the actors moved off.

  Once they were alone in the auditorium he came and sat beside him in the front row. “Some interesting reactions there, weren’t there? What did you make of that, Dennis?” He leaned forward, his eyes friendly, but Dennis sensed there was a keen mind at work that would assess whatever he said and sift it for hidden meanings.

  “Well, yes – they all seem a bit highly strung. I don’t know if that’s normal for actors though. Being new to all this stuff I don’t really know what to expect.” He was hedging and he knew Jack recognised it.

  “You can tell normal behaviour, Dennis. Here or anywhere else. What’s been going on?”

  Dennis took a breath. “Well, Simon and Jayden and I get on fine, we seem to be on an even keel and just get on with training and doing what we have to do here – but the other three are emotionally all over the place. I think there may well be some truth in the steroids theory because they seem to be displaying all the symptoms.”