He was talking faster now, aware of time ticking away.
‘They were shooting a TV series called Heartbeat in one of our properties near Leeds. You must remember it. It was a cop show set in the sixties. I was sent down there to act as a liaison officer – to make sure that everything went all right – and they asked me if I’d like to be an extra, just for a lark. I ended up playing a stable boy. The episode was about a farmer who shoots someone’s dog or something. Anyway, I was up to my knees in mud, hanging on to a horse, which terrified me because I’d never been near one before, and I loved every minute of it.
‘I can’t explain it to you, really. The moment I went on the set I felt I’d sort of arrived. I’d never realised that so much work and so many people went into the making of an hour’s TV. I was amazed by all the equipment – the cameras and the dollies, the catering trucks, the lights. It was massive. And then there were the stars. There was no “them and us”. They were really nice. I watched them doing their stuff, not once but lots of times, doing the same scene from lots of different angles, and I thought – I can do that! Maybe I remembered doing that play with Miss Havergill. I wanted to do it. She’d been right. I had it inside me. I was an actor!
‘And what happened that first day was really amazing. As it happened, the casting director happened to be on set. He was a guy called Malcolm Drury and after we finished filming, I went over and asked him if he could help me … you know, get into the business. I was actually quite nervous, but he couldn’t have been nicer.’
The strange thing was, I’d met Malcolm Drury myself. He’d worked on a TV play for children that I’d written at the end of the eighties. I’d liked him too.
‘We had a long chat. I was freezing cold and stinking of horses, but he took a liking to me and said he’d let me know if anything came up – and he was as good as his word. I got a few lines in Spooks and Little Dorrit – more horses – and after that I packed in the National Trust and got an agent and it all took off. There are lots of people who are a bit snooty, like Jordan, because I never went to drama school or anything like that, but I love what I’m doing and it seems I got lucky.’ He stopped. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t helped you very much, have I – and now I’ve got to get ready. I didn’t kill Harriet Throsby and I hope you find out who did. Let me know! But if you don’t mind …’
Hawthorne and I stood up.
‘Can I ask you one thing?’ I asked. Hawthorne glanced warily in my direction. He was always warning me not to intrude. But there’d been something on my mind from the moment I’d met Tirian and although this probably wasn’t the best time to mention it, I might not get another opportunity. ‘Do you remember a TV show called Injustice?’ I asked.
‘A cop show, wasn’t it? About a lawyer …’
‘I wrote it. You were going to play Alan Stewart, the young man who takes his own life in jail. You’d agreed but at the last minute you backed out. I’ve always wondered why.’ Even as I spoke, I realised that I was being ridiculous. I was in the middle of a murder investigation! But it was too late now. ‘I just wondered …’ I added, apologetically.
‘Yes. I remember that.’ Tirian looked uncomfortable. ‘It wasn’t my decision. I thought the part was great. It was my agent who advised against it. There were lots of offers on the table and she didn’t think it was right for my career at the time. I know that sounds a bit rubbish, but I always listened to what she said and she just didn’t think it was right. I’m sorry.’
‘I think he killed Harriet Throsby,’ I said, as soon as we were outside.
Hawthorne looked at me curiously. ‘Really?’
‘Why didn’t you ask him where he was on Tuesday morning when she was killed?’ It was the first time I had ever challenged Hawthorne, but I was tired and irritable. I’d had no sleep the night before and I’d been on my feet almost the whole day. I’d been in prison! My nerves were in shreds.
‘There was no point, mate.’ To my surprise, Hawthorne hadn’t taken offence. He sounded completely reasonable. ‘He’s an actor. He got home late. He was probably in bed until mid-morning.’ He paused. ‘Like you.’
‘Well, he was definitely lying.’
‘How do you work that one out?’
‘When he said his agent didn’t want him to do Injustice – I know for a fact that’s not true. He had the same agent as one of the other actors and I met her quite a few times. She was really angry he turned the part down. It was the exact opposite of what he just said. She told me she thought it was perfect for him.’
‘Maybe she was the one who was lying.’
‘I don’t think so. She dropped him a short while later … or maybe he dropped her. Either way, she would have told me the truth.’ Hawthorne didn’t seem convinced so I went on. ‘I know this isn’t about my work, and I’m not angry with him because he didn’t want to do my series. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t believe everything he says.’
‘I never believe everything anyone says.’
‘Including me?’
He smiled. ‘Why would I believe someone who spends his entire life making stuff up?’
I had an answer for that, I was sure. But before I could come up with it, he had already set off down the corridor, on his way to the third and last dressing room. Shaking my head, I fell in behind.
12
Another Knife
‘Why do I have to talk to you? I’ve already spoken to the police. I haven’t got anything else to say.’
Sky Palmer sucked on her vaping device and for a brief moment the end glowed an angry red. She hadn’t been happy from the moment I’d introduced her to Hawthorne, as if a murder investigation was nothing more than an inconvenience added to her busy diary. She threw down the vape and picked up her hairbrush, scratching at hair, which had gone from pink to her natural colour … a very light blonde.
‘I’m going on stage any minute,’ she went on. ‘I’m still doing my make-up. And I don’t really like to talk to anyone before I start. It messes with my head. I have to think about my character.’
From the first time I’d met her, I’d found Sky difficult to pin down: that mixture of youth and self-assurance, shyness and arrogance. It was even harder now, seeing her sitting there dressed as Nurse Plimpton. Her costume had been designed to turn her into a caricature. It was deliberately tight-fitting around her breasts and hips, with a tear in her black tights … one of the critics had even mentioned it. Tucked under her blouse, there was a plastic bag of fake blood – Kensington Gore – which would burst when she was stabbed (with a scalpel) at the end of Act I. It was all very Rocky Horror Picture Show and she carried it off perfectly on the stage. In the dressing room, though, it was disconcerting. She was trapped between the two characters and I wasn’t sure which was which.
I had to remind myself that Sky was very young, no more than twenty-five. Strolling into rehearsals in her leggings and boas, knee-high boots, gloves with the fingers cut off and every day a different piece of antique jewellery that she might have inherited from a wealthy aunt, she seemed to be modelling herself on Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Maybe that was how she saw herself, skating along the surface of life, admired by all. Hawthorne was looking at her dubiously. He wasn’t impressed.