Stagestruck by Peter Lovesey Page A

front view of her damaged face and neck. Skin has a marvellous capacity for healing, but it was hard to imagine that the scarring would ever disappear. ‘Nobody wants to harm me. That’s ridiculous. This is a clear case of negligence. They used some defective product that ruined my skin. These are chemical burns.’
    ‘I doubt if any cosmetics firm would sell a product as harmful as that.’
    ‘In case you’re not aware of it, the doctors here are world experts and they’re treating me for burns.’
    ‘I’m not arguing with that. I’m saying we don’t know how the make-up got to be so dangerous. Was something added to it? That’s what we need to find out.’
    ‘Added by mistake, you mean?’ She frowned and it was obvious that the flexing of her skin caused pain.
    ‘Or intention. Do you have any enemies, Clarion?’
    ‘No.’ The denial was total. As soon as she’d made it, uncertainty showed in her eyes.
    Ingeborg said, ‘Someone as mega-famous as you is going to have enemies. You don’t get to the top without making people jealous.’
    She enjoyed the flattery. It showed in her voice. ‘Envious, perhaps, but I can’t accept what you’re saying. No one could hate me that much. This is the end of my career.’
    ‘Has anyone threatened you recently or in the past?’
    ‘I’d remember, wouldn’t I? Of course they haven’t.’
    ‘Crazy fans? Someone else’s fans?’
    ‘I’m coming up to thirty. My last album was two years ago.’
    ‘Three, I think,’ Ingeborg said, and got a glare for her accuracy.
    ‘I was about to say my fans have grown up with me,’ Clarion said. ‘People of my age don’t do crazy. They’ve grown out of all that hormonal silliness.’
    ‘How did the theatre people treat you in rehearsal?’ Diamond asked, moving it on, but not confident of shaking the self-esteem of someone who’d basked in admiration for years. She couldn’t believe anyone would want to harm her. ‘You’re an outsider, in a way.’
    ‘I was at drama college, a good one. I’m not a total novice.’
    ‘Yes, but you’re not known for your acting and you walked into a starring role. How did they take it?’
    ‘With good grace. They’re professionals. My name sells tickets. Few of them would pull in an audience. That’s how it is in the commercial theatre and they accept it.’
    ‘Jobbing actors,’ Ingeborg said.
    ‘I wouldn’t say so in their presence, but yes.’
    ‘So do you recall any hostility while you were rehearsing?’ Diamond asked. ‘I’m thinking of others besides the actors. Anyone from the management down to the stage hands?’
    ‘If there was any bad feeling, I didn’t pick it up.’
    ‘Let’s talk about Monday evening,’ he said. ‘You arrived at the theatre at what time?’
    ‘Before five. I went to my dressing room and sat going over my lines until about a quarter to six. Then I changed into my first costume.’
    ‘Was the dresser there?’
    ‘Denise? She came later with the clothes. She had to collect them from wardrobe. There are six changes between scenes.’
    ‘What time did she turn up?’
    ‘When she said she would. About forty-five minutes before curtain up.’
    ‘Did anyone else come in?’
    ‘There were two or three interruptions from call boys delivering bouquets from well-wishers.’
    ‘Certain flowers can cause allergic reactions, can’t they?’ Diamond said, more to Ingeborg than Clarion.
    ‘Oh, come on, I didn’t bury my face in them,’ Clarion said. ‘I think I’d know if they were responsible.’
    Ingeborg showed by her expression that she, too, thought the flower theory was garbage, so Diamond abandoned it. ‘You’d met Denise before?’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘In rehearsal.’
    ‘I see what you mean.’
    ‘She made you up for the dress rehearsal the previous day?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And did your face react then? Any discomfort?’
    ‘None whatsoever. And I didn’t notice her doing any different on the opening night. She brought her box of