Authors: Lynda La Plante
‘Twisted my arm, he did. I was just about to go on a sailing holiday.’ His voice was deep and his handshake so firm she felt her fingers crushed.
Mathews gave them the job of contacting everyone connected with the film unit, suggesting they speak first with the director.
Finding an empty office, Anna gave Simon a brief rundown on what she had been told by Andrea Lesser. He listened without interruption, looking down the list of the film crew Mathews had given them, then commented, ‘We’ve got a lot of interviewing to do. Christ knows how many on this list will be of any interest, but we’ll have to eliminate as we go along. Take a look and let me organise some coffee.’
Anna couldn’t believe it. At least seventy-five names, even those of the caterers, were on the list. She looked up as Simon leaned in at the doorway.
‘Forgot to ask how you take it.’
‘White, no sugar. Have you counted how many people we’re supposed to interview?’
‘Yeah. We’ll start at the top and work our way down. By the way, that list doesn’t include the artists.’ He disappeared as Anna sighed.
They were still counting the names as they drove in Simon’s convertible Saab to the film unit in Ealing. The car was in immaculate condition and Anna noted that it had low mileage, considering it was an old model.
‘You don’t use this very often,’ she said, tapping the polished wood dashboard.
‘Nope, odd weekends but my usual banger is in the garage. This is my baby, fast as hell, a classic and turbo-charged, not that I’ve had the hood down too often this summer.’
Anna sat back as they continued on their way. Simon was easygoing with a wide friendly smile. She liked him and wondered if they were going to work well together. She would know soon enough as they drove into the production base of the film unit, a massive ramshackle building with trailers parked side by side. There were also the electricians’ wagons, prop wagons and a large catering van with a tent erected beside it, with tables and chairs where the artists could have their meals.
He left the car in the area where the unit drivers’ four Mercedes, a Range Rover and a Jaguar were parked. The drivers, sitting near the catering van smoking, looked on with interest as Anna and Simon walked towards them.
‘We need to speak to Mr Mike Reynolds,’ Simon said.
One of the drivers pointed to a side door. ‘Production staff are in offices through there.’
Reynolds’s office was in a dingy section of the rundown building.
‘Come in, please sit down, and I’ll get some coffee ordered.’
Reynolds was in his early thirties, wearing a tank top, jeans and leather boots. His desk was piled high with scripts. Simon had suggested to Anna that he would be the best person to give them a rundown of who was who in the film unit.
‘We are all stunned by what has happened to Amanda, so if there is anything I can do to help your enquiries . . .’
‘What is your job exactly?’ Simon asked.
Reynolds smiled. ‘I’m the line producer, which means I’m the producer’s right-hand man. I make sure everything is running smoothly.’
‘So who would have worked out the call sheet for the day and night filming?’ Simon queried.
‘That would be our first and second assistant directors. We have production assistants who type up the call sheets, arrange for drivers, and the second assistant director gets the artists on the set ready for work.’
‘How did you get along with Amanda?’ This was Anna, leaning forward slightly in her chair.
‘Well, it’s my job to get along with everyone. I didn’t know her outside work – probably not attractive enough for her to be interested in.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘She wasn’t too difficult to handle, unlike some stars I’ve worked with. She was reasonably professional and didn’t show up late, but she could take up valuable time when we were shooting.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, she didn’t always like her wig or costume and she would throw a tantrum or two, but it never lasted too long. She was very young and I knew she had a reputation for being a bit headstrong, so I made a point of being diplomatic with her and any problems we did have were soon sorted out.’
‘We’ll need the names of the drivers she used.’
‘I have them ready for you. They’re all here at the base if you need to talk to them.’
‘Did you know if Amanda was seeing anyone from the unit?’
‘You mean on a personal level?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not really and, to be honest, she wouldn’t have had that much time as we had a very heavy schedule. I didn’t hear any rumours that she was friendly with any of the actors. But as I didn’t know her socially, I wouldn’t have been aware if she was seeing anyone on her days off or entertaining anyone in her trailer.’
‘We’ll need to have access to her trailer,’ Simon pointed out.
‘I was told you wanted to, but have you any idea how long it will be, before someone else can move into it? Only we are re-shooting her scenes and there are things in there we may need to use.’
‘As long as necessary. We’ll also require a trailer for our use, as we have two more officers joining us, and we’ll need somewhere we can debrief together at the end of the day.’
‘Sure, I’ll see what I can set up.’
‘Have you replaced her?’ Anna asked.
‘Not yet, officially. We’re waiting to hear about the insurance situation. In the meantime, we’re using her double. Thankfully we only have another five days’ filming, so I doubt if we’ll re-shoot all the scenes we have in the can . . . we’ll shoot around her.’
Reynolds’s radio bleeped and he excused himself to answer the call in the corridor outside his office.
Simon glanced at Anna. ‘They don’t waste time, do they? Already replaced her,’ he observed.
A balding man appeared at the door, wearing a heavy Puffa jacket and jeans with suede loafers.
‘Aiden Brook, producer,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘This is disastrous. None of us can take in what has happened and as the producer it’s a nightmare. I am just stunned. I was looking at the dailies in my office and thinking how lovely she was when I was told. I would have been here to take you round, but I’ve had the backers onto me. I’ve no need to tell you what this means to the movie. Without Amanda, it’s inconceivable that we can continue, but I have to do what I can to salvage . . .’
He looked them both in the eye. ‘Do you mind if I leave you with Mike Reynolds, as I’ve got meetings to sort this all out. I’ll be in the production trailer.’ He paused. ‘Do you know who killed her?’
‘Not yet,’ Anna said.
‘Dear God, I’ve a daughter her age – twenty-four – thankfully not in the business. That’s all I could think of when I was told, my daughter. First thing I did was call her to make sure she was safe, but now, it’s really hit home.’
‘Where were you?’ Simon asked.
‘You mean, after we finished filming here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I stayed on to look at some of the rushes the editor had knitted together. We were worried about a stunt from the previous night. We worked for about an hour after we stopped filming, then I went home to Chiswick. Crashed out – night shooting takes the stuffing out of you. My driver is Tony. He took me home and brought me back . . .’
Brook went to the door, saying, ‘Feel free to have lunch or whatever you need. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .’
Reynolds returned and passed over some sheets of paper.
‘These are lists of the entire crew. It’s a good day to interview them as we’re filming up on the next floor. If you want to see the set, I can get someone to show you around the place. It’s a Victorian Scotland Yard set, really terrific, probably miles apart from the kind of place you’re used to working in. Nothing high tech about it, just battered old typewriters and an ancient telephone system. Our main location is in a hangar half an hour’s drive away, but this here is the main unit base.’
‘Who on the list you’ve given us would Amanda Delany have been on friendly terms with?’ Simon asked.
‘Start with the star actors. I don’t think anyone from the crew was that friendly. Maybe her driver Harry James could give you more information.’
Anna and Simon followed Reynolds into the corridor. His radio bleeped again; he was wanted on the set. He agreed to them having a chat to the other staff in the production offices as long as they avoided going on set during filming.
‘He’s very helpful,’ Anna remarked as Reynolds hurried off.
‘You know, this is going to be a long day and I think we should divide up this list between us, along with the other two officers.’ Simon looked at his watch. ‘They break for lunch at one, so I’ll meet you out by the catering truck.’
Anna suggested she take costume and make-up first while he checked out the unit drivers.
‘OK, I’ll finish in here and see you later.’ Simon tapped on one of the production office doors. Anna left the building and walked out into the main yard, heading for the make-up and costume trailers.
Anna was surprised how large and comfortable it was in the make-up department. There were four big leather chairs with roll-back head and foot rests. Each section had a mirrored unit with extra lighting, and rows of make-up, with Carmen rollers and hair straighteners and wig stands, were crammed into each separate space. There was only one girl inside the trailer and she was making herself a coffee from a cappuccino machine. She turned as Anna entered and introduced herself as Cynthia Miller.
‘Did you make up Amanda?’ Anna asked.
‘No, I’m doing all the extras. You’ll need to talk to Carol, but she’s on set at the moment.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Amanda? She was always friendly to me, though sometimes she could get Carol pretty frazzled.’
‘Was she seeing anyone from the film unit, do you know?’
‘Outside of work? No, I’m sure she wasn’t.’
‘Did she ever talk about being worried about anyone?’
‘No, though the last time . . .’ Cynthia hesitated. ‘It was the last night she was here, the night before it happened. She told us she’d been woken by a terrible scream. She was quite shook up about it; she said she was sure it was a woman screaming, but didn’t see anything or hear any more apart from that one scream.’
‘Did she report it to the police?’
‘No, I don’t think so, but she said it was very scary.’
The trailer door banged open, and a voice said, ‘There’s a police officer asking questions.’
‘Carol . . .’ Cynthia indicated Anna and her colleague stopped in the doorway.
‘Oh, sorry. Is it OK if I come in?’
Anna swivelled around in her chair.
‘Hi. I’m Carol Maynard.’ Carol was in her late thirties, attractive, if a little overweight.
‘Do you need to ask me anything,’ she went on, ‘only I’ll have to go back onto the set in a minute.’
Anna watched Carol unpin a moustache from one of the wig stands and place it neatly between two tissues.
‘Actor sweats like a pig so his ’tache keeps getting unstuck.’
Cynthia seemed a little edgy as she reminded Carol about the scream that Amanda Delany had heard the night before she was murdered.
‘Oh yeah, Amanda was really upset – said it sounded like a woman being tortured.’
Anna kept watching Carol as she selected different pots of foundation and rouge.
‘Do you know if she was seeing anyone on a personal level from the film unit?’ she asked her.
‘Surprisingly no, she wasn’t. I don’t mean that to sound bitchy, but she was well-known for starting up affairs with her leading actors, or any good-looking guy for that matter. She put herself about a bit, but—’
‘There’s not much choice on this movie,’ Cynthia interjected.
‘It’s a small cast,’ Carol said, glancing at Cynthia as if warning her to keep quiet. ‘The leading actor’s older than her usual conquests and he plays for the other side. The big star is the lovely Rupert Mitchell; he’s not being called today though. We know he and Amanda were once an item but he’s back with his wife, and Rupert and Amanda seemed to have no hard feelings, wouldn’t you agree, Cynthia?’
‘Yes, they got along.’
‘What about the extras?’ Anna enquired.
‘I doubt Amanda would have been interested in any of them. We’ve had a very tight schedule on this film and as she was carrying so many scenes, I don’t think she’d have had the time.’
‘It’s quite lucky – well, that’s not really the right way to put it, but most of her big scenes have been shot so they are trying to get away with filming her stunt double Emma, and hopefully using some of the close-ups left over from the other scenes,’ Cynthia observed as she sipped her coffee.
‘Emma’s very good.’ Carol then glanced over to Cynthia, instructing her, ‘You should do a check of the police incident room. They’ve more extras in the scene and they just had a coffee break, so there’ll be dripping moustaches and sideburns.’
‘OK.’ Cynthia smiled at Anna as she collected her make-up bag and left the trailer.
Anna remained silent, staring at herself in the mirror, while Carol busied herself cleaning brushes.