Free Murder Unprompted: A Charles Paris Murder Mystery by Simon Brett Page A

a part at the beginning of one’s career was rather different from losing it after twenty years in the business, would have made some bitter retort. But, as it was, Michael Banks had him eating out of his hand. Yes, of course, said Alex, no, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t hurt, but thanks for saying it, and he’d be happy to give any advice that might be required.
    George Birkitt didn’t show quite the same smooth tact in his dealings with the actor he was replacing.
    ‘Hello, Charles. Long time, no see,’ he murmured after getting himself a coffee.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Rather strange circumstances for a meeting.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I was very undecided when my agent told me about the offer . . .’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Well, it
is
second billing, no two ways about that. I mean, God knows, I’m the last person in the world to worry about that sort of thing, but there does come a point in your career where you
have
to think about it. I mean, with
Fly-Buttons
up there in the ratings, I do have to be a bit careful.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I tell you, Charles, it was only after I heard that they’d signed up Micky Banks that I agreed to do it. Of course, it is still second billing, but second billing to Micky Banks is no disgrace at this stage in my career.’
    ‘No, I suppose not,’ said Charles.
    Peter Hickton was up from Taunton and keen to start working his cast as hard as ever. Now that the two main parts had been recast, there really was going to be a lot to do, and the company waved goodbye to their hopes of a cushy fortnight.
    The director clapped his hands. ‘O.K., loves. Now, as you all know, we’ve got a big job on, and we’re going to have to work every hour there is to get
The Hooded Owl
up to the standard I know it can reach.’
    This was very familiar to those who had worked with Peter before; he said it before every production, regardless of how complex or simple it was, and regardless of the length of rehearsal allocated.
    ‘Now what I want to do is go through the blocking today, so that Micky and George can start to feel the shape of the production. Tomorrow we’ll get down to Act One in detail, and then on Wednesday we’ll –’
    ‘Um, sorry, old boy . . .’
    Peter Hickton looked to the source of the interruption. It was Michael Banks.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Sorry, can’t do Wednesday.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Can’t do Wednesday. Got to do some Pro-Celebrity Golf thing for the BBC. Didn’t the agent mention it?’
    Peter Hickton looked round to Paul Lexington, who shook his head.
    ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. The agent’s an awful duffer when it comes to dates. Got the same thing the following Wednesday too.’
    ‘Oh.’ But Peter Hickton was only slowed down for a moment. ‘Never mind. If we work hard over the weekend, we can –’
    ‘Ah. Sorry, old boy, going away for the weekend.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Going to stay with some chums in Chichester. Can’t really put it off, been in the diary for ages. Sorry, this show came up so suddenly, there are a few dates we’ll have to work round.’
    ‘Yes’ said Peter Hickton. ‘Yes, of course.’
    Under normal circumstances, understudies would be expected to attend all the rehearsals to familiarise themselves with the production, but, because Alex and Charles knew the play so well, they were given a dispensation to take most of the first week off, which would save both them and their replacements the embarrassment of the early stumbling rehearsals while the newcomers were trying to memorise the lines. The two understudies were asked to come back on the Friday afternoon, when there was going to be a complete run of the play for the producers and Malcolm Harris.
    When he arrived at the rehearsal room on the Friday, Charles found the author in a state of extreme annoyance.
    ‘What’s up, Malcolm?’
    ‘Have you seen this?’ He pointed to a printed handout on a table. It read:
    THE VARIETY THEATRE
    PAUL LEXINGTON PRODUCTIONS
    in association with
    BOBBY