Chapter Thirteen HE KNEW IT was silly to be influenced by Macbeth, and yet there was a kind of logic about it. A crime committed by a man, but instigated by a woman. The idea of Felicia Chatterton as an unwitting Lady Macbeth to Russ Lavery’s callow Macbeth made an ugly kind of sense. From the very start of rehearsal, she had found Warnock Belvedere difficult. He had been extremely rude to her in front of the entire company on more than one occasion. Even worse than that from Felicia’s point of view, he had threatened the single-minded concentration which was so essential in her build-up to a part. And she was so obsessive about her work that she would want all obstacles to its progress removed. No doubt she had said as much to Russ. The poor boy, absolutely besotted with her, excited at the thought not only of embarking on his professional career but also of having an affair with a real actress, would have done anything to gain her favour. And, though she probably did no more than express a wish that Warnock might be got out of the way, Russ might have taken her too literally and seen the murder as the ultimate proof of his devotion.
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