Page 23 of Beyond the Darkness (Basic Instincts #3)

The Empire Theatre

The following Monday, the production of Darkest Blue moved from the rehearsal rooms at the Blyham Concert Hall to the other side of the river and The Empire Theatre.

Originally, they were due to have one full day to run the show on the main stage before it opened, but as the first night had been pushed back to Friday, they had the luxury of having four days to work on stage.

Hudson prickled with excitement when he walked into the theatre at nine o’clock that morning.

After the events of last Monday, the rest of the week had been relatively calm and had allowed him to focus on the play.

Robbie Wiseman had been charged with breaching his stalking order.

He’d been given one hundred hours of unpaid work and, in addition to the stalking order, he’d been excluded from entering Blyham city for the duration of the play’s run.

The investigation continued into whether he was responsible for sending the malicious mail to Hudson, but since his arrest, there had been no further packages.

However, he was out of the frame for Julian’s murder, having a firm alibi for that night.

The security cameras in Hudson’s apartment had produced perfect, clear images of two of the men who had tried to attack him and Luke.

Despite this, there had been no arrests or further update from the police since they had reported it.

Luke had told him that the images hadn’t even been made public on the Blyham police social media pages and websites.

Despite the evidence, it seemed as though the case had been filed with no further action taken.

Luke was pressing his editor to see if the paper could publish the photos and stories without the cops’ permission.

Though he’d been shaken badly afterwards, Hudson had done his best to overcome the experience and get on with the job he had to do.

As he went through the stage door, Manuella and Sal arrived just behind him.

Manuella had a huge smile on her face. The kind of smile that said she was getting great sex.

Hudson had suspected his Spanish co-stars were getting close as Sal had settled into the production.

It looked like they had sealed the deal over the weekend.

He tried not to let the detail that she’d been getting close to Julian just before colour his opinion.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Buenos días.” Manuella beamed. She was glammed to the max with flawless, stage-ready make-up.

She wore her dark hair up, and a strappy, printed summer dress which revealed lots of leg, arm and cleavage.

There were lashings of gold chains around her delicate neck and multiple bangles piled up on both wrists.

“This is so exciting. I can’t wait to see the set. ”

“Me neither,” he admitted. They had rehearsed with a rudimentary set so far. This would be the first time they saw the full construction and got to wear their proper costumes.

After his initial nerves last week, Sal had relaxed considerably.

He had the same post-fuck glow as Manuella and looked handsome and confident in a light, open-necked shirt, linen shorts and leather loafers with no socks.

The image of casual summer. “Hi,” he said with a wide smile, fixing Hudson with his dazzling eyes.

“I am word perfect on both of my roles now.”

“That’s good to hear.” Hudson couldn’t blame Manuella for wanting him—the man even set his own pulse quickening. “Shall we go see what this is all about?”

A theatre assistant led them through the backstage area. She was about to take them to their dressing rooms when Hudson asked if they could go straight to the stage. He’d waited long enough for this moment. Didn’t want to put it off any longer.

It was always exciting, walking into a new theatre.

Wherever he was in the world, the feeling was always the same.

Soaking in the atmosphere. Even the musty smell of old wood was a pleasure.

There was the excitement of what was to come, the potential for greatness in each new performance, merged with the history and prestige of what had taken place before.

“God, I love this,” he said.

He heard familiar voices ahead. Andie was shouting, and Rav sounded like he was attempting to talk her down.

“Always arguing,” Manuella remarked. “They should sleep together and get it over with. It will be better for everyone.”

Hudson suppressed a laugh. Manuella hadn’t picked up on Andie being a big old lesbian. Rav would be the last person she’d want to go to bed with.

They walked onto the stage from the left.

The first scene of the play took place in a hotel bar in 1974 in Barcelona.

Hudson raised an instant smile at the set design and décor.

The production team had nailed it, with sickening shades of brown, yellow and orange.

If the furniture was not from that period, then they’d done a first-rate job at replicating it.

The cushions scattered about the lounge area were an assault to the eyes.

“What are you shouting about?” he asked.

Andie and Rav stood by the bar. Her hair was wild, as though she’d been tearing her hands through it.

“This motherfucker,” she shrieked, gesturing all around her.

“I think it looks great,” Hudson said.

“It’s too much,” she cried.

“It’s what you asked for. What you agreed,” Rav said.

“I fucking hate it. It’s an eyesore.”

“You wanted genuine 1970s,” Rav said calmly. “That is the setting.”

“I know it’s the fucking setting, but we’re staging this now. I don’t want the audience distracted by all this nostalgia crap. They need to focus on the play, not the set. It’s not a fucking comedy. They’ll think they’ve come to watch Abigail’s Party.”

Now that she had pointed it out, Hudson realised she had a point. Though first impressions were amazing, it was very kitsch. “Maybe just replace some of those cushions with something more timeless or modern. I’m sure it only needs a few tweaks.”

Another voice entered the conversation. “Less would definitely give you a lot more. You should tear out all that period stuff and just use the basic bar set. Let the audience use their imagination of the rest.”

Ugh. Amber.

She was sitting in the second row of the auditorium with Corman, who was filming the stage.

Andie dropped her bottom lip, breath hissing through her teeth. “Maybe she’s right. We should clear all this crap out.”

“No,” Hudson said firmly. “The team have put a lot of work into this. Let’s run with it today. We’ve got until Friday. We can make adjustments as we go. Swap things in and out if needed. Remember who the real creatives are. Here’s a clue, it’s not those damn podcasters.”

From the side of his eye, he saw their faces glaring at him.

Screw the pair of you.

The first podcast about Darkest Blue had dropped on Friday.

As Hudson suspected, the focus had been more on Julian’s murder and the impact it had had on the cast and crew.

Hudson didn’t understand podcasts or how their ratings worked, but the release of the episode had resulted in a flurry of fresh interest. Reporters and photographers had appeared outside the apartment again, though not as many as before.

Jo had pestered him with renewed calls for him to accept requests for interviews from TV and radio stations as well as all the national press.

It had been a relief to withdraw to Luke’s place for the weekend and turn off his phone. No one had known he was there, and he’d been able to relax and enjoy quality time with Luke. It was the one bright spot in an otherwise difficult few days.

Hudson had resolved to stay well clear of Amber and Corman for the rest of the run.

* * * *

“There are two policemen here to see you.”

Hudson groaned. After a busy morning, lunch was the first quiet moment he’d had. Luke wasn’t due to join the rehearsal until this afternoon and Hudson had retreated to his dressing room for an hour of calm.

The room was pretty standard for an old theatre. Compact, with little natural light. The small window, high on the wall, didn’t open, and on a hot July day, the place was stifling. He had two table fans running at full speed and had left the door propped open to get the air circulating.

“Send them in,” he told the stage door attendant and hung up.

Lunch had been a tuna salad box, bought in from a nearby convenience store. He cleared away the empty wrappers and papers and finished his bottle of water when the detectives arrived.

It was DS Benito Coppola and Kris Peters, Luke’s ex.

Terrific.

The former was overdressed for the summer heat in a three-piece suit.

Very smart, but totally impractical. Kris had removed his jacket and slung it over his arm.

He’d unfastened his top button and loosened his tie.

His white shirt clung to the swell of his beer belly. Both of them looked sweltering.

There were more bottles of chilled water in the mini-bar fridge beside his dressing table, but Hudson wanted to know why they were here before he offered any hospitality.

Apart from the dressing chair, there was a small leather sofa against the window wall. He gestured for them to sit.

Kris’ sharp eyes stared at him attentively. Contempt was obvious in the downturned corners of his mouth.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” he deadpanned. “Have you identified the guys who came after us?”

“Not yet,” Benito said. He might as well have added not ever. His lack of interest could not have been clearer. “That’s not why we’re here. The investigation into the murder of your co-star is our priority.”

Kris snorted. The line of his jaw was hard, full of tension.

Hudson ignored him and focused on Benito. “And have you made any progress with that?”

“We’re getting there. We need to ask you some more questions.” Benito was a very handsome man, but what kept him from being attractive was his officious attitude. Hudson suspected he was the kind of cop who considered everyone to be guilty until they were proven otherwise.

“About your relationship with Julian King,” Kris added, delight at the question fused with derision for Hudson.

“I’m not sure what there is to tell you that I haven’t gone through before.”

“The two of you were close?” Benito asked.

“We were friends. Good friends, I would say, considering how short a time we’d known each other.”

“You used to go out with him,” Kris said. A statement, not a question.

Hudson prickled. “We went for food and drinks several times after work. Neither of us knew anybody here apart from members of the crew, so it made sense.”

Another snort. “Didn’t take you long to find someone, though.”

Hudson spoke to Benito but pointed at Kris. “Is it appropriate that he’s even here? Given his personal interest in me.”

“The only interest I have in you, mate, is as a suspect,” Kris said.

Benito ignored both of their remarks. “Did you ever go out for more than drinks and dinner after work?”

What the hell are they getting at? “No. Most nights I was back in the apartment by eight or nine at the latest. I don’t know what Julian did after that.”

“You knew he was bisexual?” Benito asked.

“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. Though I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“According to his ex-wife, he was quite open about his bisexuality.”

“So? He didn’t talk to me about it. There was no reason he should.”

“And it wasn’t unusual for him to make friends when he was working away from home.”

“Friends with benefits,” Kris added with an immature smirk. “Were you one of those friends?”

Hudson took a deep breath. He’d love to wipe that look off Kris’ face and couldn’t believe the audacity of these incompetent fuckwits.

When he spoke, his voice sounded amazingly measured and calm.

“No. Julian and I were friends and nothing else. Whatever it is you’re trying to imply, you couldn’t be more wrong. ”

“I’m not implying anything,” Benito said. “I’m asking. Were you having a sexual relationship with Julian King?”

“And again, for anyone dumb enough not to get it the first time, no, I wasn’t.” He stood. “And if that’s all you’ve come to ask, you can leave so I can get back to work.”

They took their time getting to their feet.

“And if this is as far as your investigation has gotten after two weeks, you should be ashamed of yourselves,” Hudson added.

“I’ve been looking into some of the things that have gone on around here in the last few years and it doesn’t make for the nicest reading.

Like the Blyham Strangler, among other things.

You and your colleagues didn’t come out of that smelling of roses, did you? ”

Bentio stiffened. Kris’ face was cold stone.

“I saw what happened then and I can see exactly what you’re up to now.

Using the victim’s sexuality against them.

Blaming them for their own deaths. Because it’s convenient.

Because it’s easy. What happens next? You probe around for a few more days before getting bored.

Move on to another, juicer case. Move Julian’s murder to the cold cases archive. ”

Bentio attempted to meet his gaze, failed and looked away. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else we need to ask you.”

Bentio went straight out of the door. Kris lingered. His mouth was pinched. His fists clenched. After a moment, glaring at Hudson, he let out an ugly laugh and followed his partner from the room.

Hudson realised he’d been holding his breath and released a sigh of relief.

Another perfectly fine day had been ruined.

Sometimes, it felt like the whole of Blyham was trying to distract him from this play.