Free Stagestruck by Peter Lovesey Page A

status thing, I believe.’
    ‘They may not want the room disturbed,’ Paloma said. ‘Like a crime scene.’
    ‘But it isn’t a crime scene. There’s no official investigation. The management were playing it down this morning.’
    ‘They would, wouldn’t they?’
    ‘Carry on as usual. The show must go on. That’s why I’m thinking the understudy may have moved in.’
    ‘On the other hand, if they’re playing it down they may decide to keep the room undisturbed in case Clarion gets over her problem and is ready to return before the end of the run.’
    ‘How long is the run?’ His brain was racing.
    ‘Only a week. They move on to some other theatre after Saturday night.’
    ‘I doubt if she’ll be back.’ He took the mobile from his pocket. ‘Do you mind? I need to call Ingeborg urgently.’
    Paloma sighed and shook her head. Their walks were supposed to be the chance to get away from it all. And how ironic that she’d bought him the phone as a present. ‘Go on. It must be important.’
    He got through and issued instructions to Inge.
    After the call was over, Paloma said, ‘You could have gone yourself instead of sending Ingeborg.’
    ‘But I’m with you.’
    She smiled. ‘Has that ever got in the way of police business?’
    They walked in silence for a short way, each reflecting on that last remark. They’d reached the other end of the gardens and the towpath stretched ahead through an eighty-metre tunnel under Beckford Road. There was light at the end, but it was not an inviting place to walk through. ‘I’m not proud of this,’ he said, ‘but to tell you the truth I don’t like going into that theatre. It has an effect on me.’
    ‘I noticed, the only time we’ve been there together,’ she said. ‘You made a huge effort that evening, didn’t you? I appreciated it.’
    ‘It’s not as if I’m a wimp. I’ve attended some gruesome scenes in my time and not turned a hair. Step in there and I can’t wait to get out. I’m sure my body temperature drops several degrees.’
    ‘Is it just the Theatre Royal?’
    ‘Any theatre.’ He sniffed. ‘But we don’t have to talk about my hang-ups.’
    ‘There must be a reason for it.’
    ‘Whatever it is, it’s deep-seated. My parents gave up trying to take me to pantomimes.’
    ‘You must have had a bad experience as a child.’
    ‘If I did, I don’t remember. No, it’s more about my personality. Theatre is make-believe and I’ve never wanted to have anything to do with it. I’m a logical guy. I prefer the real world.’
    She shook her head. ‘Forgive me for saying this, Peter, but that’s bunk. You’re rationalising, giving in to this hang-up, as you call it.’
    He was silent. Not many people could talk to him like that and get away with it.
    ‘And you’re missing so much. For me, that moment when the house lights start to dim is magical. I’d hate to be deprived of it.’
    ‘Bully for you and I understand why, but it doesn’t alter the feeling I get each time I go there.’
    ‘How are you going to head this investigation, then?’
    He laughed. ‘With difficulty.’
    ‘Would you like to overcome your problem?’
    Now he exhaled sharply. He was wary. ‘I’m not sure. What do you have in mind?’
    ‘I know someone who helps people with phobias – ’
    ‘I wouldn’t call it a phobia,’ he said at once, ‘and I certainly don’t want to see a shrink.’
    ‘Raelene isn’t a shrink. She’s an earthy Australian, probably the wisest person I know. She can help you, I feel sure, but you have to be willing to unblock whatever it is that your brain is hiding from you.’
    ‘I don’t want to do this.’
    ‘Fair enough. Think it over.’ She looked away, across the canal, and changed the subject. ‘I may be stating the obvious, but could the Clarion incident be a case of stage fright?’
    He shook his head. ‘The burns must be genuine, or she wouldn’t have been moved to Frenchay.’
    ‘I mean if she was terrified of