The Cinderella Killer Read online

  NAUSEA: You stick a knife in it and if it comes out clean, it’s cooked.

  BUTTONS: Oh, good, if it comes out clean I’ll stick all the other dirty knives in it too.

  Not great, but traditional and it might well get a laugh based on the enduring stupidity of Buttons’ character.

  Felix, however, thought it would be funnier if he were to make his second line, ‘Oh, good, I’ll stick my dick in too – that could do with a clean-up, after the unlikely places it’s been.’

  Charles didn’t say anything but he felt sympathy for Danny trying to explain to the stand-up that the line a) wasn’t funny, b) didn’t fit into the pantomime tradition, and c) would be totally unsuitable for a matinee full of pre-teens.

  The wrangling went on for some time. Kenny retained his customary cool and didn’t take sides, but Tad was with Felix all the way. Watching from the sidelines, Charles felt acutely embarrassed, particularly when Felix started telling Danny that he ought to ‘come into the twenty-first century’. Audiences, he said, ‘don’t mind a bit of smut these days – in fact, they feel cheated if they don’t get it.’

  Danny countered that double entendres were fine, indeed the stock-in-trade of many pantomime routines, but there was no ambiguity in the lines that Felix was coming up with. They could only be interpreted one way – and that was as filth.

  ‘Look,’ said Felix, his false lashes flickering dangerously under their glittering eyeliner, ‘I can guarantee you that that line will get a laugh.’

  ‘Possibly,’ came the waspish reply from Danny. ‘You could flash your willy at the audience and that’d probably get a laugh too. But it wouldn’t be the right kind of laugh.’

  Charles was deeply aware of how much time was being wasted by this argument. The rehearsal schedule was already tight enough without battling over the script. Though Bix was polishing up the musical numbers to a high professional gloss, there were whole dialogue scenes that still hadn’t even been looked at. It was Thursday and the show was opening on the following Friday.

  Eventually Kenny said something. His stance as a neutral didn’t stop him from being aware of the waste of rehearsal time. ‘Hey, guys,’ he began in a conciliatory tone, ‘let’s not get this out of proportion. I think I see a solution here.’

  ‘The solution,’ said Danny, ‘is to do the traditional kitchen slapstick scene.’

  ‘Not necessarily. All that’s needed is a funny scene, something for the audience to laugh at.’

  ‘And they will laugh at the traditional kitchen slapstick scene – if it’s done right.’

  ‘Sure,’ Kenny agreed. ‘But it might be easier to do something completely different.’

  ‘Completely different – like what?’

  ‘There’s a comic song I did on an album some years back – nothing to do with The Dwight House. Always works when I do it in cabaret. And the thing is – there’s a funny chorus which you three could do.’

  Charles was struck by how reasonable Kenny sounded. This wasn’t just an ego trip; he was genuinely trying to come up with a way out of their current impasse.

  ‘But what about the kitchen slapstick scene?’ asked Danny.

  ‘We drop the kitchen slapstick scene,’ Kenny replied.

  Danny looked as though he had been shot through the heart.

  ‘So how’re things going with the dialogue scenes?’ said Bix Rogers.

  Charles found it bizarre that such a question could be asked by the director about his own show. Bix was meant to be responsible for the whole production of Cinderella, but he was still focusing all his attention on the musical numbers. Presumably at some point during rehearsals, Charles comforted himself, they’d have to do a run of the whole show, and then Bix would see the uneven quality of the dialogue scenes. How the director reacted then would be interesting.

  ‘We’re getting there,’ Kenny replied, ‘but there’s a lot of work still to be done.’

  ‘I’m sure there is.’ But Bix spoke as if, whatever the nature of the work that needed doing, it was somebody else’s problem, rather than his.

  ‘We’ve been working on the kitchen slapstick scene.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Bix responded distractedly.

  ‘Danny’s very keen to keep it in, but I’m not sure it’s going to play right.’

  ‘Well, see how you go.’

  ‘I was suggesting to the boys that maybe we junk the slapstick scene and put in another musical number.’

  Bix’s eyes lit up. ‘Now that is a good idea.’

  Felix was not to be upstaged. ‘I was thinking also, Bix, that I could put in a bit of my stand-up act too … you know, in that bit when I’m alone in the kitchen just before Cinderella goes to the ball. I’ve got a very funny routine about being gay and shopping for vegetables.’

  ‘Sure. Whatever works,’ said the director.

  A second bullet appeared to have entered Danny’s heart. Charles, who also had great respect for the traditions of pantomime, felt for him. He thought back to the pantomimes he and Frances had taken their daughter Juliet to, back in the days when their marriage and family life had been almost normal. And that of course made him think again about Frances, and the terrible prospect of losing her.

  Rehearsal breaks in the two halls of St Asaph’s Church didn’t always coincide, but they had done that morning, so the musical parts and the dialogue parts of the company were all foregathered in the larger hall. Except of course for a lot of the dancers, who had gone straight outside to light up cigarettes.

  One who hadn’t gone, though, was the dance captain, Jasmine del Rio. Though everyone had been introduced at the start of rehearsals, the dancers hadn’t intermingled a lot with the acting members of the company. It was partly because they always tended to stick together, but also because the intensity of Bix Rogers’ choreographic rehearsals left them little chance to socialize.

  But at this coffee break Jasmine del Rio detached herself from Kitty Woo and came across purposefully to join the sycophantic group surrounding Kenny. Charles was struck again by the beautiful suppleness of her body and by the hardness of her face. He found it impossible to put an age on her. From a distance eighteen, closer at least thirty.

  Jasmine carried a cup of coffee and deliberately took the vacant chair next to Kenny. ‘We haven’t been introduced properly, have we?’ she said. Her voice had that kind of slack American twang affected by some on the outskirts of show business.

  He smiled his Dwight Bredon smile, open and welcoming. ‘No, we haven’t. I’ve seen you across a crowded rehearsal room, but that’s all.’ He held out a hand. ‘I’m Kenny Polizzi.’

  It was a good ploy, which Charles had seen used by a lot of famous people in showbiz. Even though well aware that everyone in the entire world knew who they were, they demonstrated apparent humility by identifying themselves.

  ‘Jasmine del Rio,’ she said, taking his hand.

  ‘It’s an honour to meet you,’ he said, still playing the humble card.

  ‘Though actually we have met before … worked together.’

  ‘Really?’ Kenny looked puzzled and a little wary. Not recognizing someone he’d worked with might tarnish his image of ‘regular guy’ bonhomie. It might even make him look a bit starry. ‘When was this?’

  ‘More than fifteen years ago. Before the whole Dwight House thing began.’

  ‘Oh.’ He looked relieved. Maybe forgetting someone after fifteen years wasn’t so bad.

  ‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘I wasn’t called Jasmine del Rio then.’

  ‘Oh? What were you called?’

  She smiled lazily, delaying the impact of her words. Then she said, ‘Marybeth Docker.’

  It was fortunate that Bix called everyone back to rehearsal at that point, because it obscured Kenny’s reaction to the name. But Charles was near enough to see that the American looked as though he had been slapped in the face, very hard.

  As had now become a habit, Charles lingered by the exit to St Asaph’s Church Halls
until Kenny joined him. Going to the pub together had quickly become an evening ritual for the two men. Charles still couldn’t help wondering whether it was a self-imposed test for Kenny, a proof to himself of how completely he had defeated the temptation of the demon drink.

  That evening as they left the hall, they encountered a woman standing outside in the street. Of indeterminate age, she wore a lilac hooded waterproof and sequin-decorated jeans. She had a small wheeled suitcase in a tiger-skin design. Her face was caked with powdery make-up and thick glasses distorted her eyes. For some reason he couldn’t define, Charles felt there was something odd about her.

  But clearly the woman knew Kenny Polizzi, and he knew her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I found you.’ Her accent was American.

  ‘You always do, Gloria.’ He spoke cautiously, warily, as if he knew that saying the wrong thing could upset her.

  ‘I sure do,’ the woman agreed.

  ‘This is Charles Paris. He’s in the show too.’

  ‘Hi,’ she said abstractedly. She clearly had no interest in Charles.

  ‘Will you be staying here in Eastbourne?’ asked Kenny with something like foreboding.

  ‘Oh yes, sure. I’ve booked in. I’ll be here for the duration of the show.’

  ‘Right.’ Nervously, Kenny asked, ‘Which hotel have you booked into?’ Clearly he was worried she might have found out he was staying in the Grand and followed him there.

  So he looked very relieved when she replied, ‘I’m in a very nice clean bed and breakfast.’ He looked a little less happy when she continued, ‘Very near here, near where you’re rehearsing, Kenny. So I’ll be very close. Like I always am. You know I’m always here for you, Kenny. Or should I say “Dwight”?’

  ‘Whichever.’ There was an awkward silence. At least it felt awkward to Charles. But the woman seemed unaffected. She just stood, blinking at her idol.

  Kenny broke the impasse. ‘Well, Charles and I must be moving, Gloria.’

  ‘Sure.’ She stepped back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Kenny.’

  When they were out of earshot Charles looked quizzically at Kenny. ‘Your Number One Fan?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Harmless, I hope.’

  ‘So do I. And I’m pretty sure she is. Don’t think she’s about to chop my legs off. No, Gloria’s just a bit of a fruitcake. She usually manages to find out where I am going to be, and she just … rolls up there.’

  ‘Even when it’s in another country?’

  ‘Yeah. She’s got some kind of trust fund. Money’s not a problem for her.’

  ‘But is she a problem for you?’

  Kenny shrugged. ‘People like Gloria van der Groot are occupational hazards for someone in my position.’

  ‘She’s a stalker?’

  ‘You could call it that. But she’s not really too much hassle. She doesn’t ask anything of me – not like some of the weirdos I get mail from. She just … likes to be near me, I guess. She’s never done anything that makes me feel I should call the cops. I’ve never had to get Lefty in to start handing round the injunctions. Gloria is just obsessed with The Dwight House – or with my character in The Dwight House. It’s not me she’s after, just some fictional guy on the television.’

  They had reached the door of the pub. Suddenly Kenny drew back. ‘I won’t be joining you tonight. Got a few things need sorting out.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Charles, but he was already speaking to his friend’s retreating back.

  He didn’t know whether it was seeing Gloria van der Groot … or his earlier encounter with Jasmine del Rio … or an anxiety that Charles knew nothing about … but something had rattled Kenny Polizzi.

  FIVE

  BARON HARDUP: My wife and I were perfectly happy for twenty-five years. Then we met each other.

  ‘But it makes nonsense of the story,’ said Danny Fitz. ‘Not to mention the tradition.’

  ‘Look, Kenny is the biggest name in this show,’ said Bix Rogers. ‘Nobody’s going to argue with that, are they?’

  ‘I’m not arguing with that,’ said the Ugly Sister. ‘He’s a name that’s known throughout the world, but that’s not the point.’

  ‘Then what is the point?’

  ‘The point is that Baron Hardup – whoever’s playing the part – is still a minor role in the story of Cinderella. And there is a traditional pecking order in the Walkdown.’

  The Walkdown was what they were rehearsing that morning. This is the climax of every pantomime, when all the cast, in new costumes (or not in new costumes, according the exigencies of the production’s budget), parade from the back of the stage to the front to receive – and milk – the audience’s applause.

  Because this moment in the show involved the entire cast, Bix was actually giving some direction to the speaking company members as well as the singers and dancers, a novelty so far in the rehearsal process. And, needless to say, he wanted the show’s finale to be a really big production number. This was bad news for Charles. Though he could just about hold a tune and get away with singing onstage (particularly singing with other people – he’d got very good over the years at synchronizing his lips and letting no sound emerge), dancing was another matter.

  He could move all right, learn the steps that he was meant to be doing … so long as there was no music playing. Once the accompanist or band started, he was put off his stroke completely. It had been ever thus. From Oxford University revue onwards, Charles Paris had been the despair of a lengthening line of musical directors and choreographers. And since at auditions for the Empire Theatre Eastbourne’s Cinderella he had blithely assured the director that he could sing and dance, he wasn’t looking forward to the moment when Bix found out the truth.

  Lying at auditions, incidentally – or to put it more graciously, finessing the truth – is so common among actors that very few of them feel any guilt about it. After all, what matters is getting the part and if a few inexactitudes are involved in that process … well, surely it’s in a good cause. Age is one of the subjects where a little laxity with the truth is almost de rigueur. Charles had an actor friend from university – so an exact contemporary in his late fifties – who, on being asked his age at auditions always replied with touching sincerity, ‘Forty-one, but play younger.’

  And of course, when it comes to special skills, actors’ claims are often way wide of the mark. There are many true stories of film actors who, having bigged up their equestrian abilities through a long sequence of casting interviews, encountered a horse for the first time on the day the movie started shooting. And Charles particularly relished the story of an American actor who, asked at an audition whether he was Jewish, replied, ‘Not necessarily.’

  So he didn’t feel guilty about the lies he’d told Bix, but he anticipated a certain awkwardness when they got to his part in the choreography of the Walkdown.

  Still, mercifully, at that moment Bix was preoccupied by his argument with Danny Fitz. The point of contention was the order in which the last few characters should appear in the Walkdown. ‘This is nothing to do with billing, Bix,’ Danny continued. ‘It’s just the way Cinderella has always been done. You start the Walkdown with the chorus boys and girls, then the minor characters – like the Broker’s Men, Dandini, that lot – usually in twos. Then the last few entrances are Baron Hardup and the Fairy Godmother, quite often coming on together. Next comes Buttons, on his own. Then the two Ugly Sisters – and, finally, in their wedding finery, Prince Charming and Cinderella! That’s the way it’s always been.’

  ‘Well, it’s not going to be in this production,’ Bix Rogers announced with uncharacteristic firmness. ‘Kenny Polizzi will be the last person to make an entrance in the Walkdown.’

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense for—’

  ‘It’s going to happen, Danny. Kenny’s contract guarantees him top billing – and top billing includes taking the final entrance for the Walkdown.’

  Charles could recognize there was no way rou
nd that argument and, with bad grace, Danny was forced to accept it too.

  The public nature of this discussion was possible because its subject, Kenny Polizzi, was not present at rehearsal that Friday morning. He was guesting on a daytime television chat show. The management of Cinderella recognized that, since his workload in the pantomime was light, he was best employed drumming up publicity for the production.

  Kenny’s absence from St Asaph’s Church Halls that morning prevented – or probably only delayed – an encounter that Charles would have given a great deal to witness.

  It was getting towards lunchtime, and it had been a gruelling morning – particularly for Charles. He would have thought, given the time pressures on the rehearsal schedule, that Bix, having taken on board the patent fact that Charles had more left legs than a centipede, would have endeavoured to simplify the steps that he wanted this particular Broker’s Man to make. But that was not the Bix Rogers way. For one thing he was a perfectionist. He had a very clear idea in his mind of every move he wanted every character to make during the musical numbers and he wasn’t going to allow the basic incompetence of one of his cast to spoil the vision.

  But Bix was also one of those worrying people (worrying to Charles, anyway) who constantly expressed the view that ‘everyone can dance’. While this might be a good approach with primary school children and could even encourage some of the more inhibited to have a go, it was never going to work on Charles Paris. So, particularly for Charles and Bix, it was a tough morning.

  They’d got to the point when the director said, ‘A little bit more tinkering, then one more run at it and we’ll break for lunch,’ when the doors of the rehearsal room burst open.

  It was really no surprise that Lilith Greenstone knew how to make an entrance. She was one of those rare child stars in the movies who’d survived to become an adult star in the movies. She had also diversified into stage work, revealing that, unlike many film actors, she could actually act. Sing and dance, too. She’d recently won an Emmy for her work in a Broadway musical.

  And when she burst into that rehearsal room in Eastbourne everything stopped. Everyone was silent. They just looked at her.