Poisoned Cherries (19 page)

“And then put it back,” I said.
 
“That was bloody crafty.
 
It doesn’t really help her at all, does it?”

“Yes it does.
 
Everything helps, Oz, everything that backs up an alternative solution to the one the police are going for.
 
It doesn’t prove anything, but it suggests something.
 
If we can gather in more suggestions, enough of them, we can maybe ... okay, it’s a big maybe ... we can undermine the prosecution case.”

He smirked again.
 
“There’s another thing.
 
I dusted the key with powder, and lifted a couple of prints from it.
 
They might just be Capperauld’s, but I don’t think they are ...”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I took prints from the razor I found in his bathroom, and from his shaving gel canister; they don’t match, none of them.”

“Maybe they’re Alison’s.”

“They’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“I printed the knife she tried to slice me with.”

I was impressed.
 
“Clever bastard, eh, Ricky?”

“I have my moments.”

“Okay, so where to now?”

“CID manual page two,” he replied.
 
“I’ll check on known associates.
 
There were no signs of a break-in at Capperauld’s house either, so whoever did it, he let in there.
 
Not just that; from the position of the wound, he didn’t feel threatened, because he turned his back on him.”

“How do you start tracing them?”

“I’ll talk to Alison once she gets .. .”

He was interrupted by the entry phone I picked it up, said, “Lift; top floor,” pressed the button to release the lock, then walked across to the front door and wedged it open.
 
Less than two minutes later, slightly bleary-eyed, but still tanned and looking rock-hard as ever, Miles Grayson stepped into the apartment.

Miles and I greeted each other like long-lost brothers, which was not a million miles away from what we still were, then I introduced him to his new security consultant.
 
The change in Ricky was instantaneous.
 
I’d never seen him awestruck before, or even nervous, but he was right then.
 
Miles can have that effect on people.
 
The first time I met him was in the bar of a hotel in Connell Ferry; he bought me a pint.
 
He’s always buying me beer; it’s the Australian in him.

“So you’re Mr.
 
Ross,” he said.
 
“It’s good to meet you in the flesh after all these years.”
 
Ricky blanched; so Miles had remembered their first, indirect, encounter, and his phone call to the chief constable.

“Don’t worry,” he laughed, breaking the tension.
 
“I don’t let personal things get in the way of business .. . unless they’re really personal.
 
I hired you on Mark Kravitz’s recommendation; that’s always good enough for me.

“Oz tells me you’ve been a big help already, in smoothing a couple of things over.”

Ricky grunted and gave me what might have been a nod of thanks; then again it might have been a bad attempt at a head-butt.

“I’ve already met the guy you’ve assigned to Dawn and me.
 
He was waiting at the Caledonian as you said he would be; I’ve left him there with Dawn.
 
Word will get around that we’ve moved in, so it’s as well that he stays with her.”

Ross nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
He’s a good guy, is Mike Reilly; he’s ex-army and he did a stint in the SAS.
 
Mark sent him to me when he was mustered out.
 
My people are a mix of ex-police and ex-military.
 
None of them are gung-ho types, but they can do the business if they have to.”

“None of them are carrying, are they?”
 
asked Miles.

“No, sir.
 
That’s illegal in this country.”

“I know; that’s why I asked.”

“They don’t.
 
The people who are with you don’t need them.”

“People?”
 
I asked.

“Brucie has his own minder up at Auchterarder,” Miles explained, ‘as back-up to his nurse.”

I felt my eyebrows go up.
 
“His nurse?”

Miles grinned.
 
“Maria’s a fully qualified children’s nurse; she was also an undercover officer with the LAPD.
 
She was a detective sergeant working South Central Los Angeles when we hired her out of there.” Then the smile vanished.
 
“People like us, Oz, we can’t be too careful.
 
We’re the super-rich, and to the wrong people, that can make our children valuable commodities.”

A cold shiver ran through me; I thought of wee Janet, and of Ethel Reid facing up to a determined kidnapper, in a block to which there was relatively easy access, for anyone seriously inclined to get in.
 
I decided that Susie and I would have to discuss that as soon as possible; between us, we were worth more than a pound or two.

Miles looked around the apartment, then took in the view from the big window.
 
“Hey,” he exclaimed, ‘you’ve struck it lucky with this place.
 
Pretty damn good; better than a hotel.”

“You and Dawn can have it, if you like,” I offered, in a flash of toadying generosity that drew me a sidelong glance from Ricky.
 
“I can always stay at Susie’s and commute.”

“That’s good of you, buddy, but you stay here.
 
It’s ideal for the sort of cast get-together we’re having this afternoon; if we’re using it for that, I’d rather not live here as well.”

“Fine.
 
I don’t mind cleaning up the left-over sandwiches.”

He laughed.
 
“Don’t worry, that’s down to the caterers.
 
By the way, my assistant followed up that contact you gave me, the Asian firm, but they’re too small.
 
We need a specialist operation, one that can keep the cast and crew, especially the crew, fed and happy all hours of the day and night.
 
And there’ll be quite a few night shots on this one.”

He paused.
 
“Okay, this afternoon’s meeting.
 
Mr.
 
Ross .. . Hey what do I call you?
 
Is it still Superintendent?”

“Not for a while now; Ricky usually gets my attention.”

“Fine.
 
Ricky, I want all your people here, so that everyone knows from the start who’ll be looking after them and who’s looking after everyone else.
 
We’ll start at two-thirty sharp.
 
I’d have made it two, but our star is having lunch with his agent.”

He made a sound that I took to be disapproval and glanced at me.
 
“Have you met Capperauld yet?”

“No, only his dead cousin.”

“You may have seen the family at its best,” he said, emphatically.

“Uhh?”

Miles grinned.
 
“Maybe I’m being unkind.
 
Ewan’s an “Actor”, of the old school... or he thinks he is at least.
 
I’m a movie-maker; I haven’t been on the boards in twenty years, and I’ve never done anything like the West End or Broadway.
 
I’ve used him once before, and he was a royal pain in the ass; he made it clear that he didn’t regard me as qualified to direct him.
 
I made it clear that I was qualified to pay his fee, and that that allowed for everything else.”

“He’s going to look down on me from a great height, then.”

“He’d better not try; I don’t allow that on my movies, from anyone. But the word on the grapevine is that he’s usually in humble mode just now, being nice to everyone, because he’s next in line for a knighthood.
 
A couple of the old acting “sirs” have fallen off the perch lately, so there’s maybe a vacancy.”

“Who’s his agent, that he has you reschedule for him?”

“For her; it’s his wife, Margaret.”

“You’re kidding.
 
Couldn’t they have had a working breakfast, then?”

“A good question; but Ewan said that she’s going back to London to work on the negotiations for his next two projects and that they have a lot to discuss.
 
She’s a very capable woman, is Mrs.
 
Capperauld; she’s as imposing as he is in her own way.
 
They make quite a team.”

He chuckled.
 
“Fuck it, Oz, I’ll humour him for now.
 
Once I start spending real money, I’ll have less time for any shit.
 
But the thing is, he’s the obvious man for the part.
 
I wouldn’t have done this project if I hadn’t been able to get him.
 
You’ve read Skinner?”

I nodded.

“He is Skinner.”

In that case, I thought, he must be one impressive actor.

Twenty-Eight.

He was.
 
When he walked out of the lift and across the hall into the apartment, five minutes after two-thirty, I almost said “Hello, Bob.”

I’d seen him on screen before, and on television, in costume parts, contemporary parts, comedy and tragedy.
 
In all of them he’d looked handsome and slightly patrician, a tall dark-haired man in early middle age.

The Ewan Capperauld who walked into my apartment was tall, okay, around six-two, but that was as far as the comparison went.
 
His hair was steel-grey, flopping loosely over his forehead.
 
His shoulders were wide and he walked loose-limbed, almost like a gunfighter.
 
It was a mild autumn day, yet he wore a long black leather overcoat.

He looked as if he had stepped straight off the front page of Skinner’s Rules.

“Hello, Mr.
 
Director,” he said, spotting him across the room and extending a hand.
 
His accent had the same rough edges as the rest of him.
 
I took a closer look at his face, and found myself wondering if his nose had always been just a bit off the straight, or if he’d had that done for the part as well.

“Hi, Ewan,” Miles responded.
 
He looked him up and down, then smiled.
 
“I knew you’d put in an appearance.”
 
He turned to me.
 
“I cast this guy in Kidnapped and he turned up for the first meeting in highland dress.”

He glanced around the room; everyone else had turned up on time and was munching on sandwiches and drinking champagne.
 
The conversation had stopped, though; they were all staring at the newcomer.
 
Scott Steele was standing at my elbow.
 
“Fucking poser,” he muttered; he was enough of an actor to make sure that his voice carried, but Capperauld never even twitched.

“Can I have your attention, please?”
 
Miles called out, unnecessarily.
 
“Dawn, Scott, you’ve worked with Ewan before, but let me introduce everyone else.”
 
He went round all the cast members, one by one; the star greeted us with a nod of the head, held eye-contact for precisely two seconds, then moved on to the next.

When the ‘hellos’ were over he crossed to Dawn, took her hand and kissed it.
 
“My dear,” he murmured, ‘how good to see you again.”

“I’m pleased you remember me, Ewan,” I heard her answer.
 
I guessed she was speaking the truth, for she had told me five minutes earlier that she had never exchanged a word with Capperauld while they were making Kidnapped.

I hadn’t been sure how Dawn would greet me, but she’d been okay.
 
“Have you heard from Prim?”
 
I’d asked her.

“I saw her the day before we left.”

“Is she happy?”

“She says so; are you?”

“I think “slightly stunned” covers the way I feel.
 
The baby is just great, but I don’t have to tell you that.”

“And her mother?”

“She’s great too.”

“That’s good; I hope it works out for you.
 
It’s best that the pretending’s over between you and my sister.
 
Actors do enough of that in their working lives, without having to face it at home too.”

That was the most profound thing I’d ever heard Dawn say.
 
When I met her she was just an exceptionally pretty face; now there was a lot more going on behind it.

“Okay,” Miles called again, ‘attention please, everyone.
 
There’s a lot of us here, and I want everyone to know where everyone else fits in.
 
For a start, there’s the author of the book we’re filming.”
 
He pointed briefly to his left, towards a big, grizzled, middle-aged guy, with a Mediterranean tan, who was leaning against the wall, nursing a glass of champagne, which he waved vaguely, in acknowledgement.
 
“He isn’t going to be riding shotgun on the production, but he’ll be free to join us on set, any time he likes.”

He turned and beckoned towards a corner of the big room.
 
“Now, I want to introduce Mr.
 
Richard Ross; he’s our head of security, and he’s going to explain a few things to you.
 
He’s a former Edinburgh detective; I guess you could say he used to be Bob Skinner in real life.”

Ricky liked that one; I could tell as he stepped into the circle.
 
“Thank you, Mr.
 
Grayson,” he began, then looked around the group.
 
He was dressed to impress, but in a different way from Ewan Capperauld. He wore razor-pressed slacks, and a double-breasted blue blazer with gold buttons, embossed with a crest, which I guessed belonged to one of Edinburgh’s better golf clubs.

“I’ll begin by putting you at your ease; my firm hasn’t been hired because of any perceived security threat.
 
We’re here as a precaution to guard against one that comes out of the blue.
 
Our remit is to ensure that everything goes smoothly for the production, and for its key people as individuals.”
 
Good pitch, Ricky; I was feeling reassured already.

“I’ll have a staff of five attached to the production; they’re all ex-police or ex-armed forces, they’re all here, and I want to introduce them now.
 
First, Mike Reilly.”
 
A stocky man, with light red hair and piercing blue eyes, stepped forward and nodded.
 
“Mike will be responsible for Mr.
 
and Mrs.
 
Grayson’s welfare; round the clock.

“Next, Glen Oliver.”
 
Big, muscular, fair-haired, late twenties, soft features, hard eyes.
 
“Glen will cover Mr.
 
Capperauld.

“Third, John Takei.”
 
Oriental, a small, dark-haired package.
 
“He’ll be looking after Mr.
 
Katayama.”
 
The Japanese actor, a beaming man in his late fifties, nodded to his minder and bowed.

“Finally, Alan Graham and Mandy O’Farrell.”
 
The first, early thirties, sloping shoulders, tired eyes; no obvious threat, but he wouldn’t have been there if he didn’t possess one.
 
The second, late twenties, around six feet tall, blonde and tanned, angular features, long, hard-edged martial artist’s hands.
 
“Alan and Mandy will be responsible for Mr.

Steele, Mr.
 
Massey, Ms Waitrose and Mr.
 
Blackstone.”
 
Ricky looked

around us all.
 
“They’ll never be far away and you’ll be given mobile

phone numbers you can call if you feel under threat, or you’re being

harassed by a persistent member of the public’

Rhona Waitrose grabbed my arm and squeezed.
 
“Hey, this is cool,” she whispered.
 
“I’ve never had my body guarded before.”

I looked down at her; in the flesh she was much shorter than she appeared on screen, but just as pretty.
 
“You’ll have had volunteers, though,” I murmured.

“Yes,” she chuckled, ‘but I find that conscripts are best.”

Ricky looked across at Liam Matthews; the wrestler was standing beside Masahi Katayama.
 
Before the briefing had begun they had been speaking in Japanese; Liam spent a few years on their sports entertainment circuit, which can be very bloody indeed.
 
“I hope you don’t feel left out, Mr.
 
Matthews,” he said.
 
“I’ll give you cover while you’re here if you’d like it, but I assumed you can handle your own security.”

“But, sir,” Liam replied, at his most Irish.
 
“Didn’t Oz tell you? It’s all faked.”
 
That got a laugh, but I’ve seen my friend in real action;

I know what he can do.

“When the crew is at work,” Ricky continued, ‘our people will be there.
 
We’ll work in co-operation with the police of course, and between us we’ll see to it that you can work without interruption.

“Any questions?”
 
he asked.
 
I stuck my hand up.

“If we are harassed by a persistent member of the public, what will your people do?”

He looked at me, dead-pan.
 
“Deal with it.”

“How?”

“By whatever means is appropriate, within the letter of the law.”

“Okay, suppose my sister visits me one day and has a go at me, as she often does; I’m concerned about the form of your reaction.
 
Will you do anything without my say-so?”

“Absolutely not, Oz.”

“Thank Christ for that; you don’t have enough people here to handle my sister.
 
I wouldn’t like to see any of them getting hurt.”

Ricky gave me a weak smile; Mandy O’Farrell shot me a look that said, “I could take your sister any time.”
 
I doubted that, but I grinned back at her.

“Okay,” said Miles, seizing the moment to move on.
 
“That’s security; now the rest of the team.”
 
He went on to introduce Ben Cain, the production designer, Dario de Luise, the chief cameraman, Phyllis Baxter, the unit publicist, who’d been given a reprieve after the dropped ball over the Scotsman story, and Gail Driver, his and Dawn’s personal assistant.
 
I knew all of them from previous projects, and so did most of the cast.

“The rest of the people on the team you’ll meet on Sunday.”
 
He paused and looked around us.
 
“Yes, folks, Sunday; that’s the big day. Filming begins at seven a.m.”
 
in Advocates’ Close, off the High Street.
 
Those of you who are involved..
 
. that’s Ewan, Dawn, and Oz... who don’t know the layout should familia rise yourselves with it before then.

“Tomorrow, we begin rehearsals, scene by scene.”

Ewan Capperauld frowned.
 
“Rehearsals?”
 
he boomed .. . without a trace of a Scottish accent.
 
I thought of Dame Edith Evans, and handbags.

“That’s what I said.
 
That’s the way I plan to do it; I’ve hired a first-floor auditorium in the Assembly Rooms in George Street for the purpose.
 
I want everyone there tomorrow at nine.
 
No excuses.

“Now enjoy the food and the fizz .. . especially the fizz.
 
It’ll be the last you see for a while.
 
Anyone who’s worked with me before will know that all my sets are dry’ As he finished he looked at our star, then, beckoning him to follow, moved towards the window, where Scott, Rhona and I were standing.

“Here,” the actress whispered.
 
“Have you read the script?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“What about our scene, where we get up close and intimate?
 
That’s not in the book.”

“True.”

“What’ll the author think?”

“The money he’s getting, he won’t think a fucking thing.”

Rhona chuckled.
 
“I’m looking forward to it, mind.
 
We can rehearse in private if you want.”

“Would that make me a conscript?”

“It might.”

I thought about that for a while.
 
When I looked down again, she wasn’t there; I hadn’t seen any signal, but I guessed there had been one, for she was off, heading for Dawn, Bill Massey and Masahi Katayama, leaving Miles, Ewan, Scott and me in a group.

I’ve never seen Miles Grayson lose his cool but that doesn’t make him any sort of a soft touch.
 
When he was younger, in his pre-acting days, he did some stuff with the Aussie special forces, and he is a very tough guy indeed.

“Listen, Ewan,” he said, very quietly, but in a way that got my attention straight away.
 
“We’ve had this argument once before; let’s have it again, one last time.
 
I do not believe in going to sleep on a grudge, far less going into a multi-million dollar project on the back of one.
 
So if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

All three of us looked at Capperauld.
 
He stared out of the window for a few moments, then shrugged his shoulders.
 
“Okay, Miles, if you insist; I believe that film should be spontaneous.
 
I do not think that professional actors necessarily need to rehearse every minute scene before they step on to the sound stage, and I regard the suggestion that we do as mildly insulting .. .”
 
He paused.
 
‘..
 
. To Steele and me, at least.”

19S

“Hey boy!”
 
Scott bristled, but I put my hand on his sleeve to stop him.
 
“Whereas for a fucking amateur like me, it’s okay, yes?”
 
I asked.

The way Ewan looked down his slightly crooked nose at me, I thought about bending it some more, to really make him look the part.
 
“If you put it that way, far be it from me to contradict,” he exclaimed, loud enough for Ricky Ross and Glen Oliver to look in our direction.

“Okay,” said Miles.
 
“Now that shit’s been dumped, let’s flush it away, okay.
 
The last thing I’m going to do, Ewan, is tell you how to act, so you afford me the same courtesy.
 
In three out of the last five years, I’ve directed the world’s top grossing movies; that indicates, to me at least, that I know what I’m doing.
 
So if I say we rehearse every scene, that’s what we do.

“Furthermore .. .”
 
A big word for an Aussie, I thought.
 
‘..
 
. I’ve cast every featured player in this project personally.
 
Forget what it’ll say on the credits; the agency found the bit players, that’s all.
 
You might be getting more money than anyone else, Ewan, but every member of the cast has equal status in my eyes, and... this is the really important bit... in each others’ eyes as well.
 
When we worked together before, you were in and out in a couple of days, so maybe you weren’t there long enough to get to understand what I’m about.
 
My father’s a socialist politician in Australia, and that’s how I was brought up.
 
There’s no class system in my life or on my sets; I’ve never hung a star on a dressing-room door in my life, and when it’s been done for me, I’ve ripped them down.

“For the record, Oz is here because he’s fucking good, just as everyone else is.
 
He can play Andy Martin better than you or Scott, just as you can play your parts better than him, because you’ve each been chosen specifically for them.”
 
He fixed Ewan with a steady eye.
 
“So, mate, this is how it is.
 
I wouldn’t have started this project if you hadn’t agreed to do it.
 
Now I’m committed, but I won’t do it with a star who’s disrespectful to his fellow actors, or who tries to undermine me, as producer or director.

“If you can’t live with that, I’ll negotiate the terms of your withdrawal with Margaret.”

I felt Scott stiffen beside me; I held my breath.
 
I could barely believe it, but Britain’s number one A-list movie actor had just been threatened with his P45.