A Comedian Dies Read Online Free PDF Page B

was a certain young lady in the company with whom he was having a . . . thing. Or had been. I gather they broke it off. Somewhat acrimoniously.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘The dressing room walls of the Winter Gardens are disgustingly thin, aren’t they, Norman?’
    â€˜Oh yes, my love.’
    â€˜Of course, a lot of that goes on in the theatre. It’s always a great relief to me that Norman and I work together. It means one doesn’t notice other temptations. So much more satisfactory, isn’t it, Norman?’ She turned on her husband the sort of smile snakes reserve for rabbits.
    â€˜Strange, Bill Peaky dying like that, though, isn’t it?’ Charles mused. ‘I mean, if he was usually so careful to check his equipment every day, you’d think of all days he’d do it when a cable had been replaced.’
    â€˜But he did do it,’ said Norman del Rosa ingenuously. Charles looked at him sharply. ‘What, you mean he did do it on the day he was killed?’
    The pianist blushed. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean that. I just meant that he always did. Every other day, except that day. Maybe he didn’t know the cable had been replaced.’
    â€˜I remember there was a terrible accident when we were doing a summer season at Torquay . . .’ Vita Maureen swept the conversation on.
    But Charles was not deceived by Norman del Rosa’s cover-up. The man had seemed to know something and the way he avoided Charles’ eye confirmed the impression. An instinct for the untoward stirred within Charles. When he got Norman del Rosa alone, he was going to ask what he really knew about Bill Peaky’s death.
    The opportunity came surprisingly easily. Vita Maureen, who treated the Devereux Hotel as if it were their home, insisted on showing Frances round. Charles refused the guided tour, which made it difficult for Norman to avoid being left alone with him in the Lounge.
    There was a silence. The pianist moved uneasily around the room, as if he knew the question which was coming.
    â€˜What did you mean, Norman?’
    â€˜When?’
    â€˜About Bill Peaky testing the equipment.’
    â€˜He always tested it. His manager said so at the inquest.’
    â€˜I’m talking about the day he died. Did he test it that day?’
    â€˜Presumably not. How should I know?’ The man looked desperately unhappy, as if he knew that his weak personality could not withstand even the mildest of interrogations.
    â€˜I think you do know.’
    No, it didn’t take long. He broke immediately. ‘All right. He did test it.’
    â€˜With his ringmain tester?’
    â€˜Yes, he came down onstage at the beginning of the interval like he always did and tested out his gear.’
    â€˜And presumably it was all right?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜If it wasn’t, he would have said something about it. Unless he was trying to commit suicide.’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you say anything at the inquest?’
    â€˜Nobody asked me.’
    Charles thought that pretty unlikely. The police were sure to have asked all of the company whether they had any information relevant to the accident. So what was Norman del Rosa hiding?
    â€˜Why were you onstage in the interval?’ The question was asked very gently.
    â€˜I . . . um . . . I left some music on the piano.’
    â€˜There’s nothing wrong with that. You could have told the police that. But it’s rather strange, because I saw the show and you played throughout your spot without music.’
    Norman del Rosa looked even unhappier. And yet Charles sensed that he did want to tell, that it would be a relief to get it off his chest.
    â€˜Well, the fact is . . . I didn’t want Vita to know I was on-stage. The fact is, there’s a place in the wings where there’s a sort of crack in the wall. It’s just by the dressing room where the