Murder Unprompted: A Charles Paris Murder Mystery by Simon Brett Page A

quick word?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I’m going round the pub,’ said Charles. ‘See you there maybe.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Alex replied abstractedly. And looking at the glow of restrained excitement in the other actor’s face, Charles knew that Alex Household thought he was about to get his part back.
    It was nearly an hour before Alex appeared in the pub, and one look at his face told that his expectation had not been realised.
    He no longer even mentioned his ‘no stimulants’ regime as he took the large Bell’s from Charles.
    ‘The nerve! The bloody nerve! I cannot believe it!’
    Charles didn’t bother to prompt. He knew it was all about to come out.
    ‘Do you know what they have asked me to do? Cool as you like, Paul bloody Lexington has asked me to sit in the wings for the entire run of this play and feed Micky Banks his lines!’
    ‘What, you mean to be a kind of private prompter, whispering at him right through the play?’
    ‘No, it’s a bit more sophisticated than that. This is a deaf-aid job.’
    ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’
    ‘Oh, haven’t you heard of these things? It has been done before in similar circumstances. It’s a new device, whereby, thanks to the wonders of electronics, a star can still give a performance without bothering to learn the lines.’
    ‘Explain.’
    ‘Very simple, really. It’s a short-wave radio transmitter. Some lemon – me, if Paul Lexington has his way – sits in the wings feeding the part line by line into the transmitter. The character on stage, for reasons which may possibly be explained by the insertion of a line or two into the script, wears a deaf-aid . . .’
    ‘Which acts as a receiver?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘But does it work?’
    ‘It has worked in some very eminent cases. Has to be modern dress obviously, and ideally an elderly character. You can’t have Romeo swarming up the balcony in doublet, hose and hearing aid. But the part Micky’s playing . . . why not?’
    ‘I’m amazed. I never heard of that being done.’
    ‘Well, now you know. And if ever you see an actor on stage with a deaf-aid that is not integral to the plot – be suspicious.’
    ‘Has Micky agreed to use it?’
    ‘He’s still blustering and saying he never will and he once learnt lago in three days, but he’ll have to come round. There’s no alternative. Except for the obvious one.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Reverting to the original casting.’ Alex Household let out the words in a hiss of frustration.
    ‘Which they won’t now they’ve got Micky’s name all over the posters.’
    ‘No, of course they won’t.’
    ‘I agree, it’s a bit of a cheek, asking you to do it.’
    ‘Oh, you should have heard the way it was put. Paul Lexington at his greasiest. Of course, Alex old man, it could be done by an A.S.M., but you do know the part so well, you could time it properly. And of course we would raise your money for doing it.’
    ‘By how much?’ No actor could have resisted asking the question.
    ‘Fifty quid a week.’
    ‘That’s pretty good.’
    ‘Oh yes, Paul Lexington pays you well for totally humiliating yourself.’
    ‘So you told him to get stuffed, did you?’
    ‘No, I haven’t yet.’ A cold smile came to Alex Household’s lips. ‘And do you know, I’m not sure that I will.’
    ‘You mean you’ll accept it?’
    ‘I just might.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Charles soothingly. ‘Take the money and don’t think about it. That’s always been my philosophy.’
    ‘Yes.’ Alex’s mind was elsewhere. ‘Because now I come to think about it, it could be a good job.’
    ‘Sure, sure.’
    ‘A position of power.’
    ‘Power?’
    ‘Yes. How does one gain revenge for humiliation’?’
    ‘I’ve no idea.’ Charles didn’t like the way the conversation was going. The old light of paranoia gleamed in Alex’s eye.
    ‘Why, you humiliate someone else.’
    ‘Maybe, but –’
    ‘And if you’re stuck in the wings feeding lines to some senile old fool