‘What?’
‘I’m parched.’
‘You won’t get a drink in wardrobe, but the bars were doing some trade until we sent the audience away.’
‘Show me to the nearest, then.’ He told Halliwell to keep an eye on things and got a moody look back.
‘It’s a jewel of a theatre,’ he forced himself to say to soften up Shearman over a beer in the dress circle bar. ‘Are the finances in good nick?’
‘Reasonably good. Mostly we play to full houses.’
‘What’s the seating capacity?’
‘Eight seventy-five. We used to seat more, but we removed some capacity when we last refurbished the main house in 1999. Necessary, though. It was a tight fit before, I have to admit. The present seating is the best you’ll find anywhere, by Quinnet of Paris, who fitted out the Royal Opera House. You’re a big man, but you’d be comfortable, I assure you.’
The personal reference wasn’t welcomed by Diamond. ‘I’ve never had trouble fitting into seats.’
‘More leg room, I meant.’
‘I once sat through an entire evening here.’
‘Congratulations.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, Diamond aired more of his limited theatrical know-how. ‘You need well-known actors to bring in the audiences.’
‘Yes, but we’re not tied to the star system. We have the Ustinov Studio as part of the complex and we can put on more experimental, contemporary productions there.’
‘Clarion Calhoun was chosen for her box office appeal. Is that right?’
Shearman glanced away momentarily. ‘She wasn’t my personal pick.’
Diamond didn’t miss an opening like that. ‘You’d have gone for someone else?’
‘I had reservations about Clarion. She went to drama school, but hasn’t done much since. It was a top-level decision, the choice of play and the casting. Anyway, that’s water under the bridge. The poor woman won’t be doing any more acting in this run.’
‘How did Denise feel about the choice of Clarion in the main role?’
‘No idea. I never discussed it with her. Why should I? She was only a dresser. They’re pretty low in the pecking order. No way would they have a say in casting.’
‘But she was on the permanent staff. If there was a general feeling that Clarion wasn’t up to the job, it would have fed through to Denise.’
‘You’re losing me.’
‘There’s a sense of unity in this theatre,’ Diamond said, playing to Shearman’s vanity. ‘You sense it as soon as you step into the place. An outsider like Clarion – not known as an actor – is given the star part. There must have been some muttering in the ranks.’
‘How does this affect the tragedy of Denise’s suicide?’ Shear-man asked.
‘I’m thinking aloud. She was well placed to get Clarion sidelined.’
‘Deliberately? Oh, no.’
Diamond nodded.
Shearman dismissed the suggestion with a flap of his hand. ‘By making her up with something that damaged her face? No chance.’
‘You may as well know. It was caustic soda.’
The man jerked back so suddenly that he spilt beer on his trousers. ‘That isn’t possible.’
‘It is. It was analysed.’
After a moment of silence he said in a strangled voice, ‘I can’t accept that Denise would have done such a thing.’
‘Why else did she kill herself, then?’
Shearman thought about that and released a long, audible breath. ‘God almighty.’
‘How well did you know Denise? Was there any malice in her?’
‘Malice?’ He repeated the word as if it was foreign. ‘None that I ever noticed. We never had any complaints from actors.’
‘We’ll need to inform her next of kin. Presumably you keep her personal file somewhere?’
‘All it would have is her letter of application and some contact details. We’re a theatre, not the civil service.’
‘I’ll see it, just the same. Does she have any family?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. We weren’t on close terms.’
‘She’s been here six years, Mr Shearman.’
‘I keep telling you. She was only a dresser.’
