Stagestruck

respect, they’re not family. They’re a team.’

‘If you’re trying to say it’s a case of them and us, you’re wrong. We all have a common interest in the show succeeding.’

‘Getting back to my question about whether anyone disliked Miss Clarion Calhoun, did you pick up any untoward vibrations?’

‘Vibrations?’

‘Bad vibes?’ Constable Reed translated for him.

They both looked to Shearman for a response.

‘No, and I don’t care for this line of questioning. Whatever went wrong last night, it was not deliberate.’

‘How do you know?’ Dawkins asked.

‘Couldn’t have been.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m in charge and it’s my job to know the people here, call them a family, or a team, or whatever you choose. No one in this theatre would stoop to the sort of mindless attack you seem to be suggesting and I must insist you say not another word about it. If the press get a sniff there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘The press are not slow, Mr Shearman. They’ve sniffed and got the scent and are in full cry.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘They’ll be writing tomorrow’s headlines as we speak.’

‘They’ll have it wrong, then.’

‘Which is why we need to find out what really happened. I suggest you exit stage left and cue the dresser.’

The two police officers met Denise Pearsall over coffee in the Egg cafe, at the far end of the theatre block. The name of the place had nothing to do with the menu. It was taken from the shape of the children’s theatre it adjoined. The cafe was much used by mothers and toddlers and should have been a relaxing setting, but Denise was too strung out to touch her coffee. Probably in her forties, she was red-haired and pretty, with brown eyes dilated by fear. Or guilt. She stared in horror at PC Reed, waiting with pen poised, and then Dawkins. The first thing she said was, ‘Have we met before?’

‘Not to my uncertain knowledge,’ the sergeant said in his stilted style. ‘Have you seen me before? Very likely. I’m easy to spot in my uniform and I’m often around the streets of Bath. Have I seen you before? If I had, you would be known to the police, and you don’t want that. Are you going to tell us about last night?’

‘I’ve worked here for six years and never experienced anything so awful as this,’ she said, plucking at her neck, ‘and I can’t blame anyone else. I did Clarion’s make-up myself. Most actors do their own, but she hasn’t worked in the theatre for years, if at all. She was the female lead, she needed help and I was asked to give it.’

‘Was she the only one you worked on?’

She nodded. ‘The others are perfectly capable of doing their own make-up. My responsibilities begin and end with Clarion. I’ll deliver some costumes to other dressing rooms because I work for the wardrobe department, but I was asked to take care of her personally.’

‘Who by?’

‘Mr Melmot, the chairman. Of course, the director of the play talked to me about the look he wanted for her.’

‘Who is the director?’

‘Sandy Block-Swell. He wasn’t there last night.’

‘The director missing?’

‘Not missing. He watched the dress rehearsal and took a plane to America.’

‘To escape the critics?’

‘No, he said he was well satisfied. He’s a busy man. He has a film to direct in Hollywood.’

PC Reed looked up from her notebook. ‘Would you say the name again?’

‘Block-Swell, with a hyphen between the “k” and the “s”.’

Dawkins said, ‘A hyphen in one’s name is transforming. I could call myself Sergeant Daw-Kins and it has a certain ring to it. You could be Ms Pear-Sall. Imposing. No such refinement for someone with the name of Reed. You said he talked to you about the look. What is the look?’

‘The thirties. For the women, Cupid’s bows, dark eyes and the green fingernails for Sally. The men are clean- shaven and part their hair in the centre. Nothing too difficult. Sandy made the decisions. The leading men, Preston and Mark, as Christopher and Fritz, are very experienced and so is the woman playing Fraulein Schneider. Then there are Clive and Natalia and Mrs Watson, all well capable of looking after themselves.’

‘One moment, madam,’ Sergeant Dawkins said.

She was startled. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘These names are meaningless to Constable Reed and me. We haven’t seen the play.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ Denise turned bright red. ‘There are three male roles and four female. I was explaining why I worked on Sally.’

‘Who is this Sally?’