Behind You!

by Linda Regan

  The stage door banged closed and DC Isabelle Walsh appeared. ‘I’ve just heard you’ve found the weapon,’ she said. ‘That’s great. I’ve got the CCTV footage from the Feathers. And I’ve spoken to the barman. He said the young girl ran in and shouted, “Daddy, you’ve got to come back now.” And there was a blonde woman behind her.’

  Everyone began to talk at once, and Banham had to shout to make himself heard.

  ‘OK,’ he said when he was sure they were all listening. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. Isabelle, you can organise getting the cast to the station for official statements. Then you can go through the pub’s CCTV. Crowther, bring me the dancers’ statements. As soon as I’ve had a look through them, they’re free to go. Make sure you’ve got their contact details, though – we may need to speak to them again.’

  ‘How will they get home? Shall I drop them off?’ Crowther said.

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Banham snapped, ‘it’s five o’clock in the afternoon and public transport is running.’

  ‘They’ve had a terrible shock, guv, I just thought …’

  ‘That’s family liaison’s job. Fancy a transfer to them, do you, Crowther?’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Crowther backed off.

  ‘Then go and arrest Stephen Coombs.’

  ‘Guv.’ Crowther set off towards Stephen’s dressing room. ‘Trevor Bruce, the black boy, wasn’t on stage for most of that dance,’ he said over his shoulder as he went. ‘You know that, don’t you, guv?’

  Banham nodded. ‘He was changing his costume when I was looking for Sophie. I saw him in his dressing room. And you’ve taken his statement?’

  ‘Yes, guv. He only did the first half-minute of that dance routine. He walked on stage on his hands and turned a couple of somersaults, then he lifted the girls on to the stage one by one. That was it – he went off to change then. That left about eleven minutes unaccounted for.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Banham said, fixing Crowther with his hardest stare. The young DC beat a hasty retreat towards Stephen Coombs’s dressing room.

  ‘Have we got anything to link Stephen to Lucinda’s murder?’ Isabelle Walsh asked Banham. He looked at Alison, who shook her head.

  ‘Not unless there’s something on the costume from Michael Hogan’s office. We haven’t had the forensics back yet. That was the only one big enough to fit Stephen – if we can link that to Lucinda, we’ve got enough.’

  Banham watched thoughtfully as Crowther marched Stephen out of the door. ‘The murders were so different,’ he said. ‘But I still believe it was the same killer. What I’m not certain of is why he killed Lucinda.’

  ‘Lucinda’s killer was very strong, guv,’ said Isabelle. ‘That stage weight is so heavy, I couldn’t lift it. Stephen Coombs is a very big bloke – he would have had no difficulty.’

  ‘Trevor would have no trouble either,’ Alison said. ‘He’s fitter and stronger than Stephen. But he was in the front line for the UV routine, so he’s out of the frame.’

  ‘Alison lifted that stage weight,’ Isabelle joked to Banham. ‘She’s got some muscle on her. Cop a feel of that!’ She squeezed the top of Alison’s arm and Alison snatched it away.

  ‘Everyone in the cast could lift that stage weight,’ she said, putting some distance between herself and Isabelle. ‘Dance training builds your muscles and gives you strength.’

  ‘Even Fay?’ Banham asked.

  ‘OK, possibly not Fay,’ Alison conceded.

  ‘We’re relying on the forensics tests for something on that black costume then,’ Banham said.

  ‘Good old Crowther,’ Isabelle answered drily. ‘He’s going to be the office hero, and all for screwing Penny Starr.’

  Alison felt Banham’s eyes on her as she dug in her bag for her notebook. ‘What?’ she asked, checking her reflection in the mirror on the dressing room wall. ‘Have I got coffee froth round my mouth again?’ She flicked her ponytail behind her ears and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘I’m looking at your muscles.’

  She flushed. ‘Can we keep personal remarks out of this?’

  He lowered his eyes. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I apologise.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But you have got great muscles, and you should be proud of them,’ he added, realising how lame it sounded.

  The black flecks in her eyes started to shine. ‘I’m more proud of my karate training. It means I can deal with any bloke who makes sexist remarks.’

  Before Banham could respond the door opened to admit Barbara Denis. She settled herself in the chair in front of her mirror, as if she had every right to be there. Which under normal circumstances she did, Banham conceded.

  She had removed her thick stage make-up and her face was taut, pinched and heavily lined. Her skin was pale and her lips colourless. Her grey-blonde hair was pulled into the nape of her neck and secured with a thick, black scrunchy. She wore a thick, well-worn grey wool jumper, over black leggings tucked into black snow boots. She was thinner than any of the chorus girls; from the back she could have been an eighteen-year-old, but from the front, without the help of make-up, she now looked her age.

  Alison ran a finger down Barbara’s statement. ‘You said earlier that you went straight to the loo when you came off stage.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Were you in there when Maggie and Fay came in?’

  ‘Yes. I was dying to go, so I headed straight there. Maggie and Fay were struggling with the cat’s head in the wings. They followed a minute or so later.’

  ‘How long were they in there?’ Banham asked.

  ‘I heard them fiddling with the cat’s head. Fay was telling Maggie how to stop it from slipping. Then they went out.’

  ‘Did you hear them say where they were going?’

  ‘No. Fay showed Maggie how to fix the clips on the head, in case it slipped again, but I didn’t hear them mention anything else.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention. It didn’t seem important at the time.’

  ‘Did you notice anything unusual at the end of that last scene before Sophie made her last appearance?’ Banham asked her.

  Barbara nodded. ‘Yes. Stephen exited stage right, that I can say for sure. He never does that. All his exits are stage left, nearest his dressing room, because of his quick changes.’ She pulled the black velveteen scrunchie out and shook her hair free, then gathered it in her hands and slipped the band back. ‘Stephen and Vincent had been arguing on stage again. Maggie and Fay were all over the place because of the cat’s head. Alan walked off in the middle of the scene, but that’s not unusual, as you know. It’s unprofessional, of course, but that’s what I have to put up with.’ She lifted her hands in the air. ‘Oh, that’s not important now.’

  ‘Did Maggie and Fay leave the toilet together?’ Alison asked.

  ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t be sure of that. I wasn’t taking a lot of notice. I was in the cubicle doing my own thing.’

  ‘How long were you in there?’ Banham asked a little self-consciously.

  She looked as embarrassed as he felt. ‘As long as it took me to go.’

  Alison was trying to hide her amusement; he deliberately avoided her eyes. ‘And then what did you do?’ he asked Barbara.

  ‘I came in here; I have to change my costume at that point in the show, to get ready for the Sultan of Morocco scene.’

  ‘Did anyone see you?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Yes – as it happens, Trevor did. Normally I don’t see anyone, because of course the star of the show doesn’t have to share a dressing room.’ She caught sight of herself in the mirror and raked long, thin fingers through the front of her hair. ‘But today Trevor knocked on the door. He was doing his own change into the King Rat costume, and his cigarette lighter wouldn’t work. He asked to borrow mine.’

  ‘That would have been towards the end of the dancers’ scen
e?’

  ‘Probably. He only does the lifts at the beginning, then he has to come off and change into that big King Rat skin.’ She looked at the ceiling. ‘Budgets again, I’m afraid.’

  Suddenly, she pressed her lips together and the lines on her forehead deepened. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Banham lifted his eyebrows.

  ‘I know it’s a million times worse for Valerie, and for Lucinda’s family,’ she said, ‘but I really needed this show to work. Not only because I have to try to resurrect my career and pay my bills, but for Michael. He needs the money desperately, he’s in so much debt.’ She looked sadly at Banham. ‘So that’s why I’m so tough about standards, and everyone hates me …’ Her voice trailed off and she gazed at the wall.

  Banham leaned forward. ‘Go on, Barbara.’

  She looked squarely at Banham and Alison. ‘I think we could have been in the wrong order in the UV routine last night,’ she said. ‘Lucinda was where I should have been.’

  ‘Ah.’ Banham exchanged glances with Alison. ‘Are you saying you think someone tried to kill you?’ he asked.

  Fear crossed Barbara’s face. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Who?’ Alison said quickly. ‘Who hates you enough to want you dead?’

  Banham watched her closely.

  ‘Stephen,’ she said quietly. ‘Maggie is blackmailing Michael, and that whole family knows that I know.’

  ‘When you say that whole family, you mean Fay, Alan, Maggie and Stephen?’

  She nodded. ‘But Alan isn’t capable of murder, and Fay was in the line in front of us in the UV scene.’

  ‘Which leaves Stephen and Maggie,’ Alison said, looking at Banham.

  There was another pause. Barbara looked away, then said, ‘Lucinda told me Stephen had a large knife in the boot of his car. She said when she asked him about it, he told her he goes fishing, and he uses it for gutting his catch.’

  ‘Does he go fishing?’ Alison asked her.

  ‘He never has, to my knowledge.’

  Trevor looked frightened to death. He stood in the doorway of the chorus room and waited for Banham and Alison to tell him to take a seat before choosing his own chair at the corner of the dresser.

  ‘Feel free to smoke, if you like,’ Banham said. ‘I’d offer you a cigarette only I don’t.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got some here, man.’ Trevor opened a packet of Marlboro Lights and put one in his mouth.

  ‘How long a break do you have between the dancing and the Sultan of Morocco scene?’ Alison asked him.

  ‘About ten minutes, and I have a change.’

  ‘And a cigarette?’ Banham asked casually.

  ‘’Fraid so.’ The way he put his hand to his mouth reminded Banham of a naughty schoolboy.

  ‘Today too?’

  ‘Yes.’ He lifted his lighter. ‘I got a light from Barbara; she’s the only one in the company that smokes. She’ll vouch for me. My lighter wouldn’t work.’

  ‘It’s working now,’ Banham remarked.

  ‘It was wet. Someone knocked water over it, I suppose,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It’s a bit overcrowded in here. There’s four of us dancers and now we’ve got Maggie and Fay, too.’ He looked at Banham and then over to Alison, who was writing. ‘I dried it on the radiator.’

  The boy’s brown eyes bulged fearfully. Banham thought he looked like a frog. ‘I noticed you were very shaky earlier,’ he said.

  ‘I always am. Have you seen what I have to do at the beginning of the dance? I walk on on my hands, then I do a triple somersault, then one by one I have to lift the dancers and carry them on. That’s enough to make anyone shake.’

  ‘Is it?’ Banham said flatly.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he said, nearly spelling out the words.

  ‘Did you know about the hidden staircase behind the door at the end of this corridor? Alison asked him.

  ‘I didn’t until a few minutes ago. The girls told me.’

  His grey towelling dressing gown had heavy perspiration stains under the arms and another large patch down the middle of his back. He was tall, broad and very muscular. Banham put him at no more than twenty-one or two.

  ‘Have you ever worked in this theatre before?’ Alison asked.

  ‘No, never.’

  He took a nervous drag on his cigarette and tapped the ash several times over the small, rusting metal bin by his chair. ‘I’ve been here before, though,’ he said. ‘I came to see a mate of mine in a show in the summer. He was on tour and they were playing here for a week. I came backstage after the performance.’

  He inhaled and flicked his cigarette again, several times.

  ‘Did you see anyone in the corridor when you came off stage to change?’ Banham asked him.

  Trevor’s bulbous brown eyes moved from side to side, making the whites even more prominent. After a second he said, ‘Yeah, I saw Stephen.’

  Banham’s chin lifted a fraction. ‘Where was this?’

  ‘In the corridor. He was going in his dressing room as I was going into Barbara’s for a light.’

  ‘Coming from where?’ Banham asked quickly.

  ‘I presumed the loo. There is only the loo, this room, the boys’ room and Barbara’s room along here. It wouldn’t have been Barbara’s room, they hate each other, and I had just come out of this room, so it …’

  ‘Which direction?’

  Trevor shook his head, as if trying to remember. ‘From the upstage end?’

  ‘Near the haunted staircase,’ Banham said.

  ‘I suppose. As I said I didn’t know about the passageway then, and I wasn’t taking much notice at the time. People come and go all through the show and you don’t wonder about it.’

  ‘Isn’t the loo down here a ladies’?’ Banham said.

  The tension seemed to slide from Trevor’s face. He looked at Alison and his face broke into a wide smile. ‘Gents or ladies, no one cares. They’re all unisex around here,’ he said with an amused shrug.

  Banham glanced at Alison. She was amused too. He looked at the floor to hide his embarrassment.

  ‘When did you first realise that Sophie was missing?’ Alison asked Trevor.

  ‘When Mr … er …?’ He looked at Banham questioningly.

  ‘Banham, DI Banham.’

  ‘When Mr DI Banham came in here. I was changing into my King Rat costume and you were looking for her.’

  Banham nodded. ‘Thank you, Trevor, that’s been very helpful. I’ll need you to come to the station and make an official statement.’

  He opened the door and left the room.

  ‘Is that it?’ Trevor asked.

  ‘For now.’

  Alison got up and followed Banham. As she reached the door she looked over her shoulder. Trevor was tapping his cigarette on the dustbin again, and the fear had returned to his face.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Before setting off for the station, Banham gave his sister a call on his mobile.

  ‘Madeleine lost her first tooth this afternoon,’ she told him. ‘Scared her half to death – she was in floods of tears.’

  He smiled; if a lost tooth was the most frightening thing that ever happened to Maddie, she’d have a great life.

  ‘Let me talk to her,’ he said to Lottie.

  Maddie still sounded tearful. He comforted her and told her to wrap the tooth in a tissue and put it under her pillow.

  ‘Why?’ she asked him.

  ‘Because Miranda the tooth fairy is looking for teeth to build a grand stairway in the palace for the wedding of Cinderella and Prince Charming. I’ll give her a call, shall I?’

  ‘What will she do?’ Maddie stopped crying as Banham explained that Fairy Miranda would take the tooth and leave a pound coin for her moneybox. ‘But you have to go to sleep first – fairies don’t come while you’re awake.’

  ‘Like Father Christmas.’

  ‘Yes, just like Father Christmas.’

  His sister’s house was almost on the way to the station. Whe
n he arrived, Lottie put a finger to her lips to shush him. ‘I think she’s asleep. You’re brilliant, you are!’

  ‘Have you got a bit of silver foil?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To wrap this in.’ He held up a pound coin.

  Lottie gave him a strip of kitchen foil, and he wrapped it round the coin. Then he quietly crept into Maddie’s room and carefully placed it under the sleeping child’s pillow.

  It turned into another late night at the station, taking statements from all the actors and production staff. Maggie McCormack changed her original statement; she now said she followed Fay into the pub to haul Alan out, and Fay had been carrying the cat’s head. Alan’s statement confirmed that Maggie was following Fay.

  When the statements were completed Banham conferred with Alison about the next day’s allocation of tasks.

  ‘I want Isabelle to go through that CCTV footage and report back to me,’ he said. ‘If it confirms Maggie McCormack’s statement, she and her daughter can be released.’

  ‘That will take her most of the morning, guv.’

  ‘Should be done by the time we get Sophie’s post-mortem results, then.’

  ‘Are you going to interview Stephen Coombs?’

  ‘No, you and Crowther can do that. It’ll keep him out of Penny’s hair – if Coombs is still refusing to confess, we’ll need the forensic evidence before we can charge him.’

  ‘That could be another twenty-four hours, guv.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s just a formality. A full confession would make our job a lot easier, but he’ll fold when he realises there’s no way out.’

  ‘What about you? Where will you be?’

  ‘There’s something I have to do. I’ll be at the station by midday.’

  The ‘something’ was Banham’s first appointment with the sex therapist. He had thought long and hard, and decided to keep it. Alison was more than capable of overseeing things at the station, and though he was tired and more than a little apprehensive, it was time he began to face his demons.

  He hadn’t yet met Joan Deamer, the therapist, and was dreading it. The thought of talking about his non-existent sex life face to face with an attractive young woman made him want the floor to open up and swallow him.