Stagestruck (20 page)

He was late getting in and slow to get a grip. Worse, the CID

office was empty except for a civilian computer operator.

‘Am I missing something? Was there a bomb alert?’

‘They were all in first thing, sir.’

That comment shamed him into checking the clock. Already Halliwell would be an hour into observing the postmortem, getting to the gory stage, and Paul Gilbert would be standing over a forensic scientist analysing the contents of the powder box. Someone else, presumably, was at the theatre searching for Denise’s handbag.

‘Sergeant Dawkins ought to be in.’

‘He was, but earlier, sir. He’s out on an assignment with Ingeborg Smith.’

‘Doing what, for Christ’s sake?’

‘They didn’t say.’

He had his answer five minutes later when Ingeborg walked in with a fashion plate: Fred Dawkins, transformed, in a black leather jacket, white T-shirt and jeans.

‘Strike a light!’

‘Cool?’ Ingeborg said.

He couldn’t bring himself to say so. ‘He needs a haircut and the brown shoes look wrong. Aren’t they the same ones he was wearing yesterday?’

‘Give me a break, guv,’ she said. ‘I can’t fix everything.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Charity shops mostly. The jacket is Oxfam.’

‘How do you feel?’ Diamond asked Dawkins.

‘Like the proverbial pox doctor’s clerk,’ the fashion victim answered. ‘However, if it gets me out on active duties, I shall be more than compensated.’

‘It’s taken ten years off you,’ Ingeborg said.

‘It’s added ten to me,’ Diamond said. ‘I’m promising nothing, Fred. We’ll see how the day develops. Is John Leaman in?’

‘At the theatre with two from uniform searching for the hand bag,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Keith said you suggested it last night.’

The nitpicking Inspector Leaman was ideal for that job. If the bag was lying anywhere, John would find it. ‘Okay. By the end of the morning we may be able to put this case to bed. The evidence is stacking up that Denise used the caustic soda on Clarion and killed herself when she realised the full extent of her action. Any ideas why?’

‘Why she wanted to maim Clarion?’ Ingeborg said. ‘Can we agree it couldn’t have been a mistake?’

‘The intent is clear,’ Dawkins said. ‘Malice aforethought.’

The phrase conjured a momentary image of Fred as a judge. With his ponderous delivery he’d be well suited. Ermine would have looked better on him than black leather. ‘It’s not a particularly intelligent crime, is it?’ Diamond said. ‘Anyone could work out who did it.’

‘Angry people lose all sense of proportion,’ Ingeborg said. ‘We don’t know her motive. She may have been at her wits’ end, wanting to stop Clarion.’

‘But why?’

‘God knows what went on between them. Denise had worked there as a dresser for six years. She was under instructions to nursemaid Clarion. She may have felt her effort wasn’t appreciated. Clarion is used to people idolising her.’

‘A lot of actors are prima donnas,’ Dawkins said. ‘A dresser would be able to cope with that.’

‘Yes, but most actors are good at what they do. They’re entitled to some respect. Clarion was no good in the role and still wanted the star treatment.’

‘Allow me to propose another motive, then.’

A sigh. Tolerant as she was, even Ingeborg showed signs of losing her patience. ‘Go on.’

‘It requires an open mind.’

‘We can manage that, I hope,’ Diamond said, exchanging a look with Ingeborg.

Dawkins said in slow time, as if addressing a jury, ‘By sabotaging Clarion just before she went on she was doing her a good turn, saving her from a mauling from the critics.’

‘Saving the theatre, too,’ Diamond said and admitted, ‘That’s not bad, Fred.’

Ingeborg shook her head. ‘No woman behaves like that, deliberately damaging someone’s face as a so-called good turn.’

‘We’re assuming she didn’t expect the stuff to leave permanent scars,’ Diamond said. ‘When it happened, and she realised the theatre could be sued, she was devastated.’

‘Driven beyond all,’ Dawkins added in a sepulchral tone.

Ingeborg shook her head. ‘You guys need to get out more.’

The call from Mike Glazebrook came soon after eleven. Diamond wouldn’t have known the voice, but it didn’t take long for the two to convince each other that they were the former princes in the Tower. ‘And you’re a detective,’ Glazebrook said. ‘I think I know what this is about.’

‘I’ll be surprised if you do,’ Diamond said. ‘Anyway, what’s your line of work?’

‘Surveying and structural engineering. I look at old buildings and assess their safety. I’m often in Bath, as it happens. We have the contract for the Abbey.’

‘And where are you now?’

‘Finishing off a job in Lacock. If you’d care to meet, I could see you this afternoon, say in front of the Abbey about three? It’s on my way home.’

‘How will I recognise you after all this time?’

‘Look for the short, fat guy in a pork-pie hat.’

At the theatre, DI John Leaman failed to find the missing handbag. Kate in wardrobe gave him a description – a shoulder bag in pale calf hide about the size and shape of an A4 filing wallet. She also allowed him to search the wardrobe room. The disruption of her overstocked headquarters must have horrified her, but she took it without complaint. Leaman didn’t do things by halves. He upset a few others backstage as well by insisting on being admitted to every room in the entire complex. The actors wouldn’t like it when they found out. Dressing rooms are supposed to be sacrosanct. The cast are given their own keys and they bring in their own comforters, ranging from teddy bears to joss sticks to racks of wine to personal friends.

Hedley Shearman demanded to know what the search was all about. ‘Why would she have her handbag with her if she was intent on killing herself?’

‘It wasn’t in the house or her car, so where is it?’ Leaman asked, as if Shearman ought to know.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t take it,’ the little manager said.

‘Maybe one of your staff did.’

‘I take offence at that. We’re not dishonest here.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Tact wasn’t John Leaman’s middle name.

Shearman offered to mention the missing bag at a meeting he’d called at noon. Asked about the purpose of the meeting, he said he wanted to give everyone a chance to talk through what had happened and generally to reassure them it was business as usual. ‘Your poking around this morning had the opposite effect,’ he told Leaman. ‘People are behaving as if a crime has taken place, alarmed that they’re coming under suspicion.’

Leaman phoned the police station and told Diamond about the meeting.

‘I’ll come,’ Diamond said at once without even a thought about his aversion. This opportunity couldn’t be missed.

‘I don’t know if they’ll welcome you, guv.’

‘I’m not asking for a red carpet.’

But even before Diamond arrived, psyched up and with pulse racing, the meeting had been cancelled. He wasn’t the only one in a state of tension. The entire place buzzed with it. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been trying to find out,’ Leaman said. ‘No one is saying. All I know is that the theatre director has been given a bloody nose.’

‘Shearman? Literally?’

‘Yes, it’s a right mess, I was told. He had it coming to him, if you ask me. Bumptious little sod. I didn’t get much co-operation out of him.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘In the wardrobe department being patched up. The woman in charge won’t let anyone near him.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

Diamond tried the door of wardrobe and found it locked.

‘Piss off, will you?’ Kate’s voice yelled from within.

‘It’s the police. Superintendent Diamond. Open up, please.’

There was a pause, followed by her voice again. ‘He says it’s not a police matter. He doesn’t want to lodge a complaint.’

‘Unlock the door.’

‘It’s not him you should be coming after. He’s the victim here.’

‘If you don’t open it, I’ll force my way in.’

More hesitation and voices inside followed by the sound of unlocking.

‘He can’t speak,’ Kate said, blocking the way. ‘He’s in no state to see anyone.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Diamond told her, pushing the door wider.

He was presented with the bizarre spectacle of Hedley Shearman lying face upwards on an ironing board holding a bloody tissue to his nose.

‘Vicious and unprovoked,’ Kate said. ‘It won’t stop bleeding. Is it broken, do you think?’

‘I’m not a doctor. Has he tried pinching it?’

‘What for? That will cause more pain.’

‘It has to form a clot. Try gentle pressure against the side the blood is coming from.’

Shearman did so, and groaned.

‘Who did it?’ Diamond asked Kate.

‘Preston.’

‘Preston Barnes?’

‘You’d think he’d learn to control himself. He was with the Royal Shakespeare.’ She leaned over Shearman and said, ‘How are you doing, duckling? Has it stopped yet?’

‘I don’t know,’ Shearman said without opening his eyes. The fact that he could speak was enough for Diamond to start the questioning.

‘What was this about?’

‘About Preston’s dressing room being searched,’ Kate said.

‘I’ll hear it from Mr Shearman,’ Diamond said and got closer. ‘Preston objected, did he?’

Shearman responded on a low, nasal note, pitiful to hear. He was another creature from the rampant stud seen in wardrobe the previous evening. ‘He said some of his personal things had been moved. He blamed me. I told him everyone’s room had been searched and he said I should have stood up to the police.’ A pause. ‘He didn’t say “police”, in point of fact.’

‘Where did this fight take place?’

‘It wasn’t a fight,’ Kate said. ‘It was a brutal, unprovoked assault.’

‘In the auditorium,’ Shearman said.

‘In front of several witnesses,’ Kate added. ‘Hedley was getting ready for the meeting, having the house lights put on.’

It was impossible to shut her up.

‘I didn’t stand a chance,’ Shearman said. ‘He was in a blazing temper before he started.’

‘You’ll make yourself worse with this talking,’ Kate said.

Diamond said, ‘It’s your talking that bothers me, ma’am. If you don’t button it, I’ll ask you to wait outside. Now, Mr Shearman, what is it with Preston? What’s behind this?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘He was secretive from the first day of rehearsals, insisting he was given time to psych himself up for the role. I’m not sure what he does, but he’s there in the dressing room at least an hour and a half before curtain up and he turns off his phone and refuses to answer the door.’

‘Weirdo,’ Kate added.

‘I won’t warn you again,’ Diamond told her. He turned back to Shearman, now with his eyes open and looking as if he might survive. ‘When you secured him for the part was he okay about acting with Clarion?’

‘That was never an issue.’

‘There’s no history between them?’

‘They hadn’t met before coming to Bath. This is about Preston and his obsessions, not Clarion. He came with a reputation for awkwardness. I should have paid more attention, but we have a tradition here of welcoming all sorts. We’re friendly.’

More than friendly in your case, Diamond thought, recalling last night’s romp. He continued to ask about Preston. If the man had been acting secretively, he might be a serious suspect. ‘How was he in rehearsal?’

‘I’ve no complaints about him as an artist. He does his job and does it well. In fact, until this morning we were on civil terms.’

‘I’d better speak to him.’

‘Don’t,’ Shearman said in a horrified gasp, trying to raise his head. ‘It will only make matters worse, and we have four more performances to go. The theatre comes first. As far as I’m concerned, the episode is closed. It didn’t happen.’ He removed the tissue. ‘Look, it’s stopped bleeding.’

‘Sorry, but my show has to go on as well as yours.’

‘I don’t want the board to know.’

‘Who said anything about the board?’

Another locked door – to Preston Barnes’s dressing room –

frustrated Diamond, but not for long.

‘Shall I ask for the pass key?’ Leaman said.

‘No need.’ He knew the layout. Along the corridor he went and through the side door that had once been the theatre entrance in Beauford Square. The principal dressing rooms are at ground level and look out on a quiet lawn enclosed by railings. He picked the right window. As he’d anticipated, the casement was open at the top for ventilation. Nothing was fastened. He slid the lower window up and climbed in. Leaman followed.

Barnes was on the chaise longue wearing only a pair of jockey shorts. A tarantula might have crawled onto his chest from the way he sprang up. ‘What the fuck…?’ He was across the room and grabbing a bathrobe before they spoke a word. He wrapped it around himself as if playing the storm scene from Lear.

Rather than trading obscenities Diamond made a point of introducing Leaman and himself, adding, ‘It was obvious you weren’t going to open the door. We need to speak.’

‘If that little turd has reported me, I’ll kill him.’

‘I wouldn’t issue death threats, not in my hearing. As it happens, Mr Shearman wants to forget the incident.’

He switched the attack. ‘You’ve no right breaking in here.’

‘Nothing is broken. What’s your problem, Preston?’

Actually Diamond had noticed one problem in the short interval before Barnes had wrapped himself up. Another was that this young man would never be right for the classical roles. He was too small and too long in the nose. If he stood up, he wouldn’t be much taller than Hedley Shearman. Very likely there was bitterness here as well as a hot temper.

‘I like to prepare before I go on. Is that asking too much?’

‘What form does the preparing take?’ There were no obvious props, no incense burners, violins, tom-toms, chest-expanders. Plenty of space, though. It looked a bigger dressing room than the number one.

‘That’s personal.’

‘Someone said you psych yourself up.’

‘It’s much more than that.’

‘You’d better tell us, then.’

‘I need to school myself for the test to come. Focus my energy, my emotions. Visualise the role. Become the character. Have you heard of Stanislavsky? Brecht? Lee Strasberg? I think not. What’s the point in trying to make a policeman understand the guiding principles of my art? Oh, God.’ He gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘I’m a method actor, if that means anything. In simple terms, I take a mental journey to Berlin in the thirties. By a supreme exercise of will power Preston Barnes becomes Christopher Isherwood, or as close as any actor is capable of getting. Does that make sense to you?’