Peter Lovesey - Stagestruck

‘Is it a write-off?’

‘Total. Do you know what caused the accident?’

The smile surfaced again. ‘I got into one almighty skid coming round a bend and hit a tree. Simple as that.’

‘Going too fast, then?’

‘Story of my life.’

‘Was anyone else involved?’

‘Did I hit anyone?’ Her own words took a moment to sink in before the amusement stopped and she scratched her head. ‘I’d have noticed, wouldn’t I?’

‘I meant were you trying to avoid another vehicle? Someone trying to overtake, perhaps?’

The giggle returned. She was in a strangely playful mood. ‘Are you offering me an alibi, my love? I appreciate that. But I was a Girl Guide once and promised always to tell the truth. The crash was down to me entirely, driving too fast with my little mind on other things.’

‘Like being sacked from the Theatre Royal?’

‘God, no, that’s water under the bridge. I was daydreaming about all the gorgeous fellows I’d like to sleep with.’

At this point, Rogers came in with two chairs, heard what was said, and dropped one of them. Diamond used the interruption to turn to him and mutter, ‘Was she breathalysed?’

Rogers nodded. ‘At the scene, I was told. Negative.’

Kate’s light-minded talk had to be put down to shock, or a side-effect of medication.

She called out to Diamond, ‘Were you asking if I was breathalysed? Christ, yes. They asked me to blow into something as soon as they dragged me out of the wreckage. I’m not stupid. I don’t drink and drive.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ Diamond said, finding it hard to believe.

‘But they rescued my handbag as well, and luckily I keep a small pick-me-up for stressful situations.’ She patted her hand against the pocket of the dressing gown and Diamond saw the glint of a silver flask.

‘Do the hospital staff know you’ve got this?’

She winked. ‘You bet they don’t. No need to look so disapproving, ducky. It’s brandy. It’s medicinal.’

The good thing was that the drink hadn’t taken over entirely. She was speaking coherently even if the delivery was overblown. Maybe a few extra truths would come out.

‘So were you on your way home?’

‘Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like it, yes. What with this week’s show closing, today was my last in the Theatre Royal. I collected my few possessions and walked.’

‘Feeling depressed?’

‘Positively murderous. Is that what you want to hear?’

‘We want honest answers.’

‘Well, you’re getting them. There are sod-all wardrobe jobs in these parts.’

He took the chair Rogers had brought in and moved it so close he caught the brandy on her breath. ‘Why did you let it happen, Kate? You were inviting trouble. You can’t deny that the wardrobe room is in a mess. Even I can see it isn’t meant to be like that.’

‘It wasn’t until lately. I ran it like Buckingham Palace for two years. No complaints and oceans of praise and I dressed some spectacular productions in that time, I can tell you, gents. Imagine all the costume changes in a musical, not just a handful of actors, but twenty or more dancers with about nine changes. Wardrobe has to run like mission control to stay on top.’

‘What went wrong, then?’

‘Sabotage by a certain member of my team.’

‘Denise?’

She rolled her eyes upwards. ‘I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I will. That bitch was out to get me. She’d worked in this theatre longer than anybody and wanted to queen it over us all backstage. She was only a dresser, bugger it, the senior dresser, I admit, but she was supposed to be under me. She saw I was running my wardrobe superbly and she hated it.’

‘Jealous?’

‘And some. Then things started going wrong. Clothes went missing mysteriously, the washing machine kept flooding, the irons overheated and scorched things. One morning I came in and found my button collection, thousands of them, all over the floor. You’re thinking these are silly little glitches, but they ruined my system. Actors would come complaining about their costumes and I’d find the labels had been switched or seams had been loosely tacked and wouldn’t stand any sort of use. I was forever trying to catch up. I stayed late, lost sleep, had to take tranquillisers. In the end, I thought what the hell and just did the minimum. I can’t tell you the snide remarks and the gripes I endured from that woman on a daily basis. She could have run wardrobe so much better, in her opinion.’

‘Had she put in for the job when you applied?’

‘No – or she would have been handed it on a plate, according to her. She was one of those people – I expect you have them in the police – who won’t take responsibility but are the first to slag off anyone who does.’

‘I thought she held down some high-powered jobs before coming to Bath. You were telling me about them when we first spoke.’

‘I wouldn’t call putting cosmetics on corpses high-powered. I’m talking about heading a key department in a major theatre.’

‘Didn’t you say she ran a drama group in Manchester?’

‘The prison. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she was an inmate.’

‘Manchester is men only.’

‘Anyway, it must have been voluntary work, not professional. And when you say ‘ran’ it, I’m sure the screws were there to make sure no one stepped out of line.’

Kate wasn’t giving an inch in her demolition of Denise’s CV.

‘She also toured Bosnia, you said, with some theatre group. Presumably they were professional?’

‘It was only a road show, darling. They all fitted into a minibus – cast, crew, costumes, scenery and all the props. That’s not theatre. That’s busking.’

‘Did you ever accuse her of undermining you?’

‘Frequently, and she laughed in my face and dared me to take it up with the management. She had a line into the board room, didn’t she?’

‘Francis Melmot?’

‘Yes. Every time I had a crisis in wardrobe, his lordship would hear about it and come gunning for me. Bloody Denise was running a campaign to get me fired and eventually she succeeded.’

‘Was she friendly with him?’

‘You mean sleeping with the shitbag? I doubt it. She may have dangled the bait, but he’s an odd fish, very odd. More like a jellyfish. And she was a stingray.’ She giggled again. ‘I shouldn’t be talking like this. You’ll be thinking I topped her. Actually I didn’t. I wouldn’t risk a life sentence for that creepy dame.’

‘Was she telling tales about anyone else?’

‘I couldn’t tell you.’ She smiled. ‘Well, I expect she told Melmot about Hedley and me, just more proof that wardrobe had gone to the dogs.’

‘How long have you and Hedley Shearman been…?’

‘Having it away? Not long. Hed’s a serial flirt, I know, but he’s sweet and does his best to fight my cause with Melmot.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t think he has much influence really. He was outgunned when they hired Clarion to play Sally Bowles. What a disaster that was. I could have told them.’

‘Did you?’

‘No, but Hedley did, and they ignored him, poor lamb. They regret it now. The chickens came home to roost with a vengeance.’

‘If Clarion was such a risk, I’m surprised they gave her the part.’

‘It was the glamour thing, wasn’t it? She was a sleb and Melmot was acting like a teenybopper. She stayed at his house. Men are so transparent, but I bet nothing happened. You can be sure his old mum was stalking the corridors all night. Have you met her?’

Diamond let it pass. There were more critical matters to explore while Kate was being so expansive. ‘On the evening Clarion was killed, you and Hedley were together in the wardrobe department.’