the pale gleam of the young woman’s face on the far side, turning right. A shout might have halted her. It might also have halted the play. In his haste to follow, he tripped on a cable and just avoided falling face down. As it was, he staggered two or three steps to save his balance and somehow remained on his feet.
On the other side, eyes down for a whole obstacle course of cables, he saw nobody like the make-up girl and he now had a choice of routes. The dressing rooms seemed the better way. He dodged past some waiting stagehands and away from the wings. No one was in the narrow passageway ahead. She must really have shifted to be out of sight already, unless she was still over the other side where Ingeborg was searching.
A man wired up with headset and mike appeared from the number two dressing room. Diamond asked if Belinda had come this way.
‘Who’s that?’
‘The make-up girl. Small, dark hair. She was in the wings just now with a face brush checking the actors.’
‘Why don’t you ask in wardrobe?’
Good suggestion – if he could find it. Wardrobe was part of the undercroft suite, along with the band rooms and the company office. Earlier, when he’d interviewed Kate, he’d got there by another route.
The headset man pointed the way.
Simple.
Downstairs, around a couple of turnings, he recognised the door and opened it. Kate was at the far end grappling with what he took to be one of her tailor’s dummies until he spotted that her dress was pulled up to her waist and the dummy had a head of curly black hair with a bald spot and was the back view of Hedley Shearman without trousers humping her against a wall as if there was no tomorrow.
With his police training, Diamond first thought rape was being committed and it was his duty to intervene. Just in time, he registered that Kate was shouting, ‘Yes!’ with every thrust.
Belinda wasn’t in the room. In the circumstances it would have been odd if she were.
He left them to it, too involved to have noticed him, and closed the door.
Where now? After that distracting spectacle, he needed to refocus on the search for Belinda. His ignorance of the layout backstage was a huge handicap. He took the steps up to stage level intending to look into the main dressing rooms. Before he got there the phone in his pocket vibrated. He put it to his ear. ‘Found her?’
Ingeborg’s voice told him, ‘Yes, guv. First floor, dressing room ten. Can you get here?’
‘Try and stop me.’
He knew his way to the OP side and there he asked one of the crew. The nearest stairs were pointed out.
‘Dressing room ten. Is it somewhere nearby?’
‘You can’t miss it.’ The promise that guarantees the opposite.
In fact there was only one dressing room and Ingeborg must have heard his heavy tread.
‘Guv?’
He found her standing beside the make-up girl, who looked about sixteen and terrified. Short, and slightly built, with dark, cropped hair, in a black T-shirt and form-fitting trousers, she was still holding the brush and box.
‘Exactly who are you?’ he asked.
‘Belinda Craigie. I work here.’
‘What’s in the box?’
‘Talc.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Positive.’
‘Hand it across.’
‘But I need it for later.’
He opened the box and sniffed. Tentatively he touched the powder with his little finger. There was no reaction. He wetted another finger and made a light contact. Nothing happened. ‘Where did you get this, Belinda?’
‘The wardrobe department. It’s a fresh box, opened this afternoon. I took the wrapper off myself.’
‘So you know why I’m asking?’
‘Clarion Calhoun?’ Alarm showed in her eyes. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’
‘Is it your job to touch up the actors’ make-up before they go on?’
‘One of my jobs. I help out in the box office and take phone calls. ’
‘And were you here Monday evening?’
She nodded.
‘Checking the actors’ faces?’
‘Not all of them. Only those who needed it.’
‘Clarion?’
A vigorous shake of the head. ‘Her dresser looked after her. Denise.’
