A Dash Of Pepper

by Sam Short

  “Those strange people are my friends,” said Pepper. “Please show them some respect.”

  “But they were strange, Miss Grinder,” said Oswald. “I do not doubt that you fit in with them perfectly.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that,” said Pepper. “But please stop with the insults and get back to telling me about Stan Wilmot.”

  The Spitfire engine revved behind Oswald, and he glanced over his shoulder, the warm breeze making his long curls dance. “I never thought I’d see this day,” he said. “The last scene in my masterpiece actually being captured on film! Those two beautiful machines of the nineteen-forties racing down the runway together, both powered by Rolls-Royce engines which will be roaring their sweet, sweet song! It’s going to be glorious, Pepper, and Stan Wilmot almost ruined it for me!”

  “He almost ruined it?” asked Pepper. “How?”

  “That car over there is Stan’s car,” said Oswald, jerking a thumb at the vintage Rolls-Royce. He frowned. “Was Stan’s car, I suppose I should say after what happened to him. I have a friend in the Rolls-Royce society. It was through a contact in that club that he arranged for me to have the use of the Spitfire and a pilot for today. I was fortunate to have received such an offer. I was even luckier when somebody else in the society arranged for me to rent a vintage Rolls-Royce while I filmed in Picklebury. He arranged a very fair price, too, and introduced me to the owner of the car.”

  “Stan,” said Pepper.

  “Indeed,” said Oswald. “And very affable he was, too. At first. He made his car available at a very reasonable rental rate, and eventually, it became as important to the film as the Spitfire was. Whereas before I began using Stan’s car, the film was all about the Spitfire; after using the car for a week, it got to the point where The Pilot and The Potato Picker couldn’t have been made without both of those glorious machines taking a starring role! It just had to be so! The car and the plane working side by side in the final scene — my pilot controlling one, and my potato picker the other! It’s going to be a poignant moment in the history of film!”

  “And what did Stan do to almost ruin it?” asked Pepper.

  “He became nasty,” said Oswald. “It was strange — we were getting on so well together, too. So well, in fact, that he allowed us to film on his allotment patch. We used it for close up shots of Jessica picking potatoes in her role as a land girl. We made it look like a field. They were good shots, but Stan kept interfering. He kept making suggestions about how a potato should be picked, so I put him in his place a little — to hurry things along.”

  “In what way did you put him in his place?” asked Pepper.

  “With a few words of encouragement,” explained Oswald. “I told him that a simple country chap like him should leave important decisions about film production to an educated person such as myself. He became very hostile and angry after that, so I accepted the invitation for tea and cake from the people in the community hall. When we got back to the allotments, my lights had gone! I knew Stan had stolen them!”

  “How did you know?” asked Pepper.

  Oswald shrugged. “He was gone, and his shed was locked! I knew they were in there, but when I looked in through the window it was a total mess inside. They could have easily been hidden beneath a blanket or behind a pile of tools. It turns out that I was right.

  “Sergeant Saxon told me that he’d sold them to that awful vicar. Anyway, I couldn’t accuse him outright. We were renting his car, which had become an integral part of the film. I didn’t want to rock the apple cart any further, so to speak. I did go back to the allotments a few times to try and get a good look inside his shed, but I couldn’t. The police looked for them, too — I reported the loss on the off-chance that it hadn’t been Stan who’d stolen them, and I didn’t tell them that I suspected Stan. I promised myself I’d wait until the film was finished until I accused him, in case he withdrew the use of his car.”

  Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “He badly wanted to prevent me from using his car after our little argument,” explained Oswald. “But we had a watertight contract written up by one of my good friends from university. The contract protected me from having the car withdrawn before filming was complete. He couldn’t prevent me from using the car without good reason — I could have sued him, but he began finding loopholes. First, he increased the rental rate to the maximum amount he could get away with. He knew I was working on a tight budget, you see, and he was perfectly within his rights to do so. I found the money, though, so I was able to pay the higher rate.”

  “Go on,” said Pepper.

  “Then he phoned me,” said Oswald. “You witnessed the phone call. When you were peeking over the bridge. He told me he was taking the car back, and he had good reason to.”

  “You were on the phone to Stan about his car?” asked Pepper, recalling how angry Oswald had been. “I misunderstood. I overheard the call, but I thought the person on the other end of the phone was telling you that the Spitfire was no longer available.”

  “Gosh no,” said Oswald. “Cuddles arranged the Spitfire for me! He’s an old friend from university. When Cuddles makes a promise, he keeps it! Not like Stan Wilmot!”

  Trying not to focus on how somebody gains the nickname Cuddles, Pepper nodded. “Then what reason did Stan have to take his car off you?”

  “According to him,” said Oswald. “Not five minutes before he’d phoned me, a threat had been made by two men against his car. They’d threatened to scratch it, apparently, and Stan had good reason to believe that the men would go through with their threat. He’d checked the contract, and it was within his right to withdraw the car from my use if there was a credible chance of any damage being caused to it while it was in my temporary possession. Even if Stan had invented the claim about somebody threatening his car, he’d found a loophole which he could exploit.”

  “He hadn’t made it up,” said Pepper. “I was there when the threat was made.”

  “Oh,” said Oswald, looking Pepper up and down. “Now it makes sense.”

  “What does?” asked Pepper, reaching for her hair.

  “He said there was a witness to the threat being made, but the way in which he described the witness made me feel like he was making her up,” said Oswald. “It makes sense now though, you’re quite the zany dresser, Pepper.”

  Her cheeks warming, Pepper licked her lips. “So you agreed to give Stan his car back?”

  “I have quite a temper, Pepper,” said Oswald. “And sometimes I become irrational when I lose it. I know I could have contacted my solicitor friend and found a way to keep the car in my film, but my irrational side had taken over. I told the whole crew that the film was dead in the water. I told them all to go home!”

  “Yes,” said Pepper. “I was there. I heard you. I heard you for quite some distance too.”

  “Yes, well, I was angry,” said Oswald. “So angry that I jumped into my car and went looking for him. I went to the allotments first, and there he was! I intended to tell him what an awful man he was, and then I intended to ransack his shed and find my lights! I didn’t care what I said to him by then — there was no reason to remain civil! There was no chance of me keeping his car.”

  “And?” asked Pepper. “How did Stan take it?”

  Oswald bowed his head. “I thought I had quite the temper, but Stan was a level or two above me. I got to his shed, told him what I thought of him, and then he went off at the deep end!”

  “What did he do?” said Pepper.

  “He went inside his shed, and came out pointing a rifle at me!” said Oswald. “I turned tail and ran away! He shouted that I was no better than the pigeons that steal his grapes, and then he fired. The rifle hardly made a sound, and it wasn’t until I was hit in the back that I realised it was only an air-rifle. It hurt, though, and I have quite a bruise to show for it. I didn’t want to be shot again, obviously, so I continued hurrying until I was safely at my car. He was a mad man!”
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  “Then where did you go?” asked Pepper.

  “I drove out of Picklebury in a rage,” said Oswald. “I found a hotel in Chapelford and booked myself into it. I’d intended to drink my sorrows away, until I received a phone call from Charlotte, that was.”

  “From Charlotte?” asked Pepper, glancing past Oswald at the makeup artist who was in the process of powdering Jessica’s face. “What was the phone call about?”

  “It was both bad news and good news in one short phone call,” said Oswald. “Charlotte got on quite well with Stan, you see. She was the liaison between him and the film crew. She was the person who Stan first showed how to drive his Rolls Royce. He even gave her the potatoes for the scene you were in, Pepper. They were on friendly terms. Anyway, she told me that she’d gone to see Stan at the allotments to beg him to allow us to keep the car, but when she got there, Stan was dead!”

  “Oh my,” said Pepper, glancing at Charlotte again.

  “Oh my, indeed,” said Oswald. “I was sorry for Stan of course, but then the brain of a film director took over, and I realised that with Stan being dead, I was in the position to keep his car until I’d finished filming. I still had the contract, you see. I realise that it was an awful thing to have done — callous perhaps, but the film industry is a fickle mistress, Pepper. I did what I had to do to keep the show on the road.” He gave Pepper a smile. “And talking of keeping the show on the road, that’s what I must do right now. I hope my answers have prevented your threat of blackmail from being carried out?”

  “Blackmail?” asked Pepper, watching Charlotte as she adjusted Brian’s pilot hat.

  “You said you’d lie about the Oompa Loompa film if I didn’t answer your questions,” Oswald reminded her. “That’s blackmail.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Pepper. “Of course I won’t lie about a film. I’m not that sort of person.”

  Oswald clapped his hands together. “Grand!” he said, turning his back on Pepper. “Then I must be going! I have a film to finish!”

  Chapter 32

  Pepper hurried after Oswald. “I’m coming too. I want to speak with Charlotte about what happened when she went to see Stan to ask if he’d let you keep the car.”

  Oswald stopped walking and spun on the spot. He glared at Pepper. “Listen, Miss Grinder,” he said. “Why are you so obsessed with Stan Wilmot? The poor man tripped over his lace and died because he impaled himself on a carelessly discarded rake. Sergeant Saxon told me as much when I went to see her about my lights. You’ve already forced me into giving you an itinerary of my movements when I went to see Stan, and I won’t be having you upsetting my film crew by doing the same to them! I have thick skin, not everybody does!”

  Pepper stared at the film director. “The CCTV footage shows Stan’s Rolls Royce arriving at the allotments not long after you’d left,” she said. “It then shows somebody approaching Stan’s shed, and then it shows them running away. If that were Charlotte, I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

  “If that was Charlotte,” said Oswald. “She was probably running away because Stan threatened her with a rifle, too.”

  “But you said Stan was dead when Charlotte got to the allotments,” said Pepper. “That’s what she told you on the telephone.”

  The colour drained from Oswald’s face, and he stared at Pepper. “Yes. She said Stan was dead when she got there. She didn’t even have a chance to speak to him about his car! What are you saying?”

  “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen video evidence of the Rolls Royce being driven into the allotment car park, and then somebody making their way to Stan’s shed. That same person then ran away. It was only a matter of minutes after that person ran away, that a friend of mine found Stan’s body. You already told me that Charlotte was the liaison between yourself and Stan, and you’ve already told me that she went to see him. Perhaps she got into an argument with him about keeping the car, perhaps she pushed him, accidentally causing him to fall?”

  “Sergeant Saxon is adamant that Stan’s death was an accident,” said Oswald. “If Charlotte was there, why are you convinced that she pushed him. Perhaps he tripped and fell while she was there? Perhaps seeing a man die like that shocked her!”

  “Then why would she run away?” asked Pepper. “The normal thing to do would have been to telephone an ambulance and the police or to shout for help at least. And as for Stan’s death being an accident, let’s just say that I have evidence, which I can’t share with you, that categorically proves that somebody pushed Stan Wilmot.”

  “What evidence?” asked Oswald.

  For a brief moment, she considered sharing her evidence with the film director, but her rational mind stopped her at the last moment. What would she say to the man? My evidence comes from a message given to me by an out of condition grapevine? No. That would be foolish. She shrugged. “As I said, I can’t share it with you, but it’s accurate evidence. Trust me.”

  More colour left Oswald’s face, and he turned his head to look at Charlotte. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “I don’t believe that Stan wasn’t the victim of a tragic accident, and I don’t believe that even on the off chance he wasn’t, that Charlotte was involved.”

  “Then let me speak to her,” said Pepper.

  Oswald shook his head and pointed towards the airfield entrance. “No. I’d like you to leave. I don’t want you disrupting my final scene. It has to be completed in the next hour. I only have the Spitfire until then. Anyway, you’re not insured to be on my film set. Only actors and crew members are allowed, and if an accident were to happen, my insurance policy would not pay out, and I’d be broke after paying the inevitable legal fees.”

  “See that police car over there?” asked Pepper, pointing towards the control tower.

  “I see it,” confirmed Oswald.

  “If you don’t let me come and speak to Charlotte,” said Pepper. “I shall go over there and tell them what I think happened to Stan Wilmot. They may not believe me, they probably won’t, but they’ll be obliged to come over here and ask a few questions of us all. I’d imagine it would take a little longer than an hour, and by then you’ll have lost your Spitfire.”

  “You’re like a dog that won’t let go of a postman’s leg,” said Oswald, shaking his head. “I have to say, I find your manipulative methods very off-putting. I do like your spunk, though. You don’t give up.” He frowned, and then smiled. “I’ll allow you onto my film set on two conditions, Miss Grinder.”

  “I thought we just established that I don’t need conditions,” retorted Pepper. “But go on, what are the conditions?”

  “Condition number one,” said Oswald, holding a single finger up. “Is that you do not bother Charlotte with your fanciful notions until we’ve finished filming.”

  “And the second condition?” asked Pepper.

  “Only actors and film crew are allowed on my set,” said Oswald. “Charlotte will have Mrs Banforth’s costume in her case. I’d like you to put it on. Technically, you’ll be an actress, and you never know — I might be able to find a little part for you.”

  Pepper considered his proposal for a second and then nodded. “Conditions accepted,” she said.

  “Good,” said Oswald, walking towards his crew. “Then let me fill you in on what’s happening, you can call it the safety brief if you like. We’ve already filmed one scene. Emily arrived at the airfield after chasing Brian here to tell him that she’ll be his wife, but he’s already in his Spitfire, preparing to take off on a lone mission. Emily discovers Charles’s car and finds the keys in the ignition, so she pursues the Spitfire down the runway, screaming out of the car window that she’d agree to marry him. Sadly, she was too late, and Charles took off into the sun on his way to fight the Nazis.” He turned his head, and smiled down at Pepper. “Or so a film viewer will believe! There’ll be tears in the cinemas as Charles disappears into the English sky, heading for almost certain death, but then, just as Emily realises she may never see her fiancé again, s
he spots a speck in the sky approaching the runway! It’s Charles — he’s turned around and is coming into land! It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” said Pepper.

  Oswald nodded. “Those scenes have already been filmed. Of course, we couldn’t have Brian flying the Spitfire, but the pilot has trained him on how to taxi the aircraft. So the final scene follows on from the moment our hero has landed the plane — with Brian now at the controls instead of the real pilot, he’ll taxi the Spitfire towards Jessica who’ll be driving the car. She’ll see him coming, and drive towards him. The two vehicles will stop nose to nose, both Rolls Royce engines throbbing in sweet harmony, almost as if they’re kissing. And then, both Jessica and Brian will climb out of their vehicles, and Brian will slide the ring onto Jessica’s finger. Then they’ll kiss, silhouetted against two magnificent examples of nineteen-forties engineering! It will be a masterpiece!”

  “It does sound very good,” said Pepper, quite honestly. “And a little dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” said Oswald. “How so?”

  “An aeroplane with a spinning propeller on the nose approaching a car until they’re close enough to suggest a kiss, sounds like a situation fraught with danger to me,” said Pepper. “One slip of Jessica’s foot on a pedal and the car would meet the propeller.”

  “They won’t actually be approaching each other!” laughed Oswald. “I’m not that daft! It will be an illusion, Pepper. The car will be ten metres beyond the aeroplane, but with a side-on camera angle, the two machines will appear to be nose to nose. Welcome to the world of low-budget film, Miss Grinder, where everything is not as it meets the eye!” He turned away from Pepper and called out Charlotte’s name. “Dress Miss Grinder as Charles’s housekeeper, would you, please? We might have a little part for her to play.”

  “Right away!” called Charlotte. “Come over here, Pepper. I’ve got the outfit in my suitcase.”

  “And not a word about what you suspect her of until my scene is complete,” hissed Oswald. “I don’t want any upheaval. I want this scene to go without a hiccup, and upsetting my make-up artist will ensure that doesn’t happen. My film crew is a tight team, and if one of them becomes upset, they’ll all become upset!”