Peter James - Not Dead Yet

‘Is the boy all right?’

‘Yes, sir, he’s with his mother in her trailer.’

‘Who is the man? One of the film crew?’

‘So far, no one recognizes him.’

‘A maintenance worker, perhaps?’

‘Could be, sir.’

Tingley looked around. ‘Right, get some back-up here fast. I’m treating this as a crime scene. I want the entire building cordoned off, get everyone out, but take the names and addresses of everyone in the building, including the security guards, as they leave.’

She nodded, looking around, taking it all in.

‘Start with this room,’ he said, helpfully. ‘Tape it off. No one leaves until you have their name and address.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She radioed for assistance, then hurried out.

Tingley strode across the room towards the wreckage. As he did so he caught the eye of the male paramedic, Phil Davidson, whom he had met on several previous occasions.

Davidson nodded grimly. ‘It’s like that scene in Only Fools and Horses when the chandelier came down.’

‘What do we know about who’s under there?’ Tingley asked, ignoring the comment about the TV sitcom.

‘One male, according to witnesses.’

Aware of almost everyone in the room looking at him, Tingley went as close as he could to the edge of the chandelier.

‘Fifteen,’ the female paramedic announced grimly.

‘It’s looking like it’s going to be a fatality,’ Davidson said quietly to the detective. Then, using gallows humour jargon he added, ‘A scoop and run at best, I’d say.’

An agitated American voice said, ‘Excuse me, can I help you?’

Jason Tingley turned and found himself facing a short, lean man, with a tanned bald dome, dressed in a black shirt with silver buttons, open almost to the navel, black jeans and Cuban-heeled boots. The detective flashed his warrant card in his face. ‘Detective Inspector Tingley, Sussex CID. Can I help you ?’ he said, pointedly.

‘Good to meet you, sir. I’m the producer of this movie. Larry Brooker.’

Tingley shook his hand. It felt like patting the head of a poisonous snake whose venom had been removed.

‘I just heard you’ve ordered the entire building to be cleared,’ Brooker said. ‘Did I hear right?’

‘You did.’

‘Well, the thing is, officer, we have a bit of a situation here, as you can see.’

The detective gave him a sideways look. ‘I think you could say that, yes.’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young woman PC hurrying back into the room with a reel of blue and white police crime scene tape.

‘Like, I have Gaia, and Judd Halpern, and Hugh Bonneville, Joseph Fiennes and Emily Watson all waiting in their trailers. We gotta get some footage in the can tonight – because of our schedule.’

The DI looked at Brooker, incredulously. Then he pointed at the chandelier and the emergency service workers. ‘You’re aware that there is a man underneath that? A human being?’

‘Sure, of course. Like, I’m as shocked as everyone else.’

‘So what actually is your point, sir?’

‘My point is that we’re already behind schedule. This is terrible. Tragic. Fucking English maintenance, right – I mean – where else in the world could this happen?’

He seemed oblivious to the Detective Inspector’s stony glare.

‘The thing is, we have to get some footage in the can tonight. Like, I’m just wondering how fast this mess could be cleared? So we could carry on? We can shoot around the chandelier, not a problem.’

Jason Tingley simply could not believe what he was hearing. ‘Mr Brooker, we have a possibly fatally injured person. This is now a crime scene.’

‘Crime scene? It’s a goddamn accident! A terrible accident.’

‘With respect, sir, at this point in time I have no evidence to support it being an accident. Unless – or until – I do, this is a crime scene. My crime scene. I own this now, do you understand? I’m clearing everyone from it, and no one is going to be filming here tonight or any time soon. I apologize for inconveniencing you, but do you understand that?’

Brooker stared back at him and began stabbing at the air with his finger. ‘Listen to me and listen good, Detective Inspector Tingles.’

‘Tingley .’

‘Yeah? Well, whatever, you’d better listen good, Detective. You’d better understand me. I have your Director of Tourism, Adam Bates, totally on board. This is the biggest goddamn motion picture your city’s ever had shot here. I’m not having my multi-million-dollar production set back because of this building’s shit maintenance.’

Jason Tingley, standing his ground, said, ‘At this point, my priority is to ensure the safety of everyone in this building, Mr Brooker.’ He pointed up at the other four, smaller, chandeliers. ‘I’m going to have someone from Health and Safety here at any moment, wanting a full check. One chandelier’s come down. Do you really want to risk the lives of those stars by not having proper safety checks on the others?’

Brooker looked at his watch, a big, chunky digital thing that looked like it belonged on the instrument panel of a Space Shuttle. ‘You know, with respect, officer, this is not your call.’

‘Fine. Speak to the Chief Constable. But until he directs me otherwise, this is my crime scene, and I have to warn you that if you attempt to obstruct me I will arrest you.’

Brooker glowered at him. ‘You know what you are? You’re fucking unreal!’

You are too, Jason Tingley thought.

Roy Grace, almost home, was hunting for a parking space near Cleo’s house when Jason Tingley phoned him to tell him what had happened.

He listened intently, all his instincts telling him this was not coincidence, and he said he was on his way. It was only a few minutes’ drive from here to the Pavilion. Moments after the DI hung up his phone rang again. As he answered he heard the nasal James Cagney voice of Gaia’s security adviser Andrew Gulli.

‘Detective Superintendent Grace?’

‘Yes, how are you?’

‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on, Detective Grace?’

‘I’m actually on my way to find out myself.’

‘I understand that Gaia’s kid was almost killed just now. This is not an acceptable situation.’

‘How is he?’

‘He’s fine. But Gaia’s pretty distressed.’

‘If you want to meet me at the Pavilion-’

‘I’m already there,’ Gulli cut him short. ‘I need to know what’s going on. Is your goddamn building falling down, or is there someone behind this? I have to make decisions regarding my client’s security. Am I making myself clear?’

‘Meet me at the front entrance in five minutes.’

‘I’m there.’

Grace hung up and immediately phoned Cleo, warning her he didn’t know what time he would be home now. She told him she understood – not something Sandy had said to him very often.

Then his phone rang yet again. It was the Chief Constable. ‘Roy, what information do you have about this incident at the Pavilion?’

‘I’m on my way there now, sir.’

‘I don’t like the sound of it at all.’

‘No, sir. I can call you back and give you an update after I get there.’

‘Yes, please do.’

A few minutes later he drove into the Pavilion grounds, which were ablaze with blue flashing lights. A large crowd of onlookers was gathered along the far side of the perimeter wall, camera flashes popping intermittently. Two PCSOs were busily cordoning off the entire Royal Pavilion building, and another was already in situ as a scene guard. A dozen bewildered-looking people, film crew he supposed, were milling around on the lawn beneath the darkening sky which was threatening rain, some making phone calls, some smoking. A police van, laden with uniformed officers, siren wailing, turned into the archway as he got out of his car.