The Cinderella Killer Page 15

  ‘Yes, I mean the fact is that Matt Luckworth was a kind of iconic figure.’ Charles hoped he was right in assuming that this was the name of the character Tad had played in Frenton High. To have to ask about it might show a lack of respect for the triumphant high spot of the young actor’s career.

  His conjecture was quickly confirmed. ‘I mean, people still talk about him as sort of the villain. One of the great villains. Like Macbeth or Moriarty or Hannibal Lecter.’

  Charles thought Tad was possibly pitching his comparisons a bit high, but he made no comment on that, instead saying, ‘You must have been really gutted when they decided to write the character out.’

  ‘They didn’t write the character out,’ Tad insisted. ‘It was my choice to leave. Didn’t you hear what I was saying to that cow Tilly? I asked the producers for stronger Matt Luckworth storylines or I’d go. They said they couldn’t guarantee me stronger storylines, so I called their bluff and went. It was the producers who were gutted then. What they must’ve thought when they saw the media coverage Matt’s death in the motorbike accident got. The Sun’s headline was “TV’s Smouldering Mr Sex Goes Up In Smoke”. One of the tabloids even said they thought Frenton High wouldn’t survive without my character in it. Because my profile was really high. I was getting lots of offers then.’

  ‘What – the RSC? The National?’

  Tad shook his head testily. ‘No, much higher profile stuff than that. They were going to have me on I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here, but it turned out that they’d already booked a male soap star. Then there was a suggestion that I might present the Midweek National Lottery. And talks went quite a long way on having me on Strictly Come Dancing.’

  Clearly there was quite a gap between Charles Paris’s views of career fulfilment and those of Tad Gentry.

  ‘But I couldn’t commit myself for that length of time, you know, with things that were happening in the States.’

  ‘What things actually were happening in the States?’ asked Charles respectfully.

  ‘Well, I’d got my American agent set up in LA and I went over for a few months, because he said casting interviews tended to be set up at very short notice in Hollywood.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure they are.’

  ‘And, you know, it was useful networking time for me. He fixed invitations for me at movie premieres, that kind of thing. It’s getting your face seen in the right places that matters out there, you know.’

  ‘So I’ve heard. And of course you got to work with Buck Carty,’ said Charles, congratulating himself on remembering the name he’d never heard before that morning.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  Pushing his self-ingratiation to the edge of sycophancy, Charles then asked the ultimate amateur question, the one put to anyone who’s been even on the furthest fringes of celebrity. ‘What’s Buck really like?’

  Tad coloured. ‘Well, I didn’t actually have any scenes with him. My character was more involved in the subplot, really.’

  ‘Ah. Right.’

  There was a kind of method in Charles’s approach to Tad. He was shamelessly bolstering the young man’s self-esteem for a reason. Which came out in his next question. ‘Did you actually meet Kenny Polizzi while you were out in LA?’

  For the first time a look of caution came into the black eyes. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘I just remember his first day of rehearsal, last Wednesday, you greeted him like you knew him.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tad was embarrassed by the recollection. ‘Well, we had met at a party given by Julia Roberts.’ Charles noticed how the occasion had been upgraded from ‘the premiere of that Julia Roberts movie’. ‘Kenny and I had quite a long chat about the entertainment scene in the UK. He’d had some offers to do stuff over here, and he was asking my advice on what was worth doing.’ That such a conversation had ever taken place sounded deeply unlikely to Charles, but he said nothing as Tad went on, ‘But now of course over here Kenny Polizzi was the big star, wasn’t he? He was embarrassed to admit he’d asked career advice from anybody, particularly someone who wasn’t Hollywood. That’s why he froze me out, pretended he’d never seen me before.’

  Charles was flabbergasted by these obvious lies, but still made no comment. Tad had clearly got himself to the point of actually believing them. ‘I can see,’ he said, ‘why you’re angry about Tilly Marcus getting bigger billing than you are, but how did you feel when you saw the size of Kenny’s billing on the original poster?’

  ‘Well, I was a bit pissed off, I have to confess. I mean, I know Kenny’s supposed to be an international star and all that, but The Dwight House finished years ago. And if you go along with Tilly’s view that I should get lower billing because I’m no longer in Frenton High, well, the same thing goes for Kenny, but even more so.’

  ‘Yes, but I suppose The Dwight House is something of an international television phenomenon.’

  ‘Frenton High sells abroad too. It’s very popular in Kazakhstan.’

  ‘Is it?’ Charles moved off on another tangent. ‘Apparently there’s still no sign of Jasmine del Rio.’

  Tad shrugged. The news was of no interest to him.

  ‘It’s odd, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t really see why. So some tart of a dancer breaks her contract. So what?’

  ‘You didn’t have anything to do with her … you know, on a personal level?’

  ‘God, no. I mean, obviously she fancied me, but over the years I’ve got used to that. And once last week when we were having a drink together, she made it pretty clear that if I wanted to shag her, I had only to say the word.’ He allowed himself a thin smile. ‘An offer that I didn’t take up. I do have my standards.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t have any idea where Jasmine might have disappeared to?’

  ‘Absolutely none.’ Tad looked up at the approach of a rather agitated young female stage manager from the Cinderella company. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘news at last of the management’s climbdown.’ He grinned at Charles. ‘Never fails, calling people’s bluff.’

  ‘Tad,’ said the stage manager. ‘I’ve got a message from Bix.’

  ‘Oh, great.’ The actor picked up the designer leather bag he’d left on the seat beside him. ‘I’ll come back straight away, then.’

  ‘No.’ The stage manager, now looking very nervous indeed, raised a hand to stop him. ‘Bix says he’s been on to the producers. They say it’s far too late to change the show’s billing, even if they wanted to. But they don’t want to. They accept your resignation from the Cinderella company.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘They’ll be on to your agent to sort out the contractual details.’ The stage manager’s delivery speeded up as she neared the end of her unwelcome task (which shouldn’t have been delegated to her but been done face-to-face by Bix Rogers). ‘If you’ve got any belongings left in the rehearsal room, then you’re requested to pick them up straight away.’

  ‘I don’t have anything …’ he gestured rather ineffectually to his bag ‘… except this.’

  ‘That’s fine, then. Goodbye.’ And the stage manager scuttled out of Starbucks like a terrified kitten.

  ‘Well, isn’t that just bloody typical!’ said the former soap star. ‘That Tilly Marcus is behind it. She’s been twisting Bix’s arm, I know. She’s been worried about me from the start. Scared of being shown up in a production with someone so much more talented than she is in it.’

  It seemed appropriate for Charles to say, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. Doing this show was always going to be a bit of a bind, tying me down here in Eastbourne when I should be following up opportunities in London and the States.’

  Charles thought it would be churlish to mention how few opportunities for actors there would be in London during the weeks running up to Christmas.

  He also got the strong impression that Tad Gentry wasn’t very good at choosing his moments to call people’s bluffs.

  SEVENTEEN

  DYSPE
PSIA: You know, a man once said to me I looked like one of those teenage ravers.

  NAUSEA: Well, whoever that man might be, He should have gone to Specsavers!

  TV’s Mr Sex stormed out of Starbucks rather petulantly. Tad said he’d check the contractual situation with his agent, and then probably explore flights to LA. He’d thought for some time that the main focus of his career from now on should be in the States. A lot of young British actors were doing really well out there.

  As Charles walked back to the St Asaph’s Church Halls, the number of dancers smoking outside it told him that they’d reached the lunch break. And he was pleased to see that amongst them was Kitty Woo, alone, arms clasped around herself against the cold, sucking sustenance from a cigarette.

  ‘Hi. Are you all right? I was worried you weren’t at rehearsal.’

  ‘I’m OK, Charles. Well, a bit battered, but I’ll survive.’

  ‘Battered? You mean someone’s beaten you up?’

  ‘No. Emotionally battered. I’ve just had another long session with Detective Inspector Malik.’

  ‘Oh, really? About Jasmine?’

  ‘You bet. They seem, like, extremely keen to find her.’

  Charles was unsurprised by the news. From what Lefty Rubenstein had said, it sounded like Jasmine del Rio was the police’s primary suspect for the role of murderer.

  ‘I’ve just been having a coffee with Tad. You heard he was out of the show, did you, Kitty?’

  ‘No, I only just got back here when they were breaking for lunch. What’s all this about, then?’

  Charles gave a brief résumé of the morning’s events, from Tad’s spat with Tilly Marcus to his confrontation with the stage manager in Starbucks. Kitty grinned wryly. ‘Can’t say he’s any great loss. Have you heard who they’re getting in to replace him?’

  ‘No, I’ve only just come back from the coffee shop. No doubt it’ll be another boxer,’ Charles suggested mischievously.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past them.’ Kitty took a ferocious pull on her cigarette. She looked very wretched.

  ‘Did you get any impression from Detective Inspector Malik whether the police are suspicious of Jasmine?’

  ‘You mean putting her in the frame as the murderer?’

  ‘Yes, all right. That’s what I did mean.’

  ‘Hm …’ Kitty wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t know. Malik just said that finding Jazzy was their number-one priority. I suppose that could mean they’ve got her down as the murderer. But I kinda got the impression …’ A sob shuddered through her slender frame, cutting off her words.

  ‘What impression, Kitty?’

  ‘The impression that Malik thought something might have happened to Jazzy.’

  ‘By “something happened” do you mean she might be dead?’

  ‘I sort of got the feeling that’s what Malik was hinting at.’

  ‘Did she have any reason for suggesting that?’

  ‘If she did she wasn’t about to share it with me.’

  ‘No surprise there. Did you get any suggestion from Malik that she knew about the connection between Jasmine and Kenny Polizzi?’

  ‘Oh yes, she knew all about that.’

  ‘How? You didn’t tell her, did you?’

  ‘No. Laura Hahn did.’

  ‘Really? Why would she do that?’

  ‘She’s so worried about Jazzy’s disappearance. Laura reckoned telling everything she knew to the police might help them find her.’

  ‘Hm …’ Charles was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘I was thinking about something you said at lunchtime on Sunday …’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘We were talking about whether anyone in the Cinderella cast had come on to Jasmine …’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘And you sort of implied that someone might have come on to her and she might have gone out and had a drink with him.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Did that actually happen?’

  ‘Yes, it was like, first, second day of rehearsals. She came to the digs after she’d been with him and we had a right old giggle.’

  ‘What was so funny about it?

  ‘Well, he’d come on to her all smooth and chatty and after they’d had a drink he asked Jazzy back to his digs and she’s, you know, a game girl and she hadn’t had any action for quite a while, so she was a bit randy and … Anyway …’ Kitty Woo let out a throaty giggle ‘… when they actually got into bed, in spite of his smooth talk and all that, he couldn’t get it up!’

  This prompted another wave of hilarity. Charles waited till it had subsided, then said, ‘You’ve very deliberately avoided telling me the name of the man in question.’

  ‘Yes, I have, haven’t I?’ Another short burst of giggles. ‘It was Tad Gentry.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Charles. ‘Was it?’

  And he wondered how ‘TV’s Mr Sex’ would feel towards a woman who had witnessed him failing to get an erection.

  Charles wasn’t reckoning on a lot of rehearsal for him that afternoon. Even though the first public performance of Cinderella was a mere three days away, almost all of Baron Hardup’s scenes were with the Ugly Sisters, and the production was currently one short in the Ugly Sister department.

  Or so he’d assumed. But when he arrived back in the smaller rehearsal room he was surprised to see on Danny Fitz’s face the biggest smile – and indeed the only smile – he had ever witnessed.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Finally something good.’ There was also more animation in Danny’s manner that he had ever witnessed. ‘The first sensible decision that has been made throughout this entire benighted production.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘Well, the first bit of undiluted good news is that that charm-free, talent-free bonehead Tad Gentry is no longer in the show.’

  ‘Yes, I did know about that.’

  ‘But the even better news is that Bix has finally listened to one of my ideas.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘For the replacement, for the actor to play Nausea.’

  ‘So who is it?’

  ‘I wonder if you’re too young, Charles, to have heard of Arthur Bodimeade.’

  ‘Certainly not. He was a legend in the theatre. But surely he can’t still be around, can he?’

  ‘He’s very much around. He’s ninety-four years old and he lives right here in Eastbourne. What’s more, Bix agreed to let me offer him the part of Nausea and – the even better news – Arthur’s agreed to step into the breach.’

  As if on a cue, the rehearsal-room door opened to admit a little old man, whose overcoat must’ve fitted when he had more flesh on his bones. Now he looked like a stick insect wrapped in a towel. The skin on his face was parchment-thin and he wore round glasses with lenses as thick as the bottoms of jam jars. What hair remained on his head had been dyed jet black and Brylcreemed down as though there was still enough of it to have a parting. One freckled, claw-like hand carried a dark grey trilby, the other a small leather suitcase. His black shoes had a high polish rarely seen outside military establishments.

  Arthur Bodimeade and Danny Fitz were clearly old friends. And there was a wonderful physical contrast between them, Danny built like a docker, Arthur tiny and bird-like. When introduced to Charles Paris the newcomer said, ‘Yes, of course, I have heard your name, but probably not seen much of your recent work. I don’t find it so easy to get to the theatre these days.’

  ‘Well, it’s a real honour to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’

  Arthur Bodimeade’s watery eyes twinkled. ‘Nothing too bad I hope.’

  ‘All good.’

  ‘Flatterer,’ came the almost skittish response.

  ‘And I am delighted to see that you are still working,’ said Charles.

  ‘Oh, I do still get offers,’ said Arthur Bodimeade. ‘The trouble is these days they all seem to be for old men.’

  EIGHTEEN

  FAIRY GODMOTHER: My magic powers and insp
iration Now will make … a transformation!

  Charles Paris found that afternoon’s rehearsal a wonderful education. If watching Danny Fitz work on his own had been a masterclass, then some more elevated description would have to be found for the interplay between Danny and Arthur Bodimeade. They referred to various traditional pantomime routines in a kind of shorthand. ‘Can we fit in the Drink of Truth here, do you think?’ ‘Let’s do the Money Lending Gag.’ ‘Is this the moment for the Busy Bee?’

  And each, by some kind of instinct, knew exactly what followed. Though the two actors had never actually worked together, they came from the same tradition. The physical contrast between them made for a perfect double act. And they were walking repositories of pantomime history.

  The other remarkable sight Charles observed that afternoon was the transformation of Arthur Bodimeade. Frail and doddery when he wasn’t acting, the moment he started the crosstalk with Danny Fitz, the years dropped off him. He was suddenly light on his feet, lithe as a teenager. Actors describe the magic that enables someone laid up with crippling flu to go on stage and give a fine performance as ‘Doctor Theatre’. And Doctor Theatre was certainly doing his stuff with Arthur in that rehearsal room.

  The most astonishing achievement of the afternoon was the emergence of a script. The scenes Danny had been trying to get together with Tad had had no life and felt like clumsy irrelevances bolted on to the Cinderella story. But the routines he worked up with Arthur had their own kind of logic and pushed the narrative forward. The two old actors were clearly adept at tailoring their material to different storylines. With slight adjustments their routines could be – and had been – fitted in to any pantomime from Aladdin to Babes in the Wood. With minor word changes and the interpolation of a few characters’ names, the script they ended up with that afternoon could have been written specifically for Cinderella.

  Baron Hardup’s contributions to the Ugly Sisters’ scenes had never amounted to a great deal, just the odd feed line to throw in, and with the new routines he had even less to do, but Charles couldn’t have minded less. Like most actors (though they all deny it) the first thing he did on receiving a new script was to count his lines, and like most actors he felt pretty miffed when one or more of them was cut. But working with Danny Fitz and Arthur Bodimeade was such a treat that he wouldn’t have cared if he had no lines at all in their scenes. He was getting enough of a charge from being in the presence of genius.