A nearby cupboard provides me with some paper and a pen, which I arrange at the end of the conference table, closest to where Trevor will be positioned. When we're all set, I slip out of the conference room and down the corridor into the dining hall. I quickly find Joyce standing towards the back of the crowd, her attention focussed on her mobile.
H sails down, landing beside me. "Everything okay, Nat?"
"Yes," I whisper, bending over to stroke his back, taking me out of earshot of anyone else. I pitch my voice low and explain, "Trevor and I have been comparing notes. It seems Joyce has had us running in opposite directions. We've set up one of the conference rooms to question her. Stay close. You can come with me."
H waits at the dining hall door as I pick my way across the room. When I get close, I tug on Joyce's shirt to get her attention. "Hi, Joyce, would you have a few minutes to chat? I've got some paperwork to complete for the college before filming wraps up."
"Sure," she says, buying my explanation. She shoves her mobile into her pocket and follows me to the door, tucking her mop of brown hair behind her ear. Her face is half-hidden by her long fringe.
In the hallway, I explain that I've booked one of the conference rooms for our use.
H darts through the door as soon as I open it, scampering under the table, just like a cat would do. I take my seat in front of my stack of papers and motion Joyce to sit beside me.
I tidy up the stack of papers and jot Joyce's name across the top sheet, pretending to take notes. "Thanks for making time, Joyce. The college asked me to check in with all the crew members to gather feedback on your experience here — nothing arduous, they just want to know if the rooms and services were up to snuff. You know how it is."
Joyce laughs, nodding her head. "Sure, Nat. No problem."
I poise my hand with the pen over the page, and then stop and look up at her. "I just realised this is the first time I've seen you since we got the good news about Vivian's recovery. You must be feeling relieved."
"Err, yeah," she says, freezing in her chair.
I blather on, acting as though I don't notice her awkwardness. "You can tell we were all worried sick for her. Everyone is walking around on cloud nine now. I just can't get over it."
"Um hmm," Joyce replies, evading the discussion.
I scoot my chair closer to the table, hunching closer. "Has Harold told you about his plans for Vivian?"
This catches Joyce's attention. Her head snaps up. "What plans?"
I pause for a second, pretending to contemplate whether I should tell her. "I'm sure he'll tell you as soon as the shoot wraps… he has been so impressed by Vivian that he is considering making her role permanent if the show gets picked up for another round of episodes."
Joyce's eyes spring open in shock. "Permanent? He's going to add her to the cast?"
"That's what he said. It's all hush-hush, so don't say anything until he tells you, okay?" I mime zipping my lips shut. Joyce is still flummoxed — too flummoxed. Maybe Trevor is right about Joyce resenting Vivian.
I decide to probe a little deeper. "You were the one to recommend her for the role, right? I thought that was what I heard."
Joyce gives a furious shake of her head, sending her brown fringe flying. Her cheeks blush pink as she replies vehemently, "Absolutely not! I told Harold he should have a small casting call and find an unknown for the role. He's already got two major stars in the show in Caleb and Gideon; he didn't need a famous female actress."
I pull my head back, acting confused. "An unknown? Really? On a show this big?"
"Why not?" she retorts, growing even more heated. "Harold could have given someone their big break. But no, he has to take the easy way out and hire the first person who came to Caleb's mind." She grits her teeth to stop herself from saying anything more.
This is way more than petty jealousy. Based on Joyce's reactions, I'm beginning to think I'm on the right track. However, if I push too hard, I'm likely to send her running. The best approach is to continue playing the role of a confidante, encouraging her to talk without overthinking about her word choice.
"Vivian's dad was a cameraman, did you know that? And Gideon is actually her godfather!"
"See!" Joyce waves her arms around, making her point. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. There are tons of actors and actresses who would do anything to get a break, and people like Vivian stand in their way."
I shake my head, commiserating with her. "You're right, it is so unfair. I'll have to find a way to bring this up with Uncle Harold. Maybe it isn't too late to make a change. You know, if he hasn't offered Vivian a contract."
Joyce reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. Her eyes shine bright as she thanks me for trying.
I glance down, looking morose, but really needing a moment to plan my next move. Something tells me Joyce had a particular person in mind for the role. Did Vivian unknowingly steal Joyce's chance at discovery?
Sure, Joyce has plenty of industry contacts, but who would think of hiring their production assistant to be their supporting actress? However, with the right hair and make-up, and knowledge of an unplanned, secret casting call, could someone like Joyce have a chance to shine? How far would Joyce be willing to go to get her big break?
I lift my head back up and sigh. "To think, I was actually excited for Vivian, but now… well… I sort of wish she'd have dropped out early on and forced Harold to go for your option."
Joyce blows her fringe off her forehead, huffing in frustration. "I thought she would get the hint when we started having all of the problems on the set. Her costume went missing, as did her scripts. Even her footage was lost, but no, she gamely stepped up and offered to reshoot all the scenes. Even calling it a curse had no effect! Actors are known for being superstitious."
"She must have really wanted this role," I quip, to keep Joyce on her roll.
"After the lighting rig collapsed, she had to know she was the target. It practically fell on her head."
"On both of your heads," I correct Joyce.
Joyce waves off my remark. "Hardly. I was completely out of the way, or so I thought. Then Vivian has to turn hero and shove me into the flower bed as she leaps aside."
Completely out of the way? Joyce seems a little too confident on that point. I almost stop and call Trevor in, but something tells me to keep going.
"You must have been livid. There you were, covered in dirt, and everyone rushed to fawn over Vivian."
"I might as well have been invisible," Joyce grunts, her neck and cheeks flushing red again. "Poor Vivian," she mimics in a high-pitched tone. "You could have been hurt, Vivian."
"I bet no one bothered to help you up," I chime in.
"As if. I was furious, and justifiably so. I had to take a walk around the garden to calm down." Joyce frowns, reliving her memories of that day. "Do you know what kind of plants they have in the garden? I found an entire section filled with deadly plants. If I'd face-planted in the monkshood, that would have been the end of me."
"Monkshood? I've never heard of it." I ask, playing dumb.
Joyce gets a faraway look in her eyes, her mind clearly still fixated on the Botanic Garden. "My grandmother had it in her garden in Slovenia. She made medicine out of its roots. She always warned me against touching the flowers. They are highly poisonous, particularly if distilled in any sort of liquid."
I keep my voice low, my tone gentle, probing without pulling Joyce's attention back to the present. "I bet Vivian didn't even recognise it after you dropped it in her cup."
"She fished it out and wiped it on the tablecloth, can you believe it?" Joyce replies before abruptly stopping herself. Her head jerks towards mine, her mouth hanging open. "Wait, what? What did you say?"
I look her straight in the eye. "I said, you dropped the monkshood in Vivian's cup, during her scene in the dining hall. Just like you somehow arranged for the lighting rig to collapse, and pulled numerous pranks on set, attempting to run her off."
&n
bsp; Joyce stares daggers at me, now livid. "All that effort, and for what? Nothing! All she had to do was resign her role and move onto another one of her dozens of offers. It wouldn't have cost her anything! But she was too stupid, or too stubborn." Joyce bursts into tears, hiding her face behind her hands. "It should have been my role. Not hers. I would have shined in an audition, but I never got a chance. Women like Vivian get everything."
The rest of her words are lost in her sobs, as they wrack her body. For the first time, solving a crime doesn't bring me any sort of satisfaction.
Trevor must feel the same. He pushes open the accordion door and steps into the room, his expression filled with regret. This poor girl nearly killed someone, and most certainly ruined her own life, all because she built up a fantasy in her own mind. When Trevor begins reading the police caution to her, H and I exit the room, both of us utterly downcast.
Worst of all, now I have to find Harold and break the news to him. I know this will shatter him. If he'd had any clue of Joyce's dream, he'd have given her a try-out, no questions asked. That is the type of man he is, but somehow Joyce didn't see that.
H flaps his wings, calling my attention. "Yer lucky, Nat. It could 'ave been ya lying in the 'ospital bed, ya know. I wonder why she didn't get mad about 'Arold adding ya ta tha cast."
"Joyce dreamed of the spotlight, H, not a two-bit part playing a middle-aged laundress," I remind him. "Will you come with me when I tell Harold? I think we'll both need some comforting after he hears the news."
"Course, I will, Nat," H reached an arm over and pats my leg. "I'll always be 'ere fer ya, anytime ya need me."
Chapter Seventeen
Uncle Harold calls production to an early stop after I give him the news about Joyce. As expected, he is devastated, but he pulls himself together enough to address the cast and crew.
Based on the chorus of gasps and horrified expressions, it is clear that everyone is as surprised to discover Joyce has been the one behind the production problems this whole time. I overhear people murmuring around me, saying things like, "But I've known her for years!" and "How could she do something so evil?"
Uncle Harold whistles between two fingers, calling for quiet. He holds his arms out wide, waiting for calm to spread through the room. When all is silent, he scans the crowd, making sure to meet everyone's gaze.
Finally, he speaks. "Look around the room at one another. The people gathered here are more than your coworkers. We are a family. We have one shared goal, which is to create an environment where each and every one of us can perform at our best. This is why the news of Joyce has hit us so hard. I imagine that many of you are feeling the same way as I do now — a sense of betrayal and a deep welling of sadness rising from the discovery that one of our family members was working against us."
Harold chokes up, causing me to step forward and wrap an arm around his waist, lending him my strength. When he regains control, he wipes his eyes and forces a smile on his face. "I am calling an early stop today. Like any other family, we need time to come together, to process this, but also to remind ourselves of what we have. I invite you all to join me in Somerset's Junior Common Room, for pizza and drinks. We will pick back up with our final scenes tomorrow morning."
Uncle Harold invites me to come along, but I beg off. As nice as his invitation is, I can feel myself beginning to flag. "I'd rather take it easy tonight and make sure I'm back in form tomorrow for the wrap party." Harold nods his understanding and I say a few quick goodbyes before H and I head home.
Another evening and night of rest does me a world of good. Edward kisses me goodbye in the morning, promising to send H over to Somerset as soon as he returns from his night out with Princess Fluffy.
Sunshine warms my shoulders during my walk to Somerset for the final day of filming. The day promises to be clear and sunny, which bodes well for our wrap party later on. There is a spring in my step, no doubt about it.
As Edward reminded me last night, there is so much to celebrate today. Beadle and Hobbes have been stopped and the magic of Oxford is newly repaired and once again strong. Vivian has made a remarkable recovery and Trevor has taken Joyce off to stand trial for her crimes. Last, but certainly not least, my friends and I have all made it safely to the other side.
Will and Jill are already hard at work when I arrive at the college, making the last-minute arrangements for the wrap party scheduled for the evening.
"I'm here to help! Put me to work wherever you need me," I call over, as soon as I spot Jill sitting at one of the picnic tables in the garden, surrounded by paperwork.
"Thanks, Nat," Jill replies with a smile. "But honestly, we're doing pretty well here. Harold assigned some of the crew to help us out today. Plus the caterers are bringing a few extra hands, as well as the furniture rental company…" She shrugs, unable to offer any explanation.
After mulling for a moment, I hazard a guess. "Everyone wants a chance to see the famous people?"
"That's what I suspect," Will responds, walking over to join us. "We tried to keep the reason for the event a secret, but once word got out about Vivian's poisoning, all our vendors rang up, asking if the film production and the party were connected."
"They were all bound to find out, sooner or later. If it means we get extra staff for the same price, I won't complain. We are expecting around sixty people, last I checked." I stop, struck by a thought. "We should do something nice for the vendor teams. Maybe I can ask Caleb and Gideon to autograph a stack of headshots? Would that work?"
"That would be great, Nat!" Jill agrees. "Will and I were about to review the plan for the evening one last time. Would you like to join us? Make sure we haven't missed anything?"
"I am confident you two haven't missed anything, but I'd love to sit in on your chat if you'll have me. I am really looking forward to seeing what you have put together for tonight. I am sure it will be fantastic."
As expected, Will and Jill have the situation well in hand. The wrap party is scheduled to run from nine until midnight, the late start allowing the crew time to clear out the last of their gear from Somerset once filming finishes. The trailers will be shifted around to create a large clearing in the middle of the rear garden. My assistants show me the space plans, highlighting where the dance floor will be and where the band will sit. Food and drinks will be served buffet style, with plenty of things to nibble upon as the night progresses.
Jill passes me the menu, explaining, "We asked Sam in Craft Services to help us make the final decision on the caterer. After tasting his amazing creations, we didn't want to take a chance on the food not being up to snuff."
"This all looks incredible, mates," I say, glowing with pride. "I have attended a few of Harold's wrap parties over the years, so I can say with confidence that this is going to be his best one yet. You two have organised an incredible event, and accounted for every contingency."
Both Will and Jill blush, but they can't hide their pleasure at my words.
"But tell me, how do you feel about tonight? You've done nearly all of the planning on your own. Have you enjoyed the challenge? Be honest with me."
They nearly trip over one another in their rush to tell me how great the experience has been. They saw the opportunity for what it was — a chance to showcase their skills and prove they are ready to take on more responsibility.
I grin from ear to ear, pleased to see how well my plan to let them test their proverbial wings has worked. "You've got two weeks of annual leave coming up, and I want you to relax and enjoy a well-deserved rest. When you get back, we can start working on a proposal to the university for growing our team and taking on more events each term. Sound good?"
"Absolutely," Will and Jill reply in unison, before breaking into laughter.
As I extricate myself from the picnic bench, Jill gives me a clear set of instructions. "Will and I would like you to attend the party tonight as a guest, Nat. We both want you to get the full experience, and let us show you what we can do. So don't
worry about coming early or helping with the final arrangements."
I narrow my eyes and tilt my head. "Are you sure? You know I don't mind helping out. I even brought my dress with me, so I can get changed here without needing to go back home."
Will and Jill exchange a look, nodding at one another.
"We're sure, Nat." Will insists, leaving me no room for any further discussion.
That settled, I leave them to their work while I track down the film crew. I find them filming in the old library, the old fashioned, leather-bound books providing the perfect backdrop for the last few scenes.
Between lighting and sound techs, the camera crew, Uncle Harold and his assistants, and the cast, the room is nearly at capacity. I skirt around the back of the crowd, making my way over to the vacant information desk which has been pushed aside. I hop up onto it, taking care not to bang my feet against the wooden front. From here, I've got an unobstructed view of the door and the cast filming deeper inside the room.
There is something different about the cast and crew, but it takes me a few minutes to figure out what it is. They are more light-hearted, almost carefree. For a moment, I attribute the change to it being the last day of filming. But soon enough I realise it is more than that. There was a tension there that is now gone.
Crew members smile more, particularly at one another. Harold cracks jokes in between takes. Even Caleb lets his professional veneer slip, revealing his true personality. Whether the crew knew it or not, they've all had a protective shield up since they arrived at Oxford. The pranks and incidents, growing ever more serious, had them all eyeing one another with suspicion. Discovering the identity of the rogue crew member has allowed them to relax.
Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4) Page 23
