Cherringham--Final Cut (8 page)

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 1
st
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 1
st
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 1
st
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.

“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 …”

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.

Gets points for trying!

She did have a kind of casual glamour — so clearly at ease with her movie star lifestyle. Cannes, Hollywood, Venice …

Just a few years ago, back in London, Sarah herself had lived that kind of life — not so much in the world of movies, but certainly with wealthy and famous clients.

And at times like this — hearing all the gossip — she missed it. It all could be so exciting, so glamorous.

But she knew at heart she was happier here in Cherringham, with the new life she’d made for herself.

Running her own business.

Being there for the kids day and night, seven days a week.

And definitely not drinking as much as she had in those days …

“Penny for them …” said Karl.

Sarah turned — here she was on her own, in a bar with the official ‘sexiest newcomer of the year’ and she was thinking about her life with her kids …

“Sorry Karl,” she said. “I was just trying to work out if I envied Sophie or not.”

“She does know how to have fun it seems,” said Karl. “But I couldn’t do what she does. It’s a tough job.”

“It’s got its benefits—”

“George Clooney!”

“Ha, yes!” said Sarah. “Or this — sitting drinking cocktails with you. It’s not my normal kind of night out in Cherringham …”

“I’m just a normal guy, you know—”

“Really? And that’s why half the pub’s staring at you, hmm?”

He laughed and then she saw him glance across at the crowded bar and shrug: “Are they? It comes with the territory. You get used to it.”

“You think Zoë will? Get used to it, I mean …?”

“You have to want it. Enough to pay the price. If you know what I mean. Privacy, a real personal life … out the window.”

“And you don’t think she does … want it enough?”

“Hard to tell. And after all these accidents, you have to think — why her?”

Sarah took a breath.

About to take a chance here.

“What if they’re not accidents?” said Sarah.

“Not sure I get you? You saying …”

“She’s had a lot of close calls, don’t you think?”

Karl nodded. “But what if they are? And she’s making them happen?”

“Wow.” Sarah sat back in shock. “That’s quite an accusation. You certainly say it like it is, don’t you?”

“I say it like I see it. All that stuff — does seem odd. And why would anyone want to hurt her?”

“So you think she could be doing this deliberately?”

“It’s possible. Who knows?” said Karl. “Either way, she’s jeopardising the movie — that’s for sure.”

“And your career?”

“
Everyone’s
career. A big disaster like this film can dog you for a decade.”

Sarah looked away. Karl certainly didn’t seem sympathetic at all to Zoë.

Then, back to those dark eyes … “You think it would be better if she dropped out?”

“I think she should get on with the movie — or walk. Though with all the scenes in the can, not even sure that’s possible. Probably would have to shut the whole production down.” He took a sip of his drink. “Maybe that’s what should happen …”

Sarah saw that Karl was deadly serious.

Behind Karl she spotted Sophie wobbly navigating her way back from the bar, getting more than her fair share of offers for help from the locals: she planted the drinks down on the table and sat.

And as she did, Karl stood up.

“Okay. Time I was heading back to my hotel,” he said.

“Oh Karl honey — the party’s just started!” said Sophie, reaching her hand out to him.

“No party for me ’til we wrap, sweetie,” he said, kissing Sophie’s hand like an eighteenth-century beau. “Try me then, hmm?”

He turned to Sarah. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“You too,” she said.

Though now she saw him in a different light.

No kiss on the hand for me,
she thought. And she watched him stride to the door and leave.

*

“Shame,” said Sophie, looking wistfully at the door as if he might suddenly return. “Hey ho, worth a shot yes?”

Sarah laughed at that. “Thanks for the drink,” said Sarah, to pull her attention back …

“No worries. It’s on expenses,” said Sophie, turning back and taking a sip. “So. You said you wanted the inside story. You going to tell me why? And don’t pretend it’s ’coz you love the gossip — I’ve heard all about your new line as a ‘Private Eye’ …”

“Ha — private eye? That how people talk about me back in Clapham, huh?”

“Oh you’re famous in the old Mother and Toddler Group you know — the one that got away!”

“Well — it’s very part time. To be honest — I’m still a web-designer. That’s how the kids see me anyway.”