Murder Unprompted: A Charles Paris Murder Mystery by Simon Brett Page A
Authors: Simon Brett
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aren’t there, he has never been sentimental about making changes as necessary.’
There was a tiny rustle of unease from the cast. They were beginning to anticipate what was coming.
‘Now I think it’s no secret from any of you that when we opened the play in Taunton, we were hoping to have a star name in the cast.’
They all knew now. Imperceptibly, they all glanced towards Salome Search, whose face shone with tension.
‘We didn’t get a star name, but we got an excellent performance, and the show was still a huge success. And, for myself, I’d like to keep that success intact. I don’t believe in changing a winning team.
‘However . . .’
Moisture glowed on Salome Search’s eyes.
‘Bobby Anscombe does not agree with me. Obviously he’s more objective than I am, he doesn’t know you all, he hasn’t worked with you all. But his view is that to bring in a play by an unknown author
without any star names
is commercial suicide. He wants to make changes in the cast.
‘Now I’ve argued with him about this, but he won’t budge. In fact, what it comes down to is, if we don’t make cast changes, he’ll back out. I’ve checked round other potential investors and there’s nothing doing. Either we do the show with Bobby Anscombe – or the transfer’s off.’
The cast was once again silent.
‘I’m sorry I have to break the news to you like this. I’d rather have spoken quietly to the individuals concerned, but I’m afraid there hasn’t been time. So I’m going to be brutal and just tell you . . .’
He paused. Once again, as at the cast party, Charles wondered whether the producer wasn’t rather enjoying the suspense he created. There seemed to be a kind of glee behind the apology, a relish in the role of hatchet-man.
‘Alex,’ Paul Lexington announced finally, ‘I am afraid you’re out. We’ve just done a deal with Micky Banks to play the part of the father.’
Now at last he got reaction, but it was a confused reaction. If he hadn’t mentioned the name of the replacement, the cast would have been shouting at him in fury, in defence of the one of them who had been so savagely axed. But Michael Banks . . . Even in their moment of shock, they could recognise what a coup it was to get him. Now if ever a name was box office, it was Micky Banks. And though their hearts went out to Alex, their actor’s fickleness could appreciate the commercial sense of substitution.
Alex Household himself was the slowest to react. The noise around him subsided and they all looked covertly towards him.
‘I see,’ he said, very, very coolly.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the producer. ‘If it could have happened any other way, I’d’ve . . . I’m sure we can sort out some sort of deal for you. I mean of course, you haven’t signed any sort of contract . . .’
I see, thought Charles. Maybe that was the reason for delaying the announcement of the transfer; maybe that was why no approach had been made to any of their agents. Paul Lexington hadn’t wanted to get any of the original cast signed up until he had contracted his star.
‘But I’m sure, Alex, we can sort out some sort of generous terms for you if you want to understudy –’
‘Understudy!’ the actor repeated, rising to his feet. ‘Understudy . . .’
‘I mean it’s up to you. You just say what you want and I’ll –’
‘Say what I want, eh?’ Alex’s anger was beginning to build. ‘Say what I want. Shall I tell you what I want? I want the world rid of all the little shits like you who run it. I want you all out – gone – dead – exterminated!’
‘Look, Alex, I’m sorry –’
‘Sorry, yes, but you’re not as sorry as you will be! You dare to offer me the job of understudy to a part I CREATED! Well, you know what you can do with your job – stuff it! Understudy!’
And, with that sense of occasion that never deserts an actor even in the most real crises of emotion, Alex Household exited from the gym.
There was a
There was a tiny rustle of unease from the cast. They were beginning to anticipate what was coming.
‘Now I think it’s no secret from any of you that when we opened the play in Taunton, we were hoping to have a star name in the cast.’
They all knew now. Imperceptibly, they all glanced towards Salome Search, whose face shone with tension.
‘We didn’t get a star name, but we got an excellent performance, and the show was still a huge success. And, for myself, I’d like to keep that success intact. I don’t believe in changing a winning team.
‘However . . .’
Moisture glowed on Salome Search’s eyes.
‘Bobby Anscombe does not agree with me. Obviously he’s more objective than I am, he doesn’t know you all, he hasn’t worked with you all. But his view is that to bring in a play by an unknown author
without any star names
is commercial suicide. He wants to make changes in the cast.
‘Now I’ve argued with him about this, but he won’t budge. In fact, what it comes down to is, if we don’t make cast changes, he’ll back out. I’ve checked round other potential investors and there’s nothing doing. Either we do the show with Bobby Anscombe – or the transfer’s off.’
The cast was once again silent.
‘I’m sorry I have to break the news to you like this. I’d rather have spoken quietly to the individuals concerned, but I’m afraid there hasn’t been time. So I’m going to be brutal and just tell you . . .’
He paused. Once again, as at the cast party, Charles wondered whether the producer wasn’t rather enjoying the suspense he created. There seemed to be a kind of glee behind the apology, a relish in the role of hatchet-man.
‘Alex,’ Paul Lexington announced finally, ‘I am afraid you’re out. We’ve just done a deal with Micky Banks to play the part of the father.’
Now at last he got reaction, but it was a confused reaction. If he hadn’t mentioned the name of the replacement, the cast would have been shouting at him in fury, in defence of the one of them who had been so savagely axed. But Michael Banks . . . Even in their moment of shock, they could recognise what a coup it was to get him. Now if ever a name was box office, it was Micky Banks. And though their hearts went out to Alex, their actor’s fickleness could appreciate the commercial sense of substitution.
Alex Household himself was the slowest to react. The noise around him subsided and they all looked covertly towards him.
‘I see,’ he said, very, very coolly.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the producer. ‘If it could have happened any other way, I’d’ve . . . I’m sure we can sort out some sort of deal for you. I mean of course, you haven’t signed any sort of contract . . .’
I see, thought Charles. Maybe that was the reason for delaying the announcement of the transfer; maybe that was why no approach had been made to any of their agents. Paul Lexington hadn’t wanted to get any of the original cast signed up until he had contracted his star.
‘But I’m sure, Alex, we can sort out some sort of generous terms for you if you want to understudy –’
‘Understudy!’ the actor repeated, rising to his feet. ‘Understudy . . .’
‘I mean it’s up to you. You just say what you want and I’ll –’
‘Say what I want, eh?’ Alex’s anger was beginning to build. ‘Say what I want. Shall I tell you what I want? I want the world rid of all the little shits like you who run it. I want you all out – gone – dead – exterminated!’
‘Look, Alex, I’m sorry –’
‘Sorry, yes, but you’re not as sorry as you will be! You dare to offer me the job of understudy to a part I CREATED! Well, you know what you can do with your job – stuff it! Understudy!’
And, with that sense of occasion that never deserts an actor even in the most real crises of emotion, Alex Household exited from the gym.
There was a
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