Peter Lovesey - Stagestruck

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"A wickedly clever writer." – Ruth Rendell
Clarion Calhoun is a fading pop star wanting to launch an acting career. The audience at her debut on stage at Bath's Theatre Royal are expecting a dramatic evening – but what they get is beyond their wildest imagination. When Clarion is rushed to hospital with third degree burns, rumours spread through the theatrical community and beyond. In the best theatrical tradition, the show goes on, but the agony turns to murder. The case falls to Peter Diamond, Bath's top detective – but for reasons he can't understand, he suffers a physical reaction amounting to phobia each time he goes near the theatre. As he tries to find its root in his past, the tension at the Theatre Royal mounts, legends come to life and the killer strikes again…

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‘No change from what? Red cheeks?’

‘It must be more serious than that. One of the cast tried visiting her this morning and was turned away by a security guard.’

‘I wouldn’t read too much into that. These celebs surround themselves with security.’

‘But why?’

‘She’s buying time while she considers her next move.’

This possibility plunged Shearman into greater panic. ‘I think we’ve got to get our own house in order. I had to speak to Martina, the press officer. She was giving statements off the cuff. A few words out of turn and we could find we’re admitting to negligence.’

Even Melmot’s self-possession took a knock. ‘There’s no question of that, is there?’

‘I’m afraid there is – if, as we suspect, the make-up caused the damage. The police spent some time questioning Denise Pearsall. She’s gone home, very anxious.’

‘I’m not surprised. Is she coming in tonight?’

‘She has to. Gisella the understudy will need all the support we can give her.’

Abruptly Melmot changed tack. He was all vigilance now. ‘Be sure to see Denise the moment she arrives and impound her make-up. We don’t want anyone else ending up in Frenchay.’

‘Gisella’s a professional,’ Shearman said. ‘She’ll do her own make-up.’

Melmot gave him a sharp look. ‘I hope you’re not implying that Clarion was out of her depth.’

‘That’s not what I said.’

‘You’re right about publicity. Make it clear that no one speaks to the press except the press officer and she must get everything vetted by you. Incidentally, what did you say to the police this morning?’

‘That was very bizarre. They don’t have a clue what’s going on. The sergeant was all mouth and trousers, quoting Keats and strutting around my office like Olivier doing Henry V . The theatre has that effect on some people. It’s a good thing some of us have our feet on the ground.’

‘What did they want? It’s no business of the police.’

‘Apparently they follow up anything unusual that shows up in Accident and Emergency. It was a routine visit, as far as I could make out.’

‘They won’t be back?’

‘I hope not.’

Melmot made an effort to sound calm again. ‘We can get through this if we act responsibly. Tomorrow’s headlines will be about something else. Performances continue, don’t they?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Business as usual. That’s the way forward.’

When Peter Diamond walked into the Garrick’s Head with Titus O’Driscoll hanging onto his arm for support, there was a collective intake of breath not unlike the scene in Lawrence of Arabia when Lawrence enters the officers’ mess in Cairo accompanied by a native tribesman. The barmaid called out, ‘Ooh, look at these two. Are we an item already?’

‘A glass of water and a cup of weak tea,’ Diamond said through clenched teeth.

‘On a bender, are we?’ she said, and then, after a closer look, ‘What’s up, Titus?’ She added with a giggle, ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Diamond said, after helping Titus into a chair. ‘He passed out. Plenty of sugar in the tea.’

‘Sorry, love. I had no idea,’ she said as she dropped a teabag into a pot and filled it with water from the urn. ‘What could have caused that?’

‘It was all those stairs backstage,’ Diamond said. ‘The blood runs from your head, makes you giddy. How are you doing, Titus?’

The voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Coming round, I think.’

‘Hurry up with the tea,’ Diamond said.

She brought it to the table and set it in front of Titus. ‘Did you see something?’

‘I don’t remember.’ He turned to face Diamond. ‘Where were we when this happened?’

‘In the number one dressing room.’

‘It’s all a blur.’

‘We’d just about finished the tour,’ Diamond said.

‘I thought it was supposed to be a ghost hunt,’ the barmaid said.

‘Yes, we toured the places where the grey lady is said to appear. Titus was in good form, telling me everything. Then out of nowhere he rolled his eyes and his knees went. Luckily I managed to catch him before he fell.’

Titus said with a flicker of animation, ‘Did you? How gallant.’

‘I didn’t have much choice. You fell into my arms.’

‘Oh my word. And I don’t remember any of this. Is that how I recovered – in your arms?’

‘No, I let you sink to the floor. When anyone faints, they re cover quickly in the horizontal position. You soon came round.’

Titus remained grateful. ‘Peter, I can’t thank you enough. I was in good hands, literally. Let me buy you a drink.’

‘Not just now.’ He looked at the clock. ‘Is it as late as that? I must get back to work.’

‘Do you have a card, or something? We must meet again.’

‘No, I don’t.’

Titus fished in his pocket. ‘Have one of mine, and do give me a call. There’s a lot more I could show you – of the theatre, I mean.’

Diamond glanced at the card. There was an icon of two theatrical masks. As well as a dramaturge, Titus was an MA (Oxon) and a freelance lecturer. Below his name were the words ‘The Paragon’ – which only a Bathonian would recognise as a street name. ‘Thanks for showing me round.’

‘Next time, we’ll arrange for the grey lady to materialise.’

‘I doubt if she’ll do it for the likes of me.’

After Diamond had left, the barmaid said, ‘Seems a nice fellow. I wonder what he does for a living.’

‘That much I do remember,’ Titus said. ‘He’s some sort of policeman, unfortunately.’

‘What, without a uniform?’

‘A detective, I expect.’

‘What’s unfortunate about it?’

‘They can never leave the job behind. They’re not encouraged to make friends outside the police.’

‘Do you fancy him, Titus?’

‘He has a certain butch quality that may mean anything, or nothing. And I had a sense that he lives alone. Do you think I did the right thing, giving him my card?’

‘Who can say? One thing is certain.’

‘And what is that?’

‘You’re known to the police now.’

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Back in Manvers Street, Diamond decided to update two of his colleagues, DCI Keith Halliwell and DC Ingeborg Smith. ‘All of this could come to nothing,’ he summed up, ‘but as Georgina put it to me, sitting behind her desk, we must be primed, ready to spring into action.’

Halliwell, his deputy and mainstay, said, ‘Just because Georgina doesn’t want to miss her chance to sing in Sweeney Todd .’

‘Be fair,’ Ingeborg said. ‘The story is all over the papers. If there is a crime involved, we’ll be in the thick of it.’

‘Sorry I spoke.’

Diamond said, ‘Let’s cut to the chase. Suppose it really is a crime. Who’s in the frame?’

‘The dresser,’ Halliwell said at once.

‘Too obvious,’ Ingeborg said.

‘Who do you suggest, then?’

‘The understudy.’

‘Isn’t that obvious, too?’

‘Makes sense,’ Diamond said. ‘She gets the leading role for the rest of the week. But how would she get to damage Clarion’s face?’

‘By adding something to the make-up,’ Ingeborg said. ‘We’d need to know who got made up before Clarion.’

‘All of them did their own except Clarion,’ Diamond told them. ‘She isn’t used to stage make-up, so she got help.’

‘Do we know the understudy’s name?’ Halliwell asked.

‘Gisella Watling.’

‘She’ll be one of the cast, as like as not,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Understudies usually have a small part in the play, ready to step in when necessary.’

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