The End of the Roadie (A Mystery for D.I Costello) by Elizabeth Flynn Page B

in response to this weak quip was a testament to the restorative effects of caffeine. “So, there’s going to be a lot of media interest. Angie, you come out here.”
    Angie rose and joined him in front of the board. Here it comes , she thought, no wonder he looks so cheerful, he’s about to offload his most hated job. Stanway looked around at them, his face serious. “ All press contact will be dealt with through Angela,” he said. “And I’ll liaise with her about what gets said and what doesn’t.” He looked slowly around at them all. “I don’t want anybody talking about this case in public; understood?”
    They all nodded and murmured their acquiescence.
    “Right.” He smiled around at them. “I’ve been to the scene this morning and I attended the PM, so let’s get started.”
    “Cause of death, sir?” asked Angela.
    “What? Oh, yes! No surprises, gunshot wound to the back of the head. Death was instantaneous. Even though the production manager told us yesterday, the dead man’s sister formally identified him this morning. I’ll give you her details, Angie.”
    “Yes, sir. I’ll make contact.”
    Stanway nodded. “How did the preliminary interviews go?”
    “Much as you’d expect. We managed to get a few done, but they were all shocked and very tired, so I called it quits at about two this morning. We’ll get going on them again now.”
    “Good, good. Right, I’ll leave you to get on. I’ll be keeping a close eye,” said Stanway, making for the door.
    “Yes, sir,” replied Angela. The door closed behind him. She looked around at her team. “OK, Leanne and Derek,get hold of those uniformed officers who were helping out at the theatre, and go back to where we left off in the wee small hours.” They got up and began moving towards the door.
    “Don’t you want us to go with them, Angie?” asked Rick.
    “Yes, I do, but I also want you to find out about the security situation at the theatre. I saw a camera over the stage door and we’ll need to know what’s on the tape.”
    “It’ll be too much to hope the whole thing was filmed,” said Jim, getting up and moving across the room. “Unless the murderer’s a complete idiot.”
    “I should think so, but we’ve got to check,” replied Angie. “Another thing for you and Rick to deal with is a search of Oliver Joplin’s home.”
    “No problem, Angie,” said Rick. “We’ll get uniform to seal the place and get there as soon as we can.”
    “Good-oh,” replied Angela. “Yes, we’ve got quite a long list with this one.”
    “Guv?” Leanne hesitated and looked back, her hand already on the door handle. She seemed slightly embarrassed.
    “Yes, Leanne?”
    “If you’re going up to Brendan Phelan’s place later, will you need someone to carry your notebook?”
    Angela smiled and looked at her. “You too?”
    “’Fraid so.”
    Angela laughed. “Sorry, I think you’d better stick to the jobs you’ve already got. If I let you hobnob with the star, it’ll only upset Derek.”
     
    Brendan Phelan lived in a gated property close to the street known as “Millionaires’ Row” in Hampstead. Two distinct groups, fans and media, had established themselves in the vicinity to get a good view of the gates. The media team had gone a step further, actually blocking the entrance with oneof their vans. Gary slowed down as they approached. “Shall I go and find who’s in charge, to get this moved?” he asked.
    Before Angela could reply, they both heard a loud humming noise from overhead. They looked up and saw a helicopter appear. “They’re going all the way on coverage, aren’t they?” said Angela. “The roof of our car will be on the news later. I don’t think you need to go anywhere to find the boss,” she added, looking through the side window. Gary looked in the same direction. A pack of avid journalists and photographers now surrounded the car. Some of the fans also peeled away from their party and reinvented