by Linda Regan
‘You hit her across the face. I saw you.’
‘I …’ Vincent took a deep breath.
‘But I don’t see any point in mentioning it to the police. Unless, as I say, it turns out to be a suspicious death. Then I wouldn’t have any choice.’
‘Thank you.’ His heart dropped into his boots.
‘Nothing to thank me for. I want the show to continue. So let’s try to work together.’ She balanced the cigar on the glass ashtray in front of her and held out her hand. He took it and they shook. ‘But in return I’d like a little respect,’ she told him. ‘I know you’re on television every week, but I am very much more experienced than you in pantomime. That’s why it’s my name on the poster.’
He gave her a tight smile and adjusted his glasses. The posters had already been printed when he signed the contract, but Michael pointed out that everyone in the country knew who he was, and the local press would only be interested in him. So he was the real star. He hadn’t thought it mattered, but he hadn’t figured on a principal boy with an ego the size of a football stadium.
‘I know what’s best for the show, you see,’ she said, pulling the cigar free of the holder and stubbing it into the ashtray.
‘Fine by me,’ he answered, keeping the smile pinned on his face.
She laughed politely. ‘New beginnings.’
‘New beginnings,’ he repeated. Lost pride was a small price to pay.
Besides, he had other things on his mind.
For a woman in her middle forties, Maggie McCormack still looked great. Her years of professional dancing had given her the discipline and desire to keep her slim body toned and in shape. She also knew how to dress. Today she wore a red, figure-hugging, angora jumper with the very tightest of jeans that were torn and frayed at the back to show the firm flesh of her thigh. Michael Hogan gazed appreciatively as she perched next to his papers.
‘It’s understandable that the mothers won’t let their children carry on,’ she said to him.
‘I wish that was my only problem.’
‘As usual, this is all Alan’s fault.’
He used to find that demure expression irresistible. Now it was rather irritating. ‘Don’t, Maggie,’ he snapped, flinging his pen on to the dresser. ‘You know he can’t help himself.’
Maggie crossed one leg over the other. ‘He’s always been your downfall. Yet you employ him year after year.’
A laugh burst from Michael’s mouth. ‘No, Maggie, you’ve been my downfall.’ He reached for the pen and stared at the papers in front of him. ‘But that’s history.’
‘You wouldn’t be without Fay.’
‘I wouldn’t be without any of my children,’ he answered. ‘And how would Fay feel if I sacked her father? Besides, I’m responsible for his drinking.’
‘I’ve been thinking … maybe we should tell her the truth,’ Maggie said.
‘Oh no, oh no.’ Michael put a hand out in front of him. ‘The time for the truth is long in the past. Much better she goes on thinking he’s her dad.’
‘Better for who?’
‘For everyone.’ He threw the pen down again. ‘What’s brought this on? Come on, Maggie, you know as long as I’m in business, Alan will be in work. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.’
‘Fair enough.’ Maggie tugged at the hem of her angora jumper, revealing more cleavage. ‘But what’s he ever done for her?’
‘He only started drinking because of us.’
‘He started drinking because his religion doesn’t allow divorce. And I have to live with it.’
Michael sighed. ‘Whichever way you look at it, we’re responsible. So as long as I have a show, he’ll have a job.’
She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
He bit on his lower lip. ‘I know that look. What is it?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t want Fay to spend her life in this stinking business. I want her to have a future …’
‘Christ, Maggie, I’m broke! My whole life is hanging on the money that I make on this show.’
She raised an eyebrow again. ‘You’ve enough to keep your little choreographer in a luxury flat.’
‘She’s my daughter too.’
‘But not your own flesh and blood, like Fay. Yet you spend enough of your money on her.’ Her tone soured, ‘Anyway, we all know the truth …’
‘I have given Fay everything you asked for. You have your home, holidays and I pay the fees at the dancing school.’
‘I don’t want her to be a dancer, unemployed most of the time and finished at forty. I want her to go to university and have a decent career.’
Michael sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I have more pressing concerns at this moment.’ He picked up his pen and chewed the end.
‘The police have just questioned me again, and I had to give a specimen of DNA from inside my mouth.’
‘And?’
‘Did you tell them that I came backstage during the UV scene last night?’
He closed his eyes. ‘Yes, I think I did. I needed a witness to vouch for seeing me backstage. Otherwise it might get complicated.’
‘That detective woman asked me why I didn’t mention it last night.’
A muscle under his eye started to twitch. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said when you’re in a state of shock, as we all are at the moment, your brain doesn’t work properly. I told her that after I went into the auditorium I popped back for my binoculars and saw you in the juveniles’ dressing room, but I didn’t think it was important enough to mention last night.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And obviously I didn’t say anything about how close you and Sophie are.’
They stared at each other, and she was first to look away.
‘Anyway, I’d better go and get into that smelly cat skin.’
She didn’t move.
‘I’m just doing the wages,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve made money this week, so I’ll give you a bonus. You could have a late holiday with Fay before she goes back to school.’
An assortment of hair appliances and various palettes of different make-up colours, chocolate bars, discarded sweet wrappers and bottled water filled every inch of available space on the dresser in front of the three girl dancers. The six clothes rails were all overladen with identical costumes and positioned at odd angles to allow easy access for the girls’ quick changes.
Trevor Bruce was in the end seat. Less than twenty-four hours earlier Lucinda had sat there. He was dressed in a peasant outfit, ready for the start of the show.
Sonia was curling her hair, Tanya was straightening hers with another gadget and Lindsay was spraying deodorant over her feet and into her shoes. The air in the room reeked of perfume and muscle sprays.
‘You’re eager,’ Sonia said to Trevor. ‘We’ve got twenty minutes before curtain up.’
‘I wanted to spend some time cheering us all up before the show starts.’
‘You’ll need more than twenty minutes,’ Lindsay said.
‘Oh, shit!’ Tanya tugged violently at a lock of hair that was stuck in the hot tongs.
‘Hey, hey,’ Trevor soothed. ‘Calm, Tans.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ she snapped. ‘There may be a murderer on the loose, and all Michael Hogan cares about is keeping the show running so he can make money. Calm, my arse!’
‘No.’ Trevor shook his head. ‘It was a freak accident. The police would have closed the show down if they thought there was a murderer out there. They’ve even put a detective in the wings to make you feel better.’ He stood up and kneaded Tanya’s back with his strong, light brown hands. ‘Ease up, babe, I’m gonna be looking out for you.’ He felt her relax under his touch, and moved to Sonia in the next seat. He pressed the heels of his hands into her back and slid them sensuously down her spine. She moaned with pleasure.
He did it a couple more times then went on to Lindsay. ‘Wow, you are one tense lady,’ he told her, massaging her shoulder muscles. ‘Don’t worry;
I’m here, and I’m even changing with you. No one’ll get past me.’
The girls looked at each other.
‘Not that anyone is going to try,’ he quickly added.
‘Who are you trying to kid, Trevor?’ Tanya said. ‘You were in that routine. Lucinda didn’t just fall over and bang her head. That stage weight had been moved. Someone had lifted it. ‘
Trevor shook his head. ‘Michael is such a cheapskate. Pieces of scenery blocking entrances and exits, stage weights left where people can trip over them. The stagehands are just work experience boys – they don’t have a clue what they’re doing. This place was an accident waiting to happen. They’ll sort it now, but it’s too late. And that’s the truth of it.’ He kneaded Tanya’s shoulder again. ‘Now, come on, get a grip. We have to get through this contract, and we can do it if we look out for each other.’
‘But we were all standing there,’ Tanya said. ‘I heard a crunching sound, then I heard her hit the floor. You must have all heard the same?’
‘We all heard a noise,’ Sonia said. ‘We all thought someone had fainted.’
‘I didn’t hear a crunching sound,’ Lindsay added. ‘And I wouldn’t know if the stage weight was in the wrong place. This is my first theatre job, remember?’
‘Can we change the subject?’ Sonia’s voice developed a tremble. Trevor started massaging the base of her spine. ‘Come on, babe, it’s going to be OK,’ he said softly.
‘Wouldn’t the scenery collapse if someone moved the stage weight?’ Lindsay asked cautiously.
Trevor shook his head. ‘No scenery was attached to it. The stage hands didn’t secure it.’
‘Please,’ Sonia said. ‘I’m beginning to feel sick.’
‘Change the subject,’ Trevor said firmly.
No one spoke for a few moments.
‘Could someone have sneaked in?’ Lindsay asked Trevor.
‘Unlikely, darling. Who would know the exact time of the UV scene? Or that Alan wasn’t there? Sorry, babe, I don’t buy that.’ He rolled his large, brown eyes. ‘This isn’t helping no one,’ he said. ‘We have to get out there and do a show. Fay and Maggie will be in here to change in a minute, and we don’t want to scare them, do we?’
‘I wonder if Vincent’s wife knows he was having it off with Lucinda?’ Sonia said.
‘Do we know for sure that he was?’ Trevor asked. ‘We all think they were, because they were always together, and he stuck up for her when Barbara and Stephen gave her a hard time, but we don’t have actual proof they were humping.’
‘I do,’ Lindsay told him. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything before. But I caught them at it, after the first show three days ago, and yesterday, before the first show. They were doing it at the back of the stage, where it’s really dark.’
‘No kidding?’ Trevor said, his eyes bulging.
‘So perhaps the wife done her in,’ Sonia said.
Trevor screwed his face in disbelief. ‘Oh, get a grip, ladies, please.’
‘Actually,’ Lindsay said, ‘there’s a spare black costume in the company office.’
Trevor looked astounded. ‘Michael has spare costumes?’ he joked. ‘That’s harder to believe than a stranger creeping in and committing murder.’
‘No, there is one,’ Lindsay insisted. ‘Only one, though. Anyway, Michael’s had to pay out now; he’s had to hire some more because the police won’t release the others.’
Trevor nodded. ‘And he’s more upset about that than about Lucinda.’
The tannoy in the dressing room suddenly came to life. ‘This is your fifteen minute call, ladies and gentlemen; fifteen minutes to curtain up.’
‘Blimey,’ Sonia said. ‘Alan sounds sober for once.’
‘Oh don’t,’ Lindsay said. ‘Imagine how he must be feeling.’
‘Serves him right,’ Trevor said. ‘If he’d done his job the stage weight wouldn’t have been loose, the accident wouldn’t have happened and you lot wouldn’t all be letting your imagination run away with you.’
‘You’re right,’ Lindsay said decisively.
They all nodded agreement, and silence fell for a few moments. Then Tanya put down her eyelash curlers and said, ‘I was wondering if the killer had made a mistake.’
All the others stopped what they were doing.
‘Lucinda should have been next to Barbara, but they’d all got out of sync again. One of the juves, that tall girl, was next to me.’
‘No, I was next to you,’ Sonia said. ‘I was holding the pink sea dragon. When have I ever gone wrong?’
‘Never,’ Lindsay and Trevor chorused.
‘Well, the back row were all over the place,’ Tanya said.
‘They always are,’ Sonia pointed out. ‘Except Sophie.’
‘Actually I thought Sophie went wrong last night,’ Trevor said thoughtfully. ‘And Barbara …’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘Everyone hates Barbara, but no one hated Lucinda. So what if someone meant to hit Barbara?’
Sonia shuddered. ‘It’s best not to think about it. I’m just glad that that detective is going to be around backstage.’
Chapter Eight
Through the backstage tannoy came the sound of excited chatter and rustling sweet papers. With only five minutes to go, the audience were in their seats, eagerly waiting for the curtain to rise and the fun to begin.
Banham and Alison walked into the semi-darkness of the wings and stood next to DC Crowther, who was so engrossed in the rehearsal on stage that he didn’t notice them.
Alison found his keen interest in the scantily dressed dancers chauvinistic and annoying. But she was aware that all that had passed her lips since yesterday was too much coffee, and low blood sugar was making her irritable. Tomorrow, she told herself, looking at the slim, shivering girls on the stage, tomorrow she would have shed a pound, then she would feel better; a few more, and perhaps men would find her attractive again.
Sophie Flint was trying to restage the whole show in the few minutes before the curtain went up. The nervous cast stood on the unlit stage, and she pushed them around like chess pieces.
‘You’ve got to try and fill the stage,’ she reminded them for the umpteenth time, moving Vincent one way and Barbara in the opposite direction. Alison noticed the shove she gave Barbara; the older woman ignored it and stepped back to her original position, right in the centre of the stage.
Sophie turned her attention to Fay, who was dressed in Lucinda’s principal girl costume. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a plait and decorated with a pretty red ribbon. Even under the dim lighting, Alison could see her young face was caked in make-up, her eyebrows pencilled heavily and her lips shining with too much red lipstick.
Fay put her hands out to stop Sophie. ‘It’s all right,’ she said with the authority of a forty-year-old. ‘I know exactly what to do, and so does Mummy.’
Maggie McCormack’s head peeped out from the oversized, ragged black cat costume. She carried the large, eerie feline head under her arm, and the tail draped across her wrist as she trailed behind Barbara.
Sophie looked from Fay to Maggie and back again. ‘I wish I was that confident,’ she said sarcastically.
Stephen Coombs was standing so far back that Alison hadn’t realised he was there. He moved toward the centre of the stage, dressed in a vast orange tent, with a matching hat, yellow wig and full make-up.
‘Why don’t you just let us get on and do it?’ he said to Sophie. ‘It’s going to be hard enough. Everyone’s nervous enough – we don’t need all this fucking staging. Let’s just get through it.’
‘Mind your own business, Stephen.’ Sophie didn’t even glance in his direction. ‘It’s very important to know where we’re supposed to stand.’
‘But we do know,’ Fay argued.
Alan’s voice suddenly boomed out from the prompt corner. ‘One minute to curtain up. Time’s up, Sophie. Opening positions; stand by, please.’
‘No, you’ll have to wait,’
Sophie shouted back. ‘We’re just sorting something out.’
‘We’re sorted,’ Stephen said defiantly, walking into the wings. Vincent, Maggie, Barbara and Fay followed him, leaving Sophie on stage with the four chorus dancers. She shouted, ‘I’m the choreographer, and if I say hold the curtain, we hold the curtain!’
Michael walked on to the stage from the other side, his face thunderous. ‘Don’t give Sophie grief,’ he said angrily. ‘She’s in charge, and I’d like you to remember that.’
‘It’s not possible to forget, boss,’ Stephen said sarcastically. He grabbed the supermarket trolley full of sweets and novelties which he threw out to the audience during his first scene, and knocked Barbara in the back with it.
Sophie walked into the wings on the opposite side of the stage and snatched up her fairy wand, ready to start the show. Michael followed her and they started whispering.
The four dancers stayed on the stage and spread out as best they could. Sonia, the tallest, moved to the corner nearest Crowther, and waited till she was sure he was watching her before lifting a leg and stretching it straight up in the air and against her shoulder, her lacy white knickers in full view.
Crowther made the most of the opportunity. Aware she had his attention, Sonia told the other dancers how nervous she was about going home alone to her empty flat. Crowther moved in on the girl, assuring her she had no need to feel afraid when he was around, and he would see her home safely. Alison shook her head, half-amused, half-appalled.
‘Get off the fucking stage, ye stupid get,’ Alan yelled at Crowther. ‘We’re about to bring the curtain up.’
Crowther stepped back like a chided schoolboy.
‘Any word from Penny?’ Banham asked him.
Crowther coughed in embarrassment. ‘She’s working away like a good ’un, guv,’ said. ‘Isabelle’s just driven the cast’s buccal swabs over, and she’ll keep us posted.’
‘Good.’ Banham twitched his nose. ‘Any reason why you’re wearing so much aftershave today?’
‘It’s to drown the whiff of him,’ Crowther said, jerking his head in Alan McCormack’s direction. ‘I’ve got to stand next to him for the next half hour and he don’t ’alf bloody stink.’