“Oh, he always says that,” said Bryant. “The moment he finds something people enjoy, he’s on the wireless faster than a cat up a Belgian, telling us all to stop doing it at once. Is everyone accounted for from your side of the house?”
“It would appear so, although I can only check the ushers and FOH staff. You’d have to go back to the stage door and see Stan about the sign-in book, but I think they’ve got a full complement.”
“No unfamiliar faces, then?”
“No, we know everyone. Mr Mack had to locate two more stagehands because a lot of the scenery has to be shifted manually. They’re a father and son team who know the understage area well. He bribed them away from the Duke of York’s.” She locked the box office and pocketed the keys. “We’re having drinks up in the balcony green room after the performance. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I thought everybody had to be out quickly.”
“Yes, but it’s traditional on opening night.”
“You know, I’ve walked around this place for a week now,” said Bryant, “and the running of it is still a mystery to me.”
“Some people never get used to it. I’ve been at the Palace most of my life and I still get lost. I never venture down to the lower levels because the lights are scattered all over. You have to keep trying different switches as you make your way across, but half of them don’t work, and you need to know where they are in the first place. Then of course there’s the well. Everyone knows it’s hazardous so they just stay away from the area.”
“Are there any parts of the building you haven’t visited?”
“I’ve never been to the upper gantry levels, and certainly not to the grid. You can only access that via a drop- ladder, and I’ve no head for heights. Hardly anyone has been up there in years, but a couple of the stagehands had to get up there to refurbish the blockand-tackle system. You forget how big the Palace is. It’s hemmed by three roads and a circus, all exactly as it was when Mr Sullivan was here.” A bell sounded above them. “That’s my signal. I’m not keeping the box office open once the second act starts, no matter what Mr Renalda says.”
“He wanted you to keep it open?”
“Until the end of the performance and for twenty minutes beyond. I told him absolutely not. We never have in the past, and he has no authority to change my hours because we work for different companies.”
“Of course, you’re with the theatre management, not the company production,” remembered Bryant. “Tell me about the pass doors again. You said there are two of them.”
“Yes, but as I explained, we lost the keys to the left-hand one. The right side still works, but not many people use it. There’s no need, when you can go around to the stage door and access the backstage area that way.”
“But you’d have to pass at least one permanently posted member of staff to do so,” said Bryant thoughtfully. “Who has a key to the pass door?”
“There are two, but they have to be signed out by Geoffrey Whittaker. He keeps hold of both of them.”
“Are you aware of him signing them out at all?”
“Not to my knowledge, but you’d better check with him. Are you going to watch the rest of the show?”
“Thank you, I saw it earlier in the week.”
“Yes,” Elspeth agreed, “but you haven’t seen it with the applause in.”
“My partner’s prowling around the building with his henchmen, so I suppose I could spend a little time in the devil’s company after seeing Mr Whittaker.”
“You can slip into the rear stalls box,” she said, leading the way. “It used to be a cigar booth before it was converted to hold chairs. The sightlines are pretty poor because the ceiling of the dress circle cuts so low. We didn’t open it tonight because Geoffrey’s storing stuff from dressing room two in it. We’ll have to, though, if
“I think that’s a pretty safe bet, don’t you?”
“It’s bad luck to discuss it before the reviews appear, but yes, I have a feeling we’re in for a very long run indeed. Mr Renalda will be able to make good on his promise.”
“What promise is that?”
“Why, to run on right through the war.” Elspeth looked at him oddly. “I thought you knew. He came round to tell us that he’s done a deal with someone in the Home Office, not to let the bombs close us down. It’s going to be good for public morale. ‘Britain Can Take It’ and all that. That’s why the Lord Chamberlain won’t touch us. Apparently, Miss Parole will cover up a couple of the girls, take out some of the ruder lines, but we’ll stay open right through to the bitter end, barring a direct hit.” She smiled nervously. “You could say it’s the first time theatre folk have ever prayed not to have a hit.”
? Full Dark House ?
46
FALSE IDOL
“As you can imagine, I’m rather busy,” said Geoffrey Whittaker, unsnagging his cardigan from a nail and racing ahead. “Can’t Madeline help you?”
“It’s you I need to talk to,” said May, ducking beneath a low pipe as they passed along the narrow corridor at the head of the orchestra pit.
“It’s the assistant stage manager’s job to know everything I know,” Whittaker called over his shoulder. “Mind out.” They passed a set of ten vicious-looking steel costume hooks, part of a quickchange area that had not been altered since the theatre’s construction.
“This won’t take a minute. I was wondering about the keys to the pass doors. I understand you’re the only person who gives them out.”
“That’s right. The left door got painted over, and then the lock broke. It was never much used because the company office and the stalls-level dressing rooms are to the right.”
“I need to know who you’ve given the keys out to this week.”
“That’s easy enough. I can tell you from memory. Miles Stone asked for one a couple of days ago.”
The day the boy fell from the balcony, Bryant noted. “How long did he have it?”
“A couple of hours. He wanted to store a suitcase, and it was too heavy to take the long way around. Helena borrowed the other one because she was shifting stuff out of dressing room two to make room for Mr Renalda’s memorial thing. Sometimes it’s quicker to do a job yourself than wait for the stagehands to do it.”
“How long did she have the key?” asked Bryant.
“She’s still got it, as far as I know,” Whittaker replied as he vanished through an arch. “She wears the trousers around here.”
Bryant stepped back and trod on Biddle’s foot. “Do you need me here, Mr Bryant?” Biddle asked. He looked very fed up.
“While you’re still under the unit’s jurisdiction, Mr Biddle, you remain on duty until we’re through. Do we understand each other?”
“How can I help when you haven’t told us what we’re looking for?” asked Biddle angrily. “I’d be more use filing DS Forthright’s interview slips.”
“I realize it’s boring for you.” The boy’s attitude exasperated Bryant. “Perhaps you’d rather be sitting in front of a nice big pile of paperwork. A lot of our tasks are the same as you get in any police unit, foot-slog stuff, standing around and waiting. It requires a sharp eye for detail, a good memory and an ability to judge character. But we have the power to leap off the rails of traditional thought and head into darkness. Once you’ve done it a few times you’ll be hooked. Now go down to the floor below and watch out for anything unusual.” Considering there was a ten-foot-high threeheaded purple dog god growling on the stage above their heads, it was a little like asking a clown to keep an eye out for any funny business.
Eurydice was imprisoned in Pluto’s palace with her gaoler, John Styx. Jupiter had called for the three judges of Hades, and set about questioning Cerberus, Hell’s doorkeeper. The gigantic six-eyed dog owned by Hecate was a mechanical device winched up onto the stage in three sections that slotted together as they met. It was a feat of engineering to rival the construction of a Spitfire, but with less practical purpose.
¦
John May scanned the darkened auditorium through the velvet curtains and spotted Andreas Renalda seated
