Dolly had turned up on Posie’s office doorstep in the morning, unannounced, a great gaggle of babies and nannies in tow. And while Posie had been delighted to see her friend – this was the quiet summer season after all, when sensible people got the blazes out of town – the random visit was entirely out of character nowadays. In fact, Posie hadn’t seen her friend in weeks and weeks: Dolly’s town diary was usually chock-a-block with the important social engagements which went hand-in-glove with the gargantuan task of being Lady Cardigeon.
Dolly came to a sudden stop.
‘This is hopeless. Not a cab in sight. And we can’t very well go and catch the bus. The Number 10 will take forever to get us to Knightsbridge, let alone there and back in an hour. Shall we turn tail and go and rescue Len? Not that I want to, believe me. There are so many things I’d love to do with you, believe me. I bet you haven’t even seen Betty Balfour’s latest film, Love, Life and Laughter, have you?’
Posie shook her head.
‘All of London are talkin’ about it and it’s jolly good. A scream, in fact. I’d happily see it again. Another time, perhaps…’
‘Hang on a minute, don’t let’s give up. We still have nearly a whole precious hour to ourselves. Let’s do something else, something nice.’
But before she could suggest something else to do, Posie got that familiar creeping pin-prickly sensation which usually meant that someone was behind her, watching her.
Unnerved, she turned quickly, and, sure enough, she saw that the two huge nannies employed by her old friend Rufus, Lord Cardigeon, were sitting side by side, squeezed tightly together on a small green wooden bench on the dusty street outside Caspari’s, the famous Italian ice cream parlour.
They were both staring at Dolly with sneering faces, obviously mid-gossip about her. Each was firmly gripping a large pink ice cream cone as if for dear life, their faces disapproving beneath their smart unfashionable burgundy hats. Like naughty children who had been caught out, both big women coloured bright red under Posie’s unwavering gaze.
Fortunately Dolly hadn’t noticed the two women sitting behind her, and was ferreting about inside a huge and very expensive-looking lilac handbag for a lipstick. It would be a shockingly dark mauve, Posie knew. All of Dolly’s clothes were dark purple today and she was never anything less than immaculately colour-coordinated.
Wretched nannies, Posie thought to herself. Are they making poor Dolly’s life miserable?
Is that the problem?
She felt like sticking her tongue out at them and have done with it. So what if Dolly was unconventional and a bit madcap? They must be being paid a fortune by Rufus and could surely set aside their conventional tastes for a bit…
‘I say,’ Posie said, steering Dolly away from the direction of the ice cream parlour and hurrying her towards Soho. ‘Let’s have lunch.’
‘Oh, lovey. I don’t know. I’m not hungry; it’s just so blimmin’ hot.’
‘Fishcakes,’ Posie said decisively. ‘Is there anything better in the world than fishcakes? Kettner’s does the best in town, on Romilly Street. It’s only a ten minute-walk from here at most. My treat.’
Dolly’s elfin face cracked into a wide grin, won around at last. ‘Oh, go on then. If you insist.’
And Dolly took Posie’s arm and they swung off together jauntily, a bit like when they had first met; almost as if they didn't have a care in the world. But on the short walk through the tarry-melty smells of the Soho streets Posie felt that something still wasn’t quite right. Even though the nannies had been left far behind.
It was a niggling feeling. It was strange, but she still couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone was watching them. Or perhaps following them. Posie turned around several times, eventually annoying Dolly.
‘What is it?’
‘I swear to goodness that we’re being followed. Twice now I’ve turned around and a lad with dark hair, just a wee slip of a thing really, has darted into an alleyway or doorway to avoid being seen by me. It’s hard to follow someone in a heatwave without being seen; there are none of the usual crowds or stalls or tourists around to hide among. He’s quite good, actually. Looks like he has the makings of a professional. A stringer, they call them, in the trade.’
Dolly rolled her elaborately-painted eyes heavenwards. She spun around somewhat theatrically and scanned the unusually empty street. Kettner’s was straight up ahead of them.
‘You’re obsessed, Posie. I know it’s a quiet patch for you just now but you don’t need to invent things. Now we’ve got Oliver Twist hot on our heels. And why would a poor wee mite want to follow us, might I ask?’
‘There he is again!’ exclaimed Posie half under her breath, moving around quickly and whisking off her summer hat to get a better view.
A horrible thought entered her mind.
‘I say, does Rufus have any enemies at the moment? Is there any likelihood of you being kidnapped? Tell me, is he concerned about such a thing?’
Dolly was just making some disparaging remark about Posie being utterly, utterly paranoid when a flash of inspiration hit Posie. The nannies! No wonder they were such great hulking beasts. Rufus must have employed them especially to protect his wife and daughters.
Posie’s brain was working overtime: perhaps the nannies weren’t nannies at all, but hired bodyguards?
Perhaps they weren’t even women.
After all, those voluminous burgundy capes and dresses could hide pretty much anything. And like complete idiots Posie and Dolly had left them behind.
But why on earth hadn’t Rufus kept her up to date? Posie felt an uncharacteristic stab of anger towards her old pal: he knew that Posie could handle danger much better than most people, but it was far better to be forewarned about such things.
But before she could make much sense of the jumbled muddle of her thoughts, the dark-haired boy Posie had thought was following them, the stringer, had run on ahead of them into Romilly Street, making some sort of elaborate hand signal to some unseen person or persons.
‘Up here, guvnor!’ the lad shouted out in a hoarse voice. ‘They’re over here!’
Suddenly a motor engine was heard. Posie stopped in her tracks on the pavement. Her blood froze and she grabbed at Dolly’s arm.
‘What the blazes?’
Out of nowhere a sleek dark green Ford motor car with a gold crest emblazoned on the side drew up quietly alongside them and then cut the motor. It coasted along a bit and then parked a couple of feet away, up ahead of them. The stringer ran to the green car without a backwards glance at Posie or Dolly and jumped into the front seat.
Even Dolly was looking a bit worried by now.
Both women stared at the car in total silence. The silhouette of a hatless black-haired man sitting waiting inside the car was visible through the back window. The man didn’t get out of the car though. It was most odd.
‘Who is that man, Dolly?’ hissed Posie. ‘Have you seen him before?’
Dolly just shook her head miserably and Posie’s heart pounded with dread, but she felt a sickening sort of inevitability about the whole thing, too.
So this was it, then. Not fishcakes for lunch, just a good old kidnapping instead.
They stood, like idiots, rooted to the spot, and before Posie had had a chance to decide what to do, there was a sudden loud CLICK as the car door opened and the man’s face in profile was seen for a split-second as he moved to get out, and there was a sudden white blur.
****
Two
Posie tried to put her arm out to protect her friend and instinctively made as if to cover her, but she almost collapsed with shock when Dolly pushed her firmly aside and went bounding up to the car.
‘Lovey! What you doin’ here?’
The white-clad man was out of the car and had stretched out his arms to Dolly. As he gave Dolly an over-the-top kiss it seemed to Posie that there was something quite familiar about him. And then the man turned to Posie and she saw him fully for the firs
t time.
‘Oh! My!’ she muttered under her breath.
Decidedly, he was gorgeous. Jaw-droppingly gorgeous.
He was tall and muscular, late thirties, very dark. He could have been Italian, perhaps. Spanish, even. He was quite possibly the most handsome man Posie had ever clapped eyes on, and he seemed to glisten in the heat like an apparition, glossy all over.
In an instant Posie took in his perfect pearly cream teeth; his thickly Brylcreemed black hair, cresting like thick waves over his head; his white tennis clothes. An immaculate white linen jumper was knotted in front and thrown over his shoulders, mock-casually. He didn’t seem bothered by the heat at all, not like Posie, who was sweating profusely.
Was he even real?
‘Forgive the intrusion, Miss Parker.’
She felt herself drawn towards the man, stepping almost involuntarily forwards, fascinated, thankful for her cloud of perfume. The man didn’t introduce himself. As if Posie should know him. He just raised a perfectly-coiffed black eyebrow, as if he found the whole meeting very funny.
‘We called at your office but you were out; you’d just left. So my wee boy found you and followed you – he’s good at that – and kept me abreast of your whereabouts. I was sent to collect you, Miss Parker. I’ve come on behalf of someone who believes themselves to be in danger. You’ll be paid well. But I can’t speak out here in the open. You’ll just have to come with me in the car, now. It’s very hush-hush: I was under strict instructions not even to telephone you, in case someone overheard. I had to come in person.’
His voice when he spoke was fine and deep. And was that a Scottish burr just beneath the smoothed-over English surface?
‘Step this way, please.’
‘Oh?’
And then reality kicked in.
Posie didn’t trust this man: just what on earth was going on with his over-the-top dramatic entrance and the stringer on their tail?
How on earth did Dolly know him, if she knew him? Dolly was simply wonderful, but Posie felt that given her current state of mind she might not be the best judge of a person’s character. Sure as bread was bread this man was a charmer through and through, and Posie had had enough of charmers to last her a lifetime. Len Irving, her business partner, sweet and useful though he was upon occasion, was one such charmer.
This might all just be a delaying tactic, a ruse, to get at Dolly. They had once both been kidnapped, and it hadn’t ended well. Posie stared at the delicious-looking man through narrowed eyes, feeling the absence of the huge nannies keenly. She crossed her arms defensively.
‘If you think you’re here to steal off with Lady Cardigeon and put a price on her head you can think again. Besides, I’ve got a loaded gun in my pocket.’
The man started to laugh as if Posie had made a very good joke.
‘Och! I didn’t even know wee Dolly here was going to be with you, did I? It’s you I’ve been sent for, Miss Parker. All strictly above board.’
‘And who exactly are you? You haven’t bothered to tell me.’
‘Oh, Posie.’ Dolly sighed, fanning herself with her hat. ‘This isn’t a kidnapper. Stop being so cross today, will you? This is Robbie Fontaine, the famous actor! Surely you recognise him? Don’t you ever go to the movies?’
Posie stayed silent. Dolly was alight with excitement.
‘I met Robbie at an actors’ Charity Gala at the Savoy Hotel a few months ago, together with Miss Hanro. Robbie is Sunstar Films’ most famous movie star. Well, together with Silvia Hanro, that is – you do know her, don’t you? – she’s his girlfriend, not to mention the most beautiful girl in the world. They’re British cinema’s golden couple; have been since the end of the war. Everyone knows that!’
Posie wanted to die with embarrassment. She felt her face flushing red, blazing in the heat. ‘Oh. Oh, I see. Forgive my rudeness.’
In truth the name meant nothing to her; there seemed no end of movie stars these days, staring out of magazines and billboards in a glossy blur. So many that it didn’t seem worth bothering about, somehow. But Mr Fontaine’s face was familiar. And she had heard of Silvia Hanro, but not for a while now. Hadn’t she retired?
Dolly was right; Posie didn’t go to the movies. She had been once, with Dolly. That had been yonks ago, and had proved decidedly unmemorable. Posie always seemed to have better things to do than sit in the pitch-dark, in a cinema, watching made-up stories. There was always so much to do outside, in the real world.
The glamorous world of theatre and film was Dolly’s world, not Posie’s, although Posie had actually met a movie star once before, Amory Laine, in the course of her work.
Dolly had worked for a while as a Wardrobe Mistress in a theatre in London’s West End and thoroughly enjoyed it, but her real passion now was film, and she bought as many of the cinema magazines as she could lay her hands on. Her newly-acquired aristocratic title and status as Lady Cardigeon, not to mention the riches she had access to, had lent her the added bonus of being able to patronise and support various theatrical and film projects and hers was becoming a famously generous hand when it came to sponsorship. It didn’t surprise Posie in the least to hear she had been to a Charity Gala for actors.
‘Lady Cardigeon is quite correct: I’m afraid I don’t see many movies, Mr Fontaine.’
The actor came right up close to Posie and took her arm in his, giving her a glimmery sort of smile. ‘Well, then. You’re missing out on something very special, I can assure you. Now, shall we go?’
She could smell his aftershave, a strong citrus wave which invaded her personal space like an invisible third person.
Posie shook her arm free as best she could, cross at his familiar manner. Up very close she thought Robbie Fontaine looked decidedly strange: he was a very orange colour, and Posie realised that it was probably stage make-up on his face which made him glisten as he did. He was also wearing the remnants of kohl pencil around his eyes, which made it look as if he had been crying.
And then something snapped in the man.
His charms not having had the desired effect, Robbie Fontaine lost his patience. His smile vanished. He checked a huge golden wristwatch pointedly and motioned towards the waiting car.
‘So I don’t have much time, ladies. I need you to accompany me to Isleworth. To the Worton Hall Studios. I was told only to fetch you, Miss Parker, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t come along too, Dolly old girl. If you want to.’
‘Isleworth?’ protested Posie, as her heart sank at the thought of a long, hot journey. She stood her ground. ‘But that’s miles from here!’
‘Not really,’ replied the movie star snappishly. ‘It’s only a wee hour out of town. You’ll see. For goodness’ sake let’s get a shuffle on now.’
He swung himself up into the green car again huffily and lit a fat cigar. Posie was privately outraged. Movie star or no movie star the man was out of line. She simply couldn’t be star-struck, as Dolly so obviously was.
What exactly was so hush-hush?
She decided on the spur of the moment that she definitely wouldn’t go.
‘Come on, Posie!’
Quick as a flash, Dolly had jumped into the high back seat of the green Ford motor car beside Robbie, and was motioning excitedly for Posie to join her, patting the hard leather seat invitingly. Up close Posie saw the words ‘Sunstar Films’ emblazoned on the glossy green paintwork.
‘I’ve never been to a real film studio before. And Isleworth is the best of the best. You know, Worton Hall Studios – it’s Bertie Samuelson’s place – a stately home hiding a film studio inside. Come on. Stop being in such a foul mood!’
Robbie Fontaine was getting distinctly irritable. He poked his head out. ‘Please hurry, Miss Parker. I simply don’t have all day to wait for you. I have filming commitments this afternoon.’
The green-uniformed driver up front sat still and unmoving, gloved hands clasped calmly on the steering wheel. The stringer sat in the front too, oblivious to everything, su
cking a red lollipop and flicking through the pages of the Beano.
And then Posie was struck by Dolly’s face, beaming out at her joyously through the window. Almost her old self again. There was no getting out of it. Dolly was determined to go to Isleworth.
‘But what about the babies, Dolly?’
Posie saw her friend give a small moue of distaste.
‘We can’t just leave them with Len, Dolly. That’s not fair. It’ll take the whole afternoon, a jaunt there and back.’
‘What babies?’ asked Robbie Fontaine quickly, and Posie was amused to hear the note of panic rising in his voice. There was obviously no way out.
Posie sighed, defeated. ‘Never mind. Just take us to Isleworth, then, Mr Fontaine. I’ll meet your mysterious friend. But we must go via Caspari’s ice cream parlour in Covent Garden. Urgently. You know where it is, driver?’
The man nodded. Posie was sure that the nannies would still be there. She got into the car.
And just a moment later they were pulling up at the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue, and sure enough, under the green-and-white striped awning of Caspari’s, the nannies were sitting. Dolly went pale under her dark tan Maybelline foundation.
‘Oh, lawks!’
The green Sunstar car parked just a few feet from the bench.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ Posie told Robbie and Dolly. ‘It won’t take a second.’
Posie jumped out of the car. She felt like giving the nannies hell. It was true that she was still in a foul mood, probably something to do the heat, which she never dealt with very well. And Alaric…
The nannies caught sight of her and watched her approaching. They had both pursed their lips and crossed their arms, bracing themselves for an attack.
‘I say, aren’t you both supposed to be looking after the Cardigeon babies? I need you to go straight away to my office on Grape Street and resume your duties there. The Honourable twins are waiting for you.’
The larger of the two nannies scowled, righteous with indignation.
‘I can’t say it’s any of your business, is it? We don’t take orders from you, Miss Parker. Besides, we were dismissed from your fine establishment earlier by Lady Cardigeon herself. Told to go away and entertain ourselves for a few hours. Which is what we’re doing.’
Murder of a Movie Star Page 2