Murder in the Second Row (26 page)

Jessica made
her way down to the foyer where she looked around for anyone who
was on the Regent’s VIP list. Schmoozing the chosen ones helped to
bring in their donations and support for theatre projects. She
spotted the mayor at the bar and squeezed in beside him.

‘Good evening,
Mr Mayor, I hope you enjoyed tonight’s show?’ She nodded to the
bar-tender. ‘This round is on the house, Greg.’

The mayor
beamed his thanks. ‘Wonderful show, Jessica. A real classic, well
done.’ He looked at her shrewdly. ‘Would I be right in guessing
that you’re not too sad about the delay of Bayldon Oliver’s planned
shopping mall?’

‘You would be
right, indeed, and I’m sure that when they do go ahead, they will
be able to do it without our particular piece of land to build on.
I know shopping malls bring people to the city, Mr Mayor, but so
does this theatre. I hope we can count on your support to find them
an alternative site, and keep all Whetford’s historic buildings
safe?’

He smiled
charmingly. ‘How could I possibly say no to that? I’m sure the
council will do everything it can.’

Howard
appeared, red-faced and perspiring gently after his rapid change
from crew clothes into a dinner jacket. He slapped the mayor on the
back with a hearty greeting.

‘You’re quite
right there Paul, not many men can say no to our Jessica. She has a
knack of getting her own way – I’m glad we’ve got her on our
side!’

Jessica smiled
modestly and left them to do some male bonding while she chatted to
a few other important guests and thanked them for coming to support
the show. When she’d made sure that they felt appreciated, she sent
them on their way with a request to spread the word about the show
to their friends. Judging by the buzz from most people coming out
of the auditorium, there would plenty of talk about the play around
town over the next few days.

Once the
general public had departed, family and friends, who were waiting
patiently, had their chance to greet the performers and make a big
fuss over them. Parents and well-wishers crowded into the foyer
bar, keeping Greg and his team busy handing out the wines and
beers. Within a few minutes, freshly-scrubbed actors began arriving
from backstage to receive their accolades. There were lots of hugs
and back-slappings and cries of “Darling you were wonderful!”

Jessica went
out back to give the remaining stage crew a hand with setting up
for the next night’s performance.

‘I didn’t see
any candidates for the Golden Paddle tonight. Austin, how about
you? Did anything go wrong?’

‘No, they were
all innocent little lambs tonight. Didn’t see any mistakes at
all.’

‘You mean you
got the set in the right place and everything?’ she teased.

He yelped in
protest. ‘Hey, don’t pick on me, I just check the crew’s set-up!
It’ll be the actors you have to watch, like young Stewart here –
they’re the ones who make the most noticeable cock-ups.’

Stewart
pretended to look affronted. ‘Well if you’re going to be like that,
I shall leave you stage-crew drones to carry on without me. I shall
join my actor friends who appreciate me.’ Nose in the air, he
stalked off in a mock huff and went backstage to change. When he
returned, Jessica accompanied him out to the foyer. He held the
door open for her and scanned the crowd hopefully.

‘Have you seen
Nathan tonight, Jessica? He said he’d try to be here.’

Nathan must
have heard his cue as he appeared from behind the door where he’d
been wedged by the crowd.

‘Hey Stew, how
did it go? Sorry I couldn’t be here for the whole show – I had to
work a second shift and couldn’t get away. Was it good?’

‘Yeah, man,
excellent. Your Petra set got applause! Everybody loved it.’

‘Serious?’
Nathan beamed. ‘It really got them clapping? Cool! What about you –
did you get that line right that was bothering you?’

‘Yeah, nailed
it no trouble. Must have been all that practice you made me
do.’

Jessica patted
Nathan on his tie-dyed shoulder and squeezed past them into the
crowd, making her way to the bar where Greg passed her a glass of
wine.

‘Have this one
on me, Jessica. And I’ve got your parcel safely tucked away – let
me know when you want it.’

‘Thanks, Greg.
I’ll get it from you when Adam starts his speech.’

The crowd
gradually dwindled until just the cast, crew, and a few significant
others were left in the foyer.

Adam stepped
onto the second step of the stairs and tapped his glass for quiet.
Conversations quickly died away as all eyes turned towards him.

‘Well done,
everybody – you’ve put together a fine show and from where I was
sitting, the audience thought so too. I’m very proud of all of you,
and I look forward to working with you again one day. Keep up the
good work for the rest of the season and I wish you all the very
best.’

The whole
company applauded enthusiastically.

Howard stepped
up next to Adam and shook his hand.

‘Thanks so much
for all your help, Adam. It’s been a privilege to have you back
here in Whetford, and we look forward to the next time you can join
us. Keep an eye out for any productions that you think would work
here, won’t you? Now, here’s just a small token from the cast and
crew to remind you of the show.’

Jessica passed
him a gift-wrapped parcel which he presented to Adam. Adam
carefully undid the paper and bubble-wrap to reveal a small bottle
filled with a desert picture made of coloured sand. The label round
the neck said “A Souvenir of Petra”.

Adam smiled,
looking impressed. He turned to Jessica. ‘Did you find this? That
was very resourceful of you.’

‘Ah,’ she said,
‘I’ve got friends in all the right places.’ And there wasn’t much
you couldn’t achieve with Google and a credit card. She’d been
mightily relieved when the small Jordanian gift-shop had lived up
to their boast of sending their wares worldwide and she had got the
pretty little bottle safely in her hand. ‘I did think of giving you
a “nice maidenhairy fern” like the script says but I figured you’re
away from home so much it would be a pain to look after.’

‘Practical as
always, Jessica.’ He stepped down and gave her a quick hug. ‘Right,
time to make my exit. Thanks again.’ He raised his voice. ‘Thank
you everyone, you were terrific. I’ll see you next time.’

He made his way
towards the door, shaking hands and exchanging hugs as he went.

Jessica felt a
bit flat after Adam had left so decided not to stay for the rest of
the opening night party, which would no doubt carry on until the
wee small hours. She found Matt and Paul and told them to kick the
revellers out when they wanted to get to bed. She got as far as her
car then remembered to go back and reclaim her flowers from
backstage.

Just before
going to bed, she went online and Googled “meanings of flowers”.
Sure enough, Clara-Jane’s interpretations had been correct. And to
her delight, she found that camomile apparently meant “initiative
and ingenuity”. Jack scored even more points for that one. She
climbed under the bedclothes with a smile on her face.

Next morning
she dressed hurriedly and walked down the road to buy the local
newspaper, eager to read the review of the show. With heart
thumping, she handed over the coins, grabbed the paper, and stood
right outside the shop, flicking urgently through the pages until
she found it. The bold headline made her gasp.

Dated Mystery
Fails to Thrill

The real
mystery is why the Regent Theatre decided to stage this antiquated
Agatha Christie play when her shows are done so often and so well
on television.

That being
said, the production was above average, with Director Adam Bryant
drawing some strong performances from the amateur cast. Simone
DuChaine kept the audience’s attention with her performance as Ida
Boynton, the evil mother who rules her brood of adult step-children
with an iron hand. Actors Phil and Pippa Jessop have been seen
often on the Whetford stage but in this case were not playing
opposite each other, instead taking the roles of Sarah King and
Lennox Boynton. Stewart Parkinson made his debut as the hotel clerk
and Emma Sinclair was suitably fey as Ginevra Boynton. Various
somewhat dated comic characters played counterpoint to the main
drama, as arrogant Lady Westerholme intimidated her companion
Amabel Pryce – who, incidentally, was played in the original London
production in 1945 by a young Joan Hickson who in later years
gained worldwide fame portraying Miss Marple.

The staging
was generally suited to the era, although the garishly red rocks of
the desert set were unnatural and a constant distraction in Acts
Two and Three.

Patrons might
consider bringing cushions to augment the austere seating, and will
need to be prepared for both heat and cold. The Regent Theatre
society is to be commended for keeping the old building operating,
but one has to wonder how much longer they can resist the tide of
progress.

Appointment
with Death runs nightly at 8pm until September 18.

Jessica felt
like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Steadily increasing waves of
anger crashed over her with every feverish re-reading of the weak
yet damning review. Her pulse raced, sweat broke out on her face,
and she felt sick. She crushed the paper into a tube and beat it to
a pulp against a streetlight pole, then kicked the pole hard for
good measure.

Her middle toe
broke with the impact.

As she was
teetering on one leg gasping with pain, her phone rang. She fumbled
it out of her pocket, saw Jack’s name and decided he was worth
answering despite her distress.

‘Yeah, hi,’ she
managed to grind out, grabbing the pole for support.

‘Jessica? Are
you all right?’

‘Not really,
no.’ There was enough hint of tears in her voice for him to respond
instantly.

‘Where are you?
Home? I’ll be there in five minutes.’

She told him
where she was, and was overwhelmingly glad to see him pull up next
to her less than four minutes later. He leaped out of the car and
came to her side, a reassuring smile not quite hiding the anxiety
in his eyes. He helped steady her and opened the passenger door for
her to sit down. Once they were both in the car, he took her
hand.

‘Well Miss
Jones, would you like to make a statement? What happened
exactly?’

She barked a
shaky laugh. ‘Well, yer honour, I was proceeding in a westerly
direction along King Street when I was viciously assaulted by a
passing streetlight pole, resulting in the loss of the ability to
walk. This assault was subsequent to a previous intellectual
mugging by the author of a rather ill-considered piece of drivel
masquerading as a theatrical review.’

Jack considered
this for a while. ‘Bad crit, huh?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you kicked
a pole?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Anything
broken?’

‘Possibly.’

He leant over
and held out his hand for her foot, unlacing her running shoe and
easing it off as gently as possible. He felt each toe in turn,
stopping immediately when she gasped as he touched the middle
one.

‘Hm. Take off
your other shoe.’

‘But I didn’t
hurt that foot – it’s fine, really.’

‘Take off your
other shoe, Jessica.’

She obeyed,
sighing heavily. ‘There, happy now?’

He checked her
feet side by side.

‘Does that sore
toe look a little bit shorter to you?’

She studied her
two middle toes. ‘Yes,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I suppose that
means it’s broken, does it?’

‘Right, it’s
off to the emergency room for you, missy. We’ll get it set and
splinted and you’ll be fine.’

‘Can we stop at
the reviewer’s place on the way?’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ll
probably break my hand when I punch his lights out and it would
save making a second trip.’

He levelled a
severe look at her, and she subsided, head hanging.

‘Just one thing
before we go, Jack – could you buy me another newspaper, please?
I’m going to need a copy of the review to plan what to say to the
cast and crew.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘They’re going to be
devastated.’

As they waited
in the hospital’s emergency room, Jack read the offending review.
He looked at her, puzzled.

‘It doesn’t
look that bad to me. It says the production was above average. What
are you worrying about?’

She laughed
sadly. ‘I know how they’ll interpret it, you see. They’ll only see
the negatives. “The amateur cast” and “somewhat dated” and “garish
unnatural set”. We hang on every word of these damn things because
it’s the only feedback we get other than general applause. And it’s
stupidly important because it can make or break bookings. A lot of
people wait to read the crit before deciding to book, and if it’s a
lacklustre pile of tosh like this one, they probably won’t bother
to go to the show at all. I hope to God the radio guy is nicer to
us. He certainly looked more cheerful on the night.’

She checked her
watch. ‘I want to be home to record the radio review on the Arts
programme at noon. They’ve been advertising all week that the show
review will be on so it might generate quite a bit of interest. If
it’s good and I can play it to the gang at the theatre tonight it
should reverse some of the damage this one’s done.’ She smacked the
newspaper glumly. ‘That is, assuming it’s any better.’

‘Don’t look so
miserable! I’m sure you’ll get a glowing report.’

‘You’re
probably right. It would be a cruel blow if both the critics
happened to be cruel uncultured clods.’ She grinned. ‘Thanks, Jack
– you’re good at making me feel better.’