Classic Calls the Shots (11 page)

The Horch, bearing ‘von Ribbentrop', was the first car to be shot ‘arriving' at the Manor, and I saw Chris Frant setting off in it towards the gate, followed by the four-wheel drives carrying Bill and camera crews. A bevy of other crew members and a small group of extras rushed after them. Should I join them? It was a wrench but I stayed where I was. The one thing one can bank on with the film production is that there will be a lot of waiting around. It was only eleven thirty, and I had over two hours before the Auburn took the limelight. I preferred to use the time, not waste it.

I spotted Louise talking to a pleasant looking fair-haired man in modern jeans and leather blouson, who looked vaguely familiar.

‘Jack!' Louise had spotted me and was waving, not I thought to her companion's pleasure. So naturally I joined them. ‘You wanted to meet Nigel Biddington,' she said. ‘Nigel, this is Jack Colby. He works for the police.'

‘The chap who found the Auburn?' he asked.

Nigel was about thirty, and at first his expression was one that I tend to associate with Rob and his ilk, which usually translates for me as: ‘Do I wish to know you?' Today it didn't. His face lit up with pleasure.

‘The star of the show himself,' he continued. ‘You saved my bacon, I can tell you. I thought I was going to have to produce a miracle at short notice.'

He seemed sincere and inoffensive, and I could believe Louise's claim that he was a friend only. Still, first impressions aren't always right.

‘I'll have to leave you two car buffs,' Louise said. ‘I'm on call shortly. As soon as the Horch reaches the forecourt my far from beloved husband and I have to rush out to greet von Ribbentrop. This is Chris's big moment; he only has two words to speak in the film – “
Guten Tag
” –
and this is the scene, so we have to make sure it goes well for his sake.' She excused herself with a quick touch of my hand, which reassured me that our nights together had been no dream.

Nigel and I then talked serious cars, as he showed off the Bentley and the Fiat. He knew his stuff, I grudgingly granted. He even knew all about the famous ‘Bentley Boy' Woolf Barnato, one of Dad's childhood heroes. I realized that Nigel's face had struck a chord with me as one I'd seen around at various car shows and gatherings.

‘Where did you hire the cars for the film?' I asked. ‘From an agency?'

‘That or from people I know through my day job. I'm a car insurance broker.'

I could see him being rather good at his job. ‘I saw you at the Wheatsheaf, I think. Or Dering Arms at Pluckley.' Both have regular classic car meets.

‘Probably. Good hunting ground for this job. Did you know we're having thirty more classics here this Saturday? The whole day's devoted to them.'

That sounded good to me. ‘Terrific. I'll be here. Did you get the Horch from an agency?'

‘Difficult. I tracked it down from someone I know.' He was so vague I wondered what the mystery was.

We were still deep into discussing the Car Day, as Nigel referred to it, when Roger Ford joined us and added his profuse thanks. ‘Might save the premiums going up next time, eh, Nigel? The insurers have been having some big payouts recently, Jack, and couldn't believe their luck over the Auburn being recovered within the thirty days before they had to fork out.'

‘Where are you keeping these classics?' I asked.

‘We've special security garages set up here for two weeks. I don't think there'll be more trouble.'

‘You think Bill's right?' I asked. ‘That it's Angie that the thief was targeting, not the film?'

‘I darn well hope so,' Roger said with feeling. ‘Oxley Productions can't afford much more of this. He must have realized that this didn't sound good, because he added, ‘Don't get me wrong, Jack. Angie was a good friend, and what's happened is a personal nightmare – both for Bill and me. But Bill's chosen to push forward with this movie, and the only way it will work is to keep distance between the movie and Angie's death. We don't know where we are with the studios, but what's going on
here
is safe ground. Understand?'

I did. ‘The known, not the nightmare.'

He shot me a keen look. ‘You've a foot in both camps, Jack. OK with that?'

‘Both camps?' Nigel queried. ‘The Auburn's back.'

Marshy ground. I didn't want Angie's comments to Bill spread around.

‘There's still the paperwork to do,' I said easily, ‘plus the need to find out who took the car in the first place, plus the possible threat to the other classics.'

‘Of course,' Nigel murmured. ‘Better safe than sorry.'

But were they safe? I wondered. Even in these glorious surroundings it was not only the shadow of Angie's death that hung over the company. I had a feeling that they were characters in a film of their own, caught up in a web in which they were totally unaware of the spider working amongst them.

It took over an hour – a remarkably brief time apparently – to get the Horch up the drive, and even then its final arrival displeased Bill. I could hear his voice ranting at the unfortunate Chris Frant – for pulling up the Horch too quickly. By that time lunch was in full flow and I had just provided myself with an interesting pasta and salad when Eleanor Richey, looking gorgeous in a powder-blue silk suit and matching hat, pounced on me.

‘You're
so–oo–oo
clever,' she cooed at me.

‘Luck,' I said modestly.

‘Nonsense. You're good.' She tucked her arm in mine. ‘The police should be asking you to find out who killed poor Angie. Can't you help them out? You're so
brilliant
.'

‘Not my role,' I said. ‘I'm still looking into the dirty tricks campaign. Did you suffer from it?'

‘I guess we all did.' She pulled a face. ‘It was poor darling Louise who really suffered. Bill likes her so much.'

Ouch. That was delivered with such apparent sweetness that I mentally winced. I picked up the implication though. It wasn't hard. ‘Is there any possibility that Angie could have been behind the dirty tricks?' I played with the idea that someone had found that out, and used it against her by stealing the Auburn for real.

Eleanor did her best to look aghast. ‘Of course not. Although she did put people's backs up. She was so possessive over Bill that anyone who looked at him twice was in trouble. I guess I shouldn't say such nasty things about her, but it's just unbelievable that she's dead. And now the Auburn's here, waiting for me to drive it
alone
. I was trying to pluck up courage for a practice drive. I suppose you wouldn't come with me?'

‘Not without Bill's permission,' I said hastily. Honey traps I did not need.

‘Nigel's will do. He's in charge of the cars,' she said coolly.

I gave in, duly found Nigel, and checking that the way was clear after the Horch filming, we drove down the drive and back in stately fashion. Hardly to my surprise she was a confident driver, showing no signs of the nervousness she had claimed, as she chattered on. On the way back we passed Louise, about to go into the catering area. She stood to one side and saluted as we sailed past. Perhaps it was my imagination but an eyebrow was raised, rather like Zoe's trick. I gave Louise a wave and a friendly toot, and caught her in the mirror laughing.

By the time I managed to prise myself away to follow her, Louise was already established at a table with Justin Parr – they looked all too cosy together, but when Louise indicated that I should join them, he greeted me with genuine interest.

‘So you're Bill's flavour of the month,' he said.

‘You could have fooled me,' I said cheerfully. ‘I thought I was in the doghouse for being over five hours late.'

‘Not today.'

‘How's he coping with the filming?'

‘It's the only thing keeping him going, I reckon. If he keeps centred on the film, he doesn't have to think about Angie and police,' he said quietly.

‘Are there any police here?' I asked. It was possible that Brandon would have posted someone here – just in case – but I hadn't identified anyone as yet.

‘I thought
you
were the police,' Louise joked.

‘Don't let DI Brandon hear you say that,' I said hastily. His goodwill to me would only stretch so far. ‘Is Shotsworth Security in sole charge here?'

‘I think so,' Justin answered. ‘They seem pretty good.'

I didn't like to point out that one major car theft, a series of petty crimes and a murder wouldn't count in my book as ‘pretty good' – but if Justin thought it so, best leave it that way. He and Louise must be used to being hemmed in by guards. I made a mental note, however, to keep my eye on Shotsworth Security as far as I could.

I'd spotted Tom and Joan at another table, and so mindful of my role here, I decided to make my excuses (with deep regret) to Louise and Justin.

‘See you at close of play, Jack?' Louise asked.

‘Done,' I said happily.

Justin looked interested. ‘I thought I had your undivided love, Louise,' he joked.

‘Job-share,' I quipped.

Louise blushed and I loved her even more. How could this woman play a scheming seductress on screen and set and be such an angel off it, when Eleanor Richey played a sweet American on-screen and came over as a prize bitch off it. The acting profession is an interesting one: does the role hide the truth or reveal it?

When I joined Tom and Joan, Joan was already in costume and told me she had to leave because she was due at Make-Up. ‘Are you employed again?' I asked Tom cautiously, when we were alone.

Tom ostentatiously looked around for possible spies. ‘I re-employed myself at Roger's suggestion.'

‘Deputy assistant DOP again?'

‘No. Roger thought Bill could do with more practical support. He suggested I brought my hand-drawn storyboards back. Usually they're a pre-production tool for the director and cinematographer but Bill likes them around all the time, so I've stuck them up in the ops caravan. We know it's a risk. With Angie's death so close, it could go either way, but Bill hasn't objected yet. Roger thinks they might help draw the company together by opening up discussion. We're gambling that Bill won't think it's an insult to Angie. Want a look?'

I did, and we walked over to the ops caravan which was out on its own, away from the day caravans allotted to the stars. I noticed a couple of security guards prominently patrolling the area – necessary, I supposed, as fans could easily evade gate checks by climbing over walls or fences. And so, it occurred to me, could anyone bent on mischief.

There were no guards around the ops caravan. It was open to all comers. I followed Tom up the steps and into the world of
Dark Harvest
.

On one side were neat small sketches, on a series of what looked like computer printed templates. ‘These are the thumbnails for the rest of the week, including Car Day,' Tom told me. ‘Bill uses them to either stick up in front of him or scribble notes on. But these,' he said with pride, pointing to the much larger hand-drawn charcoaled sketches, ‘are the real thing. Today's and tomorrow's detailed storyboards.'

I had looked at the Car Day thumbnails with interest but it was clear that to Tom a car was a car, even if it was a precious classic. On the other hand, the hand-drawn dramatic sketches of the cast in a series of situations and emotions came across with power and with what I imagine Bill had meant by ‘mood'. There was Julia Danby – not the Louise I knew, but a sultry, vengeful woman. There was the innocent American heiress, the beleaguered Lord Charing, his son Robert Steed, and a dark-haired Italianate man whom I imagined must be Charles Danby. All of these sketches brought across a brooding sense of what was to come. I wasn't sure if I liked the result, but it was certainly a winner.

‘How's Bill with these?' I asked.

‘Hasn't seen them yet,' Tom said awkwardly. ‘Roger suggested I just put them up and hope that Bill would . . . Ah.'

His eyes slipped past me and I turned round to see Bill standing in the doorway. Tom and I stood there like naughty schoolboys, as he marched in and surveyed the storyboards. We held our breath waiting for Nemesis.

‘Saw them earlier, Tom,' Bill said at last. ‘Good work. We'll go with these. Got the rest?'

Tom nodded, stunned.

Then it was my turn. ‘Jack, seven this evening after shooting if everything goes OK. You too, Tom. We're showing
Running Tides
in the Manor. There's a home cinema down in the basement. Everyone to be there. No exceptions.'

Bang went my quiet evening alone with Louise, and I wondered why Bill was so keen for everyone to see it, even me.

Syndale Manor was to be used chiefly for external shots, although according to the storyboards I'd seen the staircase and entrance hall were also being used this week. The Manor was not open to the public and when I went inside it seemed very much still a home, albeit one that had both benefited and suffered from conversions over the years. Large rooms had been divided into smaller ones, and there was no longer a ballroom. The cinema in the basement had apparently been the idea of Sir John's grandfather who had a passion for Gloria Swanson and for Charlie Chaplin, and set it up in the 1920s. It held about sixty people at a guess, not everyone as Bill had said, but tonight I could see that included the cast, a few lesser acting mortals, department chiefs – and me.

I could see no sign of Bill as I took my place in the back row. This wasn't modesty on my part, but because I wanted an overall squint at the audience. Nigel was in the front row and I thought I saw Louise next to him. I was wrong, because she appeared a few minutes later, scoured the audience and then made her way to me. I sat there with an idiot's grin on my face, especially when she kissed me on the cheek. Nothing like the back row of a cinema for sweethearts. Well, that used to be the case, although now any row will do. The back row held a special place in my heart, however, so Louise and I held hands. For the rest, I could wait. Just about.