Sicken and So Die

Table of Contents

The Charles Paris Mystery Series

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CAST, IN ORDER OF DISAPPEARANCE

SO MUCH BLOOD

STAR TRAP

AN AMATEUR CORPSE

A COMEDIAN DIES

THE DEAD SIDE OF THE MIKE

SITUATION TRAGEDY

MURDER UNPROMPTED

MURDER IN THE TITLE

NOT DEAD, ONLY RESTING

DEAD GIVEAWAY

WHAT BLOODY MAN IS THAT?

A SERIES OF MURDERS

CORPORATE BODIES

A RECONSTRUCTED CORPSE

SICKEN AND SO DIE

DEAD ROOM FARCE

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This title first published in Great Britain in 1995 by Victor Gollancz

eBook edition first published in 2012 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 1995 Simon Brett.

The right of Simon Brett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0019-8 (epub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

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To Michael

THINGS WERE actually going rather well for Charles Paris. Basically, it was a matter of work. He had work, he was in work, he was working. For an actor, a job is the switch that turns the personality on to full power. Without it Charles Paris existed. He had all the components of himself: his cynicism, his gloom, his apologetic lusts, his drinking, his deflated air of defeat. But with a job all those elements fused and he was energised, sustained by a galvanic charge that even incorporated optimism.

What was more, he was doing good work. He was playing a good part in what promised to be a good production of a good play.
Twelfth Night
by William Shakespeare; plays don't come a lot better than that. Nor, for a slightly frayed, unravelling actor in his late fifties, do parts come a lot better than Sir Toby Belch.

Playing a major Shakespearean role made Charles feel that perhaps his career had come back on course – or perhaps finally come on course. The theatre offers no obvious career structure – indeed its ups and downs make investing in the National Lottery look a secure bet – but there are certain milestones to which all actors aspire. To play Sir Toby Belch in one's late fifties is a necessary notch carved on the bedpost of a career, a qualification which opens up the possibility of a Henry IV, a Prospero, or even the ultimate prize of a Lear, in one's sixties.

Charles had played big parts in Shakespeare before, but the time or the production had never been right. He had been too young when cast as
Macbeth
, badly directed as Henry V and, as for his leading role in
Julius Caesar
, well, even Charles himself agreed with the estimation of the
Lancashire Evening Post
that ‘here was a Mark Antony to whom even Vincent Van Gogh wouldn't have lent an ear.'

But this
Twelfth Night
felt right. Only a week into a five-week rehearsal period, but the whole production had a glow of confidence about it, a growing conviction among the company that they were involved in a show that was going to be successful.

This was something of a surprise because the director was not the most dynamic in the history of the theatre. In fact, Charles Paris had always considered Gavin Scholes rather ineffectual. They'd worked together a good few times, most recently on
Macbeth
at the Pinero Theatre, Warminster, where Gavin had been Artistic Director.

Charles had assumed that at the end of his contract there Gavin would have retired to nurse his hypochondria and irritable bowel syndrome; but the
Director
had confounded expectations by developing a very successful subsequent career as a freelance. This was proof once again that charisma and innovation in the world of theatre count for less than good old-fashioned competence. Gavin Scholes' productions might not set the world on fire, but they told their stories clearly, they came in on time and stayed within their budgets. These were virtues that appealed to production companies.

The current
Twelfth Night
was being mounted by Asphodel Productions, a touring management who had risen to prominence during the previous five years. Their recipe of simply narrated classics – frequently Shakespeare and almost always A-level set texts – had proved extremely successful. Clever, uncluttered set design had made their productions mobile and suitable for all kinds of different performance spaces. One week they'd appear in a conventional theatre, the next a school gymnasium, then a library, a leisure centre, a church hall or a warehouse. As the company's fame spread, so did the range of their touring venues, which now included foreign destinations.

They were poised for greater recognition. They needed one breakthrough production to capture the attention of the national press, and Asphodel's name would be firmly fixed on the British cultural map.

The designated tour for
Twelfth Night
was characteristic of the company's current outreach. It began in early August. The first six performances would be open air, in the gardens of Chailey Ferrars, an Elizabethan mansion in Hertfordshire; they would be presented as part of the nine-day Great Wensham Festival.

Thereafter the show would move on to a studio theatre in Norwich for two weeks. Seven performances in a Billericay leisure centre would be followed by three in a public school's own theatre near Crawley and three on the boarded-over swimming pool of a Reading comprehensive. After a week in a converted Methodist chapel near Cheltenham, the company had a few days' break before the high-spot of the tour – three performances at the University of Olomouc in the Czech Republic. Back in England, two weeks in a former corn exchange in Warwick, a temperance hall in Swindon and a prefabricated sports dome in Aldershot would then climax in the relatively sedate booking of three weeks back at Gavin Scholes' former base, the Pinero Theatre in Warminster.

For Charles Paris all of this represented, with rehearsals, the rare phenomenon of nearly five months' guaranteed work. It also offered the prospect of recapturing the excitement of constant change which had largely vanished from the theatre since the demise of weekly rep.

As well as being cautious in his interpretation of plays, Gavin Scholes was also conservative in his casting. He liked working with people he knew, their familiarity cushioning him against the potential ‘difficulty' of actors he didn't know. When he had to introduce new members into this charmed circle, he favoured performers suggested by actors he did know. He particularly liked to use recommended young actors at the beginning of their careers; they were eager and biddable, and unlikely to question the authority of their director.

Charles Paris recognised that this approach was uninventive and prevented Gavin's productions from reaching the creative heights, but the system was not one he was going to complain about, since he was one of its beneficiaries. However suitable Charles Paris might be for Sir Toby Belch, he couldn't see the National or the RSC suddenly going out on a limb and casting him in the role. They'd go for someone much more starry and voguish. Come to that, Charles couldn't see himself getting the part in any lesser company where an old pal's act was not in operation.

So he was all in favour of Gavin Scholes' ‘safety-first' casting policy. It brought another benefit too; there were other members of the
Twelfth Night
company with whom Charles had worked before, which is always – or, depending on the individuals involved, perhaps ‘usually' would be a better adverb – a comfort to any actor. Two of the cast of Gavin's
Macbeth
were also in the new production.

Russ Lavery had come a long way since playing Fleance and Young Siward in Warminster. That had been his first job in the theatre, and then his undoubted talent had been obscured by a callow, puppyish approach to the business. But four or five years of solid stage work and small television parts had preceded the breakthrough when he'd been cast as Dr Mick Hobson in ITV's
Air-Sea Rescue
.

The show, now into its third series and showing no sign of flagging in the ratings, had turned a young actor of identical talent to at least a hundred of his contemporaries into a household name and a household face.
Air-Sea Rescue
had brought Russ Lavery all of the bonuses of money from escalating fees and foreign repeats, fan mail from half the nation's teenage girls, lucrative offers for personal appearances and voice-overs, and the possibility of saying in interviews that ‘I get sent lots of scripts, but I don't like to commit myself to a project unless I feel it is a really exceptional piece of work.'

It also enabled him to say in interviews that ‘I really feel the need to get back to my theatrical roots', which explained his appearance in Gavin Scholes'
Twelfth Night
. The fact that he was playing the relatively small and ungrateful part of Sebastian did his image no harm at all. Rather, it demonstrated what an unstarry star Russ Lavery was, and how serious was his dedication to his art. The presence of a well-known television name in the cast of
Twelfth Night
wouldn't do any harm at the box office, either.

The other familiar face in the company provided Charles Paris with even greater cause for celebration. John B. Murgatroyd was an actor against whom Charles had frequently bumped in his theatrical career, and the experience had always been a delightful one. John B. was a clown, a great giggler, in whose company Charles had often been reduced to incapable hysterics and behaviour which would have been judged immature in a primary school. John B. was a terrific person to have around any production.

In the Warminster
Macbeth
he had given his distinctive and stunningly versatile interpretations of both Lennox and the First Murderer. In
Twelfth Night
he was playing Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Since most of Sir Toby Belch's scenes included the wan and winsome knight, Charles was relishing the prospect of building up his double act with John B. on-stage as well as off.

And it wasn't just the work that was going well. For once, Charles Paris's emotional life was also looking promising. He wasn't experiencing the tense, manic uncertainty of a new love affair, but the solid comfort of an old one.