‘Reasonably good. Mostly we play to full houses.’
‘What’s the seating capacity?’
‘Eight seventy-five. We used to seat more, but we removed some capacity when we last refurbished the main house in 1999. Necessary, though. It was a tight fit before, I have to admit. The present seating is the best you’ll find anywhere, by Quinnet of Paris, who fitted out the Royal Opera House. You’re a big man, but you’d be comfortable, I assure you.’
The personal reference wasn’t welcomed by Diamond. ‘I’ve never had trouble fitting into seats.’
‘More leg room, I meant.’
‘I once sat through an entire evening here.’
‘Congratulations.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, Diamond aired more of his limited theatrical know-how. ‘You need well-known actors to bring in the audiences.’
‘Yes, but we’re not tied to the star system. We have the Ustinov Studio as part of the complex and we can put on more experimental, contemporary productions there.’
‘Clarion Calhoun was chosen for her box office appeal. Is that right?’
Shearman glanced away momentarily. ‘She wasn’t my personal pick.’
Diamond didn’t miss an opening like that. ‘You’d have gone for someone else?’
‘I had reservations about Clarion. She went to drama school, but hasn’t done much since. It was a top-level decision, the choice of play and the casting. Anyway, that’s water under the bridge. The poor woman won’t be doing any more acting in this run.’
‘How did Denise feel about the choice of Clarion in the main role?’
‘No idea. I never discussed it with her. Why should I? She was only a dresser. They’re pretty low in the pecking order. No way would they have a say in casting.’
‘But she was on the permanent staff. If there was a general feeling that Clarion wasn’t up to the job, it would have fed through to Denise.’
‘You’re losing me.’
‘There’s a sense of unity in this theatre,’ Diamond said, playing to Shearman’s vanity. ‘You sense it as soon as you step into the place. An outsider like Clarion – not known as an actor – is given the star part. There must have been some muttering in the ranks.’
‘How does this affect the tragedy of Denise’s suicide?’ Shear-man asked.
‘I’m thinking aloud. She was well placed to get Clarion sidelined.’
‘Deliberately? Oh, no.’
Diamond nodded.
Shearman dismissed the suggestion with a flap of his hand. ‘By making her up with something that damaged her face? No chance.’
‘You may as well know. It was caustic soda.’
The man jerked back so suddenly that he spilt beer on his trousers. ‘That isn’t possible.’
‘It is. It was analysed.’
After a moment of silence he said in a strangled voice, ‘I can’t accept that Denise would have done such a thing.’
‘Why else did she kill herself, then?’
Shearman thought about that and released a long, audible breath. ‘God almighty.’
‘How well did you know Denise? Was there any malice in her?’
‘Malice?’ He repeated the word as if it was foreign. ‘None that I ever noticed. We never had any complaints from actors.’
‘We’ll need to inform her next of kin. Presumably you keep her personal file somewhere?’
‘All it would have is her letter of application and some contact details. We’re a theatre, not the civil service.’
‘I’ll see it, just the same. Does she have any family?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. We weren’t on close terms.’
‘She’s been here six years, Mr Shearman.’
‘I keep telling you. She was only a dresser.’
‘It’s about rank, is it? There must be someone in this theatre she was on speaking terms with. Who did she know best?’
He hesitated. ‘She worked for Kate, the wardrobe mistress. I wouldn’t say they were the best of friends. You’d better speak to Kate. She objects to the official label, by the way. She likes to be known as Kate in wardrobe.’
‘Is she in the building now?’
‘I’m sure she is. They wash and iron the clothes after each performance. This is all such a shock. I’m still coming to terms with it. Caustic soda? I can’t believe Denise would do such an abominable thing, yet why else would she have killed herself?’
‘Will you manage without her?’
‘Of course. Actors are good at coping. Clarion was the exception and that was only down to inexperience.’
‘I ought to be getting back.’ Diamond drained his glass. ‘Just now when we spoke about the choice of play you said it was a top-level decision. You’re the boss, aren’t you?’
Shearman gave a hollow laugh. ‘Don’t be deceived. A theatre is full of egos known as managers. House, front of house, marketing, production, development. Even kids straight out of drama school are classed as assistant stage managers, or deputies. Basically, if you’re not a scene shifter or a callboy, you’re a manager of some description.’
‘But someone has to make decisions.’
‘Not me. Not this time.’
‘Who’s the big cheese, if you aren’t?’
‘The chairman of the board. Francis Melmot.’
‘He signed up Clarion?’
‘There was consultation, so-called. I was asked what I thought, but the decision wasn’t mine. He outranks me, and so do all the trustees, come to that.’ The bitterness wasn’t disguised.
‘So it’s run as a trust?’
‘Most theatres are, these days.’
‘And is it usual for the board of trustees to decide on the play?’
‘Not in this theatre. Artistic decisions are generally left to the salaried staff. We’re employed for our expertise… supposedly.’
‘You’re saying she was foisted on you by the board?’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that. You mustn’t misquote me.’ Suddenly, Shearman regretted what he’d revealed. ‘We’re very fortunate in having the trustees we do.’
‘Their decision could have a bearing,’ Diamond said.
‘No, I don’t think so. Not at all.’
‘If an exception was made and an edict was issued from on high that Clarion had to be given the role -’
‘You’re not listening. I told you there was consultation.’
‘But the decision wasn’t yours. I’d better speak to Francis Melmot.’
Shearman’s face flushed crimson. He’d given too much away. ‘Oh, dear. I don’t think this is wise. The casting has no bearing on what happened. Denise wasn’t involved in theatre politics. She got on with her job like the rest of us. There must have been some dreadful error.’
‘Caustic soda in the make-up?’
Shearman fingered his tie as if it was choking him.
They returned to the scene of the fatal incident.
High in the fly tower, photographs were still being taken of the body, but Dr Sealy was back on ground level. ‘We’ll have her down presently and I’ll do the autopsy tomorrow morning.’
‘Anything I should be told?’ Diamond asked.
‘Not really. The cervical spine appears to have snapped at the point where she hit the metalwork. Death would have been immediate.’
‘Time?’
Sealy looked at his watch. ‘Two twenty.’
‘Ten minutes ago?’ Diamond said in disbelief.
‘The legal time of death, when I confirmed that life was extinct. If you’re asking for the estimated time, the moment she died, you’re asking for the moon, old boy. I took a temperature reading, but it means very little really. There’s obvious hypostasis in the arm that hung down, so I can tell you it was some hours ago, but how many is another question.’
‘Will you know any better tomorrow?’
‘Frankly, I doubt it.’
‘Where would I be without your expert help?’
Sealy gave a shrug. ‘Now who do I see about those complimentary tickets?’
Kate, in wardrobe, sighed heavily. ‘Denise was my senior dresser. I can’t think what drove her to this.’