"Why not?" David shrugs, taking what he can get. He gathers his paper and pen, shoving everything into his backpack.
"If we're lucky, perhaps they can take us behind the scenes on some of the sets which aren't in use today." I point at his camera, still lying on the table. "Maybe you can get an exclusive sneak preview photograph to go with the story."
That seals the deal; David looks decidedly more enthusiastic as we leave the confines of the meeting room. When he turns his back, Kate mouths a thank you in my direction.
"Here, let me take the lead since I know where we're going. The make-up and wardrobe trailer is near Craft Services, so you two can grab a hot drink while I see if Marcello and Ilaria are free.
The gods must be smiling on me because both the Italians are sitting in their home away from home, propping their feet up in between scenes. I barely get the word journalist out of my mouth before they leap up, their arms waving in a flurry of excitement. There is nothing those two love more than talking about their work… except maybe their daily cups of espresso.
"Bring the young man in here," Ilaria demands. "We will tell him all about our vision and inspiration. He will be enthralled, I promise you."
I cross my fingers as I step out the door, calling him and Kate over my way. I need not have worried, as Ilaria and Marcello are in top form. They suck David into their whirlwind, draping costumes over his arms and shoving a parade of hats and wigs upon his head. Kate and I slowly back away, fading into the background while the Italians take centerstage.
All goes well until someone wrenches open the trailer door — the same door I happen to be leaning against. Kate's quick action saves me from tumbling out as she jerks me aside, opening space for someone else to barge in.
Joyce blasts into the trailer, her cheeks pink and her chest heaving. She looks like she just competed in the one-hundred-meter dash.
She opens her mouth, her words tumbling out. "It's Vivian! She's collapsed! They've called an ambulance."
Ilaria looks at Marcello and gasps. "It's the curse, I know it!"
❖
It is impossible to say which one of us springs into action first, as Kate, Ilaria, Marcello and I all realise that we have a nightmare on our hands and a journalist standing beside us.
Marcello and Ilaria circle around Joyce, preventing her from saying anything else which might damage the production. Meanwhile, Kate and I grab David and practically drag him out of the college. We offer feeble excuses for Joyce's behaviour, saying things like, "Of course, Vivian is fine" and "Joyce likes to exaggerate." Although our voices tell one story, I'm sure our faces are recounting another. Kate's has drained of colour and I've nearly bitten through my bottom lip. But needs must, so we concentrate our efforts on wrapping up the visit and getting David out the door as quickly as possible.
However, there is little we can do other than to wring our hands when an ambulance pulls up in front of the college just as we walk out. David was hoping for a unique angle for his story, and it appears he's got one. When it becomes obvious that the security team is not going to let him back inside, he dashes off to file his story, undoubtedly destined to become the scoop of his lifetime.
"Of all the times for the so-called curse to rear its head," I groan, rubbing my hand over my face. "I really hope Joyce was exaggerating and Vivian is okay."
"Let's get back inside and see if there is anything we can do," Kate suggests, already spinning towards the wooden doors.
By unspoken agreement, we head directly for the hall where the crew had been due to film. However, we don't make it far before we run into the crowd gathered in the corridor, awaiting news on Vivian. No one seems to know anything more than we do, and it soon becomes clear that any hopes we had of getting closer are unrealistic.
I glance out a nearby window and spot H mid-flight on one of his loops over the courtyard and garden. I nudge Kate and nod at the window. She is at first confused, but as soon as she sees H, she gives me a grim smile of agreement. We retrace our path, down the stairs and out into the main courtyard.
I cup my hands and shout into the air as loud as I can, "Aitchhh!" His snout flips in my direction and he makes a beeline for us when he sees our waving arms. He soars over the roofline, heading our way. In his eagerness to reach us, he misjudges the distance and ends up tumbling to a halt at our feet.
"What's 'appenin' in tha main building, missies?" H asks, dusting his scaly hide. "I keep seein' people goin' in, but nobody comin' back out again."
Kate and I take turns relaying the morning activities, from our interview to visiting Ilaria and Marcello, and finally Joyce's arrival with the terrible news. H's mouth is hanging open by the time we get to the end.
Nervously pacing, I pause long enough to ask, "Did you see anything or anyone out of the ordinary?"
"No, Nat. Nobody came in tha front except ya and yer newspaper man."
"What about sneaking in by way of the back gardens?" Kate adds.
"I'm tellin' ya, missies. We Eternals 'ave tha college locked down. No one is comin' in or goin' out without us seeing them."
I groan in frustration. "We need to find out what happened to Vivian. I'd give my right arm to get into the hall, but there is no way we can get through the crowd in the corridor."
H stares at me. "Why don't ya go in through tha kitchen?"
"The kitchen? Of course!" I practically slap myself on the forehead. "I completely forgot about it. Do you know how to get to it from here?"
"I don't, but Mols will know." H takes a running start and flies up into the air. Kate and I hear a small commotion coming from the front entrance. We dash across the courtyard, but there are too many people crowding the entryway for us to see what is happening. H reappears with Molly before we can go investigate further.
"Hello, Nat. H tells me you need to get up into the hall straightaway." Molly smoothes her apron and motions for us to follow her. She leads us across the courtyard, down to a doorway at the opposite end from the main entrance. Inside, we follow her through a maze of corridors and stairwells until we find ourselves standing in a thoroughly modern, stainless steel kitchen. It is empty, no sign of cast, crew or the college cooking staff. On the far side of the room, a swinging door leads into the hall.
I push the door gently, barely wide enough to sneak a peek inside the room. Seeing no one nearby and nothing in the way, I push harder, clearing a space wide enough for us to sneak through.
The hall looks much as it did the day before when Mathilde and I toured Trevor around the set. The high table is laid out for a meal, although a more intimate one. There are plates and cups for two, the rest of the table bare.
Camera equipment lies abandoned, forgotten in the rush after Vivian collapsed. One of the cameras displays a flashing red light. I point it out to Kate and whisper, "That camera is still recording."
The film crew are clustered at the far end of the room, some standing in small groups while others are seated at the long trestle tables. They all share the same expression of pinched fear.
Kate leans close, murmuring, "I don't see Vivian anywhere. The commotion we heard coming from the front entrance must have been the ambulance crew taking her away."
I spy a familiar blonde head standing in one of the groups. "There's my uncle Harold. Let's see what he can tell us."
We watch our step as we make our way through the streams of cords and cables, sliding in between the cameras and lights and past a bank of monitors.
"Uncle Harold," I call out, causing him to turn in our direction. "What happened? Is Vivian going to be okay?"
Harold looks like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and his body frozen. "I don't know, Nat. I don't know what happened to her. We were filming and then she said she didn't feel well. We offered to break but she wanted to get the scene in the can. Next thing I know, she slumps over and was sick all over herself. I've never seen anything like it."
I meet Kate's gaze, hoping she might have an idea of what to say next
. She directs H off to the kitchen to get a fizzy drink and leads Harold over to an empty space at the table. Harold sits on one side, while Kate and I take the places across from him. Molly slides into the chair at his side, gently rubbing his back. He can't see her, but I can tell that her touch helps calm him.
H returns as we sit, passing Kate the bottle. She untwists the cap and hands it to Harold, telling him, "Sip it slowly, the sugar will help."
Harold does as he is told, closing his eyes and massaging his temple while he waits for the sugar to hit his bloodstream. He takes several deep breaths, and finally opens his eyes again, looking much more in control of himself.
"Right. Thanks for this," he says, lifting up the bottle of lemonade. "Vivian is off to the hospital, so there is nothing to be done there until we hear something from the team. Vivian was absolutely right as rain this morning, Nat. She was in fine form when she showed up on set. She and Caleb were chatting away at the dining table, getting into character and reviewing lines."
I think for a moment and then try again. "Does she have any allergies?"
Harold frowns, "None, as far as we know. I suppose it's possible she could be allergic to something, but wasn't aware of it, but given all of the other problems we've had, that seems a stretch."
"I take it you don't think she fell ill?" I glance at my uncle and he shakes his head.
I raise my head towards the ceiling, contemplating other options. "Was it something she ate? Or drank? Do you think…" I trail off, not wanting to say the word 'poison' out loud.
Harold flinches. "I don't think we can exclude the option."
Kate clears her throat. "In that case, I think we should phone Trevor. Surely the potential poisoning of a famous actress would warrant his attention." She excuses herself, moving into the kitchen where she can have a private space to ring him. As part of our advance planning, we had all stored his mobile number into our phones.
I scan the room, making note of who is still inside. The numbers have dropped even further as the crew scatter to their trailers to rehash what they saw. The swoosh of the swinging door precedes Kate's return, attracting my attention. I spin in my seat, looking at the opposite end of the room, still sitting ready for someone to say, "Action!" That thought quickly leads into another.
"Uncle Harold, I noticed one of the cameras is still running. Do you think there is any chance you may have captured something on film?"
Harold considers my question. "It's possible, Nat. The camera crew would have been filming well before we started running scenes, checking light levels and angles. Only one way to find out."
Kate, Molly, and I fall into step behind him, with H bringing up the rear. I notice Harold's shoulders drop into a more relaxed position as he moves into familiar territory. He checks the cameras, turning off the one which is still rolling, and settles into his director's chair. He grabs a small keyboard out of a pocket on the side of the chair and begins typing commands. "The screens in front of me are connected to the cameras. Give me a minute to find the right files, and we can see if we spot anything unusual."
He clicks open a couple of files before finding the one he wants. "I've set it to display the video on both screens so we can all see it."
Harold and Kate watch the screen on the left, while Molly, H and I keep our eyes on the one to the right. The video runs at fast speed, crew and cast members rushing in and out of view. Marcello and Ilaria pass through first, the pair working in silence as they straighten the place settings and rearrange the dishes. With their backs to the camera, it is impossible to see everything they are doing.
Caleb and Vivian arrive next, pulling back their respective chairs and taking a seat. This is a much easier task for Caleb than for Vivian, with her dress bustle and train to consider. Joyce strides up, offering a hand. When Vivian is settled, Joyce does a final check of the table, facing the actors as she places spoons into the dishes and brushes crumbs from the tablecloth. When she departs, Caleb helps himself to a basket of bread, waving his hands and sending crumbs flying. He must be saying something funny as Vivian throws her head back, laughing. The two actors chat happily as they wait for filming to start.
More members of the crew come in and out of focus, checking make-up, touching up hair, shifting the candelabra. If we must consider everyone who came near the table, our list of suspects stretches long.
Finally, someone holds a clapper board in front of the camera, marking the date, time and take. Caleb and Vivian sit alone at the table, appearing to be a couple deeply in love. Harold speeds through too quickly for me to make out any of the dialogue, but the body language alone tells the story. The lovebirds pick up their enamelled wineglasses, raising their hands in a toast. But before Vivian takes a sip, she fishes something out of the glass with a finger, brushing it off onto the underside of her plate. To give her credit, she stays in character, gamely taking a quick sip before Uncle Harold must have called cut. Could that have been poison?
None of us moves as we speed through more footage. The same people move in and out of frame, resetting the table and emptying and refilling Vivian's cup. After that, it is more of the same.
I straighten up, staring at the table. "What did she fish out of her glass, back at the beginning?"
"No one touched the plates." Harold waves me forward. "Go check her dish and see if there is something on the side of it."
Molly accompanies me to the table, equally interested in what we might find. I pick up the heavy ceramic plate which is set before Vivian's chair. Sure enough, there is a small purple blossom stuck to the side of it.
Molly comes closer, her eyes narrowed. I reach out a finger to flatten it out, but Molly slaps my hand away before I can touch it.
"What is it? Do you recognise it?" I whisper, glancing at her.
Molly covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes open wide with shock. "Monkshood. I'd know it anywhere. My word, the lady will be lucky if it doesn't kill her."
❖
Terrified that I might damage the key piece of evidence, I stand frozen with the plate in my hand. I repeat Molly's words so that my uncle can hear them. "It's monkshood, Uncle Harold. Highly poisonous."
The hall door swings open before my uncle can respond, revealing Trevor Robinson. His expression is as severe as the black suit he's wearing. Even though we're now on a first name basis, I call out his title by mistake. "DCI Robinson, I mean Trevor, thank goodness you're here."
He takes in the scene, Harold, and Kate at the director's chair, staring at a screen, and me at the high table, carefully holding an old-fashioned plate, my eyes wide with anxiety.
He skips the pleasantries and goes right to the heart of the matter. "I got here as quickly as I could. You look like you've found something. What is it?"
Kate steps aside and indicates Trevor should take her place. Harold gives Trevor the background information as he preps the video to play again. When the two men are engrossed in the film, Molly takes the plate from my hands and carefully places it back on the table, upside down so as to not damage the flower. I dash into the kitchen with an uncontrollable urge to wash my hands. I know I didn't come close to touching the plant, but Molly's worried expression has me terrified nonetheless.
I emerge into the hall to find Trevor, Uncle Harold and Kate around the table, staring down at the plate.
Trevor twists around, looking at me. "How do you know this is monkshood, Nat?"
"Err," I stall for time, not having given my knowledgeable pronouncement any thought. Molly whispers in my ear, offering me a lifeline. I repeat her words. "It's a common plant, but highly poisonous. I saw a display about it at the Botanic Garden when we were there filming."
"Are you sure?" Trevor gives me a hard look. "I've got a detective on her way to the hospital. If you are confident in your identification, I'll text her so she can pass along the message to the medical team."
Molly nods furiously, with not a hint of self-doubt in her response. I follow suit, telling Trevor that
I am 100% positive that the purple blossom is indeed monkshood. Kate waves her phone in the air, adding, "I searched up a photo and it does look very similar. Check it yourself."
Trevor takes a quick glance at the phone and the plate and then pulls out his own mobile to fire off a text.
"In the interest of time, I am going to treat this as an attempted murder investigation for now. I'll call for a team to come over and begin gathering evidence." Trevor gives me a pointed look. "Please don't touch anything else. I'm going to need to speak with everyone who was in this room today, and particularly those who had access to Vivian's cup and the table."
Harold groans in misery, "That will be most of the cast and crew."
"Sorry, Harold," Trevor murmurs, patting my uncle awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'm also going to need to know more about Vivian, who got along with her, and who didn't."
❖
As soon as the investigative team clears Kate, she waves a hurried goodbye and departs for her office at the Ashmolean to deal with the work piling up there. H and I are left behind, tasked with the challenge of trying to lift Harold's spirits. We drag him outside, laying claim to the comfortable bench near Molly's vegetable garden. I make sure the police know where we are in case we're needed, but otherwise keep our hideaway a secret. Harold needs peace and quiet.
I sit quietly at his side as he makes the necessary phone calls. First, he rings the studio to give the bad news. Next up are the executive producers who are backing the production. He answers the same questions over and over again. No, he doesn't know what happened to Vivian. Yes, he hopes she'll make a full recovery. Yes, she had a few scenes left to film.
My moral support is barely enough to keep him going.
"Ugh, still one call left to make," Harold groans, stretching his back before hunting up the number. When he stands up to pace around the garden, I nudge H and whisper, "H, I think it is time for us to call in the cavalry."
Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4) Page 9
