What Bloody Man Is That by Simon Brett Page A

Charles mumbled through a mouthful of slimy cotton-wool. ‘Middle of the night, you know. Very tired.’
    â€˜Yes, very tired, I’m sure, sir.’ Was he being hypersensitive to hear a hint of reproof in the policeman’s voice? Oh, why on earth had he drunk so much?
    â€˜We don’t want to keep you here longer than necessary this evening. But we would be most grateful if you could just describe exactly what happened.’
    â€˜What, you mean when I found Warnock . . . the, er, body?’
    â€˜Well, yes, and before that. We’ve spoken to Mr Scholes about the earlier part of the evening. If you could take it from the moment that you left the bar at closing time . . .?’
    Suddenly the two policemen were sitting and one had a pencil poised over a notebook to take down Charles’s words.
    There didn’t seem much to tell. Charles had spent most of the time between leaving the bar and discovering the body in an alcohol-induced stupor. How much detail did they want, he wondered. Did he have to tell them about peeing in the wash-basin? He decided to edit that detail out of his account.
    â€˜Why didn’t the Stage Doorman realise that you were still in the theatre?’
    â€˜My dressing room light was not switched on.’
    â€˜That seems rather strange. Why were you sitting in the dark?’
    â€˜Well, I just . . . I just didn’t switch it on.’
    â€˜I see.’ The words were delivered without emphasis, but their implication was apparent. The policeman turned to the door where Gavin still waited.
    â€˜Mr Scholes, would the Stage Doorman check that all the dressing rooms were empty?’
    â€˜He should do, yes.’
    â€˜So, if he didn’t, you’re saying he was failing in his duties?’
    No, that wasn’t at all what Gavin wanted to say. His Stage Doorman had been at the Pinero for eleven years, and Gavin was very loyal to his staff. Somehow, these policemen had a way of making everything sound suspicious.
    â€˜Let’s just say that on an evening like this the Stage Doorman might be more casual than when we’ve got a show on.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. Could you explain that?’
    â€˜I mean that, while we’re in rehearsal, there are fewer people around by the end of the evening. When there’s a play actually in performance of course all the cast would be here till late, and there’d still be a lot of members of the public in the bar and so on.’
    â€˜Ah. I see. Thank you very much, Mr Scholes.’ The unemotional tone was evenly maintained.
    â€˜Mr Paris, could you describe exactly what you saw when you went into the store-room? And, indeed, why you went in there in the first place?’
    Charles explained about seeing the forced padlock, and described what he saw in the store-room. He knew he didn’t do it very well. The words seemed too big for his mouth, and many of them got mixed up between his brain and his tongue.
    At the end of his recitation the policeman thanked him politely and asked for the address where he was staying.
    â€˜I don’t think we need keep you any longer this evening, Mr Paris. I’m sure the best thing for you to do will be to go back to your digs and . . . sleep.’
    Again Charles wondered if he was unduly sensitive to that hesitation. Had the policeman really just stopped himself from saying, ‘. . . sleep it off’?
    â€˜Yes. Sure. Thank you.’ He rose gracelessly to his feet.
    The policeman also rose and turned to Gavin. ‘I would like to talk to you a little more, Mr Scholes, about the late Mr Belvedere. If you don’t mind . . .? I realise it is very late.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry. I don’t need much sleep. Anyway, once I’ve been woken up, that’s it for the night. I never get back to sleep.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Scholes. Shall we go up to your office?’
    â€˜Fine. See you in the morning,