Take Two (A psychological thriller) (17 page)

‘I rang the office today and Cohen still hasn’t been in,’ said Terry. ‘They were a bit terse when I rang this time.’

‘Terse?’

‘It’s been a week. I asked them if there was something wrong and the girl who I was speaking with said they were starting to get a bit worried.’ He swirled his wine around the glass thoughtfully. ‘You’re playing with fire, you know that?’

‘Only if he’s the one. He might just be a fan who happens to be tall, dark and handsome.’

‘Oh, so now we’ve upgraded him to handsome, have we?’

‘You know what I mean. I might just be jumping at shadows.’ She sipped her wine. ‘I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get my private eye on the case.’

‘You’re private eye? What are you talking about?’

‘Max Dunbar. The guy who got that stalker off my back. I’ll get him to check Warwick out. He’s got access to all sorts of databases and stuff.’

‘And then what?’

‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,’ said Carolyn. ‘Let’s see what happens next Friday.’

‘Be careful, darling.’

‘I always am, Terry.’

CHAPTER 36

Richards brought his Porsche to a halt in front of the barrier and wound down the window as a uniformed security guard walked over holding a clipboard. ‘Warwick Richards,’ he said. ‘I’m here to see Miss Castle.’ It was Friday, just before noon.

The guard studied a list on his clipboard, nodded, and handed a security badge through the window before showing Richards where to park. ‘If you go to reception, somebody will be waiting for you there,’ said the guard.

Richards parked the car and walked through the double glass doors into the reception area. On the walls were life-size photographs of the show, including one of Carolyn in a little black dress and a string of pearls holding an attaché case in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

He was about to talk to a receptionist when a good-looking black man in a tight-fitting polo shirt and baggy Versace jeans walked over. ‘Mr Richards? I’m Terry Carter.’ He held out his hand and flashed Richards a beaming smile.

‘Call me Warwick, please,’ said Richards as he shook Terry’s hand. ‘How did you know it was me?’

Terry laughed. ‘Carolyn said you were tall, dark and handsome.’

‘Same as you, then,’ said Richards.

‘Plus security called to say you’d just arrived,’ said Terry.  ‘Carolyn’s on the set at the moment. She’s asked me to take you through. Could you do me a favour and switch off your mobile? Nothing annoys a director more than a phone going off.’

‘No problem,’ said Richards. He took out his phone and switched it off. Terry took him through a set of double doors that led to a long corridor. ‘So you’re a fan of the show?’

‘Big time,’ lied Richards.  In fact, earlier that week he’d bought a DVD set of the show and spent the weekend watching it. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience and, after the first few hours, he’d opened a bottle of champagne which had helped a bit. The only thing he had enjoyed had been the steady of stream of pretty girls who passed through the show, usually being bedded by one or other of the regular male characters. ‘What is it you do, Terry?’

‘Props master. I supply the bits and bobs that clutter up the sets. And I help out with wardrobe.’

‘Must be fun.’

‘It has its moments,’ said Terry. ‘Carolyn tells me you paid twenty-five grand to have lunch with her.’

‘Twenty-six,’ said Richards.  ‘It was for charity. For kids.  I bid on Seb, too, but I’m glad I got her and not him. She is fit, isn’t she?’

Terry grinned. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘As a butcher’s dog.’

They reached the doors to the studio. The red light was on, Terry pointed at it. ‘That shows they’re filming,’ he said. ‘We can go in, but no noise and be careful where you put your feet. There are cables everywhere.’

Richards nodded and Terry opened the door. They slipped inside and Terry closed the door carefully behind them.

Terry took Richards around to the left. They turned a corner and found two dozen people, mainly men, standing around as Carolyn and Seb were talking. They were in the kitchen that Richards recognised from the DVD.  Carolyn was holding a champagne glass and was listening to Seb, her head cocked to the side.

Standing a few feet to her left was a man holding a sound boom above her head.  As Richards watched the two actors work, he was impressed with the way they were able to focus on each other and ignore the dozens of people who were standing around the set.  Seb was accusing Carolyn of not pulling her weight at the company and, when it was her turn to speak, she ripped into him coldly and clinically and finished by throwing the contents of her glass in his face.

‘Cut!’ shouted the director.

Everyone started moving around purposefully, moving lights and reattaching cables, and a young girl in tight jeans rushed over to Seb and began dabbing at his face with a towel.

‘We’re breaking for lunch!’ shouted a girl with a clipboard. ‘Back here at two sharp to pick up with scene forty-seven.’

Carolyn walked over to Richards and held out her hand. ‘Welcome to the coal face,’ she said.

He shook her hand. ‘Thanks for having me,’ he said. He looked around the set. ‘I’m, surprised to see there’s just one camera.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Most people are,’ she said. ‘They think we act and three or four cameras film it as it happens. No, we do it with just one camera. So they film me saying a line, then the other actor saying their line, then a shot with us both in the frame, then another looking over my shoulder. They sometimes film the same scene five or six different ways and then they all get cut together in the editing suite.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Are you okay for the canteen?’ she said. ‘It’s actually quite good.’

‘But no wine?’

‘Definitely no wine,’ said Carolyn. ‘In fact, that was lemonade I just threw in Seb’s face.’

‘And it was the third take,’ said Seb, walking over. He shook Richards’ hand. ‘You’re here for your twenty-six grand lunch?’

‘I certainly am,’ said Richards. ‘And I’m looking forward to it.’

A runner came over with a blue dressing gown and Carolyn slipped it on. ‘I feel a bit underdressed in the little black number,’ she said. ‘And I need to be wearing it for the next scene. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘You look good in blue,’ said Richards.

‘Well let’s go and see what’s on the menu.’

‘Do you want me to tag along?’ asked Terry.

‘A chaperone?’ said Richards. ‘I promise not to make any untoward advances.’

‘We’ll be fine, Terry,’ said Carolyn. ‘But leave your mobile phone on.’ She saw the look of surprise on Richards’ face and she grinned. ‘Joking,’ she said.

‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ said Richards.

‘I’m sure you will be,’ she said.

CHAPTER 37

Carolyn was surprised at how well the lunch went.  Richards was very good company, he was funny and clearly intelligent, but he was a good listener, too.  She’d picked at a Dover sole, not because she wasn’t hungry but because she was so involved in their conversation.  Richards had chosen seafood spaghetti and most of it was untouched on his plate as well. She nodded at his plate. ‘Not good?’

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘To be honest, I was having too much fun talking with you.’

She laughed.  ‘I was thinking exactly the same.’

‘You should come to the club sometime.’

She lifted her glass of water and watched him as she took a sip. Then she smiled. ‘I might, at that.’

Richards grinned.‘If you need a chaperone, we could make sure Seb’s there.’

‘The problem is during the week we always have early starts,’ she said, putting down her glass.

He leaned towards her and lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, there’s been a few times when Seb has gone straight from the club to the studio.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘But Seb’s a guy and if he looks weathered that’s all well and good.  We women have to look good at eight in the morning and make-up can only do so much.’

‘Weekends then,’ said Richards. ‘Friday is always a good night.’

‘Maybe,’ said Carolyn.

‘I won’t push you any more,’ he said. ‘I know it must be annoying being pressured by fans.’

‘Is that what you are? A fan?’

‘Of course.’

She raised one eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. Why else would I pay twenty-six grand for lunch with you?’

‘How many years has the show been running?’

‘Nine.’

‘What time does it go out?’

‘Eight.’

‘What car do I drive in the show?’

‘A Lexus Prius in town and a Land Rover Evoque in the country.’

She nodded, impressed. He grinned. ‘Do you want me to tell you what colour underwear you’re wearing?’

‘Now that would be creepy,’ she said.

Richards laughed as he speared a prawn with his fork. ‘Do you grill all your fans like this?’ he asked.

‘Only the ones that pay twenty-six thousand pounds for a plate of seafood spaghetti.’

‘I do watch the show.  And I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. But, hand on heart, I like to help that charity out whenever I can. I didn’t have the easiest of childhoods and if I can help kids who’ve been dealt a shit hand in life then it’s the least I can do.’

‘I’m sorry if I sounded like I was quizzing you.’

‘You were quizzing me, but you’re entitled. I’m a stranger, and you can’t be too careful with strangers. He popped the prawn into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

‘So is there a Mr Castle?’

‘There are three former Mr Castles,’ said Carolyn. ‘All well in the past, thank God. You?’

‘Never had a Mr Castle,’ said Richards.

‘What about a Mrs Richards?’

Richards shook his head.

‘So, no kids?’

‘No, I have a son. Jamie. But he’s with his mum. We never married. I see him every few weeks and over the school holidays.’

‘How old?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Ah, so he thinks you know nothing and everything you do is an embarrassment?’ said Carolyn.

‘Got it in one,’ said Richards.

‘I’ve a fourteen-year-old son, courtesy of Mr Castle Number One.’

‘Does he live with you?’

‘I share custody, but he’s at boarding school so I see him mainly during his holidays. My work schedule is so stupid he tends to stay with his father. We Skype, though.’

Richards laughed. ‘Yeah, how did we manage before Skype? It’s brilliant isn’t it?’

‘I dunno, I think I prefer phones so I don’t have to see the look of contempt.’

They both laughed and Carolyn realised with a jolt that she was totally at ease in his company. That didn’t make any sense.  She was still interviewing him as a potential murder suspect, yet here she was swapping stories about bringing up teenagers.

‘Can I make a confession?’ he asked.

Carolyn’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’

‘A confession,’ he said. ‘Before I met you, I really did think you were the bitch from hell.’

‘Seb telling stories out of school, was he?’

Richards laughed and his eyes sparkled. ‘Of course not.  I’ve never seen him at the club.  No, I guess I’d formed my impression from what I’d seen on TV.’

‘You really thought I was Diana?’

‘Sure. I think everyone does, right? Hardly anyone gets to see the real you.’

‘And your point is?’

‘My point is the real you is quite something.’ He clinked his glass of water against hers. ‘I’m glad we did this.’

‘You know, so am I,’ said Carolyn.

‘Is there any way I could persuade you to do this again?’

‘What, lunch in the staff canteen?’

Richards laughed. ‘I had in mind a proper meal with champagne. I tell you what, if you’re still worried I might be a stalker, why not come to the club with Seb?  We can have a decent bottle of champagne and we can eat on the terrace.’

‘I never thought you were a stalker,’ said Carolyn. ‘And, like I said, I do feel bad about you paying twenty-six grand for a seafood spaghetti.  But I prefer red wine to champagne, it has to be said.’

‘So is that a yes?’

‘It’s a definite maybe,’ she said.  ‘One Saturday, maybe. Let me talk to Seb.’

‘You’ve got my card,’ said Richards. ‘I’ll leave the ball in your court.’ He sniffed and cocked his head on one side.’

‘I really like that perfume,’ he said. ‘Chanel?’

‘Coco Mademoiselle,’ she said. ‘It’s been my favourite for a while.’

‘Well it’s my favourite now,’ said Richards. He grinned. ‘How corny did that sound?’

‘Fairly corny,’ she laughed. ‘But I’ll take compliments in any shape or form.’

They finished lunch and Carolyn walked Richards out to the car park. ‘Nice,’ she said when she saw his Porsche. ‘I like SUVs. I always feel so much safer in them.’

‘What do you drive?’ asked Richards.

‘Most of the time I’m driven, these days,’ she said. ‘But I have an Audi TT.’

‘Now that is a nice motor,’ he said.

‘It’s nippy,’ said Carolyn. ‘It’s not the car of my dreams, though.’

‘Yeah? What would you prefer?’

‘If I had the room, a Bentley,’ she said. ‘But my parking space is tight and the house doesn’t have a garage. Leaving a Bentley on the street would be asking for trouble.’

‘Yeah, there’s a lot of envy out there,’ said Richards. He smiled as he looked into her eyes, trying to work out whether she was testing him about the Bentley or if it had been a chance remark.  ‘Red,’ he said.

‘Red?’

‘That’s the colour of your underwear.’  He blew her a kiss and got into his car.  She was still laughing as he drove away.

CHAPTER 38

Filming continued pretty much non-stop during the afternoon and it wasn’t until just after six that Carolyn was able to talk to Terry. He was in the props room, working on a set of files that Seb would be holding in a close-up later that week. ‘So what do you think?’ she asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

‘He’s good enough to eat, isn’t he?’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Well that’s an image that will stay with me until my dying day,’ she said.

‘What’s more important is do you think it’s him?  Was he the guy you saw at Nicholas Cohen’s house?’