Cherringham--Playing Dead (9 page)

After a long pause, Ferris said: “Guess the Board thought old Ambrose wasn’t quite up to it.”

“And you?”

Ferris shrugged. “Always seemed to do just fine before. Maybe they wanted…” seeming reluctant, Ferris slid the book back in. Buying new hardbacks on what passed for a Costco salary couldn’t be indulged too often, Sarah imagined.

“Look,” Ben made a point of looking down at his wristwatch. “I’m due back at work in twenty. So, gotta dash.”

Sarah nodded, thinking that this just may have been one of the most useless “interrogations” in her short career as a sleuth.

Ben Ferris started walking to the front and out the door.

When Sarah stopped, amazingly … remembering a line from an old American detective show.

The detective’s
gimmick
…

“Oh Ben — just one more thing.”

The guy stopped and turned, halfway to the front desk.

Nearly free of Sarah’s questions.

“Hmm?”

“I hear you were a writer. That you wrote professionally.”

For the first time she saw a spark of reaction in his eyes.

She half expected him to shake his head and walk away.

Instead he slowly walked back to her.

Almost theatrical in the way he took each measured step.

His eyes never leaving hers.

“Who told you that … Rosie?”

A nod from Sarah.

“Can’t tell anyone anything these days, right?” Ferris said, a thin smile on his lips.

“So it’s true?”

The smallest nod. “Yes, I was a professional writer. With all the wonderful moments that profession brings, all the joy, all the—”

He stopped.

“Can I ask what it was you wrote … who did you write for?”

The thin smile faded. “It was years ago. I wrote for myself. Like every talented writer, every real writer who isn’t a hack.”

“What though?”

“Stuff. It was another life, Sarah Edwards, another world.”

He clearly wasn’t going to tell her anything more about that “other life”. But there was obviously more to Ben Ferris than she had assumed when setting up this meeting.

And while he might not want to talk about that other life, Sarah knew that — these days — one’s past never vanished.

If nothing else than for her own interest, she wanted to find out just what Ferris had written.

“See you at dress,” he said, the thin smile returning.

Sarah stood there for a moment and let Ben Ferris walk out.

And when Rosie McHugh, who had diplomatically busied herself in a back area, still probably within earshot, returned, Sarah said, “You know, I think I’ll get the Connelly. Could use a good read.”

“Absolutely,” Rosie said.

Now paying for the book, she wondered how Jack would get on when he met Laura at the estate agents that afternoon…

Jack arrived at the theatre dead on four p.m. and thought at first that he’d got the call time wrong: although the doors were open and the house lights on, the place seemed empty.

But as he walked down the central aisle towards the stage he could hear voices from out back.

Raised voices. People quarrelling.

He stepped up on to the stage and nearly bumped into Todd who was standing in the wings eating a burger.

“All right, Jack?” he said, his mouth full. “Fancy a chip?”

“Not hungry Todd — but appreciate the offer.”

“Not going to get much chance to eat tonight.”

“I’ll figure something,” said Jack, nodding to the corridor. “What’s up?”

“Laura and Jez,” said Todd. “None of my business.”

Jack nodded. “Right. Well, nothing to stop me from grabbing a coffee…”

And he set off through the wings and down the corridor towards the kitchen.

So this was where Laura was. He’d phoned the estate agents earlier and been told she was off sick.

Doesn’t sound sick now
,
he thought as he approached the kitchen door, the raised voices at full throttle.

“You selfish
bastard
—”

“Sweetheart, I just say it how it is—”

“Get out of here—”

“One day you’ll look back on this and realise how right I was—”

Jack heard the smash of a plate or cup — hard to know which — and stepped back just as the door opened and Jez Kramer hurried through and past him towards the stage.

“‘Beginners’ call in an hour Laura, don’t forget,” the director hurled over his shoulder.

“Bastard!”

Jack waited a few seconds then tapped on the kitchen door.

“Hi Laura,” he said gently. “Jack here. Safe for me to come in?”

There was no answer so Jack entered, ready to dodge more crockery if it flew his way. But as he entered the little kitchen he could see Laura sitting at the table blowing her nose on a paper handkerchief.

“Mind if I grab a coffee?”

“No. G-go ahead.”

“Want one?”

“Sure.”

He filled the kettle, waited for it to boil then made the drinks and handed one to Laura.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “One of those days.”

“So I gather,” said Jack. “I called you at your office today, but they said you were home sick.”

“Yeah. Truth is I had a bit of personal stuff to sort.”

“Our beloved director, huh?”

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t realise you and Jez were…”

“We’re not. I mean, we were. But now we’re not.”

“Right.”

Jack waited for her to say more, but she clearly wasn’t going to.

“So Laura — the reason I wanted to talk to you was — Andy Parkes.”

“From one bastard to another, huh? What do you want to talk about him for?”

“I gather your office was helping him with his development plans for the theatre?”

“What is this, Jack? What are you talking about? That stuff’s confidential — how do you know about that?”

“Whoa, it’s all right. I’m just trying to make some connections here. All the accidents we’ve been having. Things aren’t looking good for the debut of the theatre. And some people are wondering if Parkes might be involved.”

“And if he was — you think I’d know? And not say anything? Give me some credit.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“If you must know — my company did some valuations of this building for him. But I wasn’t involved.”

He stood back as Laura suddenly got up. “I’ve got to get into costume.”

She brushed past him toward the door.

O-kay, I handled that well,
thought Jack. But then to his surprise, she stopped at the door and turned.

“Do you know what really pisses me off about him?”

“Parkes?”

“No, Kramer. The fact that he thinks I’m so bothered by him that I’d break into his house.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone turned his cottage over this afternoon,” she said. “Smashed everything up.”

“And he accused you?”

“As if I care enough about him to do that. I mean — truth is — he’s just some old has-been, isn’t he?”

Jack watched as she shook her head in disgust and walked away.

Suddenly there was a lot to think about. Laura and Kramer? How had he and Sarah missed that? And a break-in. What the hell was going on?

Sarah hadn’t felt like this since she was at school. Excited, nervous, thrilled — but also part of a team.

She looked around the Ladies’ Dressing Room and knew now why her mother would never give up her amateur dramatics or the choir.

It was just such
fun
.

Seated in front of a line of mirrors and light bulbs down one whole side of the room were the other female members of the cast, laughing, giggling, helping each other with hair and make-up: Ellie, Helen, her mum, Laura.

Someone had brought their iPhone and had plugged it into a big speaker — their party playlist was blasting out.

All around her, other female friends and relatives of the cast were bustling around, sorting costumes, caught up with the rhythms of the room and the music.

She looked at herself in the mirror and had to laugh again.

Whoever had ordered the maid’s costume had clearly selected it from the sixties comedy film section: far from the demure Edwardian outfit she’d expected, it was low-cut, black with white lace trimmings and with a short skirt.

“Hey Sarah — better not wander round the village wearing that,” said Ellie, “or you’ll get yourself arrested.”

“Hmm, maybe she wants to be,” said Laura, teasing. “The strong arm of the law eh, Sarah?”

“Just you and Alan Rivers up at the police station — now there’s a thought,” said Ellie, laughing. “Him in his police uniform, you in your little maid’s outfit—”

“Ladies please, no more!” said Helen in her most outraged Lady Blake voice.

“That’s a life sentence in itself,” said Sarah, joining in the laughter. “Now, where’s my feather duster?”

The room collapsed into giggles and then all the lights went out and the room was thrown into total darkness.

“Whoa!”

“What happened?”

“Don’t panic—”

“Hang on, I’ve got my phone,”

As Sarah turned on her own phone light, other people flicked on phones and torches too.

“What’s going on?” said Laura.

“Power cut, I guess,” said Sarah.

“There should be some emergency lanterns in the cupboard there,” said Helen.

Sarah watched as the lanterns were pulled out and switched on. Suddenly the raucous atmosphere had gone.

“Let me have one of those,” said Sarah grabbing a lantern. “You lot stay here, and I’ll go see what’s up.”

*

Sarah stepped out through the dressing room door: a dim orange light from the street lamps outside the theatre spilled into the corridor giving it an ominous glow.

She could hear voices from the stage, so headed down the corridor, holding the lantern high. She carefully climbed the little steps and walked through the darkness into the wings.

Through the drapes, Sarah spotted a small group of people on the stage, some of them holding torches and emergency lights.

They were crowded around a figure lying on the ground.

Another accident? Who was it?

Let it not be Jack,
she thought with an unexpected feeling of dread as she hurried forward…

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Whoa, Sarah,” came a voice. “It’s all right.”

She spun round — Jack stood there with a torch in one hand.

“Jack,” she said. “Thank goodness. What’s happened? Who is it?”

He gently pushed her lantern to one side. “It’s okay. It’s Todd — electric shock — knocked him across the stage, but he’s going to be fine.”

“I thought it might have been you.”

“Could easily have been.”

“How did it happen?”

“He was testing the Christmas lights — you know the scene where Lieutenant Collins—”

“Jez Kramer,”

“Yep, Jez Kramer — the scene where he turns on all the lights to surprise everybody at the party — anyway, Todd just flicked the switch and it blew in his hands.”

“You think someone sabotaged it?”

“Normally I’d say let’s wait for forensics. But here? After all the other accidents? I’d say it’s a dead certainty.”

“The perfect trap,” said Sarah. “And whoever did it could be anywhere right now.”

“Exactly,” said Jack.

The lights suddenly came on again throughout the theatre and Sarah could hear muted cheers from the dressing rooms.

She switched off the lantern and put it down.

She could see Todd now being helped to his feet by, on one side, Phil Nailor, the replacement bobby, and on the other, Ben Ferris in his butler’s costume.

The electrician stood to his full height, brushed himself down and gave a cheery ‘thumbs-up’ to her and Jack where they stood in the wings. She saw Ambrose give him a good pat on the back then lead him away backstage.

Ben and Phil stood examining the string of party lights which had all blown, but Kramer wasn’t having any slouching around it seemed: he moved centre stage, clapped his hands and shouted “Excitement’s over. Back to work everybody, beginners’ call in twenty! No excuses now!”

“The show must go on,” said Sarah. She looked at Jack who was peering at her, his face confused. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s some outfit.”

“You think I’ll get away with it?”

“I think you’ll get an encore all on your own.”

“Not exactly
Downton
’s dress code.”

“Well yes, but the play
ain’t
exactly Shakespeare either, let’s be honest.”

Sarah saw Kramer approaching.

“Come on now, Jack, Sarah, we need to clear the stage please,” he said as he passed them.

“You know, Mr. Kramer — if Todd hadn’t tried that switch first you’d have been the one lying on the ground there?” said Jack.

Kramer turned and stopped: “That fact has not escaped my notice, Jack, but one learns in this business not to dwell on the ‘what ifs’.”

Sarah could see that for all his blustering confidence Jez Kramer was scared.

If this was all a set-up to grab some press attention, perhaps it wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d intended.

Or perhaps he really was the target…

“And sorry to hear about your break-in,” said Jack. “I hope nothing of value was taken.”

“Ah the babbling gossip of the air,” said Kramer, his voice rising an octave.

Break-in?
thought Sarah.
Things are happening faster than I can keep up with…

Kramer seemed to be waiting for a response but as neither she nor Jack gave one, he clearly gave up on the rest of what must be a quotation: “No, nothing was stolen. As far as I can tell. Whoever it was contented themselves with trashing the place.”

“That’s awful,” said Sarah, meaning it. “All of those personal things that you brought with you? Your prizes, photos…?”

“Especially those, it seems,” said Kramer. “But thank you for your kind thoughts — and now — we have a show to put on.”

Sarah watched the director hurry away.

“Lonely guy,” she said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Jack. “Seems he and Laura have had a little fling—”

“You’re joking,” gasped Sarah, genuinely astonished.