‘Was this kid ever formally interviewed so he could tell his side of the story? Where is he now?’
Felix sighed, and the sound was filled with the paradox of Rosalind. ‘Yeah. He spoke to the principal off the record. With his parents present. He said it was Rosalind’s fault. That she was giving him signs that made him act crazy. The school suggested he see a counsellor but he refused and that was it. It was almost the end of the school year and he was already eighteen, so legally the whole thing was tenuous anyway. A case of he said, she said. It sounds like, in the end, everyone just wanted the whole thing shoved back under the carpet. But the principal was keen to get her out of there and encouraged her to leave, which she obviously did. The kid is overseas now, studying somewhere. He’s never come back since the whole scandal apparently.’
‘It doesn’t really help us, though, does it? I mean, sure, there’s a bit of tension about the play and talk of some teenage crushes, but mostly everyone seems to like her,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I guess so. They just don’t really seem to know her, that’s half the problem. On the other hand, the principal I spoke to today thought she was bad news. Even her being dead sparked very little sympathy.’ Felix paused. ‘She was lucky she could just run on back home to Smithson and hit good old Nicholson up for a job.’
‘Very lucky,’ I agreed. ‘He certainly didn’t seem fussed about any of this when we spoke to him, though perhaps he didn’t realise how bad it was.’ I stretched out my legs, wincing at the stiffness of my muscles. ‘I spoke to Kai Bracks this afternoon,’ I told him.
‘And?’
I filled Felix in on my interview.
‘Well, even if he did send her the flowers it’s hardly conclusive,’ said Felix.
‘I know. Though at least it would be a lead. It would be something,’ I responded.
‘True.’ Felix yawned. I could hear more airport announcements in the background.
‘Anyway, I’m just watching this footage for the hundredth time,’ I told him as I rubbed at my eyes and looked at the frozen screen.
‘Still no sign of Timothy?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘But the tape is pretty shitty and it misses the ramp entrance to the hall, so even if he’s not on the tape it isn’t a done deal.’
Felix was called to board the plane and we agreed to meet early in the morning before check-in.
Now I refocus on the computer screen, clicking on the video file to play it from the start. The one camera that provided semi-clear footage of the audience from last Friday is positioned under the eaves of a classroom opposite the entrance to the school hall and partially blocked by a droopy ghost gum. We can assume that most of those who attended the play were captured on this tape, unless a ticket-holder entered from a backstage door or along the disabled ramp around the side.
Just before the 7 pm timestamp, people begin to cluster around the entrance of the Smithson Secondary College auditorium, talking and fiddling with their phones. The bulk of the crowd enters the auditorium just before 7.30. Between 7.32 and 7.39 a few stragglers rush in, with one latecomer running across the screen at 7.52, head down, apologetic, as he makes his excuses to the ushers. After this, the only movement on the screen is from the two student ushers standing either side of the closed doors, playing on their phones and chatting occasionally. One of them disappears at around 8.15 and reappears six minutes later. A bathroom break or, if I’m more of a cynic, a sneaky cigarette.
The interval begins at 8.40 and a smaller number of people emerge from the hall this time. A few light up cigarettes and shift off camera before reappearing a few minutes later popping breath mints. A middle-aged woman appears to have an argument with her husband. They exchange angry gestures before he storms off and she spins on her heel to re-enter the auditorium. He makes a dash inside just after the doors are closed at 9 pm, carrying what looks to be a woman’s jacket. Rosalind doesn’t appear on the tape in the interval and I assume she is backstage with the cast. That corresponds with what several of the student actors and crew told the uniforms in their interviews.
At 10.03 pm the ushers pull open the doors and I watch the now-familiar footage of the audience surging out into the night, noticeably excited. I recognise some of them in the hazy way that you can summon up identities from an old photo. A sharp profile tugs at a latent memory. A distinctive mannerism takes me back to a long-forgotten conversation. I recognise a man we questioned over a domestic violence incident last year. The crowd thins out fairly quickly, with about half leaving between 10.11 and 10.19. Those remaining are clearly waiting to greet the cast members. They bob up and down on the spot, craning their necks towards the dressing-rooms. Several are students who we saw at the school the other morning. I’ve already checked them off against the copy of the yearbook I asked the school receptionist to find for me.
Another camera, positioned on the front gate, has provided us with lopsided, out-of-focus footage of over thirty cars exiting the main car park between 10.20 and 10.29 pm, but Nicholson reminded us that most people attending the play would have parked in the streets adjacent to the school, or the car park near the top of the lake, so the cars captured on the tape are only a small sample of the attendees’ vehicles. The resolution is so bad I’ll need the tech guys to work the files before they will be any use to us anyway.