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Leanne:

Wasting Company Time presents Tell No Tales, Episode Nineteen: Everyone’s a Critic

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[SFX: Recording Begins]

Julia:

Oh go on. Say it. Go onn, for me? Say it say it say it.

Leo:

(GROANING) Only to shut you up. Audio diary of Leo Quinn, assistant to Fra—

[SFX: Doorbell rings]

Leo:

Ha! I win.

Julia:

For now. Go let them in, I’ll make some tea while you catch them up.

[SFX: Doorbell rings again impatiently]

Leo:

Er, yeah, thanks. Mugs are in the-

Julia:

(DISTANTLY) I’ll figure it out!

Leo:

Course she will.

[SFX: Doorbell rings again, even more impatiently, then the door is opened]

Riley:

You’ve both got about three seconds to explain what exactly is going on.

Leo:

Riley, by all means, come on in.

Riley:

She’s just, what, hanging out in you kitchen now? All chill like nothing’s happened?

Leo:

She’s on our side, Riley. She’s explained everything. She’s… Well she’s a bit unethical, maybe. Definitely enjoys snooping far too much. But she’s on our side.

Riley:

And you believe her? After weeks of trying to convince me she can’t be trusted?

Leo:

I… Don’t know, Riley. She seems genuine. Genuine enough to hear her out, at least. She’s the one who wouldn’t tell me anything about what she’s found on the warehouse until we could all be here. For your sake. She wants to help us. So, yeah, no I do. I do believe her.

Riley:

Ugh. Of course you do. I should have known your mushy little cancer self couldn’t resist that scorpio nonsense.

Julia:

(CALLED OUT FROM A SHORT DISTANCE AWAY) Actually, I’m a Leo. I know, fitting, right? But you were close, scorpio rising. And sagittarius moon, for what it’s worth. Milk and sugar?

Riley:

(GRUMBLING) Just because she knows astrology thinks she can get me to trust her.

Leo:

(LAUGHING) Uh, neither for me. Riley takes milk and one sugar.

Julia:

(VOICE GETTING MORE DISTANT) Okay, note to self, Leo’s a monster.

Riley:

Oh, so you trust her with your darkest secrets but not enough to tell her you prefer coffee to tea?

Leo:

Shh! Just because we’re working together doesn’t change the fact that she’s still terrifyingly gorgeous. Tea’s drinkable if it’s strong and black.

Riley:

God you’re a loser.

Leo:

Shhhh! Hey, thanks, Julia

[SFX: Mugs being placed down]

Riley:

Yeah. Ta. So, pleasantries aside, ready to explain?

Julia:

Alright, straight down to business, I can respect that. So, Leo tells me you’ve been looking into the warehouse too, what did you find?

Riley:

I mean. That’s not representative… It’s only been about two days, and I’ve not had much time outside of work, so—

Julia:

That doesn’t mean anything. You’re Riley Fuckin’ Matkins. If there had been anything worth finding, you’d have found it in two days, easy.

Riley:

Alright the brown-nosing is a bit much, but go on.

Julia:

Worth a shot. Plus, it’s true, there’s nothing to find. Nothing in writing, not in company policy, not in employee contracts, not anywhere, about what happens after spirits are stored in the warehouse. I only know what I know because I saw it.

Leo:

When you delivered Mr. Whitley to Frank?

Riley:

Of course, because that’s a thing that she did. Just in case we forget about that.

Leo:

A thing that she’s explained her reasons for already. Reasons I’ve already told you about over the phone.

Julia:

Nah, they’re right. Doesn’t make it okay. But maybe this might. Frank seems like a pretty careful guy, right? But for whatever reason, he let his guard down that night. Sure, he didn’t know I was there, at first, but a man that paranoid, that secretive? He has to have known there was a possibility I’d be lurking. I mean, what did he expect me to do? I got there, and the whole place was completely dark and dead quiet. So obviously I started snooping. It was all fairly standard stuff really, at first. Nothing a few dozen warehouse staff haven’t already seen. But I was mid-snoop when a door at the back opened, and Frank came out, seriously riled up. Like, punch a wall mad. Straight man on a first date and you’ve just told him that Quentin Tarantino’s films just Aren’t That Good mad. Practically growling in frustration. And the door wasn’t wide open, but the room behind it was well-lit, easy to see from the gloom of the warehouse. And, well. There were more spirits. Stored in their stasis capsules. Looked like thousands and thousands of them. Walls lined with crates. Each crate big enough to take at least, what, maybe a hundred capsules? There’s no way we’re processing that many spirits regularly enough to justify them all just sitting there. And I think I gasped or something, because he just zeroed in on me. Slammed the door shut, turned the lights on. I handed over the capsule with Whitley in it and he made some vaguely menacing comment about how he doesn’t need to remind me what will happen if I’m indiscreet, then just stood there, watching to make sure I left.

Riley:

So he’s storing them. Indefinitely? Why, though?

Leo:

Is it… all just a scam? Maybe there isn’t a way to move spirits on, or maybe Better Place has never known how to, so they just stash them away for as long as they can get away with it?

Julia:

I don’t think so. Better Place has been going for centuries, surely they’d have found a way to destroy them by now, even if it was just launching them into space to hide the evidence or something. And why would Frank be hanging out back there if it was just super-secret storage space? I think he’s doing something with them.

Riley:

So is this a Frank thing or a Better Place thing? How far does this thing even go back?

Leo:

I wonder if that’s got something to do with what Mr. Whitley was trying to tell us.

Riley:

Shit. Yeah, well. Okay. Okay, we’ve got somewhere to work from now though. There’s nothing to find about the warehouse, but…

[SFX: Rummaging in satchel, laptop pulled out and turned on, brief typing]

I can look back into early Better Place practices, maybe see if something changed at some point, and when. Might give us some insight.

Julia:

I’ll help. I’ve still got access to the uni’s digital library, I can dig into anything we find.

Leo:

What about me, can I help somehow?

Riley:

Yeah! Yeah, er…

[SFX: More rummaging, then paper set down]

Riley:

Here. I snuck it out of work for you when you mentioned your office might not be safe.

Leo:

I… A case file? Really? You’re just giving me a toy to keep me busy while the grown-ups do the real work?

Riley:

Oh, come on. It’s all real work Leo. We’ve said it before, this doesn’t get any less important just because there’s a new mystery to look into.

Julia:

They’re right. If this is something… If we’ve got a case against Better Place here with the warehouse, that case becomes infinitely stronger with every shred of evidence that there’s a real person suffering on the other end. It’s shitty that we should even have to, but for anyone to care that they’re storing these spirits, we’ve got to work the human angle. Remind people that these capsules aren’t just stock in a warehouse. That they’re people, with stories. You’re so good at that.

Leo:

Fine, whatever, I’ll just go over the case file in the bedroom shall I? So that I don’t disturb you both.Riley:
(ALREADY TYPING) yeah, sounds good

[SFX: Footsteps, door opens and closes, Leo sits down heavily on the bed]

Leo:

(GRUMBLING UNDER BREATH) Sure, leave the experts to it, Leo. We’ve got the perfect trio, a researcher, an academic, and Leo… Well, Leo, they’re good at all the mushy feelings stuff I guess. Fine.

[SFX: Case file opening]

Case BL#2240, Category 1, case status-active. Reported by Aaron Jacobs via email, initial report:

To whom it may concern, I work for Her Majesty’s Theatre, London, and I’m writing to report what we believe to be a potential haunting in the theatre. We have received complaints from actors during rehearsals, particularly during moments when things don’t exactly go to plan. Most often, it takes the form of actors who fumble their lines or slip up somehow finding themselves bothered by a strange malicious feeling, one of, in their words, “resentment” and “unease.” We have also had reports from audience members of somewhat different experiences, but equally unsettling nonetheless. They describe a feeling not necessarily of being watched, but of being watched through. It has taken the joint efforts of several complaints to be able to garner that specific phrasing, as most find it difficult to put to words exactly. I appreciate that such vague sensations might not be a priority to your organisation, but we’ve already been asked for refunds by several ticket-holders, so your swift assistance would be much appreciated. Kind regards, Aaron Jacobs.

Okay, well, if this is just a distraction on Riley’s part, at least they’ve picked an interesting one. Her Majesty’s Theatre happens to be the home of the West End’s long standing run of Phantom of the Opera. Reckon he managed to manifest there for the sheer irony of it? Though, I mean, he does actually have a reasonable reason for it. Looks like our spirit belongs to a Patrick Bryant, an actor whose first professional performance was on this stage, as the Auctioneer in one of the earlier casts of Phantom of the Opera. Seems to have been his last role in any big production too. (SIGHS) It’s still early enough, I suppose I could slip into the theatre after tonight’s showing. Unless…

[SFX: Footsteps, door opening]

Riley:

(DISTANTLY) Okay, what about 1839?

Julia:

(DISTANTLY) When Hornsby took over?

Riley:

(DISTANTLY) Yeah, see if there was anything new published around then.

[SFX: Door closes]

Leo:

Yeah, they don’t need me. I’ll go tonight.

[SFX: Recording ends]

[SFX: Recording begins]

Leo:

They’re still going. I left, went to the theatre, and came back to find them in exactly the same position but with several cans of energy drinks around them. God knows where they’ve gotten them from, I don’t keep any in the house. We’re all exhausted. Doing this exclusively outside of work hours is going to be a lot. But part of me is glad to have something of my own to work on. I mean, they’re right. I hate it but they’re right. I wouldn’t be much help to them out there.

[Ambience: Mellow, dreamy music fades in]

But this is what I can do. Even if this particular spirit isn’t the most… sympathetic case study I’ve got. Doesn’t mean he deserves to, die, or, be locked in a warehouse for the rest of eternity. Maybe Julia’s right. Maybe that’s my role in all this. Show the person inside the stasis capsule. It’s getting easier every time, at least. The last couple needed basically no editing bar a bit of noise reduction and splicing together the recordings of my end of the conversation. And it’s getting easier in the other sense, too. With the notable exception of when I don’t get any warning, but whatever. When I snuck into the theatre, when the place emptied out, lights turned off, staff leaving for the night, just me and him, I felt his presence. He was lurking, watching, and it wasn’t a good feeling. There was no warmth in it. But it didn’t break me. I just powered through. Pulse racing, sure, but breathing steady while I introduced myself and got him talking. Here.

[SFX: Mouse click]

Leo (ON RECORDING):

Okay, Patrick. Can you start by telling me some basic information to confirm your identity?

Patrick:

Well I wish I was surprised that you need confirmation of the details, but I was criminally unappreciated in my time. Were the world a fair place you’d be able to confirm all of this just by looking me up online. But it is not a fair place, and I was taken too soon to make a name for myself. Oh, Patrick Bryant, if you must know. Born 3rd of August 1979. Born and raised here in London, died here too. Only thirty-four years young.

Leo:

Great, thanks, and can you tell me a little bit about your life?

Patrick:

My life. (LAUGHS BITTERLY) My life was an exercise in futility. Ended by, of all things, oh it was a terrible bout of food poisoning. Oh I thought I’d had my big break here. The auctioneer. In Phantom. And not some pokey regional production either, but here. The second-longest West End run in history, after Les Mis of course. After years of taking part in my friend’s shitty improv productions, performing in no-budget musicals to audiences of five people at the Fringe. I finally make it big. Or, big enough to get me seen. Get me out there. And it’s taken away from me. After a year. Only one year. Do you know how pathetic that felt? They didn’t even try to hide their contempt when they told me either. Made it impossible to get any new gigs. More so than before. Now I wasn’t just unknown, I was known and ridiculed. The theatre world it’s small. It’s smaller than it seems, my friend, let me tell you. I was a pariah. All because I got too big for my boots. A visionary, I was. But nobody wanted to accept it coming from me, some rookie they’d never heard of. So they found it easier to mock me instead. Cast me aside. And my career never recovered in my lifetime.

Leo:

And can you tell me a bit about your afterlife here?

Patrick:

Well, it’s been enlightening. It’s served to show me just how much better I truly was than any of my peers. And certainly than any of these lot. Absolutely incompetent I tell you. Running since 1986, and they still can’t put any real emotion in it. I’ve heard this musical rehearsed and performed every night for almost decade, I know a fraud of an actor when I see one. But one thing I can say that has been nice, I seem to possess the ability to, in a sense, perceive the show through the audience member’s eyes. Most times I berate the actors for their abysmal performances any way I can with my limited communication. But sometimes. Sometimes I see the show as if for the very first time through some stranger in the stalls. I feel that wonder, that total absorption into the beauty of the production — even if I have to see it through naive, uncritical eyes to feel it — and I get lost in it. Now that, that I’d spend an eternity doing. That’s what it was always about.

Leo:

And I mentioned that Better Place was coming to remove you from the theatre. Can I ask what your opinion is on this?

Patrick:

I’d rather stay where I am, honestly. I’m happy here for now. Though, if this run ever ends, I’d like you to be in touch. It depends on what production comes next. If it’s Cats, I’ll hand myself into Better Place personally.

Leo:

Okay, thanks for speaking with me Patrick. Is there anything else you’d like to say, before I go? Anything you’d like me to pass on to someone still living?Patrick:
Well actually, I have quite the extensive list of notes for the actors that I’ve acquired over the years I’d like you to pass on, if you can. First of all—

[SFX: Mouse click]

Leo (ON RECORDING):

We don’t need to bother listening to the rest of that. It goes on for a while. I took my mum and dad to see that production of Phantom of the Opera, actually. Last time they visited. Phenomenal doesn’t even begin to cover it. So I wouldn’t take Patrick’s criticisms too seriously. Especially given the handful of scathing reviews I managed to find about him online. I don’t think I trust his judgement. And I will absolutely not be passing on his critiques. But hey. Every spirit’s account is progress, right? (LONG PAUSE). I think Riley and Julia have fallen asleep in front of their laptops in the living room. I should get some sleep myself. I’m not sure how sustainable this’ll be, working these cases outside of the office. But I’ll do what I can for now. At least until I burn out completely.

[SFX: Recording ends]

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Leanne:

Episode Nineteen of Tell No Tales, Everyone’s a Critic, was written and performed by Leanne Egan. You also heard the voices of Shannon Kelly as Julia, Phil Thompson as Riley, and Will Pryce as Patrick Bryant. If you enjoyed this episode, the best way to support the show is to spread the word. Leaving us a rating and review in your listening app of choice is a huge help, or you can follow us on Twitter or Tumblr @tellnotalespod Links and information about transcripts can be found in the show notes.Tell No Tales is distributed by Wasting Company Time Productions, under a Creative Commons attribution non-commercial share-alike 4.0 international license. Thank you for listening, and remember: the dead don’t bite.

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