The Cinderella Killer (7 page)

‘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.

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

 

‘B
ut 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 round 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.

She was quite a sight to see. Workouts with a personal trainer, expert attention to her jet-black hair and punctiliously applied make-up ensured that she looked fifteen years younger than her real age of forty-eight. Her olive-coloured eyes sparkled with life. A green dress in some shiny material stopped way up her thighs, revealing perfect black-stockinged legs which ended in short mushroom-grey boots. Over the ensemble a white faux-fur coat reached almost to the ground. To Charles Paris, she looked pretty amazing.

And if there was anyone in the rehearsal room who hadn't recognized her, Lilith Greenstone's first words might have helped the identification process. ‘Where,' she demanded, ‘is that bastard husband of mine, Kenny Polizzi?'

It said something for the power of stardom that no one thought to reprimand her. Anyone else who had broken up a rehearsal like that – particularly someone who knew the usages of theatre – would have been immediately bawled out.

And Bix, who as director should have been the one bawling Lilith Greenstone out, was all over her like a rash. A real Broadway musical star – right there in his own rehearsal room. Though not actually gay, Bix demonstrated all the camp reverence accorded to such mythical creatures.

‘I'm so sorry, Miss Greenstone,' he said, before even introducing himself, ‘I'm afraid Kenny hasn't been called for rehearsal today. He's in London doing a chat show.'

‘Jeez!' said Lilith. ‘You mean I could have gone straight to London, rather than dragging down here to Hicksville-on-Sea?'

‘Kenny should be back here this evening,' said Bix in a conciliatory tone.

‘Then I'll hang around for the bastard,' said Lilith.

The director, excited that she might mean she was going to hang around the rehearsal, saw an opportunity to impress her with his choreographic skills. ‘We were just about to break for lunch,' he said. ‘Just after we've done one more run of the show's closer. Would you like to see us do that?'

‘Hell, no,' she replied. ‘What I want to see is a large drink. And I'm starving hungry too. I can't eat that crap they serve on airplanes. Is there one of your traditional English pubs in this back-end of nowhere?'

‘Yes, of course there is, Miss Greenstone. And it would give me great pleasure to take you there once I've just finished rehearsing this number. Now if you—'

‘I want a drink
now
,' said Lilith implacably.

‘Ah. Well.' Bix's rehearsal plans were instantly rescheduled. He clapped his hands. ‘OK, everyone, that's a wrap for this morning.' He hadn't used the word ‘wrap' to them before. Charles reckoned he just wanted to appear movie-savvy to Lilith.

He wasn't the only one who asked Bix if he was going to come back to rehearse the Walkdown again after lunch. If they weren't, Baron Hardup wasn't called for the afternoon and he would be free. The director said no, after the break he'd be moving on to the Fairy Godmother transformation scene.

Bix escorted Lilith to the pub, glowing with the reflected glory of the stardust she scattered over him. Charles went to the pub too. But his journey had nothing to do with Lilith Greenstone. He would have gone there anyway.

After half an hour in the Sea Dog, Charles was beginning to get a little sick of Bix's sycophancy. And from the occasional look in Lilith's eyes he got the impression she was beginning to tire of it too. Fine to have her work appreciated, flattering that Bix could provide such detail of every show she had been in, but there was a limit to how much flattery she could take. Charles sensed they were both relieved when the director regretfully said he had to return to rehearsal.

By then they were two rounds of drinks in. Charles had knocked back a couple of large Bell's, and Lilith had kept pace with large vodka tonics. At Bix's departure both of them seemed to have found their glasses mysteriously empty. ‘Same again?' asked Charles.

‘Sure. And I'm still starving hungry. What's that traditional pub meal you have over here? Sausage and hash?'

‘Sausage and mash is the more usual dish on offer.'

‘Get me one of them.'

At the bar Charles ordered sausage and mash for the both of them and the same again on the drinks, which he took back to the table.

As he sat down he covertly looked again at Lilith with a degree of amazement. She was so perfectly groomed she looked like a doll that had just been taken out of its display box. But no, that was the wrong image. She was a lot feistier than a doll. But still so perfectly presented. Almost too perfect to be fanciable, thought Charles. It was hard to imagine rolling about in bed with something so soigné. But maybe with a little practice he could imagine it.