Withers, whose normal duties consisted of supervising new recruits, collating and filing overtime reports, and in control of the hated, most debated, ever changing document in a police precinct, the duty roster.
Withers was the man for the job. He was incorruptible, rigid, dogmatic, bribe resistant; an iron will that hell on earth would not bend. He had obviously been seconded to the interviewing team. Pity the poor actors he had on his list.
Cst. Shirley Proctor sat directly across from Kate. A computer whiz who seemed to be able to capture the goods on the most obscure on the internet in record times, she was a highly valued member of the murder investigation team. Shirley had entered the police force at a greater age than most recruits but Kate had no doubt that with her talents, she would zoom by the more senior recruits.
Strange to see her part of the interviewing team, Kate thought. Minutes after Gordon started the meeting, she understood. Shirley was coordinating, escorting the actors and crew to the interview rooms and would keep the interviewing team on schedule. The meeting was quick. They had to be at the theatre by 8:00am. Once Gordon briefed them on how they were to proceed, he ended the meeting. The team exited the room together and made a mad dash to the police car pool.
***
A bleary eyed cast and crew of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof sat in the front rows of the theatre. No one spoke but a lot of body language was happening - everything from facial twitches to drumming fingers and feet - a nervous group ripe for the picking.
At the sound of footsteps, all heads turned in unison to watch six police officers march down the aisle, mount the steps and stand centre stage in parade perfect formation. Kate, Roger, Gordon, Withers, Shirley and Tom looked out at their audience with blank faces.
Charlotte leaned into Andrew.
“Heaviest grand entrance I’ve ever seen”, she said.
Andrew swallowed his response.
Gordon stepped forward, introduced himself and the team. He extended his thanks to everyone for making the effort to be here on time after such a long and no doubt, stressful night. Promises of a speedy process were made and reassurances of confidentiality given.
Tuning Gordon’s spiel out, Kate scanned the faces. No surprises in the facial expressions; it was always the same. The majority people looked at police the way they looked at strange dogs - alert, wary. Her gaze halted for a moment on the Stage Manager she met last evening, Andrew something. The rush of instant attraction to the man she felt last night was still there, his charisma, and dark good looks pulled her under with the force of a surfer’s wave. Dangerous stuff. She moved on.
Scanning the back row, two seats from the aisle, she recognized a face. Camira Paul, the actor who played Maggie the Cat. She missed her last night; Gordon or Roger must have spoken with her. She was Hanya’s cousin. Kate met her months ago when she picked Hanya up at the end of her shift on the suicide line. A beautiful woman, modelling at the time, if memory served her correct, I’m not surprised she moved onto acting.
Finishing her scan, she looked in disbelief at the woman seated in the last row. It was June, her hairdresser, minus her scissors. What the hell was she doing here? Hairdresser to the stars? Or part-time thespian?
A rumbling noise caught her attention. A beat up trolley, loaded down with pastries, a large coffee urn, cups, spoons, milk and sugar, was being pushed down the aisle by a tall, thin man with a slight paunch below the belt. Kate identified him right away. It was the producer of the production, Henry Ward. She had spoken briefly with him last evening.
On cue, actors and crew rose as one body and made a beeline for the cart. Henry motioned for the police to join them. They shook their heads and waited patiently for the group to resettle. They knew the value of caffeine stoked people during interviews.
Once everyone was back in their seats, Gordon cleared his throat and addressed them again. “We have temporarily taken over the Director, Producer, Set Designer and Chief Publicist’s offices. The interviews will be taped.”
Shuffling noises and nervous coughs could be heard following his remark.
“There’s no reason to be anxious. Taping is a routine procedure for information gathering sessions. The members of our team are experienced interviewers so it shouldn’t take too long. We need two days to speak with everyone so we are proceeding alphabetically. Some of you will leave and return tomorrow morning once you register your presence here with Cst. Tom Adams. We would appreciate it if one of the crew would find him a table and chair to use.
Ed volunteered set the table and two chairs up on the main stage. Gordon nodded his thanks.
“We will now proceed with the first four persons, the rest of you remain seated until called upon to register or escorted to an interview. Would Charlotte Beauvoir, Eleanor Foster-Sutton, June Grayson, and Philip Lawson please follow us to the office area; Constable Shirley Proctor will summon the rest of you as needed.”
Charlotte lifted her heavy body out of the front row at the same time as June. Eleanor, rose, back rigid and followed behind the other two women. Philip uncoiled his long, lean body,
