The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (19 page)

“How long
‘til you finish filming?” she asks.

“About half a day.”

“Really?”

“Yes
, Lorna,” I say. “Your timing is impeccable, as usual. You’ve managed to turn up on the last day of filming.”

“Great,” she says. “
Is there a party? Can I come?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I concede. “But I don’t think anything big is planned. Just a small gathering and a few drinks.”

“So, you’re all saving yourselves for the big premiere?” she asks.

“Yeah.
I guess so.”

“When is it?” asks Lorna.

I frown, trying to remember. “I think it’s in a few months. When we wrap today, then it goes into production. James will be working on it. Then it goes out to the world.”

“Exciting,” says Lorna.

I nod, realising I’m only just coming to terms with it all myself.

“So my bessie mate is going to be a big star,” she decides proudly. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

I wave my finger at her. “You are still in my bad books Lorna. Don’t forget you went AWOL for two months. That’s not what best friends do.”

“I’m sorry.” She looks contrite. “But I can still come to the premiere, right?”

She flutters her violet eyes at me. “Pleeeease.”

“I’ll see how I feel nearer to the time,” I say
, my voice stern. “It depends if you manage to answer your phone in the next few months.”

This seems to satisfy Lorna.

“Ok,” she says. “That sounds fair. Can I watch you filming?”

I consider this.
I guess there’s no reason why she shouldn’t. Would anyone mind?

“Please
, Issy,” she says, sensing my indecision. “I love watching you act. And it would be a dream come true to watch James Berkeley in action.”

“Alright,” I concede. “But you have to behave yourself. No flirting with the crew or trying on the costumes.”

“Scout’s honour,” she agrees.

Despite being mad at Lorna, I am so pleased to have her back.

“Come on then, trouble,” I say, taking her arm. “I’ll show you were you can watch the filming.”

I set Lorna up with a director’s style chair, a little out of range of the working set. I notice David the props handler do a double-take when he sees Lorna, her long legs crossed casually in front of her.

I guess he hasn’t forgotten
her from Barcelona.

She catches his eye and gives him a saucy wink. David grins back nervously, as if unable to believe his good luck. Then hurries off to arrange the props.

I smile to myself. Lorna’s back to her old self then. Charming the pants off every man within a ten mile radius.

We set up for the first scene of the afternoon.

I make a last reading of my script, turning it over in my head.

Grace doesn’t know it yet. But she’s about to find out she’s won over Tom’s conscience. He’s decided not to publish the story on her father after all.

I take my place, opposite Natalie. There’s a moment whilst lighting is wheeled into position. Then James shouts for lights to beam on. He’s not appearing in this scene, so he’s back behind the camera, calling the shots.

I sit
, and then arrange my features into dejection. At this point, Grace thinks that Tom is going ahead with a story about her father. Everything she has been working for has fallen apart. Her father will be vilified. And worse. Tom, whom she was developing feelings for, has proven himself heartless.

“Action!” shouts James.

“Grace,” Natalie leans towards me, from her desk. “Did you get the letter?”

I shake my head, looking confused.

“What letter?”

Natalie frowns. “The one left on your desk. I could have sworn it…” She stops for a
moment, and then her eyes flick down. “Oh,” she says. “Look, here it is. It must have fallen down between the desks.”

She stoops, retrieves the letter, and hands it to me.

I look at it in amazement, recognising the handwriting.

“From Tom?”
I ask. Though I know the answer.

“Yeah,” says Natalie.
“He wanted you to see it before he left for China. Sorry, I forgot to remind you.”

My mouth drops open a little.

“Tom left me a letter?”

Up until now, I was under the impression that Tom had no intention of betraying his journalistic findings. A story was a story. Could the letter mean something different?

Slowly, I tear open the envelope, hardly daring to believe what might be inside.

If Tom has relented, then I’ve just let him leave for the airport. On a six month
reporting assignment to China.

I pull out the paper, and let my eyes scan the words.

What in the hell? Someone has tampered with this prop!

S
uddenly, everything changes. Grace vanishes, and Issy is back, staring in blank, terrified horror at the letter in my hand.

T
he page has words which are not in the script. They are scrawled in think ugly shapes, using marker pen.

It’s only five words, but I am shaking with shock.

The letter reads: “SEE YOU AT THE PREMIERE’.

And surrounding them
is an untidy lipstick heart.

Chapter 26

Everyone is staring at my reaction as my hands begin to shake. My face is a mask of blank terror, and my mouth is forming the words in front of me.

See
you at the premiere.

It’s a threat. From the
Lipstick Stalker.

“Cut!” yells James. And then he’s striding onto set.

“What is it, Issy?” he asks softly as he nears my trembling body. In reply, I hold out the page towards him.

I see his lips moving slowly, then his face sets in dark anger.

Natalie, too, has caught sight of the contents of the page, and she’s turned pale.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. “How did he get you that letter?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. I realise I’m still holding the page dumbly, and I drop it back on the desk quickly, as though it’s a diseased thing.

I turn to James, questioning.

“David!” James is calling to the props handler. “How the
fuck
did this letter end up in props?”

There’s a collective gasp on set. We never hear James swear.

David picks up the letter and studies it in horror.

“I… I don’t know,” he says finally. “I have no idea.”

David’s face tightens, as though he’s thinking carefully.

“We have some props sent,” he says, “from a specialist company. They tend to be items that we can’t make in the studio. But the letter might have slipped through. I can check it out?”

“Do that,” says James grimly.

James takes out
his mobile phone and begins punching in numbers. He spins away from us, taking a few strides off set. And then I hear his voice, dangerously angry, issuing orders.

“I want
to know who let that letter in,” he demands. “No.
Now.
I want an answer in five minutes. Get me the name of whoever is responsible. Someone must know. I don’t care what it costs. Use your judgement.”

Whoa. Remind me never to cross James Berkeley.

I stand, feeling important, the note lying ominously on the desk.

“Issy? What’s going on?” Lorna is by my side.

I’d forgotten she was watching on.

“You remember we had a problem with a stalker?” I say, trying to use lan
guage which won’t alarm her.

“The psychopath who tried to ki
dnap you?” blurts Lorna. “Of course I remember.” Her eyes drop to the note.

“Is this from him?” She picks it up gingerly
with her thumb and forefinger and examines it. Then she drops it back down. “I thought you said he was in prison?” she asks, her face fearful.

“He
is
in prison.” James is suddenly back with us, his voice forceful enough to make Lorna take a step back.

He puts his arm around me.

“I’ve just had it confirmed. He’s still locked up. Are you alright?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Then what’s going on?” asks Lorna. “If this psycho is in prison, how is he sending Issy notes?” Her voice has risen to a loud pitch.

I raise my hands to calm her. We don’t need any more angry people on set.

“Someone is giving the stalker money,” I say, “enough to bribe a prison guard to let him pull stunts like this.”

I breathe out, trying to sound calmer than I feel.

“It’s just… smoke and mirrors,” I assure her. “The stalker can’t actually
do
anything. But he’s sent a text message, and now this letter. He’s just trying to frighten me. He gets off on it.”

I’m such a good actress, I could fool myself.

Lorna looks furious at this last part. “Find the guard then,” she insists. “Find the asshole who is taking bribes.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” I explain. “
The stalker is like, this
enigma
. And we don’t know who is giving him money either. We’re not allowed to probe too much. It’s… a legal thing. Something about a fair trial.”

Lorna sets her jaw. “Can’t James just pay someone to beat the crap out of him, in prison?” she decides.

I laugh at this. Trust Lorna to have an unorthodox solution.

“That would make us as bad as him,” I say uncertainly, looking at James.

“Believe me,” says James darkly. “I’ve considered it. It wouldn’t help.”

James scans the set and seems to suddenly realise that the crew are waiting on tenterhooks for him to issue some kind of instruction.

“That’s it for today,” he announces. “We’ll wrap the last few scenes tomorrow. Or later in the week, if Issy needs some time off.”

His eyes scan my face at this last
sentence.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, sounding
braver than I feel. “Tomorrow. We’ll film the remaining scenes.”

But
the truth is I’m grateful there’s no more acting today. My stomach is thick with the shock and fear of the unexpected note. My hands are still shaking.

“You’re a wreck,” decides James, taking in my shaking hands. He sounds angry still. “Let’s get you to somewhere quieter,” he adds, sounding gentler now.

His eyes rest on Lorna. Then they travel down to the conspicuous absence of a pregnant stomach, as though he’s suddenly clicked.

“False alarm,” says Lorna cheerfully
, registering his gaze. “Pregnancy tests aren’t always accurate.”

James’s mouth opens and then shuts again, as though he’s decided to address the issue later. I remember he promised to have words with Ben and wonder what was said.

“Lorna, you stay on set,” says James bluntly. “I’d like to take Issy someplace where she can relax.”

My face is apologetic, but Lorna shakes her head that it’s nothing.

“Do you mind?” I ask. I’d really rather be off set for the moment.

Lorna
shrugs, as though this is all perfectly normal. I see her eyes seek out David the props handler, who looks badly shaken. He’s talking on the telephone. Presumably trying to ascertain how a letter from an imprisoned stalker got into the props.

“No worries,” she says. “I’ll hang out here for a bit and come by later, when you’re feeling better.”

Chapter
27

The rest of the day feels like a strange, broken thing. The cast and crew were all on such a high. Now everyone is milling uncertainly, waiting to hear when we’ll shoot the final scenes.

By late afternoon, James has traced the tampered letter back to an external props department. But
it’s a dead end. The props department were sent the poison pen by post, with instructions they assumed to be from Berkeley Studios to substitute it.

They no longer have the post-marked envelope or any other
evidence as to the sender.

I am determined not to let the stalker intimidate me. But it’s hard not to feel upset.
Particularly since I can tell James is worried.

If the stalker can bribe a guard to send letters, could he bribe his way out too?

It’s what we’re all thinking, though no one says it out loud.

“Issy,” says
James gently, after finishing his barrage of phone calls to security services and the police, “I think it’s best that you don’t go to the premiere.”

So it’s come to this. James really does think the stalker might get out.

His eyes rest on mine. “If the stalker is successfully bribing a guard,” James explains, “we just don’t know what kind of influence he has. He could just be playing power games. Or perhaps he can bribe his escape for real.”

A feel a lurch of horror at the idea of the stalker breaking free.

I swallow, about to agree to James’s suggestion. And then a stubborn protest rises up.

I won’t let
the stalker win.

“No
.” I’m shaking my head. “No.”

James looks surprised.

“I won’t do it,” I say, fixing my gaze on James. “I won’t let him intimidate me.”

I bunch my fists.

“You said yourself,” I say, “that he’s just trying to frighten me. That he’s locked up, and he can’t get out.”

James’s face shows uncertainty.

“Someone close to the stalker is accepting bribes,” he says. “We don’t know how low they’d sink for money.”

“But that doesn’t mean, he’ll get out,” I protest.

James’s face looks sad. “Money is a powerful motivator,” he says. “If we could find out who is funding the stalker…”

“You’d have a better chance of finding out who is being bribed?” I fill in.

I twist my mouth, suddenly feeling like a petulant child who’s not allowed to go to a birthday party.

“Ok,” I agree. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I won’t go to the premiere.”

James’s face breaks in relief.

“Things might change,” he says. “I’ve got every resource on this. If we find out who’s funding the stalker, I think we have a good chance of nailing whichever police officer is helping him.”

I nod, keeping my face impassive. Because in reality, this seems like a slim chance. Everything to do with the stalker has drawn a blank.

I so wanted to go to the premiere!

I drive the thought back down.

“I’m so sorry
, Issy,” says James, seeing my expression. “His hands hold my shoulders. You’ve worked so hard on this movie. You, more than anyone, deserves to get dressed up and be recognised for your input.”

I shake my head.

“It’s not that,” I say. “It’s… I’m just so proud of you,” I say, my eyes on his. “I wanted to be at your side at the launch of your big movie. I wanted the world to know we’re together.”

I give him a helpless look.

“You are so wonderful,” he smiles. “When any other girl would be planning her dress, all you’re thinking about is me.”

“I’ve planned the dress too.”

He laughs. “That’s not true, is it?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I was just looking forward to being at your side, that’s all.”

James smiles, and kisses my mouth. Then he frowns determinedly. “I’ll do everything in my power,” he says, “so that you can go to this premiere.”

I smile back. “I hear your powers are considerable.”

“With your faith in me, I think they are.” His mouth twists in thought.

“Listen,” he adds. “Let’s call Lorna. We’ll have a nice dinner and an early night. Then tomorrow we can pick up filming again. After that, we’ll have a few months, just the two of us. The rest of the cast and crew will go their separate ways. We can hole up in the studio, write scripts and be happy.”

I give him a weak smile. “That sounds great,” I admit.

He nods. “In the meantime, my best people will be on to this stalker case. Something has to crack. We’ve got months to find him out.”

Months.
That sounds like a long time. But a little voice in my head tells me those months will go by awful fast.