Merryll Manning Is Dead Lucky (14 page)

    “You’ve got to be kidding, Monty! How in hell can I do the warm-up with at least a hundred things to see to on the floor.”

    “Ace will do it, won’t you, Ace?”

    But for once his off-screen companion was none too agreeable. “Monty! That’s just so impossible. I’ve got to be in the booth for the demo.”

    “It looks like
you’re
elected, Trev!”

    “Don’t be bloody stupid! While I’m lining up the cameras and autocue? Checking mikes and buzzers?”

    All eyes focused on me. “The gods must be crazy! I’m still supposed to be a contestant. Suppose one of the keen and cozy fans at home recognizes me?”

    Trev shook his head. “No chance of that! Two weeks is a Jurassic lifetime in television.”

    “What about repeats?” I urged.

    “We can take care of that,” smiled Sedge. “Can’t we, Monty?”

    “Come along to wardrobe,” urged producer Monty, taking my arm. “We’ll soon fit you out.”

    “Even your old lady won’t recognize you,” agreed Ace Jellis.

   
Haven’t got an old lady!
“How the hell can I do the warm-up? Haven’t a clue what to say.”

    “We’ll soon take care of that,” urged Monty.

    “You wanted to see the crowd up close?” Sedge gloated. “
Now
you’ll really see it up close. Real close!”

17

“You look beautiful,” smiled Spookie Williams.

    “I look like a proper fool. And that’s what I feel like too!” Me and my black wig, and red, handlebar mustache, plus the ridiculously over-sized checkered coat – standard wear for third-rate, stand-up comics in the dying days of vaudeville.

    “Do you remember what I told you?” Spookie continued.

    “How can I remember a blessed thing, when you’re standing so close to me?” I stretched out my arms and grabbed her around the waist. Pleasingly, she made no effort to dislodge me. On the other hand, she didn’t warm up either. I decided to move my hands a little lower. Still no response.

    “Finished?” she finally asked.

    “I could cuddle you all day – and all night! Time has no meaning when I’m with you.”

    “I’ve heard that line before. Don’t you boys ever try something new?”

    “I’d stand on my head if that would please you.”

    “It will please me if you can force yourself to remember half of what I told you. If the ratings go down and the station cancels, we’re all of us out of a job.”

    I didn’t have the heart to reveal that sponsor, Peter Tunning, was itching to dice the program anyway. Instead I murmured: “Whatever happens, I’ll look after you. I love you!”

    No response.

    “I mean it! I really mean it!”

    “You and ninety-nine other guys. I’ve heard that line before. And where did it get me?”

    “A job here at Kenovarnie’s?”

    She smiled. She actually smiled! I pulled her towards me as close as possible, kissed her lips and held her tight. But instead of words of love, she whispered: “Just remember what I told you. Don’t look at the faces. Focus on the wall just above their heads and you’ll be all right.” She winked. “An old sergeant-major should be used to parades.”

    She pulled herself free and turned to go. I reached out and touched her hand. “Not so much of the
old
,” I urged. I wasn’t a sergeant-major either, but I let that error pass. “Where are you going? I thought you were going to stay here with me.”

    “I’m going to look in on Sedge. You saw him yourself. He badly needs someone to hold his hand. Do you mind?”

    “Yes! Of course, I mind. You’re my girl now.”

    “I’ll believe that when I see some evidence.” A toss of the head, another quick smile and she flounced away. “Don’t forget to put on your mustache the way I showed you,” she called out, as she tripped away, and I was left alone. 

    Hang it all, idiot that I am, I was really falling for the woman. No doubt about it! I was hot and sweaty, itching all over. I had to force myself to calm down so that I could spend at least ten minutes staring at myself in the mirror. You have to keep working your mouth while the glue on the mustache sets, otherwise it freezes your lips so that you can’t talk properly.

    Sedge had prepared a few jokes which I tried to memorize. Finally, when I thought I was ready, I strolled down to the set. Now that I’d settled into the costume, I was half sorry that I didn’t meet anyone on the way.

    Trevor Holden, the youth useful, was waiting for me. “Where’ve you been?” he hissed.

    “How did you know it was me?” I asked jokingly.

    Making a mock bow, the youth exclaimed, “Your audience is waiting!”

    “Already?”

    “Now!”

    “Don’t I get a chance to rehearse? I’m not ready to go on right now!”

    No answer. Hustling me across the tiny stage, and then pushing me forward, he signaled for the auditorium lights to be dimmed and the bright arc lamps on the set to be switched on.

    Blinded, I was facing an audience I couldn’t see. There were a few titters – presumably at my appearance – and then silence.

    “Hello there, all you lucky people!” I said. “We’re all set to give you a great time – I mean to have a great time this afternoon, aren’t we? Before our host and quizmaster, Sedge Cornbeck, comes out to greet you all, I’ll just explain a few little things about these TV screens you can see just above my head here. You can all see them okay? Well, what do they say?”

    Zero response.

    Hell!

    “Laugh! There it is now on the monitors. We all of us know how to laugh, don’t we? I think the best thing about laughter is that it makes us all so happy; but my wife says that the best thing about laughter is that you don’t have to pay for it! Doesn’t cost you a dime. All it costs is your time!”

    Dead silence! I was obviously making little impression. This comedy game was much harder than I thought. I desperately tried to recall one of the jokes I’d just memorized. Hell! I glanced at the slip of paper I’d curled up in the palm of my hand.
Lawyer!
A legal joke. What was it? I couldn’t remember, but suddenly another joke came flying out of the past. “You know what the judge said to the pickpocket? ‘I’m sentencing you to ninety days.’ And the pickpocket thought that was a bit harsh as he’d stolen only two dollars. ‘I’m doing you a favor,’ the judge said. ‘I thought you were a professional man, but it seems I was wrong. If you can’t earn a decent living as pickpocket, you’re better off in jail.’

    No response! Yes, this game was definitely a hundred times harder than I thought – and Sedge made it all look so easy! I tried again. “And speaking of judges, I have a friend named Jack who’s a lawyer. He’s just settled a very tough probate case. Jack was representing some of the heirs who thought they’d been done out of their dad’s will. ‘It was tough, tough, tough!’ Jack told me. ‘Tough going all the way – and despite all my efforts, the heirs ended up with almost as much money as I did!’ You can’t beat Jack. He got his share of the jack all right! Stayed up all night, getting tight!”

    Laughter!

    “You’ve all heard about the lion who was king of the jungle. He asked the hippo, ‘Who’s the king around here?’ Well, the hippo was quick to flatter the lion. ‘Who’s king? You are! Who else but you? You, you, you!’ So then the lion put the same question to the giraffe: ‘Who’s the king around here?’ ‘Why, you’re the king, of course!’ answered the giraffe. ‘You’re the king of kings, the emperor of emperors, the sultan of sultans!’ So then the lion put the same question to the elephant. ‘Who’s the king around here?’ Well, the elephant didn’t answer, but he stomped on the lion and then picked the lion up in his trunk and threw him thirty feet into the air. The lion landed in a bog, but somehow he managed to get back to the shore and began to lick himself dry. ‘You didn’t need to get so sore,’ he said to the elephant. ‘If you didn’t know the answer, you just had to say so.’ ”

     Laughter! They laughed! Maybe it was the prompting of the autocue that did it or the laughter of some of the technicians on the stage behind me, but they laughed. The audience laughed!

    After that, it was easy. Clear convulsions all the way. It wasn’t that I’d warmed them up so much as they’d warmed to me. And once this happens – once that magic rapport between the performer and the performed-to is somehow established – you can get away with anything. A wink will get a smile; a nudge, a chuckle; and even the most feeble puns, laughter!

    As for the program itself, however, it was close to the pits. The contestants were an uninspired and phlegmatic lot: art and artists, music and musicians, great scientists, the war in Europe, endangered species, and great moments in philately. If these were the best Spookie could come up with, I was beginning to regret my abandoning-the-ship bargain. I could lick this lot hollow. Despite Sedge’s frantic efforts to bring them to life, they were just as dull as last week’s crop. Even the sudden-death play-off between music and science created no drama, science falling flat on his very first question. The show was wrapped up in record time, the crowd filed out in bored if orderly fashion, and none of my four security officers had a thing to report. None of us had noticed anything in the least way suspicious or untoward and it was beginning to sink in that Dune-Harrigan was dead and that the poison had died with him. Whichever way you looked at it, I’d done myself out of $80,000!

    “What was all that laughter before the show?” asked Sedge, marching up to me as soon as the door closed on the last members of the audience.

    “I told a few jokes,” I explained.

    “Who asked you?”

    “You did.”

    “Stick to your own job in future.”

    I wasn’t taking this. “
You
made it my job!” I yelled at him. “Ask Monty.”

    The producer had just that moment stepped down from his booth. “A perfect tape!” he trilled, rubbing his hands.

    “What was so perfect about it?” Sedge wanted to know.

    “No re-takes, no inserts, no editing,” explained Ace Jellis, coming up behind. “It can go to air almost exactly as is.”

    “God help the viewers,” I murmured.

    “What’s the matter?” Monty asked. “Didn’t you like it?”

    “Yes, what’s the matter with you?” asked Jellis.

    “It was dull.”

    To my surprise, Sedge laid his hand on my shoulder. “Merryll’s right,” he said. “It was the worst show I’ve ever done. Well, no use crying about spilt milk. I’m going to get changed and pray we do better next week.” He turned back to grab a face towel from his podium, then stalked off to his dressing-room.

    “What’s eating him?” Monty asked, once he was sure Sedge was out of earshot.

    “Yes, indeed! What’s his
problem
?” Jellis echoed.

    “He’s too uptight,” guessed Monty. “I don’t like it. Bad for the show.”

    “Yes, bad for the show,” came the echo.

    “It’s not just nerves,” Monty surmised. “It’s willful temperament.”

    “
Temperament
– that’s just exactly the right word!” Jellis agreed, shaking his head.

    “I’m getting mighty sick of it.”

    “We’re all getting mighty sick of it,” came the echo.

    I was forced to listen to this lively exchange, but it wasn’t improving my temper any. At any second, I was likely to make a remark I’d later regret. I was searching for a way out when I spotted one of my security men returning from the audience exit. “Time to make sure we’re all locked up nice and tight,” I said, turning on my heel.

    I’d walked no more than four or five paces when I heard a scream – a piercingly hideous cry that stopped us all in our tracks, a wail of sudden terror that volleyed and echoed across every wall of that tinseled set. Never before had I heard a more devastating, blood-stopping scream than that banshee cry!

    None of us moved. We heard someone come running and stumbling down the corridor towards us. Before any of us had so much as budged a foot, Sedge was back on the set, his eyes rolling widely, his skin ashen where he’d started to towel off his make-up. “Spookie!” he screamed. “Oh, God, I saw her! Spookie’s dead! She’s dead! Damn bloody hell, she’s dead!”

    Sedge fell to the floor in a dead faint.

18

“Would you mind showing Sergeant Huggins where were you standing again, Mr. Manning?” asked Inspector Borne. His voice was tired, weary, exhausted. It was now getting on to seven p.m.

    “As I told you and Huggins, just about right here.”

    “Why didn’t you accompany Mr. Cornbeck to his dressing room? You knew of the threats against him.” Inspector Borne betrayed no emotion in his manner or bearing – least of all, anger. He had long ago resigned himself to all the flurries of human failure and stupidity.

    “He didn’t ask me. Besides, I was busy here.”