So Much Blood by Simon Brett Read Free Book Online Page A

2nd September.’
    â€˜Ah.’ A week after Charles’ engagement finished. No chance of picking Sam Wasserman’s brains. The investigation did not seem to be proceeding very fast. He decided that he would forget it for the rest of the evening. ‘How’s your show going?’
    â€˜ Mary ’s still all over the place. We spend so much time improvising and so on, we hardly ever get near the actual script.’
    â€˜And the revue?’
    â€˜Still bits. Bits are O.K. One or two of the songs are quite exciting, but . . . I don’t know. See what the audience thinks on the first night.’
    â€˜Monday. I’ll be there. Hmm. I wonder what I should call my opening. A first lunch?’
    â€˜Why not? I’ll come and see it, rehearsals permitting.’
    â€˜Good.’ Charles refilled her glass from the cold bottle of Vouvray. ‘Do you want to make the theatre your career?’
    â€˜Yes.’ No hesitation. ‘Always have. Totally stage-struck.’
    â€˜Hmm.’
    â€˜There was a world of cynicism in that grunt. You, I take it, are not stage-struck?’
    â€˜More stage-battered at my age.’
    â€˜Don’t you still find it exciting?’
    â€˜Not very often, no. I can’t really imagine doing anything else, but as a profession it leaves a lot to be desired. Like money, security . . .’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜There’s a lot more to it than talent. You need lots of help. You have to be tough and calculating.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. I sound awfully middle-aged. I think the prime reason for that is that I am awfully middle-aged. No, it’s just that I’d hate to think of anyone going into the business who didn’t know what it was about.’
    â€˜I do know.’
    â€˜Yes. So you’re prepared for all that unemployment they talk about, sitting by the telephone, sleeping with fat old directors.’
    â€˜I only sleep with who I want to sleep with.’ She gave him the benefit of a stare from the navy blue eyes. It was difficult to interpret whether it was a come-on or a rebuff.
    He laughed the conversation on to another tack and they cheerfully talked their way through coq au vin, lemon sorbet, a second bottle of Vouvray, coffee and brandy.
    The Castle loomed darkly to their left as they climbed up Johnstone Terrace, but it seemed benign rather than menacing. Charles’ arm fitted naturally round the curve of Anna’s waist and he could feel the sheen of her skin through the cotton shirt. Edinburgh had regained its magic.
    She stopped by a door at the side of a souvenir shop on the Lawnmarket. The city was empty, primly correct, braced for the late-night crowds that the Festival was soon to bring.
    â€˜Good Lord, do you live here? A flat full of kilts and whisky shortbread and bagpipe salt-cellars?’
    â€˜On the top floor.’
    â€˜That’s a long way up.’
    â€˜A friend’s flat. Student at the University here. Away for the summer.’
    â€˜Ah. All yours.’
    â€˜Yes. Do you want to come in?’
    â€˜What for?’ Charles asked fatuously.
    She was not at all disconcerted and turned the amused navy blue stare on him. ‘Coffee?’
    â€˜Had coffee.’
    â€˜Drink?’
    â€˜Had brandy.’
    â€˜Well, we’ll have to think of something else.’
    They did.

CHAPTER FOUR
    And the faulty scent is picked out by the hound;
    And the fact turns up like a worm from the ground;
    And the matter gets wind to waft it about;
    And a hint goes abroad and the murder is out.
    A TALE OF A TRUMPET
    HE WAS ALONE in the bed when he awoke. There was a note on the pillow. GONE TO REHEARSAL. IF I DON’T SEE YOU DURING THE DAY, SEE YOU TONIGHT? He smiled and rolled out of bed to make some leisurely coffee.
    He drank it at the window, looking down on shoppers and tourists, foreshortened by the distance, scurrying like crabs across the dark cobbles