IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (good books to read for women TXT) 📕

“I take it then that you booked Leonard White?”

“Yes. I had the details of his nationwide tour. His films were good, so I thought it would be interesting to hear him talk about his life.”

“Did you book him through an agency?”

“PMA Promotions in Manchester.”

“Did you actually know him as a person?”

“No.”

“Do you know if he was married?”

“I think he was, but I’m sure the agency will be able to supply that sort of information.”

“How much have you seen of him today?”

“Not at all.”

“Pardon?”

“I haven’t been here. I’ve had meetings all day, didn’t get in until about five o’clock.”

“And you didn’t see him then? Didn’t think to go and introduce yourself?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I wanted to, but as soon as I arrived I had a number of phone calls to make, and that took me well past six o’clock. There was little point after that. But I’m sure my staff looked after him in my absence.”

Gardener changed topics. “Who owns the theatre, Mr Price?”

“A consortium. There are four of us who have an equal share of twenty-five percent.”

“Any financial problems?” asked Sean Reilly.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, but since you ask, none whatsoever.” Price sounded appalled by the last question, though Gardener couldn’t think why.

“It is our business and we’re curious,” said Reilly. “Get a few money problems, you never know what folks will do.”

Price jumped out of his chair. “I hope you’re not suggesting one of my partners would be involved in something like murder.”

“You know them better than we do.”

“We’re not suggesting anything, Mr Price. We’re merely conducting an investigation, and we have to explore every avenue.” Gardener paused. “Now, back to the questions. No financial problems. Has anyone approached you wanting to buy the theatre? Perhaps someone who wants to demolish it and build a supermarket?”

Price resumed a seated position, poured himself another whiskey.

Gardener was pleased to see that he didn’t drink any.

“No.”

“What kind of a staff turnover do you have?”

“Very small. Despite the fact that it’s a consortium, we’re actually family run. All the owners are related to each other, which is why I took exception to your earlier comment.”

“You can’t think of any disgruntled ex-staff member with a grudge to bear?”

Price stared hard at both detectives. “This is not an inside job, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nearly all of the people who work for the theatre retire. As I’ve said, we’re all happy to work here.”

Gardener doubted that very much. “If you say so.”

The DI changed topics again. “Let’s talk about the general public. We all know that it can’t be easy dealing with them. People tend to complain about all sorts of things. The price of tickets, seating availability, have you experienced anything of the sort recently? Received any intimidating letters? Complaints about the standard of shows, for example?”

The manager snorted and then laughed. “You really do watch too much Agatha Christie. Do you honestly think someone is going to murder for the price of a ticket?”

Gardener had had enough of Price’s demeaning manner. “You’d be surprised why one person decides to murder another. But it doesn’t really matter what I think. The information I extract from others is far more important.”

Gardener moved away from the door, leaning over Paul Price’s desk. He spoke slowly and methodically, his anger having reached its peak.

“Now, as I’ve already said, we’re conducting a murder investigation. I don’t think you realise how important it is. So, when I ask you a question, I would like a straightforward answer, not some snotty-nosed derogatory remark filled with sarcasm. Or, for that matter, your opinions. That way, we’ll all be through a lot faster and still be friends.”

Price’s expression would have stopped electricity travelling through cables.

Gardener continued. “And where tickets are concerned, I’d like to see your bookings for the whole of this year.” He then added, “Last year as well.”

“Why?”

“So that we can check any last-minute cancellations, advanced bookings made at the start of the season for a reduced rate, see if a new customer has suddenly started appearing at Saturday afternoon matinees when he normally attends evening performances.

“You see, Mr Price, whoever killed Leonard White knew this theatre. He managed to not only get himself in here, but a dead body as well, not to mention concealing it somewhere. Perhaps he’s fooled your staff into thinking he has a connection with the theatre.

“I want to know everything about this place. Attempted break-ins, trespassers, threatening or strange phone calls, obsessive fans, mysterious events at previous performances by earlier theatre groups, everything! Whatever you know about this theatre, I want to know.”

Gardener stood back, folding his arms again. “And for that matter, I’m going to make it my job to find out everything you don’t know.”

A resounding knock on the door broke the tension. Reilly stood up, but Gardener opened it and was met by his colleague, DC Colin Sharp.

“Sir,” said Sharp. “We need you on the stage.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

He turned back to the theatre manager. “Well, I think I’ve outlined everything I want, Mr Price. I’ll leave one of my officers on hand to collect the information as soon as you have it.”

“Just hold on, I can’t do all that by myself.”

“Why not?” Gardener replied. “You seem to manage everything else.”

Gardener opened the door to leave, and then turned back. “Two more things. The theatre will be closed until further notice. Second, I’d like a list of all your meetings for today, names and contact numbers.”

“I’m a suspect now, am I?” asked Paul Price.

Both detectives left without answering.

Chapter Five

Albert Fettle was a small stump of a man with a rotund belly