Simon Brett - Murder Unprompted

Charles owned up, like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Sorry, it was my fault. I got fed the wrong line.’

‘Well, you should have been concentrating on what you were saying. You are meant to think, not just relay the lines like some glorified loudspeaker.’

‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Lapse of concentration. Won’t happen again.’

‘It’d better not. I think you ought to be off the deaf-aid by now.’

‘What?’ Charles was very taken aback.

‘Well, you are going to learn the lines at some point, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, I. . er. . I hadn’t really thought about it.’ He hadn’t. Now he had sorted out the technique of using the deaf-aid, he found it wonderfully relaxing. The strain of remembering the lines was removed, and he could enjoy the acting. It hadn’t occurred to him that at some point his life-support system would be taken away.

‘ I think you should be off the deaf-aid now,’ asserted Wallas Ward righteously. ‘But Paul says wait a bit, no hurry, and it’s his decision.’

‘Right, well, I’ll wait till I hear from him.’

‘And, in the meantime, let us have no repetition of this afternoon’s disgusting display of amateurism.’

Very good, Wallas, yes, Wallas, certainly, Wallas, said all the cast, touching their forelocks in mock-abasement.

‘Maurice Skellern Personal Management.’

‘Still holding out for the twenty per cent, I see, Maurice.’

‘Charles, one has to pay for personal service in this day and age. It’s the same all over the board, you know.’

‘Humph.’

‘Well, and how’s the show going?’

‘Oh, thank you for asking. I take it that question is an example of your Personal Management, the individual care you lavishly bestow on your clients.’

‘Exactly, Charles.’

‘Listen, Maurice, we last spoke nearly a fortnight ago. Since then, not only has the show opened in the West End, but also I, your client, have taken over the leading part. And during that time, what kind of “individual care” have I received? Not even a lousy telephone call. I always have to end up ringing you.’

‘I’m never sure where you are, Charles.’

‘Rubbish. You could always find me if you tried.’

‘I think you’re being very hurtful, Charles. I spend all day beavering away on your behalf and — ’

‘Oh, damn it, Maurice, can’t you — ’

‘That’s very good, Charles, very good.’ Wheezes of laughter wafted down the telephone line.

‘What?’

‘Beavering — damn it. Very good.’

‘Listen, Maurice, as I say I am now playing the lead in this show, and I think it is about time you sorted out some deal on the money I get for doing it.’

‘Now, Charles, if you would calm down a moment and allow me to get a word in, I would be able to inform you that I have already negotiated just such a deal for you.’

‘Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because the details have only recently been finalised with Paul Lexington.’

‘Well, when did you ring him?’

‘He rang me, actually.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘And I suppose that was the first you knew of my taking over the part?’

‘It was, as it happens.’

‘I don’t bloody believe it. Your office must have a great pile of sand in it instead of a desk, so that you can keep your head buried all bloody day.’

‘Now, Charles. . An agent’s job is difficult enough without his clients being offensive.’

‘All right. Tell me what the deal is.’

Charles had devoted considerable thought to this subject. He knew that he wasn’t the most eminent actor in the world, but he still knew that nobody played a starring part in the West End for peanuts. He had to be on three hundred and fifty a week minimum, surely? Maybe a bit more. Maybe a lot more.

‘Paul Lexington was very fair on the phone, I thought, very fair.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘What he said was. .’

‘Yes?’

‘. . that he’d continue to pay your existing contract — ’

‘But that’s only a hundred and fifty a week.’

‘Wait, wait. But, on top of that, he was prepared to pay a supplement.’

‘Oh good.’

‘Because you are actually playing the part.’

‘I certainly am.’

‘A supplement of ten pounds for each performance you do.’

‘Ten pounds! But that’s nothing!’

‘It’s quite generous for an understudy.’

‘But I’m not an understudy. This isn’t the part which I was understudying, anyway. And I am actually playing the part.’

‘Not according to Paul Lexington.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘According to him, you are acting as understudy. And, in a few weeks when he sees how business is going, he will make the decision as to whether to confirm you in the part or to recast.’

‘Good God.’

‘As I say, I thought it very fair. I mean, considering your stature in the business.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Charles dully.

‘I pushed him up, you know. He only wanted to give you eight pounds a performance, but I pushed him up.’

‘Terrific, Maurice.’

But the sarcasm was wasted. ‘Good, I thought you’d see it my way. And now perhaps you understand what I mean by Personal Management.’

‘Oh yes, I think I do.’

‘Good. Well, nice to talk to you.’

‘Hmm. I don’t suppose your Personal Management and “individual care” would actually extend to coming along to see the show, would it?’

‘Oh now, Charles. . I spend all day in the office slaving away on your behalf. Surely you don’t want me to give up my evenings too. Do you. .?’

Michael Banks’s death niggled away at Charles like a hole in the tooth. He had done all the sums, and he knew only one answer fitted, but still something snagged. There seemed little doubt that Alex was the murderer, but Charles felt somehow he owed it to his friend to isolate the element about the case that was worrying him.

So, just before the ‘half’ on the Thursday night, he knocked on Lesley-Jane Decker’s dressing room door.

She was dressed in a silk kimono and lying on the daybed when he went in. Her face was scoured of street make-up, prior to the application of her stage make-up. The result was pale and sickly, stress lines showing how much she would look like her mother in a few years’ time. It was brought home to Charles for the first time how much of a strain the last weeks must have been for a girl of her age. To have broken off one affair and started another, then to have witnessed the shooting of her new lover by the old one, was quite a lot to take. He knew some actresses, hard-boiled as eight-minute eggs, who would have revelled in the situation, casting themselves as femmes fatales with enormous relish. But Lesley-Jane didn’t seem the type. Her sophistication was paper-thin, and underneath she was just a very young, and probably over-protected, girl.

She made no attempt to move when he came in, just lay there looking vulnerable. Nor did she say anything beyond ‘Hello, Charles.’ Her champagne bubble was distinctly flat.

‘Tired out?’ he asked solicitously.

‘Shattered.’

‘Yes, it’s been tough for all of us. Doing eight shows a week is enough, without all this other business.’

‘Yes.’ She looked at him, curious as to why he was there. But not that curious; she seemed too tired to be very interested.

‘I wanted to talk about Michael’s death,’ he began bluntly.

‘Ah.’ Even this didn’t animate her much.

‘I’m sorry to go through it all again, but there’s something about it that seems odd to me.’

‘What?’

‘You see I don’t know. There’s just something that doesn’t seem right about it.’