The End of the Roadie (A Mystery for D.I Costello) by Elizabeth Flynn

to the van.”
    “Ah, yes,” said Gary. “The one already outside when the shot was fired.”
    “That’s right. After I took it out, I went to the stage to wait for Bren to come off. I wanted to greet him – congratulate him, that sort of thing. There’s a nice feeling backstage at a moment like that, everyone’s pretty much on a high.”
    “I can imagine,” said Gary.
    “I thought I must have missed him – thought Bren must have already gone to his dressing room, because there was no sign of him, and the band and singers had left the stage; so I got started on another case. The rest of the crew took a breather at that point – they probably stopped for a cuppa in the crew room before dismantling the bigger bits of equipment. I was just stashing the easy stuff.”
    “Did you hear the shot?”
    “No, I didn’t hear a thing. As I say, I got this second case ready and wheeled it through and that’s when I found them all standing outside the stage door looking at Olly, dead on the ground. And Bren – well, you know what he was like.” Jack addressed this last comment towards Gary.
    “Yes, I remember your arrival,” said Gary.
    “Yes. So I took the case back in, like you said, ’cause I was disturbing a crime scene. Phew!” He looked at Gary with sympathy. “You expect scenes in a theatre but not outside, and not like that, eh?”
    “No,” said Gary. “It reminded me of a magic act. I suppose it was these black flight cases.” He pointed into the open space behind Jack.
    Jack half-turned. “I suppose they can seem a bit like the boxes magicians use.” He turned back and smiled at Gary. “That takes me back. That’s how I started off in the business.”
    “What, show business? Working for a magician, you mean?”
    “Yes, on a seaside show. Looking back I can see I got the job because I was cute – just a little kid, you know – and in reality we were quite a tacky outfit, but I was so thrilled. I was a magician’s assistant and I had to dress up in Eastern clothes with a turban on my head; thought I’d arrived at the big-time, I did. And I got to see all the tricks of the trade. I had to help the lady get into the box –”
    “– who was then cut in half! That’s it!” said Gary, gleeful at the memory. “Yes, one of those acts. It’s all come back to me now.”
    “I thought you ran a gun club,” said Angela, deciding that if they were going to take a trip down memory lane they might as well keep it relevant.
    “That was later,” said Jack. “I did the seaside show for a couple of years until I got too tall to be the magician’s lad.”
    “And I expect you grew out of your ‘cute’ phase,” remarked Angela.
    “Oh yes. The stage manager gave me a job backstage. By then we had a Wild West act in the show, a marksman dressed up as Wyatt Earp picking off cardboard coyotes and plugging the symbols in playing cards while some pretty girl held them up close to her face – you know the sort of thing. There’s not much call for it nowadays, but that’s when I became interested in guns and it stayed with me – which was useful.”
    “Useful?” asked Gary.
    “Yes, I had a few lean years when I couldn’t seem to get theatre work at all, but I was a member of a gun club – just as a hobby – so when the owner needed a new manager he offered me the job. I settled for that, but it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? Because that’s where I met Brendan and Terry; still schoolboys, they were then. And, lo and behold, at the time Brendan began to become well known he’d started using guns in the act and needed someone he could trust to handle them properly. So here I am, back in show business again.”
    “I think you’re employed for more than just experience of guns,” suggested Angela, admiring the clean, neat interior of the garage.
    “Yes, I like to keep things tidy. You know where you are then. And you have to keep track. Some of the equipment’s our own, but some is