Bryant & May 01; Full Dark House

with?”

“Some are forthcoming, others aren’t. I don’t pry, if that’s what you mean. They have to tell you some things, obviously.”

“What did Tanya Capistrania have to tell you?”

“You must understand she had very few friends in this country. She told me she was seeing someone in the company. I don’t know much about Charles except that he’s married and has a flat in Paris. His wife and son are on their way here right now.”

“So Miss Capistrania was having an affair and Charles wasn’t.” Bryant sucked hard on his pipe, trying to keep it lit.

“For all I know he could have been. Performers become very tight-knit during the course of a run. They form liaisons that last only while they’re working together.”

“Would you care to divulge the identity of the man Miss Capistrania was seeing?”

“I suppose it won’t do any harm to the young lady now,” sighed Benjamin. “But you musn’t say I told you. It was Geoffrey Whittaker.”

“The stage manager?” Bryant was surprised. He didn’t look the type to conduct a torrid affair.

“It’s not the first time he’s got up to this sort of thing. He’s pretty well known by the Piccadilly commandos.” He was referring to the squad of prostitutes who brazenly worked around the Circus, stepping out of doorways to accost servicemen on leave.

“He’s a bit old to be a Lothario. What about Miss Capistrania?”

“Tanya was famous for upstaging her fellow players. She was very driven to succeed. The usual story, pushed by her family from an early age. Nobody’s got much good to say about her.”

“And Charles Senechal?”

“The opposite. Everyone thinks – thought – he was wonderful. He’s played all three of the baritone roles in Orpheus before, a consummate professional and a wonderful singer.”

“I see. What about some of the others who were there when it happened, Harry – what’s his surname, Cowper? And Corinne Betts?”

“Corinne’s seeing one of the shepherds. A boy in the chorus. I don’t think it’s anything more than mutual convenience. Harry, well, he’s a bachelor. Let’s leave it at that.”

“So there are a few amours in the background. Any risk of blackmail with Harry?”

“I suppose there’s always a risk, but the theatre’s safer than most places. Outside the Palace, people keep asking if I’m a visiting calypso player. In here, nobody cares about the colour of my skin. Why are you interested?”

“The globe could have been intended to hit anyone, couldn’t it?”

“Oh, I see. Harry’s well liked. There’s often someone like him in a theatre company, born to be a den mother to the rest. Runs around after people making them feel better. Nurses the bruised egos. Corinne’s got a bit of a mouth on her, but I don’t know that she’s made any real enemies. Some of the cast went to Cafe de Paris to see her perform her comedy routine a couple of weeks ago, and she bought them all drinks afterwards. It won her a lot of friends.”

“So there are no real connections that you can see, apart from the fact that Miss Capistrania and Mr Senechal were both performers represented by you.”

“May I remind you that I’m the one losing out here.” Woolf made a further effort to look pained, but appeared to be suffering from heartburn. “They were more than my clients. They were investments.”

“I’d say everyone’s investments are in danger of disappearing now, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” replied Woolf, “no, I wouldn’t. Don’t you know the show always goes on?”

“If I find reason to suppose that anyone else’s life is in danger, I won’t hesitate to close down the production.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to have that authority?” asked Woolf, alarmed.

“I’m not sure,” Bryant admitted, giving up on his pipe, “but it would be interesting to find out. Let me get this clear in my head. While the globe was being cut loose, there were four people actually on the stage: Mr Senechal, Miss Betts, Miss Wynter and Mr Cowper. Mr Mack was further back in the wings, Miss Parole was in the stalls with Mr Whittaker, Miss Penn, Mrs Thwaite and Mr Varisich, heading in the direction of the pass door. Stan Lowe was manning the stage door, and you were out in the front box office. What were you doing before the siren sounded?”

Benjamin thought for a moment. “I was talking to Elspeth. I left the auditorium, but then I heard the commotion and ran back in.”

“To your knowledge, was there anyone else near the stage or in the stalls?”

“I don’t think so – wait, Anton was still in the orchestra pit. Eve and Olivia were arguing about something as they came out, a problem with a dress, so they must have been nearby.”

“Do you think it likely that any of them could have climbed the gantry to the globe and cut it loose?”

“I don’t see how,” interrupted May. “The gantry is clearly visible from the stage.”

“Then there’s someone we haven’t accounted for,” said Bryant, prodding his partner in the shoulder. “Someone else in the theatre. Someone up there, in the dark.”

? Full Dark House ?

23

OFF TO THE REALM OF DARKNESS

“Have you heard? They’re killing all the poisonous snakes and reptiles at London Zoo, in case the cages get bombed,” Betty Trammel, one of the Orpheus chorus girls, told John May that afternoon. Like most of the other female dancers, she had long legs, a tiny midriff and shapely breasts that the detective found himself covertly watching. “And they’ve had to put sandbags around the pink flamingos because they’re suffering nervous breakdowns.” She smiled at the detective and rolled her enormous eyes. They were set in a heart-shaped face, framed with blond curls. “I used to cut home through Regent’s Park to my place in Camden, but they’ve closed the public path past the zoo. It’s getting so a girl doesn’t know what’s safe any more.” Betty spoke with more refinement than the other chorines. She had a smile that could put a froth on a cup of coffee, and she knew it.

“I’m in Camden. I can walk you home if you like,” May offered gallantly.

“I might just take you up on your proposal.” She placed her hands on spangled hips and grinned. “Give me two minutes to get changed.”

Bryant watched in disgust as Betty bounced off into the wings. “What is it,” he asked, “that makes girls go so damnably gooey-eyed over you? I don’t understand it. You only have to stand next to them and they start rolling bits of themselves about like Betty Boop.”

“I think they just feel, you know, comfortable around me,” said May, surprised by his own powers.

“Well, they don’t do that with me,” Bryant complained, scratching the back of his ear in puzzlement. “I can’t see why not. I’m a bloody good catch. I have prospects. I have an enquiring mind. You’d think that would be appealing.”

May stared at the aisle carpet, embarrassed. He could not tell his new friend that there was something about his fierce energy that disturbed people. The more Bryant tried to be sympathetic, the less believable he was. It was an unfortunate effect that was to bedevil him throughout his life.

“And the types that go for you,” Bryant continued, “well!”

“What’s wrong with their ‘type?’” asked May, offended.

Bryant searched the air, almost at a loss for words. “You can’t see it? My dear fellow, they’re so – obvious.”

“Look, if it bothers you that much, I don’t see why you don’t find a date of your own. Go down to the box office and ask Elspeth out, she’s keen as mustard. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Bryant poked his pipe-stem down into his top pocket, considering the idea. “Do you really think so?”