Cherringham--Playing Dead (6 page)

“Apart from my pride,” said Ellie. “I bet it looked bloody funny though.”

“Not to me,” said Sarah.

“What happened?” said Jack.

“One minute I’m running across the stage into ‘my true love’s’ arms — next minute I’m falling through a bloomin’ hole in the floor!”

“Someone must have opened the trap?” said Jack.

“Second she stepped on it — the thing just folded open,” said Sarah.

She saw Jack looking up at the trapdoor mechanism.

“Let’s see if you can stand, shall we Ellie?” said Sarah. “I still can’t quite believe you’re not badly hurt.”

“Down the Ploughman’s we’ve got a hole down to the cellar — I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve gone arse over tit down there. Honest — I’m okay.”

Sarah looked at Jack and tried not to laugh. If Ellie was unharmed then it was a big relief.

“Come on then,” she said.

And she and Jack helped Ellie to her feet.

“Everything all right down there?” came Ambrose’s voice from above. “Ambulance is on its way.”

“Hey, I don’t need an ambulance,” said Ellie, brushing herself down. “But I’ll tell you one thing. This top’ll never come clean.”

“You should see a doctor anyway, Ellie — just in case,” said Jack, helping her up the steep steps. “And somebody ought to stay with you this evening.”

“Totally agree,” said Kramer, his face suddenly appearing at the edge of the trap. “I’ll look after you. Nothing’s too good for our leading lady!”

Hands reached down from above to help Ellie up on to the stage and Sarah watched carefully to make sure she didn’t fall back again.

“It’s a very kind offer, Jez,” said Sarah quickly. “But I’ll make sure she gets home okay and put her to bed.”

“Oh,” said Kramer, clearly disappointed at the lost opportunity. “Right you are then.”

As Sarah looked up through the trap, the other actors disappeared from view to care for Ellie. She turned to Jack.

“I don’t believe in accidents any more, Jack.”

“Me neither. That fall could have killed her.”

“Could have — or should have?”

“Maybe. You head up top, take care of Ellie. Reckon rehearsals will be over for tonight.”

“What will you do?”

“Get Todd to join me down here would you? On the quiet?”

“You think someone tampered with the mechanism?”

“Sure of it.”

“I’ll see if I can place where everyone was when it happened.”

“Good thinking,” said Jack. “Catch you later?”

“Why don’t you drop by in the morning. Have breakfast with the kids.”

“Will do,” he said. “Oh and Sarah — you be careful, okay? Whoever’s doing this just doesn’t seem to care who’s in the firing line.”

Sarah nodded to Jack and climbed the steps. It was going to be a long evening.

“Bacon sandwich isn’t a bacon sandwich, Jack, unless it’s got HP in it.”

Mouth already half-open, Jack stared at Daniel who was thrusting a small bottle of sauce at him across the kitchen table.

“HP, huh?” said Jack, putting his bacon sandwich down on his plate and contemplating the mysterious bottle.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack,” said Chloe. “That stuff’s disgusting.”

“Yeah? What do you know?” said Daniel to his sister.

“Leave him be, both of you,” said Sarah coming in with a pot of coffee and putting it on the table. “Freshly brewed Jack — in your honour.”

“Appreciate that,” said Jack. He took the bottle of brown sauce, poured a little on his sandwich and ate.

He could see Daniel watching intently, waiting for a verdict.

“Interesting,” said Jack.

“
Knew
you’d love it,” said Daniel, grabbing his coat and bag then heading upstairs.

“Don’t forget your lunch, love,” called Sarah.

Jack watched Chloe grab a piece of toast and walk out of the room.

“Manners, Chloe — how many times—”

But she was gone again. Jack heard the front door slam and guessed that she was racing off to school.

They come … they go.

He loved this chaos though — took him back twenty years to New York, breakfasts at home, everyone flying out the door.

“Sorry Jack, she’s just—” said Sarah.

“Hey, no worries
…
I have a daughter, remember?”

Daniel came racing back into the kitchen.

“Football kit mum!” said Daniel.

“Where it should be,” said Sarah.

Jack watched the twelve-year-old trying to compute the notion that something might be located where it should be — then caught Sarah’s eye as he stormed back upstairs.

Sarah sat at the table and poured them both a coffee, then waited. Jack could hear Daniel slamming cupboards open and closed…

…then he heard him race down the stairs again.

“See you later Mum, bye Jack!” shouted Daniel.

And then Jack heard the front door slam and there was silence.

“So,” said Sarah, sipping her coffee. “Where were we?”

Jack pulled the morning’s paper from his jacket and handed it over.

“Page five,” he said. “You can’t miss it.”

He watched Sarah leaf through the pages, then stopped abruptly.

“
Cherringham’s very own Ghostbuster — Hollywood director Jez Kramer shrugs off attack of the spooks in real-life theatre mystery
,” she read.

“See the picture?” said Jack.

“Oh, very classy,” said Sarah. “Mr. Kramer himself with his head underneath his arm.”

“I suspect that’s just where your mother would like it to be, huh?”

“Her and a lot of the cast too,” said Sarah, still reading the article.

“Gets worse,” said Jack. “Someone’s even unearthed a connection between the theatre and Mabb’s Farm.”

“
Brave director battles ancient curse and accidents to bring forgotten masterpiece to public attention
,” read Sarah. “Maybe time to page our local mystic, Tamara, hmm?”

“Interesting spin on events.”

“And totally made up.”

“Don’t forget — it is a newspaper.”

“Listen to this —
‘“I may have won many BAFTAs,” says Jez, “but I do so believe in giving back — little theatres like Cherringham can benefit from my professional experience
.”’ Yuk.”

“You see the by-line?”

“Umm… Oh. Of course. It had to be.”

“Your very own pal we saw in the restaurant — Pete Brooker.”

“Written the day
before
Ellie’s accident, I bet,” said Sarah, tossing the paper on to the kitchen table.

“Over a nice meal at the Old Pig and a few single malts afterwards Jez Kramer, no doubt.” said Jack.

“So — you think Kramer’s behind all this? Sabotaging his own show to get publicity?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” said Jack. “Those famous BAFTAs were a long time ago — and right now I’d say you’re seeing a career on the rocks.”

“But if he was behind it all — how? He’s been on stage every time there’s been an accident.”

“Maybe that’s the plan — he’s got a ready-made alibi.”

“You’re thinking he has an ally — someone in the cast pulling strings?”

“Literally,” said Jack. “Whenever an accident happens, our hero’s right there in the thick of it.”

“But Jack — everybody hates him. Why would anyone help him?”

“It’s amazing what a few hundred bucks can do to change an opinion.”

“Maybe,” said Sarah. “But what about the trapdoor yesterday? I saw him walk across it twice in the scene and nothing happened.”

Jack thought about that.

“Hmm. I gotta say that’s the one thing that doesn’t quite add up. Unless his partner-in-crime was below the stage all the time waiting for a cue to set the trap.”

“Sounds complicated,” Sarah added.

Jack nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Whoever did it had slipped two of the four bolts and left all the hinges in place.”

“So there’s no way they could predict when it would give way?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jack. “It was totally random. Ellie just got unlucky because she just raced into the scene and hit the trap hard enough.”

“Wait — then it could just as easily have been Kramer?”

“Unless he avoided the spot, waiting for someone else to fall through.”“So where are we? Could Kramer really be doing all this, just for the publicity?”

“Maybe. I’m not taking our beloved director out of the frame,” said Jack. “Just thinking we need to dig a little deeper down at the theatre.”

He watched as Sarah opened up a folder that lay on the table and took out the details of the cast and crew.

“Let’s make a list,” she said. “Who’s got a motive? And who can we place at the scene of the crime?”

“Gotta love lists,” said Jack. “But don’t forget — could be more than one bad guy…”

“Okay,” said Sarah, sliding her finger down the cast list. “I’m going to take out Tony and my mum — okay?”

Jack laughed at that. “Sure.”

“Which leaves, starting at the top: Ambrose?”

“He’s certainly got a motive. But I doubt he could fix the trap door, or climb up to rig the lighting.”

“Kramer?”

“Well he’s obnoxious and ambitious enough, though in a court of law that doesn’t mean much.”

“Ellie?”

“Unlikely — but if we are talking about anyone who might possibly be a suspect, don’t rule her out. I hear she’s always short of cash—”

“You’re a suspicious man, Jack Brennan,” said Sarah. “Laura?”

“Estate agent huh? Could be a stooge. Maybe working with Andy Parkes…”

“Hey! Now you’re just getting personal. Laura’s sweet. How about Phil Nailor?”

“Hmm, our new stage bobby. Real-life farmer — so he could fix the ropes and bolts for sure. But no motive that I can see.”

“And — he wasn’t even around for the first rehearsals.”

Jack poured himself another coffee and pondered.

“Hey, I know,” said Jack. “The butler did it!”

“You mean — what’s his name, guy who works at Costco’s?”

“Ben something.”

“Ferris,” said Sarah. “Possible — but motive? I don’t think so.”

“That all the cast?”

“Save for me. Should I be on the list?”

Another laugh. “I’ll vouch for you. Hmm, okay… How about backstage?” “Well apart from you — and against my better judgement I’m likewise sticking you in the innocent pile, Jack — there’s just Todd.”

“Again, no motive I can see,” said Jack. “But he’s certainly got the expertise. The trap, the light … could be a motive we don’t know. Yet.”

“And you like him.”

“I do,” said Jack. “But that shouldn’t get in the way.”

He watched Sarah fold up the cast and crew list.

“That’s everyone, Jack.”

“Plus our property developer.”

“Andrew Parkes,” said Sarah. “Why don’t I track him down for a little chat today?”

“Why not? Then, let’s you and I see who’s looking guilty at tonight’s rehearsal. Start asking some questions.”

“So … you not going to finish your bacon sandwich?” she said, getting up and starting to clear away.

“I think not,” said Jack helping her take the plates to the dishwasher. “No offence — but maybe next time I drop by for breakfast you hide that evil brown sauce from Daniel?”

“Let me guess — you’re a mayo man or nothing, huh?”

“You got it,” said Jack, putting on his coat. “See you tonight Sarah.”

And he headed out.

The skies looked clear, and if it didn’t rain he had plans to give the Grey Goose — the Dutch barge he lived on down on the river — the beginnings of a spring clean.

Nothing like scrubbing the decks for solving a crime…

Sarah was late getting to her little office overlooking the village square, but she knew her assistant Grace would have opened up and got the coffee going.

When she opened the office door though, she got a jolt of surprise: there was a man standing at her desk facing her.

For a second she thought she’d disturbed an intruder.

“Who are you?” she said instantly, looking quickly round the office for signs that Grace was there.

Then Grace came out of the little kitchen at the back looking nervous.

“Name’s Parkes,” said the man making no move to shake hands — or smile.

“Andrew Parkes?” she said, confused — why was the man she’d been planning on speaking to today here now?

“The very same.”

Grace stood motionless at the kitchen door: “Sorry, Sarah, I told him he couldn’t come in without an appointment but he wouldn’t go, just
insisted
and I didn’t know what—”

“That’s okay, Grace, not your fault,” said Sarah, taking off her coat and not removing her eyes from her visitor.

“This is a busy office, Mr. Parkes, how can I help you?” she said.

“Busy huh? World I live in, we start work at eight,” he said in a monotone. “Guess you city types just swan in when you feel like it?”

“As Grace told you — we usually only meet clients on an appointment basis.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a client, am I?”

“So how can we help you?” said Sarah, horribly aware of the current of aggression that marked Parkes’s every word. She looked quickly over towards Grace — her assistant looking just as concerned.

“You can start by explaining why the hell you’re slandering me all around the damn village?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Telling people I’ve been causing accidents in the theatre, hurting people, poisoning and the like,”

“What? I’ve done no such thing—”

“Sticking your nose in to my business and looking at my contracts — which are private — do you understand the meaning of private?”

Sarah for the first time in a very long time felt scared — this guy was seriously angry, she and Grace were alone up here in the office, and his whole body language was barely restrained fury…

Got to stay calm,
she thought.

“Mr. Parkes, I have done
none
of those things, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d just calm down—”

“Don’t you bloody tell me to calm down, woman, this is my livelihood.”

Sarah nodded to Grace in a way they’d practised before — a way which meant
call the police now
and she was relieved to see Grace slip away into the back kitchen with her mobile.