The Death of an Actor (The Bentley Hill Players Book 3) Read online

  ***

  The Bentley Hill Players split themselves in to two groups, one for persuading and selling, one for talking to Tom McLean. Jim, Harry, Emily and Lillian formed the talking team, whilst Chris, Sophie, Owen and Anne were the persuaders. Dave remained at the hall to keep guard. Just in case.

  The talking team drove up to Blackworth in Jim's car, whilst the persuading team thought it would be best to walk in the hope of being able to persuade some of the residents of Bentley Hill on the way.

  Jim parked his car down one of the side streets near the market, and looked over to Harry in the passenger seat.

  "You ready then?"

  "Probably. Are we really going to go in there and accuse Tom McLean of murder?"

  "Looks like it."

  "Is that wise?"

  "At this stage, do you have a better plan?"

  "We could go home and have a nice cup of tea!" said Lillian from the back seat.

  "NO!" shouted Emily. "WE HAVE TO STOP THIS MONSTER!"

  "All right love," said Jim. "We're all in the same car."

  "But it makes me so mad!" she said. "To think, he'd try and stop our show...again!"

  "Well at least he can't take the hall this time, " said Jim. "Now, I'm going to assume that most of the cast is in there already, preparing for opening night. There may be some rehearsing going on, and possibly some fish and chips as no-one is taking a break for teatime."

  "Oh that would be lovely," said Lillian. "I haven't had fish and chips since last Wednesday."

  "We're not here on a social visit, Lil. We're here for justice!"

  "I just can't shake the feeling that Tom isn't behind this," said Harry. "It's not how he works. I'll give you that he's slimy and underhanded, but he's not a killer. Even of a parrot."

  Lillian wailed.

  "If we put it to him and he denies it, then we might have to give it some further consideration," said Jim. "But I can't see how he can deny it. And you know what he's like. If there's something that he could take credit for, he'll take the credit, even if it was nothing to do with him in the first place. He loves the attention."

  "You may be right, but I don't think he'd want this sort of attention."

  "Well, there's only one way to find out," said Jim, getting out of the car.

  Chapter 8

  Chris, Sophie, Owen and Anne plodded slowly up Bentley Hill. The slope started off nice and easily, but it gradually got steeper the closer you got to Blackworth. Locals suggested it had been designed that way to keep the Bentley Hillians from reaching the town on top of the hill too easily.

  "Hang on," said Owen, reaching in to his canvas bag. "I need a quick drink."

  Everyone groaned.

  "Not now, Owen," said Anne. "Can't you stay off the booze for just a few minutes?"

  Owen pulled a bottle of water from his bag with a smile.

  "Of course I can!"

  He took several large gulps from the bottle, and replaced it in his bag.

  "I'm impressed!" said Anne.

  "Thought you would be. You can't even tell it's gin from the outside!"

  Anne rolled her eyes and carried on walking.

  "I never thought Tom would have it in him," said Sophie, walking hand in hand with Chris. "He seems more the business-type than the killing-type. Mind you, I think Zoe could do it quite easily."

  "Well I'm going to have to disagree. Zoe isn't like that."

  "You don't think she'd do anything to get what she wanted?"

  "No, I don't."

  "So she wouldn't try and break us up because her dad asked her to?"

  "No..."

  "And she wouldn't hide something valuable that belonged to someone else in the hope of making some money from it?"

  "No..."

  "And yet she did both those things during our last show."

  "Well..."

  "Not well! She's a devious little witch woman!"

  "Sophie! Don't talk about Zoe like that!"

  "But it's true!"

  "She loves animals, and she's very kind. She doesn't even look like she could hurt an animal, what with her long beautiful blonde hair, her gently sun-kissed skin, and her sparkling blue eyes. Her lips are like moist pieces of candy, that taste of the sweetest sugar, and..."

  WHACK!

  "Ow! What did you do that for?"

  "Did you hear what you just said?"

  "Yes, I was describing Zoe, and imagining how confidently she moves, how graceful she is, unlike you in those boots. The cute way she can just lay down anywhere and go to sleep, the feeling of her warm breath on the back of your neck..."

  WHACK!

  "OW! Sophie, that really hurt!"

  "Not as much as what you just said!"

  "What? I was just describing Sophie!"

  "You forgot to mention her vicious fangs."

  "No, no need. She has perfectly straight white teeth, not a flaw amongst them. Like her soft smooth skin, not a blemish in sight. And when she holds you close, she..."

  WHACK! THUMP!

  "OW!" said Chris, picking himself up off the floor. "What?"

  Sophie marched off up the hill, and didn't wait for Chris to catch up.

  "Oh, I'll never understand women. You just tell them how it is, and how a beautiful, elegant girl like Zoe could never do anything like that..."

  "I can still hear you!"

  ***

  Sophie was first to arrive on the marketplace, with Anne and Owen just behind. Chris lagged behind by quite a way, not wanting to get hurt again. There was no sign of Jim and his group on the market, and Anne thought this was a good thing - the conversation with Tom McLean must already be well under way.

  "Right," said Sophie. "What's the plan, Anne?"

  "I think we should probably just start approaching people and tell them that the show is on tonight. Those chaps over there by the chippy look promising."

  "ON IT!" yelled Owen, charging across the marketplace to the Poseidon's Revenge fish and chip shop. "Good evening, young men! Tonight is your lucky night! If you come down the hill in to Bentley, I'll show you things you've never seen before! Bright lights! Amateurs! On stage!"

  The men muttered amongst themselves for a moment, until a tall well-built man pushed his way to the front.

  "What are you on about?"

  By now, the rest of the group had caught up with Owen, and stood behind him like a very small choir of carol singers.

  Owen smiled. "We're putting on a show down in Bentley Hill. Us four, and some more. On stage. Amateurs."

  "Amateur whats?"

  "Thespians!"

  There was muttering amongst the men again, and the well-built man told them to shush.

  "Are all of you thespians?"

  "That we are!"

  "Cor, two of you are right ugly. You must be the men. But anyways, me and my mates here don't like your sort. It's not natural."

  "It's the most natural thing in the world, to get on the stage and...er...thesp. Yes, to thesp on stage, that's the dream."

  "Tell you what, mate, that tall girl at the back is alright, and it's a shame that she's a thesp. A waste, if you ask me. What you want to do in your own time is no concern of mine, but if you're going round my town advertising a show of your filth, I'm gonna do something about it. GET 'EM!"

  With that, the men lunged towards Owen, who shrieked and started to run. The other Players followed suit, and they were soon chased down many of the numerous back streets of Blackworth. Owen seemed to know exactly where to go, and managed to put some distance between the Players and the gang of men. He eventually took his group up the first flight of a fire escape, where they all crouched down, and watched the gang of men run past below, unaware of their hiding place.

  "I have never been so frightened!" whispered Anne, gasping for breath.

  "Well I am more than satisfied," said Owen. "He said two of us were ugly, and he seemed to think Sophie was quite pretty. That means I must be the other good looking one!"

&nbsp
; "What about me?" asked Chris.

  "What about you? Tall, thin, nice hair. No wonder they didn't like you. You look like a reject from a boy band."

  "At least I'm young enough to be in a boy band!"

  "With age comes wisdom, fella. And booze."

  "In that case, you must be really wise."

  "That I am! And drunk, too!" said Owen, as he started to walk down the fire escape steps. He missed his footing, and Anne screamed as he cartwheeled over the handrail, and landed with a soft thud in an open recycling bin.

  His voice echoed up from the bottom of the bin as the others ran down the fire escape to help him.

  "There's half a bottle of chianti in here! Don't rush!"

  ***

  The Old Cinema on Blackworth marketplace was exactly what you would imagine it to be. It had stood on the market for nearly 90 years, and for the first 60 years or so of its life, it had been a cinema. Subsequently, it was converted in to a theatre, which it had remained ever since.

  Outside it retained the art deco arches and neon lights of a bygone age, and a wide flight of five marble-effect steps allowed access to the multiple entrance doors. These doors were mostly made of glass, allowing a clear view in of the lobby, which was currently empty.

  Jim and Harry stood peering through the doors whilst Emily assisted Lillian up the steps.

  "Really, get off my arm. I'm more than capable of walking up some steps."

  A loud shout from across the market of "GET 'EM!" made everyone turn round, but all they could see from their vantage point was a group of men, several carrying bags of fish and chips, running off down a side street.

  "The drunks are out already," said Harry.

  "Wouldn't be surprised if Owen was one of them..." agreed Jim.

  Lillian and Emily reached the doors.

  "What are we going to do?" asked Emily. "Are we just going to march in hit him?"

  "No, Emily, we aren't," said Jim. "We're going to go in, find Tom, and ask him for a few minutes of his time. Then we'll put it to him that our parrot is dead..."

  Lillian wailed.

  "...and that he is the prime suspect. We'll say we have evidence, even though we don't, and see if he admits it."

  "And then we can hit him?"

  "NO. If he admits it, we'll call the police. And if he doesn't..."

  "...then we can hit him! Yay!"

  "Emily, no! We can't just hit him. If he has nothing to do with it, hitting him will make us the bad guys!"

  "Yeah, but, but won't it make you feel better to wrap up your fist like this, urrrgh, and smack him, bop, right in his piggy little nose?"

  There was silence for a moment.

  "I see what you mean. But let's do this properly."

  There was a scream from somewhere over the other side of the market.

  "What is going on tonight? If I didn't know better, I'd say that sounded like my Anne just then. Shouldn't they be up here by now?" asked Jim.

  ***

  Chris and Sophie grabbed hold of an ankle each, and pulled as hard as they could. Slowly, Owen emerged from the bin, upside down. When his waist was visible, they lowered his feet, and reached down to find his shoulders, and pulled again. Owen flipped out of the bin, and landed on his feet, bottle in hand.

  "Are you really going to drink that?" asked Sophie.

  "No, it's all gone now."

  "Come on!" said Anne. "This isn't getting us anywhere. So far we've persuaded absolutely no-one to come to the show, and time is against us. Does anyone have a plan?"

  "Yes," said Chris. "I do."

  A moment passed.

  "Want to share it with us?" asked Sophie.

  "Oh OK. I've actually got three ideas. The first one is, we should go and get a pizza."

  "That won't really help, will it?"

  "No, not with the show. But I am hungry. Idea two is that we go out on the market, shout, look at us, we're all thespians, and get a gang to chase us down to the hall, and when they get there we'll sell them tickets."

  "No, Chris. Just no."

  "OK, what about, we go to the Old Cinema, and write in big letters CANCELLED on the posters outside, and put a note on to come and see our show instead?"

  "Well of the three, that's probably the best."

  "Come on then. We go....to the Old Cinema!"

  ***

  "Go on then, open it."

  "No Jim, I think you should."

  "Harry, you're the tallest, so I really think you should open the door."

  "What's being tall got to do with it? You seem to think you're in charge, so you open it."

  "You can see better who might be coming. You open it."

  "It's a glass door. You can see as well as me. You open it!"

  "Oh for goodness sake," said Lillian. "I'll open the sodding door!"

  She pushed past the two arguing men, grabbed the nearest door handle, and pulled. It didn't budge. She pushed it. Nothing moved. She sighed, and shuffled sideways to the next door. She pushed and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. She tried the next door, and the next, but still nothing.

  "I think they're all locked. Now what?" she asked.

  "Ey up!" came a voice from behind. Everyone turned, and there was Owen with the rest of the Players.

  "Owen lad, you made it! How's the persuading going?" asked Jim.

  "As well as can be expected with these Blackworth lunatics. You know, we got chased for being actors, but I am very pretty. And Sophie is too."

  "Righto, Owen. I don't know if that means you've sold any tickets, or if you've just got a date with someone. But in any case, we've got a bit of a problem over here. We can't confront Tom, because we can't get in. Any ideas?"

  "We could just wait," said Sophie. "They'll have to open the doors eventually, or no-one can get in to see their show."

  "True, true, but we might not have that amount of time to waste. Remember, we've got to put our own show on too."

  "I've got a plan!" shouted Emily from the street. She crouched next to the bottom step, sweeping her hand across the floor. "Everyone move!"

  She jumped up, and ran up the steps, took her right arm back and swung it in an arc back over her head, opening her hand at the apex. A large rock sailed through the air from her fingers, and hit the middle door with an almighty CRASH. The glass shattered and fell on the faded green carpet inside.

  "COME ON! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" she yelled.

  Chapter 9

  The Players stood in shocked silence, staring at the destroyed glass door in front of them. Emily hopped from leg to leg, grunting, occasionally shouting, "COME ON!"

  Jim was the first to speak.

  "What in the hell were you thinking, Emily? That's criminal damage!"

  "It will be when I get my hands on him!"

  "On who, exactly?" came a booming voice from inside the Old Cinema.

  Standing in the smashed door frame was Tom McLean, short, wide, massively bearded. He wore a brown tweed jacket with a black polo shirt underneath, and stood with his hands on his hips glaring at the assembled players.

  "Ooo 'eck," said Chris.

  "Why are you here, and what have you done to my door?" asked Tom, calmly.

  "Parrot murderer!" shouted Emily.

  Lillian wailed.

  "Parrot murderer? Have you all been drinking?"

  "Tom, we need to clear something up," said Jim. "Have you deliberately been trying to sabotage our show?"

  "Of course I have! This is my town. You lot down there at the bottom of the hill are a pain. First you snatch the hall from me, then you insult my daughter, and now you're smashing up the Old Cinema. You are not a very likeable bunch of people, are you?"

  "So you killed the parrot then?"

  "What parrot?"

  "DON'T DENY IT, PARROT MURDERER!" yelled Emily.

  Lillian wailed.

  "Emily, shush," said Jim. "Somebody murdered our parrot. Poisoned. He was one of the stars of our show. Did you do it?"

  "
Look James, lets get something straight. I'm doing this show for three reasons. One, I love this kind of stuff. Getting my hands dirty and all that. Two, Zoe wants to act, and I'm not letting her anywhere near you lot again. And three, when my show is a success and yours is a dismal failure, well, mission accomplished. But I would never murder a parrot, or murder anything for that matter, to get the upper hand against you. I have limits, you know."

  "GRRR!" said Emily.

  "Can you put that dog on a leash, James?"

  "What did you call her?" asked Sophie.

  Voices came from behind Tom. "What's all the commotion out here? What's going on?"

  A group of men and women assembled behind Tom, all staring in disbelief at the smashed door.

  "Hey! Look! Zoe! Hi! Zoe! It's me, Chris! Hi!"

  Zoe glared at Chris over her father's shoulder. Sophie also glared at Chris. Emily growled again and charged head-first in to Tom's stomach.

  And that's how the fight started.

  ***

  "I can't believe that no-one called the police," said Harry, sitting backstage at the hall and pressing a bag of frozen peas against the large bump on his head.

  "It's just a normal Saturday night up in Blackworth," said Owen.

  "It's not Saturday, Owen."

  "Oooh. That'll be why then."

  Emily came across and sat down next to Harry.

  "I'm really sorry you got hurt, Mr Blunt. I...I...I don't know what got in to me."

  "The wrath of God, by the look of you. You are truly scary when you get angry."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "Well, don't worry too much. It was worth it just to see the look on Tom McLean's face!"

  "But poor Zoe though!" said Chris.

  "Poor Zoe what?" asked Sophie.

  "Did you see her face? She looked really upset. I don't think she liked Emily embedding herself in her dad's stomach."

  "Why would I care that Zoe was upset? It's basically her fault!"

  "How?"

  "Tom said he was doing the show so that Zoe could act, and he doesn't want her anywhere near the Players. If she didn't want to act, he wouldn't be doing it!"

  "She is good at acting, though."