rose directly up from the edge of the footpath.
I parked opposite and went through a battered double doorway and up a short flight of steps. The interior was brightly lit by artificial light. The windows were so small and dirty it would otherwise have been in perpetual gloom. The ground floor was a small auditorium-a tiny stage and about a dozen rows of chairs that looked as if they’d seen a lot of service somewhere else. A flight of stairs led up to the second level, where I could hear voices and physical activity. I went up and found an area that resembled a gym with some exercise equipment and mats on the floor. A partitioned-off area was divided into small offices.
About a dozen people were doing calisthenics guided by an instructor. There were five or six women but none of them was Chloe Monkhurst. I waited until the set of exercises was finished and the group was taking a break before approaching the instructor. I showed him my licence.
He picked up a towel from the floor and wiped himself down. The exercises had been vigorous and he wasn’t young or in the very best physical condition.
‘What’s the trouble?’ he said.
‘No trouble. I’m looking for Chloe Monkhurst.’
‘Not here.’
‘I can see that. When is she here?’
He shrugged. ‘Not that often.’
‘How about Jason Clement?’
He shook his head and pointed to one of the offices. ‘You’d better talk to the director. She’s in there-Kylie March.’
Director seemed a bit elevated as a title for the head of the operation, and it was interesting that the first thing he’d done was ask about trouble. The would-be actors were a mixed bunch-some very young, some older; some scruffy, some well turned out. A few watched me closely. I hoped I was giving a good performance as a private investigator looking for information. I knocked on the door and opened it as a woman’s voice invited me in.
Kylie March looked the part. She was about forty, rail-thin in a figure-flattering black top with black pants. She was heavily made up and no Caucasian ever had hair that black naturally. She was sitting cross-legged and sideways at a desk studying a laptop computer screen she’d moved around to get the right illumination. She tapped a couple of keys before looking up at me. A performance.
‘Yes? Can I help you?’
I showed her my licence and told her who I was looking for. She asked me to sit but there was no chair.
‘Silly me,’ she said. Her voice was low and breathy.
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll stand. I know where Chloe lives but it’s Jason Clement I’m really looking for. I understand he works here.’
‘He did. No longer.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Is he in trouble?’
‘I believe so. How serious, is the question. That’s why I need to talk to him. Do you know where I can find him?’
The screen went blank. She hit a key to bring it to life and then used the mouse to close it down.
‘You can Google me if you want to,’ I said, ‘see that I’m legitimate.’
‘Oh, I believe you’re legitimate. I’m just wondering whether I should help you or not.’
‘If you have Chloe and Jason’s interests at heart you should.’
‘I wouldn’t say I had their interests at heart particularly. My concern is the school and I’m wondering whether your investigation will do it good or harm. I have a big investment here, you see, and I have to protect it.’
‘That’s honest,’ I said, ‘so I’ll try to be equally honest. I can’t say how things will work out. At best I don’t think your school need come into it. If things go a different way it might, and I suppose it could come in for some. . notoriety.’
‘Notoriety isn’t such a bad thing in this business, depending on how it’s handled. May I have some time to think about it?’
‘No. It’s urgent and if you don’t help me I’ll have to come at it another way and then I wouldn’t care much about the reputation of your school.’
‘What other way?’
I took a punt. ‘I’m told there was an incident here some time back. Something to do with firearms. I could look into that for a start.’
It hit the mark. She slammed the lid down on the computer, picked up its case from the floor and slid it in. She hooked a jacket and a shoulder bag from the back of her chair and stood.
‘Okay, I’ll talk to you. You can buy me a drink or a couple of drinks so I get something out of it at least.’
We sat in the bar of the Bank Hotel with the windows open and the life of Newtown swirling around us. Kylie March ordered a martini, saying that was what people in films drank when they talked with private detectives. I had white wine.
‘How much do you know about Jason Clement?’ she asked.
It’s not best practice to let an informant ask the first question, but I had the feeling that Ms March would treat the interview like a performance and I might as well let her as long as I eventually got what I wanted. It was going to cost Ray Frost a bit-martinis don’t come cheap.
‘I know something,’ I said. ‘He was a promising actor and then something happened to him.’
‘He was brilliant. He was in a class I ran at NIDA and he was far and away the best. He had the poise, the timing,
‘I think so. A special quality. I’ve heard people say Cate Blanchett had it at NIDA.’
She nodded. ‘She did, in spades. Jason had another aspect of the quality that’s very important-an ability, sort of subliminal, to appeal to both sexes. He wasn’t bisexual as far as I know, but there was something androgynous about him.’
‘Like Elvis.’
‘Before my time. Then he had an accident of some kind. He never said exactly what it was. I suspected a motorcycle accident.’
‘Like Bob Dylan.’
She drained her glass and pushed it towards me. ‘I’m not sure you’re being serious.’
I got up. ‘I am serious, Ms March, but I’m not much concerned about Clement’s history. I just want to find him and I’ll invest in another drink but my patience is running out.’
She didn’t like it, but she didn’t gather her things and leave. Probably holding on for a good exit line. The bar was crowded and I had to wait to be served. I kept an eye on her. She took a mobile phone from her bag and made a call. Hard to interpret that. I returned with the drinks.
‘Thank you.’
‘Take your time with the drink. I’m interested in why Clement left your school,’ I said. ‘I’d like to hear about the firearm incident.’
She was mollified and gave me a practised smile. ‘Jason had all sorts of problems with his mobility and his appearance-even with his voice-but he was very brave about it. In his teaching he tended to take things to extremes.’
‘For example?’
‘He was a great one for things like Russian roulette. He pushed the students to the limits of their physical and emotional capacity. That was a good thing in a way, it sorted out the sheep from the goats.’
‘Chloe Monkhurst?’
She worked on her drink, bleeding the moment for all it was worth. ‘She couldn’t stand the pace. She became a sort of acolyte, an assistant, rather than a student. Jason was a great one for reality and he went too far. He was demonstrating a shooting scene and he put live ammunition in the gun.’
‘Pistol or rifle or shotgun?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Maybe.’
