Murder On Tour by Mark McCrum

Author:Mark McCrum [McCrum, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Where are you? I’m in Catering with Adam. Let’s talk. Now, please. Nick.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Seamus at last? But no, it was only Ted, Scally’s drum tech, with the lopsided grin and wild straw hair. ‘Oh hi, Mel,’ he said, looking away from Francis. ‘I’m not disturbing anything, am I?’

‘No,’ Francis replied. ‘It’s fine. I was just off anyway.’

Chapter Fourteen

Francis strode back across the Festhalle. The doors were open and fans were pouring in, running across the wide expanse of floor to get up the front by the stage. Others, older, were taking their places in the surrounding banks of seating: a stalls area at one end of the ‘standing room only’ central oblong, then a dress circle and an upper circle going right round. Beams of light were already raking the dark stage.

Francis waved his AAA pass at one of the Hell’s Angels and went on up to Catering. There was no sign of Nick. Or Seamus, for that matter. He headed off into the corridors and ran slap bang into Topaz, hurrying the other way.

‘Can’t talk now, sorry,’ she said before he’d even spoken. And then, weirdly, she paused mid-step, looked around, and went right up to him. So close he could smell the muskily alluring scent she wore. Diorella? Something like that. She ran a forefinger across her neck in a throat-cutting gesture. ‘Walls have ears,’ she whispered. She squeezed his shoulder, gave him a rather arch look and left him standing there.

Unsettled, Francis made his way towards where the band hospitality and dressing rooms must surely be. Yes, there was FEMALE DRESSING ROOM – PRIVATE. He wasn’t going to mess with that again. Or, tonight, even MALE DRESSING ROOM, which for some reason didn’t have the PRIVATE qualification. Perhaps it should read MALE – PUBLIC, ALL COMERS he thought with a silent chuckle.

Jonni’s dressing room had no sign at all on it. It didn’t need one, with beefy Omar posted outside.

Francis could hear Adam’s rolling laughter coming from within.

‘Is Nick in there?’

‘He is.’

‘He sent me a message to come over.’

Omar nodded, unsmiling. ‘Wait a moment,’ he replied, looking up and down the corridor before sliding in the door, sideways, almost as if he was expecting Jonni to be waiting for him with a primed grenade. The laughter stopped and Omar returned.

‘In you go,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Francis!’ said Adam, genial as ever. ‘Where’ve you been hiding, mate?’

Jonni was lounging on a big armchair. ‘All right, man?’ He nodded, then looked away.

Nick was standing to one side. ‘Here you are. So you’ve finished with the crew?’

‘Sorry, Nick, I was just chatting to a couple of guys on the backline bus.’

‘Francis is thick as thieves with the crew these days,’ joshed Adam. ‘I can’t keep him away from them.’

‘Probably more fun than the band,’ said Jonni. ‘Eh, Francis?’

‘I wouldn’t say that. The band are good fun too.’

‘Just a shame I’m not,’ said Jonni.

‘Don’t be silly, Jonni. You’re glorious fun.’ The jovial response hovered on Francis’s lips, but he didn’t say it; he just wasn’t on those kind of matey terms with him – yet.

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