by Nhys Glover
On the train ride home Georgie told me that one of the producers invited us to his party at the end of the month. I had to get her to tell me several times before I’d believe that I was actually invited to go along to a real cast party. She said we’d take Tansy with us, to make up for the fact she missed out on a part in this film.
Adie paused in her reading to note the mention of the producer’s party that would take place the day Georgie went missing. The party Georgie had organized for them to attend and then didn’t bother showing up for herself.
Would she have done that to her flatmates? Would she have left them high and dry like that? Yes, if she knew she wasn’t necessary to get the girls in the door. Once they had an address and a time, all they had to do was turn up dressed to the nines and they’d be in the door. And if Minerva had been right about one of the producers watching her intently, it was possible she was the one who had drawn the man’s eye and he’d simply asked Georgie because he knew her and realized she was Minerva’s friend.
It was so hard to read between the lines. So hard to know how accurate Minerva’s impressions had been. Sure, she was beautiful, from all the pictures Adie had seen of her, but had she been beautiful enough to separate herself from the masses of equally beautiful young women vying for the spotlight?
19th March
Last night was opening night for The Ipcress Files. I joined the crowd to watch all the rich and famous people walking the red carpet. Afterwards, I read the reviews, which were mediocre. Then today Tansy and I went to the matinee showing to see if we could spot ourselves on the screen. I didn’t want to tell my parents about it until I was sure I was visible. Everyone knows that whole scenes can end up on the cutting room floor.
I’m delighted to say that I saw myself, if only briefly, in two distinct scenes. You have no idea how exciting it was to see my own image up on the big screen, so much larger than real life. I felt like a real actress for the first time, even though being an extra really isn’t being an actress. All the same, my face was immortalized for a few brief seconds.
Tansy got better exposure from her one scene than I did for my two, which she was very smug about on our journey home. And I will admit that she looked quite lovely. In black and white film noir a person’s features become more noticeable, especially if their bone structure is well-defined as hers is. Being pretty or sexy wasn’t called for in this dark and gritty film, unlike Thunderball. I’m glad I was given the opportunity to be part of both very different spy films.
Adie fought the urge to look up the term film noir. She had only the most cursory knowledge of movies and even less about movie-making. The small glimpses she was getting into that world through Minerva was enlightening. But Cage’s comment that she was being easily diverted kept her on task.
There was another mention of Roland, the mysterious boyfriend.
23rd March
Georgie flitted off to visit her rich boyfriend again today. This time she made a point of telling us where she was going, if only in general terms, saying it was a posh country manor in East Sussex, which is at least something. When she left she was wearing her mink coat and best party frock. I think she looked even better than she did in Thunderball. The epitome of sophistication. One day I hope to look just as elegant.
Finally, she came across the day of Georgie’s disappearance. Or rather, it was the day after, but the information was about what had happened the day before. Adie’s hands were sweating with nerves as she read the entire entry.
29th March
I’m writing this the day after the big party because I got in too late last night to try putting my thoughts into words.
I’m furious with Georgie once more. Yet again, she let us down. After arranging for us to go to the Thunderball cast party she didn’t show up. We waited for as long as possible, but in the end Tansy and I went alone.
We were terrified we’d be turned away at the door. Luckily, no such thing occurred, and I was thrilled to meet Sean and Terrence Young, the director, and his wife Dorothy.
The assistant director I met on set was there as well. Marcus Long is his name, and I spent quite a bit of time discussing the technical details of the film. By the end, I felt quite knowledgeable, although today I have forgotten almost all of it, thanks to the generous amounts of champagne I drank.
Marcus said that he was to get his own film to direct later in the year, and he would keep me in mind for a part. He said he really liked how I looked on screen. It seems that being beautiful in real life doesn’t always translate to being beautiful on screen. Even though my features are subtle and my hair pale, I have a presence that the camera picks up. How wonderful is that? He took my number to let me know about more work.
Adie strained her memory in search of the assistant director’s familiar name. Marcus Long… Why…? Then it came to her. Wow, this was the first time Minerva mentioned the man who would later become her first husband, the famous film director.
I’d seen pictures of the couple when I Googled Minerva, so I knew what he looked like. Although not handsome, by any stretch of imagination, he had been youthful, and he had interesting features that were hard to forget. Hawkish nose, deep-set eyes, thick eyebrows, thin lips, and a thick shock of dark hair that never seemed to stay in place no matter how much Brylcreem he applied.
I felt oddly gifted to have the inside scoop on that first conversation between the couple. If Adie remembered correctly, Beckside Farm had belonged to Long’s family, but Minerva had gotten it in the divorce settlement. The fact that he and his family had owned her farm gave him added significance in Adie’s eyes, and she planned to research him and the farm one day when her time was her own.
For now, she went back to reading.
30th March
Georgie has definitely done another flit. She knows the rent is due tomorrow. If she doesn’t appear by then I don’t know what I’ll do. I hate to ask my parents, but it might be the only solution. I can pay them back when she finally does turn up. But I will have to find a way to explain my need for the money without revealing my den-mother’s lack of responsibility to my father. If Daddy ever got wind of the fact Georgie was not a reliable and mature individual, he’d march right up here and take me home.
I went into her room to see if I could find some indication of where she went. All I discovered was that her overnight bag and passport were missing. She did mention Roland was planning to go to the Riviera now the weather was improving. The past few days have been very warm for this time of year. But she gave no indication she planned to go with him. How inconsiderate of her! Really. What kind of friend leaves another in the lurch like this? If I don’t hear from her soon I will clear out her room and re-let it. That will teach her!
Then, two months later, the police arrived at their door. They’d re-let Georgie’s room by that stage and either sold off what they could of her belongings or divided what there was between them. The police interview was mentioned and Minerva’s guilt over not realizing something was wrong. But nothing new was mentioned.
Adie closed the journal with a sigh. Her eyes hurt from reading the feathery script for so long and the night had closed in without her being aware of it. She realized Jig had abandoned her to be with Cage.
“Adie!” Cage called to her from the front bedroom he’d been working on all day.
“Yeah?” she called back, wandering out of her room in his direction.
“You want to see what a mink coat actually looks like?” he called.
Surprise had Adie’s steps moving faster. “Of course. Have you found one?”
Cage appeared a moment later in the doorway with a bulky brown fur coat over one arm. Tentatively, Adie reached out to touch the fur, expecting to feel nothing but revulsion. What she actually felt was sensual delight. The fur was sleek and soft to the touch.
Cage offered her the fur, which she accepted as if it were a living thing. Her hand continued to smooth it down in much the way she smoothed down Jig’s
long fur.
Jig himself was sniffing with great interest at the bottom of the coat.
“What do you think?” Cage asked, watching her carefully.
“I think it feels heavenly, if heavier than I expected. Which explains why mink coats cost so much. But it doesn’t change my opinion. How many minks died to make this coat? Ten, twenty? What’s it even doing here, anyway?”
Cage shrugged. I found it in a closet. After our conversation earlier, I thought you might be interested.
The temptation to put it on was too great. After all, the animals that died for the coat were long gone. Trying it on wouldn’t compromise her morals, would it? She wasn’t about to parade around in it in public.
When Cage saw what she was doing, he smiled knowingly, before helping her slip it up her arms and onto her shoulders. The weight was even more obvious once the coat was on. The warmth of it was a surprise. It was definitely warmer than anything she’d ever worn before.
She slid her hands into the pockets, striking a pose she hoped looked something like one a catwalk model might assume. Her fingers encountered a lace hanky and a piece of thin cardboard. Frowning, she removed the cardboard.
“Huh,” she exclaimed, her frown deepening. “It’s a return ticket from Victoria Station to Lewes, wherever that is. The date is March 23 1965.”
The date sounded familiar. She raced back to her bedroom for the journal. Jig, excited by the uncharacteristic movement, jumped and bounded along beside her. Cage followed more leisurely.
After quickly consulting the journal for what she was looking for, she exclaimed in triumph. “I knew that date was familiar. Georgie took off to visit her boyfriend in Sussex on that date. What’s the bet Lewes is in Sussex?”
Cage took the ticket from her hand and examined it closely. “You think this is Georgie’s coat and this was her ticket?”
Adie nodded energetically. “I do! Minerva was in awe of Georgie’s fur coat. She wanted one just like it. If Georgie left it behind, I can see Minerva claiming the coat and maybe the grooming set as her share of the spoils. But if there’s a ticket still in the pocket, I doubt Minerva ever actually wore it. Maybe she kept it and the brush set for sentimental reasons. I saw no white hairs in the brush, only red.”
Cage looked at the ticket again. “I get what you mean. If she wore it, she would have taken the stuff out of the pockets, and she would’ve looked at the ticket. She would’ve told the cops more about the mysterious boyfriend she thought Georgie’d gone off with. She could have said exactly where in the country he lived. And if he’s got money he shouldn’t have been hard to find.”
Adie nodded her agreement enthusiastically. “Exactly. She must never have worn the coat. And Roland was his name. That was all Minerva knew about him. That and that he had a country house in Sussex somewhere.”
Cage shook his head. “There was no mention of him in the file at all.”
“Can we ring the guy at New Scotland Yard?” Adie asked uncomfortably.
Cage shrugged. “We’ll hardly be welcome, but why not?”
Chapter 11
“I think it might be too late. It’s after six,” Cage said as they headed down to the kitchen, with Jig racing on ahead of them.
“If he’s gone for the day you can ring again tomorrow,” Adie said.
“I can? What about you? Isn’t this your mystery to solve?” His tone was cheeky.
“I could, but it would be better coming from my PI,” Adie said, batting her eyelashes at him.
Cage chuckled. “All right, just this once…”
Adie beamed. Just once had already turned into way more than once. Adie had no idea how she could have handled the investigation without Cage doing all the talking.
“It’s his cell number. He’s bound to have it with him, even if he’s already left work for the night,” Cage said, noting the number on the business card.
While Adie started dicing vegetables for their dinner of curried chicken and veg, Cage rang the detective’s direct number. Sure enough, the man himself picked up on the second ring.
Adie watched Cage, hoping to make sense out of the one-sided conversation. Instead, Cage put his phone on speaker so she didn’t have to struggle.
After names and greetings were exchanged, Cage got straight to business.
“Sorry to call so late, but we have a question. In the reports Minerva and Tansy, Wyatt’s flatmates, said they thought Georgie had gone off with her boyfriend. A rich character from Sussex. But there was no mention of that information being followed up.”
“Sussex was out of our region,” the detective said, his voice tired and a little grumpy. “You have to understand that back in the 60s the country’s police force was fractured, with little information being exchanged between the country stations, regions and London Met. People rarely moved around back then, so a criminal would usually turn up in the area they committed their crime. Policing tended to be parochial and steeped in political posturing. Different branches were being shifted from one controlling body to the next, as a means of streamlining the force as a whole.”
“So, what you’re saying is that, for missing person’s cases they only looked into local culprits. Sussex was too far away,” Cage said, keeping his tone neutral.
“Unless there was very good reason to do so, the detectives would have focused on leads here in London.”
“Thanks. That’s good to know. Have a good night.”
When the line went dead, Cage looked a question at Adie.
“Sounds like a principal lead was never followed up due to jurisdictional issues,” Adie said softly, trying to fathom a world where information wasn’t freely exchanged.
“It’s amazing how things have changed, here and at home. The Information Age is in full swing, and we take information sharing for granted now,” Cage answered, going to the fridge to get the leftover chicken they’d cooked the day before.
“I was just thinking that. It must have been so frustrating. All it took for criminals to get away with murder was to cross state or county lines. Now cops can even get information in other countries with a click of a mouse.”
Cage laughed. “I doubt it’s that easy. But yeah, there’s been great leaps where information sharing is concerned. Terrorism and globalization have helped that along exponentially.”
The conversation shifted to milder topics as they settled in to prep their meal. The easy camaraderie they’d established never ceased to amaze Adie. Only a few months ago she would have shook in her boots if someone like Cage even spoke to her. Now, she exchanged banter and teasing as a matter of course.
Well, that was true, except for those few days after they came back from London. But now those moody days were gone, and they were back to their easy ways.
After their meal, Cage suggested a walk, as the rain had cleared away to reveal a star-filled night sky. As long as they stuck to paved roads they’d be fine.
With Jig walking perfectly at Adie’s side, the three began their wander toward the village. The weather was mild and the light from an almost full moon made finding their way easy enough.
As they drew close to the pub they heard loud music. A guitarist was accompanying a male singer, who was belting out an 80s power ballad.
“Can we go in?” Adie asked, looking from Cage to Jig and back again.
“Jig used to come here all the time with Rory. I can’t see them minding him making an appearance with us.”
Adie wasn’t sure how she felt about entering a place that might hold a lot of people in close quarters. People who would all know about her. But if socializing was on her agenda, then this was as good a place as any to meet more of the locals.
The heat inside the barroom was heavy, but thankfully free of smoke. The lights were low and the noise level high. People were trying to talk and laugh over the musician, who was doing his best to drown them all out in turn. He was good, but if he was supposed to be providing background ambience he had it all wrong.
A familiar rotund man at the ancient bar turned in their direction, calling a welcome. Dave, the electrician. One of the few people in the village Adie knew.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Reynolds and Cage Donovan! Welcome to our watering hole, as you Americans call it. And Jig! Isn’t he looking just fine!”
Cage clapped the older man on the back in greeting before helping Adie up onto a tall stool. Jig sat at her feet, seemingly happy enough to be somewhere familiar, if noisy.
Adie had to wonder if the dog remembered Rory and associated this place with him. Would the dog be waiting for his former master to come in the door at any moment? That thought made her sad, so she reached down to rub Jig’s ears.
“What’ll you have? What’ll you have? The first round’s on me!” Dave yelled.
The men and women sitting at nearby tables turned to look at them curiously. Adie saw no censure or distrust, just normal interest.
“A diet coke,” Adie said, trying to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the din.
“Beer’ll do me. Whatever’s on tap,” Cage said, edging closer to her protectively.
“A diet coke and a Black Sheep Ale!” Dave told the long-haired, trendy young man behind the bar.
When Cage took possession of his dark, frothy drink, he took a tentative sip. The impressed expression that followed didn’t go unnoticed by all those watching them out of the corner of their eyes.
“Not bad!” Cage judged, taking a more substantial swallow.
“North Yorkshire Brewery. One of the best,” Dave declared, as if he brewed the beer himself.
Cage took in the information with a nod and took a deeper swallow. Meanwhile, Adie sipped at her coke. Until she’d met Cage she’d never drunk soda of any kind. Her mom considered it unhealthy, which of course it was. But Adie had always felt as if her mother’s ban on soda was more about keeping the good things in life away from her daughter rather than for any health benefits. If she cared about being healthy they wouldn’t have lived on potatoes, greasy sausages, and grits. Money was her mother’s major concern. The more she had to give her church, the better.