Cherringham--Final Cut

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Cherringham--Final Cut Page 6

by Neil Richards


  “Not you?”

  “We’ve got to dress the whole rear of the castle. Me and my lads will be here till it’s dark, then back at first light tomorrow morning.”

  “Big scene, huh?”

  “Biggest of the whole movie. Two armies, scenes on the river, cannons — going to be something …”

  “Oh yeah?” said Jack. “So what’s the scene about?”

  “Lady Ann tries to elope with the King — but Cromwell’s armies surround the castle and besiege it …”

  “Lot of explosions, huh?”

  “Oh yes,” said Gary. “Cannon, muskets — walls blowing up, you name it.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Tell me about it.” He took a breath, “But we’re all pros. Safety first, hmm?”

  “Guess so — but with all these accidents that have been happening …”

  “You’re reading my mind, Jack.”

  Jack saw that Gary was taking this seriously.

  “Got a favour to ask you, Gary,” said Jack.

  “Any time.”

  “You see something that worries you, tomorrow night … You find me, huh? Anything — doesn’t matter how small.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Gary. “You really think somebody’s got it in for Zoë, huh?”

  “Just covering the bases, Gary. It’s my job.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Jack nodded to the prop man, then walked down the steps.

  “Not much I can do here. Guess I’ll grab a coffee then head on home. And, er, appreciate the offer — the flask, you know?”

  “Not a problem. Cheers now.”

  Gary picked up his tree and Jack watched him head off down the side of the Castle towards the river.

  As soon as he was out of sight, he took another look around and then followed.

  *

  Jack might not be able to get into the Castle through the main door — but he had an advantage over Gary and the rest of the crew.

  He’d been here before a while back — on a case.

  And that time he’d had to make a slightly unorthodox entrance.

  He knew there was an old servants’ door, concealed behind bushes and boulders. It hadn’t been used for years — and Jack had discovered the last time that the lock was pretty feeble.

  With luck — given how poor the owners of the estate had been — they hadn’t replaced it since.

  Jack kept close to the wall, keeping a constant eye out for crew. But he couldn’t see anyone. When he came to the bushes that hid the entrance, he slipped through and out of sight.

  And there was the door — looking just the way it had last time.

  He crouched down and took out the little penknife he liked to use when locks got in the way …

  Click, click, click — the tumblers inside the lock mechanism dropped.

  Always easier second time round, he thought.

  He turned the handle on the battered old door, pushed it open — turned on his phone as a flashlight — and went through into the castle.

  *

  It only took a couple of minutes for Jack to find the old servants’ staircase that led from the cellar up into the main house.

  The house was owned by the FitzHenry family. But Jack knew it should be empty.

  He bypassed the door that led to the infamous ‘House of Oddities’ — the weird museum that featured heavily on the Cherringham tourist trail …

  Once experienced — never forgotten … thought Jack, remembering the case that had first brought him to Combe Castle. And the eccentric owners — Lord and Lady FitzHenry.

  When he’d arrived the day before, the caterers had told him that the FitzHenrys had been offered a hotel suite — as well as a generous fee — to evacuate the castle for the duration of the shoot.

  Should have the place to myself, thought Jack.

  He saw a door at the top of the stone steps. Jack gently pushed it open and looked around.

  He was in the back kitchens.

  He listened to the house breathing …

  Not a sound.

  He gently shut the door behind him and headed through into the deserted main house and then into the sitting room. In the far corner of the room, he spotted another door which he guessed led to the Great Hall.

  Taking care to stay away from the windows, he walked over to the door and gently tried the handle.

  It opened.

  Nice and easy … so far …

  He walked through — and was back in the room where Zoë had had her attack.

  Now to find the flask …

  *

  But the flask wasn’t there. Jack could see the room had been tidied, swept. Otherwise it looked exactly as it had when he’d left with Zoë that morning.

  The cameras had gone — but the dolly and track were still there, plus boxes of equipment, with the floor still showing the bits of coloured tape the actors used to find their marks.

  He doubted anyone would have thrown the flask away. Everyone must have seen Zoë with it — her constant companion.

  So either it had been stolen — which, in spite of what Gary said, seemed unlikely — or it had been removed deliberately — taken — he believed — by whoever had used it to drug Zoë Harding.

  But without the flask it would be impossible to pin the incident on anyone. No prints, no residue of the drug to prove that all these accidents were really a campaign to destroy the young actress.

  Jack sat on one of the camera boxes and looked around the room. Somehow, someone had spiked Zoë’s flask. Probably someone who’d been in this very room when they were shooting. For all Jack knew, he’d been looking at the culprit all morning.

  But so far Jack had only managed to speak to the prop man and the guy who made the bacon sandwiches.

  I’m outta the loop, he thought. Need to find the players and get up close.

  But how?

  And then he remembered what Gary had said: the crew were down by the river setting up for the night shoot.

  If the key crew were going to be anywhere — it would be down there where the production budget was being burned.

  He got up from the box and headed back into the house …

  12. Many a True Word …

  Jack crept slowly along the stone battlements, making sure to keep his head down behind the parapet.

  If the guys at One Police Plaza could see me now, he thought. Connecticut Yankee in the Court of King Arthur — the real deal!

  This was like being in a movie.

  No, it was more real than that …

  He reached a slit in the ancient stone — designed for firing arrows at the enemy across the river — and peered through.

  Nobody on the sliver of grass below — which separated the castle from the black waters of the fast-flowing Thames — would be able to see him up here. But he could see clear across the river — and what an amazing sight it was.

  The far meadows filled with tents, wagons and horses. He could see flags and pennants flickering in the breeze. And closer to the river below, lined up in a threatening display, two ranks of cannons had their barrels pointing right at him.

  With the sun setting behind him, the whole array glowed orange, and light flashed from lines of swords stacked under canvas awnings.

  Jack knew that four hundred years ago there really had been a Civil War battle to take this castle. And what he was seeing now would have been exactly the view that those poor defending Royalists would have had as Cromwell’s forces lined up to besiege them.

  But amazing though that array of seventeenth-century armaments on the far bank was — Jack had other things to look at.

  He edged to the corner of the battlements until he could see down through another arrow slit, to the grassy strip on this side of the river.

  And there he spotted Alphonso, the director.

  Just twenty yards below, Alphonso was walking back and forth, his arms beating the air wildly. And standing facing him — arms patiently folded — sto
od Fraser Haines, the 1st Assistant.

  Jack crouched down closer to the arrow slit so he could hear the conversation.

  “So fire her! If the woman, this girl — is too ill to work!”

  “It’s not that easy, Alphonso—”

  “She is destroying my film! Destroying my career!”

  What career? thought Jack.

  He leaned forward into the slit and peered down. Haines hadn’t moved. Alphonso was still pacing.

  Jack turned to look down at the riverbank. The nearest crew were downstream — too far to hear this argument.

  He watched Alphonso stop and then come close to Haines.

  “I never wanted her anyway. It was Ludo — he chose her. I wanted a woman. Not a … silly girl.”

  “She’s what you got, Alphonso. Work with her. And you should know: in the dailies — she’s the only thing keeping this bloody picture together …”

  “Dailies — what do they mean? We don’t even have a real editor! Just his idiot assistant, Wally! This is a mess!”

  “Because you’re not shooting the script—”

  “The script changes every day! I shoot what Ludo gives me! Agggh!”

  Jack watched Alphonso kick the castle wall in frustration.

  That’s got to hurt, he thought.

  And sure enough he saw Alphonso limping away, cursing.

  Jack looked at Haines — and could see the Assistant Director was trying hard not to laugh.

  This was playing out like a scene from The Producers.

  And as if on cue, Ludo, the film’s producer appeared around the corner.

  “Alphonso! You do not answer your phone! And now you hide here!”

  “Hide? I am not the person who hides on this set. I am the one in the firing line,” said Alphonso dramatically. “I’m the one who takes the outrageous slings and arrows right on the chin!”

  “Alphonso, my good and brilliant friend, you must be calm,” said Ludo, proffering a folder. “You will make yourself ill.”

  “As if we don’t already have enough illness — yes?”

  “Accidents happen, Alphonso,” said Ludo.

  Jack watched Alphonso step forward until his face was just inches away from the producer’s.

  “Only if somebody makes them happen.”

  “That’s crazy talk … I have the new pages,” said Ludo, ignoring the director’s words.

  “No! I won’t take any more of this,” said Alphonso. “Every day — you and your script changes!”

  Jack could see that Alphonso, ever the highly strung director, wasn’t going to let this particular scene end without a little more drama. He watched the director smack the revised script from Ludo’s hand, so the pages flew away in the wind.

  Then Alphonso turned on his heels and stormed off, arms reaching to the sky, cursing loudly in Italian.

  Guy might not be such a hot director, but he sure knows how to curse, thought Jack, who had heard plenty of colourful words back home in Brooklyn.

  He leaned as far forward as he could, to see Haines picking up the scattered sheets of script.

  But when the 1st Assistant had gathered them up, and turned to hand them to Ludo — Jack saw him look up at the castle wall, as if by some special film crew instinct.

  “Hey!” called Haines. “What the hell? Who’s up there?”

  Damn, thought Jack, pulling back quickly out of sight.

  Time to get out of here …

  And crouching low, he hurried back along the parapet to the door that led back into the house.

  *

  Jack had been back at his car a good twenty minutes before Haines emerged from the house.

  Jack sat in the front seat, with the door open, radio playing softly.

  He looked up from his newspaper as the 1st Assistant approached.

  “Where’ve you been?” said Haines.

  “Kind of you to ask,” said Jack. “Well, now. After seeing my client in hospital, I grabbed a kinda late lunch up at that pub on the highway up there; they do terrific pies by the way — then I thought maybe I should head down here, see what the call time for tomorrow is.” Jack smiled. “Don’t want to get in trouble again, do I? Then, soon as I arrived, I—”

  “Smart alec aren’t you?” said Haines. “You were in the castle.”

  Jack shrugged. “Really? House is locked up, so I hear.”

  “You were there … So why?”

  Jack folded the newspaper, turned off the radio, and got out of the car. Standing now, he was of a height with the tall 1st Assistant and he made sure he stood close.

  “Well — because I wanted to find Zoë’s thermos,” he said.

  He looked hard at Haines, searching hard for a reaction. But the man’s eyes didn’t move.

  “See Fraser, up at the hospital, they found Toradol in Zoë’s stomach. Could have killed her. And that says to me that somebody spiked her drink. All morning, she only drank from that thermos. Hence wanting to find it.”

  That seemed to make Fraser pause. Then:

  “And did you? Find it?”

  “No.”

  “So you have no evidence,” said Haines. “And I have no reason to believe this bullshit. Actors take all kinds of drugs, Mr. Brennan. In my experience, young actresses more than most. You should look to your client. Your — accident-prone client …”

  “She assures me she didn’t take it knowingly. And I believe her.”

  Jack stared at Haines. Was he telling the truth?

  Did he really know nothing about the thermos?

  And then he saw Gary crossing the car park towards them both.

  He was carrying something in one hand.

  As he neared, Jack saw it was a steel thermos.

  “Good news, Jack,” said Gary. “We found the thermos!”

  Haines took a step back and Gary handed the metal container over to Jack.

  Jack opened the lid and smelled the inside.

  “The caterers had it all along,” said Gary with a smile. “Picked it up on the set thinking it was theirs.”

  “Any evidence of drugs, Brennan?” asked Haines, his eyes hard.

  “Drugs? What drugs? What are you talking about?” said Gary.

  “It’s been washed,” said Jack. “Whatever was there … all gone.”

  “Yeah,” said Gary. “Guess they ran it through the dishwasher. They’re top guys.”

  “Top guys indeed,” said Jack. “Washing away evidence.”

  “So, Brennan. Looks like you’re done for the day — no?” said Haines. “It’s an eight p.m. hair and makeup call tomorrow evening for Ms. Harding. Here. Got that? On time.”

  Jack nodded.

  “See you tomorrow, Jack,” said Gary, turning and walking away across the car park.

  “G’night Gary,” said Jack, opening the car door.

  Haines reached out and held it, stopping Jack from opening it wider.

  “Just what are you, Brennan? Who are you?”

  “Zoë Harding’s driver. Like it says on the call sheet.”

  Haines peered at Jack. “You’re no bullshit ‘driver’.”

  “Appreciate it if you took your hand off the door, Fraser,” said Jack, smiling at him.

  This guy … was getting on Jack’s nerves …

  “Got my eye on you, Yank,” said Haines. “I don’t like people on my set who aren’t what they say they are.”

  “G’night, Fraser,” said Jack, climbing into the car.

  He turned on the engine and flicked the radio on.

  Then without looking at Haines, he put the car into drive and gently pulled away.

  Twenty minutes time he’d be back on his boat — the Grey Goose — sipping a Martini, cooking some supper.

  Back in the real world.

  He couldn’t wait.

  13. Just One More

  “So there we are — three in the morning. Party’s over. And now it’s just me and George Clooney — on the balcony of his suite at the Hotel Carlton …”
<
br />   Sarah put down her drink and took a quick look around the crowded bar of the Angel to see if anyone was listening to her friend Sophie’s story.

  If it had just been the two of them, sitting here in the corner, she wouldn’t have worried.

  But lounging on the cushions next to her was Karl Bildt — Zoë’s co-star in the movie — and it seemed to Sarah that half of Cherringham had been into the Angel tonight just to look at him …

  Chloe and Daniel aren’t going to believe this, she thought.

  Hanging with one of the hottest, up-and-coming Hollywood stars!

  And she had to admit — Karl’s eyes did ‘smoulder’ just like the reviews said they did …

  “Sophie — sweetie,” said Karl, winking at her. “Don’t tell me you and George …”

  Sophie leaned in conspiratorially and Sarah saw her put her hand on Karl’s while she finished her story.

  Hmm, a little something going on there? thought Sarah.

  “So, he moves in a bit and he smiles at me. And God, that smile is so like in the movies. And he says — ‘Sophie, can I get you another drink’ — and I barely say, ‘sure’ — and he smiles at me again and he says …”

  “No, Sophie, no way,” said Sarah.

  “…and he says … oh that’s perfect — because my partner’s due back from the Variety party any minute and I’m sure she’d love to meet you …”

  “Oh no!” said Karl. “Snap …”

  “Oh yes!” said Sophie, leaning back and laughing. “Talk about a dream vanishing into thin air!”

  Sarah watched Sophie take a long sip through the straw of her cocktail.

  “And did you stay?” said Sarah.

  “Are you kidding?” said Sophie. “I was out of there and knocking back a glass of vino in the Petit Majestic before you could say gooseberry!”

  “Perhaps better prospects there, huh?” said Karl smiling.

  “Bad timing — story of my life!” said Sophie, putting her glass down on the table. “My round I think …”

  Sarah watched her stand up and saw her sway slightly as she reached for her handbag.

  “Whoa!” said Sophie. “Think you’re going to have to point me at my hotel, Karl, after this one!”

  Sarah watched Sophie head off to the bar through the late night crowd.

  Could be Sophie might be playing the same game with Karl that she had with George.

 

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