Murder in the Second Row (2 page)

Jessica noted
Phil’s dismay and Pippa’s instant hostility. She moved swiftly to
intercede. ‘Hi Tamara, nice to see you. What role would you like to
try out for?’

Tamara grabbed
the clipboard. ‘Whatcha got? Anything juicy?’ She studied the cast
list. ‘Oh, whatever. Put me down for Nadine – I’ll give that a shot
since nobody else has. Cheers!’ She handed the clipboard back to
Jessica and pushed past her with a squeal.

‘Stewie! How
the hell are you? Haven’t seen you in ages!’

Stewart already
looked dazed coming out from his ordeal in the auditorium and was
quite unprepared for the onslaught. He blinked like an animal
caught in the full wattage of Tamara’s headlights. She flung an arm
round his shoulders and led him away, the foyer cooling by several
degrees at her departure – especially over by the sofa.

By the end of
the auditioning session, Jessica’s clipboard was filled with
scrawled names and addresses. Every role had been tried out for,
and there were even plenty of people volunteering to be on the
crew.

When everyone
else had gone, she sat down with Adam and Howard to tidy up the
details.

‘How was that,
Adam? Did you get what you needed out of that lot? There was quite
a variety of talent.’

‘An interesting
mix, certainly.’ He ran slim fingers through his hair and blew out
a sigh, relaxing after the sustained concentration. ‘We’ll have a
bit of work to do with some of the new ones but they’ll get there.
Phil Jessop will be great as Lennox – he looked as if he were
already in character when he came in, very sad and defeated.’

‘We haven’t got
anyone right for Ada Boynton yet, have we Adam?’ asked Howard,
mopping his brow. ‘That’s going to be a key role to fill.’

‘I agree.
Without her there’s no show. Who else can you pull out of the hat,
guys? Nobody that came today was really up to the part.’

They racked
their brains for talented middle-aged female actors.

‘How about that
woman who did Hay Fever a couple of years ago? You remember her
name, Howard? Big woman, sailed in like a galleon, looked like she
owned the place.’ Adam sketched a large body with his hands.

‘Simone
Duchaine!’ chorused Howard and Jessica.

‘You’re right,’
said Jessica reluctantly, ‘she’d be ideal for the role…’

‘But?’

‘Oh, definitely
a butt!’ Howard grimaced. ‘Or at least a major pain in one. You’d
gone by the end of the run, Adam, you didn’t see her raging tantrum
about the hole in the dressing-room wall. She swore she’d been
spied on. Honestly, you’d have thought she’d been physically
violated by an entire wrestling team on Viagra.’

Adam raised a
quizzical eyebrow.

‘Even so, she
would be ideal. Jessica, can you give her a call please and see if
she’ll come and read for me tomorrow? I don’t fly out till
five-thirty, so any time before three thirty.’

He rose and
stretched his lean frame like a cat. ‘Right, who’s coming for a
drink? I want to try out that new wine bar I saw on the way
here.’

‘Right with
you!’ grinned Howard. ‘Come on Jessica, I’m buying.’

‘Hi, is that
Simone? It’s Jessica Jones here – from the Regent Theatre Society.
I was production manager for Hay Fever back in ’98.’

‘Ah yes. Hello
Jessica.’ Simone’s chilly voice sounded hostile already.

‘How have you
been, Simone? We’ve missed you at the theatre you know.’

‘Oh really?’
Her words oozed scorn.

Jessica
remembered why they’d been so relieved when she’d stormed off in a
huff after Hay Fever’s final performance. ‘Yes,’ she said, trying
to sound sincere. ‘There have been several productions that you’d
have enjoyed since then.’

‘I don’t think
so! If I ever set foot in that decrepit little theatre again it’ll
be a cold day in hell. You people have some nerve calling me – what
is it, do you need a donation for a new roof, or has the bank
foreclosed on the mortgage again?’

‘No, Simone,
nothing like that. No, it’s just that a director has been asking if
you might be available. There’s a role that has just come up that
he thinks you’d be perfect for.’

‘Who’s the
director? What show? If you think I’m wasting my time again on one
of your tin-pot little productions you can take a running
jump.’

Jessica left a
silence to let Simone hear her own words. There was a sniff, then
the formidable lady backed down a fraction.

‘Well?’

‘Actually it’s
Adam Bryant who’s directing.’ She’ll have to be impressed by that,
thought Jessica, since he’s the best in the country. Now she just
had to convince her about the role.

‘And? What’s
the show?’

Jessica brain
buzzed. This was where it might get a little sticky. She’d know the
show. She’d guess the part she was wanted for. She was a
disturbingly close match for Ada, the fat, evil, toad-like mother
who warps her children’s minds with her cold manipulation.

‘It’s an Agatha
Christie classic – Appointment with Death. Adam’s doing it as a
full-on production with a top-class set and wardrobe – it’ll be
spectacular. He thinks the time’s right for a return to the old
favourites, and let’s face it, Agatha Christie is a real old
favourite. He wants you for one of the lead roles, Simone.’

Jessica clamped
her mouth shut. Damn, she was babbling like an idiot. Shut up and
wait for the scream of outrage. There was a pause. She could hear
Simone breathing. She braced herself.

‘Really? Adam
thought of me for the role?’

‘Er, yes. Yes
he did.’

‘We-ell, I
suppose that might be interesting. When do rehearsals start?’

What! Was this
the famously snotty Simone Duchaine? She was actually sounding
keen! What was going on? Was the devil strapping on his
ice-skates?

‘Actually we’ve
only just held auditions. Rehearsals are a couple of weeks away
once Adam’s free to fly down here and stay. If you could pop along
to the theatre tomorrow, Adam will go through the script with you
and see how you feel about it. Does two o’clock sound all right,
Simone?’

‘Yes, Jessica,
that will be fine. You can relax now dear, you’ve found your
Ginevra.’

She hung
up.

Ginevra? The
waiflike teenage daughter? Jessica smacked her forehead. Houston,
we have a problem.

Briefly tempted
to let Simone hear the bad news from Adam when she turned up to
read the part, Jessica reluctantly shouldered her responsibilities
and picked up the phone.

Jessica was
pleased to see that almost everybody had turned up on time for the
first production meeting. Once the social chitchat in the Green
Room was over and everyone had coffees in their hands, she herded
them through into the Rose Room.

‘Hi everyone.
Thanks for being so punctual. Who are we still waiting for? Nick?
We’ll leave promotions till last then and hope he shows up soon.
Right, Heads of Departments – who wants to go first? Clara-Jane?
What sort of budget do you think wardrobe will need?’

‘It shouldn’t
be too bad.’ Clara-Jane tucked long hair behind her ear and
consulted her notes. ‘We’ve got quite a bit of Arab stuff in the
theatre wardrobe already, and I’m pretty sure the Musical Society
will have a few good 1930s outfits we can borrow. As long as
they’ll do them as reciprocals, I think my budget will only be
about seven hundred.’

‘Excellent!
We’re going to need all the extra cash we can get. What about you,
Gert? How does the props list look?’

White-haired
Gert fumbled for her reading glasses.

‘Just a minute,
dear. Almost ready – there!’ She looked up and beamed. ‘Lots and
lots of suitcases. We’ll be able to use those lovely travelling
baskets that are in the upstairs props cage, too. I’ve wanted to
use them for years. There’s nothing we have to make, so my budget’s
low. Perhaps just six hundred, to get a few odds and ends and some
nice old chairs and tables for the hotel if I can’t borrow them
from anywhere. All right, dear?’

‘Thanks, Gert.
Have you got enough helpers to collect what you need, and to run
props during the show?’

‘Yes thank you,
Jessica. There are some quite bright youngsters I’ve worked with
before and they’re very keen to help.’

The door banged
open and Nick Usher breezed in on a waft of expensive aftershave.
He sketched a bow to the rest of the production team before
kneeling at Jessica’s feet.

‘My humblest
apologies, Jessica, for being so unforgivably late.’ He sprang to
his feet and turned around, presenting the seat of his jeans. ‘I’m
ready to take my punishment like a man.’

‘I think we’ll
take that as read,’ said Jessica drily. ‘Nick – Sit!’

He subsided
into one of the battered armchairs and grinned at her.

‘Right, where
were we before Mr Usher decided to grace us with his presence? Ah
yes – set construction. Switch hats from President to construction
manager, Howard, and tell us what you need.’

Light from the
Rose Room chandelier gleamed on the silver streaks in Howard’s hair
as he leaned forward to speak.

‘Bit hard to
say at this point. Adam’s asked some arty student to design the set
and he hasn’t shown me any plans or sketches yet, so I don’t know
exactly what we’re going to need. There’s a hotel interior that’s
got a bit of construction work in it though, to make a reception
counter and an elevator.’

‘A working
elevator? Bloody hell, that’ll be a trick. How many people do we
have to lift in it? And how am I going to light it?’ Gazza the
lighting guy was looking worried.

‘Don’t panic,
Gazza, it doesn’t have to move. We just need some sliding doors and
a little pointer thingy that someone can operate from behind the
set. No problem.’

‘Just as bloody
well. I can imagine the fun Health & Safety would have if we
tried to lift a bunch of thespians up into the fly tower.’ Gazza
wasn’t one to let go of an idea easily.

‘Anyway,’
Howard continued, ‘there are probably some bits and pieces in store
below stage that we can use for the counter and fittings. The hard
part’s going to be the desert background. Lots of rocks and cliffs.
Adam said he wanted some kind of canvas tent thing as well, and
we’ll probably have to make that from scratch. Can we put TBA on my
budget figure?’

‘OK,
construction budget to be advised,’ said Jessica, making sure it
was noted in the minutes.

‘Right, Nick.
Your big moment. What’s the promotion plan and how much will you
need?’

‘Oh, give us
half a mill and we’ll say no more about it.’ He grinned winningly.
‘No? Oh well, worth a try. I’ve been talking to my boss at the
radio station and he’s happy to give us a fifty percent discount on
ads if we display station signage everywhere we promote. Does that
sound good?’

There was a
chorus of approving comments. Nick looked pleased.

‘Well done,
Nick!’ said Jessica. ‘I hoped you were more than just a pretty
face.’

He clasped his
chest as if shot. ‘Ooh, you wound me. Anyway, I figure about seven
hundred will take care of radio – they’ll do promo slots among the
regular programming as well, and do an interview the week before we
open. Newspaper’s not quite so helpful I’m afraid. No discounts,
usual rates, and their display ads have just gone up by 10 percent.
It’ll probably cost us about eighteen hundred for a decent spread
of ads through to final night. On the plus side, the Arts page will
do a piece on Adam when he gets here, and we can probably dream up
some other aspect for them to feature as we get nearer
opening.’

‘That’s good,
Nick. I’ll hit up my old boss at The Outdoor Company – he still
feels guilty for making me redundant last April. Besides, since
there’s a tent in the show it’ll be a good tie-in for him. Can
anyone else suggest places that might sponsor some ads?’ Jessica
looked round the room. ‘Howard, you’ll run the usual ad for your
shop in the programme, won’t you – assuming your dear lady
accountant lets you?’ She winked at him. Howard’s wife kept a tight
rein on their finances, with good reason. ‘Everyone else, have a
think about who you can ask for sponsorship will you? It doesn’t
have to be much and the company can put their logo on all the ads
they help pay for.’

‘I thought this
was supposed to be a big budget show,’ said Gazza. ‘Doesn’t sound
very well-financed to me. How am I supposed to light a show if
there’s no money to hire the gear?’

‘Come on
Gazza,’ said Howard. ‘We’ve got plenty of lights, and the Musical
Society will lend us a few more. Do we need any specials? A show
like this shouldn’t need anything too high-tech. I don’t suppose
the London theatre had Robo-scans in 1945 when this was first
staged.’

‘All right, two
grand for lighting then, but don’t expect bloody miracles.’ Gazza
tipped his battered leather cap over his eyes and slumped lower in
his armchair.

‘Fair enough,’
said Jessica briskly. ‘Thanks, Gazza. Have you got people to help
rig when you need them?’

‘If you all
keep October 22nd free, yes. Assuming the set’s ready by then.’ He
sat up and eyed Howard with what passed as a grin on his weathered
face.

‘Oh it’ll be
ready mate. Where do you think you’ll be spending your weekends
from now till November 5th!’

‘Remind me -
why do we do this again?’

‘For the love
of the the-ayter, dahling!’ said Clara-Jane, swirling her floral
print skirt. ‘How else will we bring culture to this town of
Philistines?’

‘Saves getting
a life, I suppose. Somewhere to spend our leisure hours, cooped up
in a dark building that’s falling down round our ears, never seeing
the sunlight and living on junk food for weeks on end.’