Murder in the Wings (A DI Frank Lyle Mystery)

DI Frank Lyle

Two 

DI Frank Lyle

Steadman was visibly shaking and I guessed it was from shock. It was a common occurrence among people who had never encountered a cadaver before. Even some of the ones I'd seen had sent me into shock, but I didn't mind that because it proved I was human. In fact I cared deeply for people who were murdered, because they trusted me to find justice for them and those they left behind. My team and I had offered compassion to many friends and relatives down the years and often this extended to those who found the body.

I sat in one of the two spare chairs in the office. I had sent Delaney to talk to Jim Cox and his SOCO team. Redfern stood in the doorway.

"Did you know the deceased, beyond seeing him on television?" Redfern asked.

Steadman shook his head.

"No, professionals like him would not give people like me the time of day,"

There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"You didn't like him?" 

"I didn't say that, Inspector. I had nothing to do with him really, other than making sure the kitchen and backstage areas were clean. But if you want to know someone who couldn't stand the sight of the man you need to look at the lighting director, Kevin McAllister. He had worked with him in another theatre company and, believe me, there was no love lost."

I made a mental note of the name.

"What time did you arrive at work Mr Steadman?" I asked. 

"I arrived about nine pm, just as it was starting to get dark. I never come in much before that when there is a production in progress as they often rehearse until late. I saw the light on under the dressing room door, but didn't go to check as I thought someone might be learning lines or something. I went and did the rest of the job and came back. That was when I got concerned and pushed open the door and the rest you know." 

"How long does it take you to do your job?" Redfern asked. 

"On average it takes me about ninety minutes," 

"So you found Marlow's body about ten thirty?" 

"Yes and the reason I know that is because I glanced at my watch, which keeps excellent time, just before I went into the dressing room."

I looked at Redfern. This tallied with what Dr Bradley had told us. Marlow was still warm to the touch and I knew that rigor did not start to develop until about 3 hours after death. I did not really see that Steadman could add much more to what we already knew although I had already decided to follow up on Kevin McAllister.

"You should come back in the morning, Inspector. The production director and the theatre manager will be here then and they will be able to give you details on the people involved with the production. " 

"That's very helpful, Mr Steadman," Redfern said, "We'll do that." 

"You can go home now, Mr Steadman," I said, "But we'll need your name and address in case we have to talk to you again."

Steadman scribbled his address on a scrap of paper and I put it in my jacket pocket. We watched as he walked outside into the warm July evening.

Redfern and I went to see Jim Cox. He reported that he had taken several prints, but that we shouldn't get too excited as this was a place where lots of people had been through. He said that Bradley had taken samples of blood from Marlow's body and from the floor in case the murderer had cut themselves which was always a possibility.

"We need to follow up on the theatre company," Redfern said, "I have a feeling this could be an occasion of someone killing for a part." 

"We'll do that tomorrow," I said.

The mortuary van had already taken Marlow away in a body bag. 

"I'm not looking forward to trying to hold back the sleaze from the Ashbeck Courier," I said, "I know Marlow wasn't exactly an A list celeb but they will feed on the fact he was on TV." 

"We'll deal with it, Guv, after all there's not much as yet we can tell them." 

"Let's get home and have some rest so we can come to it fresh later on," I said. 

We said goodnight outside the theatre and drove home in separate cars. As yet we had no indication of the hotbed of professional jealousies that this case would uncover; or that it would bring me back into contact with an aspect of my own past.