A Series of Murders by Simon Brett

to do it to keep up your profile. In acting, you know, you can choose your work.’
    Can you? thought Charles. First I’ve heard of it.
    â€˜And the acting, you know, you can keep it going, fit it round other things, business commitments and that.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Yeah. I mean, again television’s only another kind of staging post.’
    â€˜Is it?’
    â€˜I’m just doing this series to, you know, like remind the public I’m not just a singer, I’m a good actor, and all. Kind of re-establish me in the public’s mind in a different role.’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜Not going to stay with the television.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜Well, it’s not sort of international.’
    â€˜I thought it could be. I thought it was becoming increasingly international.’
    â€˜Yeah, but not at the same level as the music business or feature films.’
    â€˜Well . . .’
    â€˜Apart from anything else, the money’s peanuts, isn’t it?’
    Since the three months of the
Stanislas Braid
contract would be the best-paid three months of his life, Charles didn’t feel qualified to reply to this.
    â€˜No, as I say,’ Jimmy Sheet went on, ‘it’s feature films I’m going into in the long term.’
    â€˜Oh, really?’
    â€˜Might do some theatre as well . . . You know, if the right part comes up on Broadway, that kind of number.’
    Charles kept wondering why all this didn’t sound unconvincing. He had heard similar dreams expressed by any number of actors, and his normal reaction was, all sounds great; you just wait till you get out into the real world, sonny. But Jimmy Sheet spoke with such assurance that he made his plans sound more like business decisions than pipe dreams. He seemed to be in no doubt that he would be able to follow his proposed career path, and Charles found himself equally convinced.
    â€˜What do you put your money in?’ Jimmy Sheet asked suddenly.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’ said Charles.
    â€˜Your money – what’s it in?’
    â€˜Erm . . .’ Difficult question to answer, really. The truth – I haven’t got any – sounded just too pathetic and self-pitying. ‘Oh, this and that.’
    â€˜Mm. Spread the investment – something to be said for that, certainly. I got most of my dosh in property.’
    â€˜Have you?’
    â€˜Yeah. Don’t think you can ultimately lose with property.’
    â€˜No. No, I suppose not. As Mark Twain said, “Buy land, my son, they are not making any more”.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Mark Twain.’
    â€˜Don’t know him.’ Jimmy Sheet restlessly picked up another olive and flicked it into his mouth. ‘Got some property in the States, bit in Australia, quite a lot here in England.’
    â€˜Ah.’
    â€˜Well, you got to do something with it, haven’t you?’
    â€˜Yes, yes.’
    Jimmy Sheet winked at the waiter, who ghosted up with more drinks. Charles decided it might be timely to move the conversation away from money, about which he’d never had the opportunity to know anything, to what he was really interested in.
    â€˜Terrible business last week, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜What’s that, then?’ asked Jimmy.
    â€˜Sippy Stokes.’
    â€˜Oh, yeah, yeah.’
    â€˜Dreadful when something like that happens. You know, you feel you should have done more.’
    â€˜Done more like what?’
    â€˜Got to know her better, perhaps.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Well, when someone dies –’
    â€˜People die all the time.’
    â€˜Yes, but when it’s someone you know –’
    â€˜You just said you didn’t know her.’
    Jimmy Sheet certainly wasn’t making the conversation easy. ‘No, I mean . . .’ Charles floundered on. ‘What I mean is, you just feel it’s kind of a waste.’
    â€˜Not a