‘But she’s one of those girls who always ends up falling for the ones who are complete shits.’
‘Right.’ Sydnee looked at him appraisingly, but with approval, respecting his judgement. As he had on the day of the recording, Charles caught a momentary glimpse of the real person beneath the surface efficiency.
‘And Barrett Doran was the latest in this long line of shits?’
Sydnee nodded.
‘How long had it been going on?’
‘Maybe six months on and off. They met on another W.E.T. series. Another game show, actually. Chippy was A.S.M. on that.’
‘They didn’t move in together?’
‘No. He’d just turn up at her flat every now and then. Usually not when he said he would. She spent a lot of those evenings sitting waiting with the dinner slowly drying up in the cooker. Then another night he’d turn up at one in the morning with no warning at all.’
‘How to win friends and influence people.’
‘Oh, Chippy lapped it up. There was always a kamikaze element in her relationships. She asked for it.’
‘And she got it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Barrett presumably had other fish to fry?’
‘You bet. He was the worst sort of celebrity. Reckoned, because he was a famous face, he could get off with anyone. And usually he could.’
‘Did Chippy mind that?’
‘At first I think she did. Then she realised that either she would have to accept all the others or forget it, so she stopped complaining. I think it kind of fuelled her masochism.’
‘Was Barrett married?’
‘Not significantly. I think there probably was a wife somewhere in the background, but it didn’t inhibit his activities.’
‘And, if Chippy was prepared to put up with all that, why was she suddenly reckoned to be capable of murdering him?’
‘Because he broke it off. Didn’t just stop turning up at her flat, didn’t just stop ringing her. . he actually told her: Forget it, it’s all over.’
‘Any idea why?’
‘I think he was probably just bored with her. The sex, from her account, was pretty good, but then he could get plenty of sex elsewhere. I think also Chippy was a bit ordinary for him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just an Assistant Stage Manager. Little bit of fluff, little bit of nothing. Barrett was getting to that stage of celebrity where he no longer just wanted to screw everything in sight, he only wanted to screw other celebs. You know, he wanted to be seen around with people, wanted to make it to the gossip columns.’
‘And Chippy didn’t match up?’
‘No. Not famous enough.’
‘Hmm. Sounds as if she was well shot of him.’
‘Yes, of course she was. I told her it’d be a disaster from the start. Trouble was, Chippy reckoned she had fallen in love with him — no, let’s be fair to her, she had fallen in love with him. I mean, I know she always dramatised things, but this time it was a bit different. I’d seen her in the throes of other affairs, but she had never been like she was with Barrett. She was just totally obsessed with him. She used to tape all his shows and sit at home on her own watching them.’
‘What, game shows?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’d sit and watch game shows for pleasure? My God, it must have been love.’
Charles stopped short. He remembered that he was talking to someone whose work was game shows. He mustn’t assume that she shared his cynicism on the subject, and be careful that he didn’t offend her.
Sydnee’s pale-blue eyes stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, slowly, a childlike smile broke across her face.
‘It’s all right, Charles. I’m fully aware of the real quality of what I work on. But the work is nothing to do with the end-product. As you know, you can still be satisfied with your own professional contribution to a project that is utter rubbish.’
He nodded. He had frequently had that experience. There was now more of a bond between them.
His glass was empty. He looked around vaguely, but again a peremptory gesture from Sydnee produced the waiter and repeated their order.
‘Presumably,’ he said, picking up the threads, ‘Chippy’s obsession with Barrett is one of the reasons why the police reckon she killed him?’
‘Yes. Oh, she was certainly doing all the classic things a murder suspect should. . going round saying what a bastard he was, how much she hated him, how much she wished he’d never existed. I mean, none of us could deny that she had issued plenty of threats against him.’
‘You were questioned by the police?’
‘Oh yes. Everyone who was on the set at the time of the murder.’
‘I’m surprised they haven’t been on to me.’
‘They’ve got your address and phone number. I just don’t think they needed to spread the net any wider. They reckon they’ve got enough to convict Chippy already.’
‘Hmm. Like what?’
‘Well, let’s say we’ve sorted out Motive. As I recall from my teenage reading of detective stories, the next point to be checked was always Opportunity.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So far as Opportunity was concerned, Chippy was uniquely placed. She was working on Method In Their Murders, she knew Melvyn Gasc had insisted on the realism of having all the correct props for the series, so she knew that the bottle of cyanide was around.’
‘And she went off to look after Studio B soon after six. I remember.’
‘Exactly. So she had a unique opportunity to doctor Barrett’s glass.’
‘Which contained gin originally, am I right?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
Again Charles fudged the truth a little. ‘I worked it out from things Barrett said to you.’
‘He always insisted on his glass of gin. Don’t blame him, actually. You need something to keep up that relentless good humour in front of the camera.’
‘Hmm. One strange thing that struck me,’ Charles mused, going off at a tangent, ‘was why he didn’t die earlier.’
‘Sorry? I’m not with you.’
‘Well, if he was that dependent on the gin, why didn’t he take a big swig earlier on in the recording? Why did he wait till the end?’
‘Yes, I wondered about that. The only reason I could think was that, under all that brashness, Barrett Doran was very nervous. He was concentrating so hard on getting the new show right that he forgot about the booze.’
‘I suppose that’s possible.’
‘He did nip off to his dressing room for a big one at the end of Part One.’
‘Ah.’
‘Also, he played it well. I mean, in terms of drama. He only used the drink when the wheel was spinning, claiming that he couldn’t stand the tension. He was a good showman, Barrett.
‘Hmm.’ Charles took a long, pensive swallow of whisky. ‘Did you get a chance to talk to Chippy after the recording?’
‘Yes, I did. We went out for a few drinks after the first round of police questioning.’
‘What sort of state was she in?’
‘Pretty terrible. Kind of numb and totally fatalistic. Like part of her was dead. With Barrett gone, she didn’t reckon she had anything to live for. That’s what worries me. If she’s in that sort of state, she’s not going to fight. I know her. She’ll just accept being accused of the murder. She’ll see it as a kind of punishment, yet another proof that it’s a rotten world and she never had a chance.’
‘But she can’t just have been charged on circumstantial evidence. The police must have got a bit more on her.’
‘Yes, I suppose they have. You see, she did fiddle around with Barrett’s glass.’
‘Did she?’
‘Oh yes. She made no bones about it. She told me that evening. And presumably she told the police too.’
‘What did she say she did?’
‘While she was meant to be looking after Studio B in the meal-break, she was feeling really vindictive towards Barrett — you know, particularly after he’d cut her dead in the bar — and she decided she’d have a small revenge on him. She knew about the gin, knew he always had a glass on the set, so she just thought she’d deprive him of that comfort.