Charles cornered Grant Yeoell in his dressing room between the matinee and the evening performances. The tall actor seemed deeply involved in communing with his tablet.
‘Sorry, have you got a moment, Grant?’
‘Yes. Could do with a break. It’s a full-time job keeping up with my Twitter followers.’
Charles wasn’t entirely sure he knew what that meant, but he did know it was not a problem that he had.
‘It’s going back to Liddy Max …’
Grant let out an exasperated sigh. ‘We’ve talked about this already, Charles. Yes, we made love, dressed in monks’ habits. And that would have been the end of it … but for the fact that Liddy fell down the stairs and died the same evening.’
‘So, it was going to be a one-off? No plans for an ongoing relationship?’
‘No,’ said Grant, as if the idea were completely incongruous.
‘And did Liddy know that was the deal too?’
‘I’ve no idea. I assumed so.’
‘You didn’t think that she might have been in love with you?’
A grimace crossed the perfect features. ‘It wasn’t something I thought about. I think love is a woman’s construct. Men feel differently. My view is that, if someone wants me to make love to them, assuming they’re attractive – well, I’m up for it.’
‘I spoke to Liddy’s husband …’
‘I didn’t know she had a husband.’
‘Well, she did. Called Derek. He said she was obsessed with her career.’
‘True of a lot of actors.’
‘He also said she was hoping being in Habit might lead to her getting a part in a Vandals and Visigoths movie.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought that was very likely to happen.’
‘No, but clearly she thought it was. Being in a play with Justin Grover, and with you – well, she thought it might raise her chances.’
‘As I say, I wouldn’t have thought it likely. Justin does sometimes recommend actors to the Vandals producers, but I’ve never heard him mention Liddy in that context.’
‘And what about you?’
‘What about me? I wasn’t in the movies on Justin’s say-so. The casting directors picked me out from some modelling shoots I’d done.’
Charles couldn’t have imagined Grant would have been spotted doing anything that involved acting. But he went on, ‘No, what I meant was: do you think Liddy thought you might have some influence with the producers? Do you think that was why she was so ready to have sex with you?’
‘I suppose it’s possible.’ He didn’t sound that interested. ‘I thought it was just because she fancied me.’ Once again, he spoke as though being fatally attractive to women was a rather tiresome occupational hazard. ‘But if she did think I had any influence with the producers, then she was barking up the wrong tree. Justin’s the one who can make things happen there, not me. The whole production now works completely on his say-so. Everyone always does what Justin wants.’
Charles suddenly had a new idea. ‘Including you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you always do what Justin wants?’
‘I work with him a lot. Obviously on the Vandals and Visigoths movies, now on this. He’s the star. Nobody argues about that. But he can be surprisingly generous to other cast members.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant. If Justin asked you to do something, would you do it?’
‘It depends what it—’
‘Because presumably he has the power to fire as well as hire? So, it would pay to keep on the right side of him?’
Grant Yeoell conceded that that was the case.
‘And has Justin ever suggested that you should come on to some woman?’
‘Well …’
‘You know, said, “That one definitely fancies you. You’d be well in there”, that kind of thing?’
‘He may have said things like that. But it’s just – what’s the current expression? – “locker room talk”.’
‘And did Justin suggest to you that Liddy Max might be … susceptible to your charms? That she might be a potential target for you?’
Grant Yeoell turned his beautiful, expressionless eyes on Charles, and said, ‘Yes.’
Kell handed the spy camera across without asking any questions.
‘Is Justin about?’ asked Charles. ‘Or does he go out between the shows?’
‘He’s in his dressing room. Tends to put his feet up, after the emotional strain of giving of himself in the matinee.’ She caught in the two words some essence of the star’s preciousness, the quality he had displayed when, all those weeks before, he’d asked the company to ‘breathe in the atmosphere’ of the Duke of Kent’s Theatre.
Kell looked straight at Charles. Her eyes had all the acuteness that Grant Yeoell’s lacked. ‘So, you reckon the spy camera was for Justin’s benefit?’
‘Beginning to look that way.’
She nodded slowly. ‘That would figure.’
‘What do you mean? Do you know something?’
‘You hear a lot round the stage management grapevine.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘Some of it’s just spiteful gossip, but if you hear the same thing enough times …’
‘No smoke without …?’
‘Exactly, Charles. So, let’s say your suspicions prove to be true – well, there might be people around who could provide corroborating evidence.’
‘People you could contact?’
Kell nodded.
There was a long silence after Charles’s knock. He thought Justin might be asleep, and was about to go back to his own dressing room when the door opened. Justin looked alert. He had removed his habit, and was dressed in jeans and a casual cardigan.
‘Charles. What can I do for you?’
‘I hope I’m not disturbing …’ Though, of course, the purpose of his visit was very definitely to disturb.
‘No, please. Come in.’
Justin stood back. Charles hadn’t been in this particular Number One dressing room before. It was not only considerably bigger, but also much better decorated and equipped than those of the lowlier company members.
‘Take a seat.’ Justin Grover gestured broadly. ‘Can I get you a coffee or something?’
There was a state-of-the-art Italian machine on a shelf, but Charles demurred.
‘So,’ said Justin, sitting in an armchair set at an angle to his make-up mirror, ‘what can I do for you?’
Charles put the eyeball-shaped spy camera on the low table between them. ‘Do you know what that is?’
‘No,’ Justin replied.
‘It’s a spy camera.’
‘Really? Are you into espionage, Charles?’
‘I’m not, no.’
‘Well, thank you so much for showing me that. Absolutely fascinating. And now …’ He pointed to the door. ‘I do have another performance today, and Abbot Ambrose is not an untaxing role.’
‘Sorry to take up more of your time, Justin,’ Charles insisted, ‘but I do have more to say about this spy camera.’
‘Really?’
‘It was set up by Gideon, our late lamented stage doorman.’
‘I know who Gideon was. I met him when I was doing a previous show here. Anyway, I always know everyone backstage.’
If Justin was hoping to receive commendation for his magnanimous common touch, he didn’t get it. ‘Gideon set up the camera to spy on Liddy Max.’
‘How he got his sexual gratification is not really of much interest to me, Charles. Particularly now the poor man’s dead.’
‘It’s my view that, when Gideon set up the spy camera, he didn’t do it for his own pleasure. He was obeying orders.’
‘From whom?’
‘Someone in the company.’
Justin Grover shrugged. ‘So, we have a voyeur in our midst. Is that really such a surprise in this day and age?’
‘After Gideon found Liddy’s body … you know, the night she died … he removed this camera from her dressing room.’
‘A very wise precaution, I would imagine, since the police would inevitably be crawling all over the place.’
‘The output from this camera could have been viewed by anyone who linked up to it on their computer or tablet or smartphone.’
‘How very useful for people who get their kicks from watching actresses change into their costumes.’
‘The camera recorded a lot more than that.’
‘Oh, did it?’
‘It recorded, that same evening, Grant Yeoell making love to Liddy Max.’
There was a silence. For the first time, Charles felt he’d got an unprepared reaction from Justin Grover.
But the moment didn’t last long. The customary detached irony was back in the response, ‘Well, perhaps we should be grateful that the poor girl’s last few hours on earth included some pleasurable activity.’
‘I’ve talked to Grant.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I like to feel we’re a happy company, in which everyone talks to everyone else.’
Charles was not going to be put off by this nonchalant stonewalling. ‘Grant has told me that on occasions you have suggested women for him to come on to.’
Justin spread his hands wide. ‘One likes to help one’s co-workers when one can.’
‘Grant doesn’t need your help in getting women.’
‘No, they do rather throw themselves at the poor boy, don’t they?’
Charles tried a different tack. ‘From the start of this production, I found it interesting how many people involved in The Habit of Faith have a connection to the theatre in Bridport.’
‘You and me, obviously, doing our immortal double act as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Or was it the other way round?’
‘Also Tod Singer. And Seamus Milligan, come to that. Don’t you find that rather a coincidence?’
A shrug. ‘If an actor can’t help out an old chum, what has the world of theatre come to, eh?’ It was, word for word, exactly the same line which had made Charles feel so patronized at the read-through. Justin looked at him shrewdly, as he went on, ‘Why, you don’t have a more sinister explanation for my generosity, do you?’
‘Interesting times we live in,’ Charles observed. ‘Particularly in the theatre. Sexual misdemeanours from long ago being brought to light on a daily basis. What’s that catch-all expression that keeps coming up? “Inappropriate behaviour.” If every time a director had groped a pretty young actress, or an actor had goosed an ASM in the prop store … if all of those incidents become retrospectively actionable, where will it all end?’
‘Where indeed?’ asked Justin. But there was a new caution in his voice.
‘I just wondered,’ said Charles casually, ‘whether getting so many “old chums” from Bridport together in The Habit of Faith might be a way of buying our silence.’
‘“Buying your silence”? Silence about what?’
‘Hm. You remember Damian Grantchester?’
‘Of course I do. Camp as a row of teepees. Responsible for our deathless Rosencrantz and Guildenstern double act.’
‘Yes.’
‘Must be long dead, poor bugger.’
‘As it happens, no.’
‘Oh?’
‘I saw him this morning. In a care home in Dorking.’
‘You must give me the address. I’d love to be in touch with the old queen.’
‘Yes, you might well.’
‘What do you mean by that tone of voice, Charles?’
‘I mean you might like to find a way of buying his silence too.’ Justin did not respond. ‘But you’d be a bit late. Damian has already told me about your … well, I guess the phrase is “inappropriate behaviour”, in Bridport.’
‘What did he say?’ The mask of insouciance was off. Justin wanted to know the answer, wanted to know the level of damage that might need limitation.
Charles told him about the hole drilled through the wall into Ophelia’s dressing room. He told him about the girl’s puzzlement as to Justin’s intimate knowledge of her anatomy.
There was a silence. Then Justin Grover asked, ‘And do you believe any of this?’
‘Yes, I do. And I believe it’s related to Liddy Max’s death.’
‘Hm.’ Justin took his time. ‘When someone gets to my level of fame, notoriety, whatever you want to call it, a lot of nice things happen, and a lot of unpleasant ones too. The press are savage predators, and nowadays ordinary members of the public on social media are even worse. Anything shabby, anything slightly iffy from your past, is dragged up at every opportunity. Everyone wants a piece of you, and if they get that piece by taking you to court, they regard that as part of the fun.
‘So, if some senile old queen in a care home in Dorking claims to recall, through the cobwebs of his memory, that Justin Grover, now known across the world as Sigismund the Strong from Vandals and Visigoths, was a Peeping Tom – well, that’s just the kind of thing to set up a feeding frenzy.’
‘Are you denying his allegation is true?’
‘Of course I am, Charles,’ said Justin wearily. ‘And, what’s more, I know why he made it.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s quite ironic, really, all this talk of “inappropriate behaviour”. As you probably remember, Damian Grantchester used to come on to anything in trousers. Always had to ensure you didn’t go to have a pee at the same time as he did. He must have made advances to you, surely, Charles?’
‘Well, a bit. Rather half-hearted.’
‘Let me tell you, in my case, they were far from half-hearted. Damian spent that entire production trying to touch me up. He said it wasn’t just sex, he genuinely loved me. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of it, Charles.’
‘I didn’t notice him coming on to you more than he did to anyone else.’
‘Then you must have had your eyes shut for the entire period. Everyone else in the cast saw what was happening. God, if I wanted to bring a case for sexual harassment against Damian Grantchester, I’d have witnesses coming out of my ears. Not that I’d dream of doing anything of the kind … though I am represented by some of the best lawyers in the world. And Hollywood is notorious for the Rottweiler tendencies of its lawyers, as I’m sure you know. No, so far as Damian’s concerned, let the old queen live out his days peacefully in his care home in Dorking. I don’t have a vindictive nature.
‘Anyway, all of this harassment led eventually to a blazing row. I told Damian, in no uncertain terms, to keep his bloody hands to himself. Which he did, though he went into a monumental sulk over the whole business.
‘Charles, you’ve heard the old chestnut about revenge being a dish best served cold. Damian Grantchester has had a good few years to let his resentment cool down, but now he’s decided that his dish of revenge is also going to be a dish of dirt. His motivation is just the spite of a rejected lover. I’m surprised you even thought his accusations worth repeating to me.’
‘Well, I …’
Justin picked up the spy camera from the table, and handed it across. ‘I suggest you take this little gizmo, go back to your dressing room, and prepare for this evening’s performance with your customary half-bottle of Bell’s.’
Charles couldn’t help saying, ‘I’m actually off the Bell’s.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Not before time.’
That was patronizing again, and Charles wasn’t ready to leave just yet. ‘I’m afraid there are still more questions I want to ask about the spy camera.’
‘Well, don’t bloody ask me about it!’ It was the first time during their conversation that Justin had lost his cool. ‘If you’re really interested in who was spying on Liddy Max, then you’re talking to the wrong man.’
‘So, who should I be talking to?’
‘Someone who loved her. More than loved, was obsessed by her. Someone who was so jealous, he was quite capable of arranging to have a spy camera set up in her dressing room. And quite capable of killing her if he saw her with another man!’
‘Are you talking about her husband, Derek?’
‘I didn’t know she even had a husband.’
‘Then who are you talking about?’
‘God, you’re unobservant, Charles. Didn’t you notice him, right through the rehearsal period, his eyes following her every movement like a devoted puppy?’
‘Who?’
‘Seamus Milligan.’