by L. C. Tyler
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s all. And you’re right. Time’s getting on. I have a meeting to go to myself.’
‘Can’t keep you away, Ethelred, can we? Would you like me to sign you up for our newsletter – all the latest gen on the next series, exclusive interviews with the Gascoyne cast. We’ve got one with April Chambers this month – she plays DC Penny Forsyth – not a major character, but after all these years we’ve done most of the actors people are actually interested in two or three times. So we did her, even though she only gets a line or two per programme, poor cow. She gets written out of the series soon, so it’s our last chance to do her … Oh, don’t tell anyone I said that – it’s not official yet – only heard myself a few days ago. Not sure even April knows yet. I asked her recently what she was doing after she leaves Gascoyne and she just looked completely blank as if she had no idea what I meant.’
‘She may have worked it out now,’ I said.
‘Do you think so? She’s quite thick. She’ll probably need to see it in the newsletter before she believes it.’
‘I assume I can go online and sign myself up for that?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Gloria. ‘It’s very easy. It’s just that I do it sometimes for our older fans who aren’t so familiar with the Internet. They can get confused.’
‘I can manage it,’ I said.
‘You sure? OK, then. You can always ring me if you get into difficulties.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That’s kind of you. But I really only wanted to go through your picture library – I mentioned it in my email.’
‘Yes, of course. We’ve looked some photos out for you. They’re down in the archives. You know you can’t take that coffee in with you? We’ve had so many accidents.’
‘No, of course,’ I said. I gulped what remained in the plastic cup and followed her down a spiral staircase into the very bowels of Oaklawn Studios.
There were two piles of photographs on the table. I flicked through each, as Gloria looked over my shoulder.
‘That’s series two,’ she said. ‘There’s Sergeant Parthenope Williams. She was in just one episode – strangled at the very end of it by the serial killer. If you ever go to a Gascoyne-themed quiz night, it’s worth remembering that. There’s often a question on her.’
‘It’s not something I do a lot,’ I said.
‘Oh, you should. They’re great fun.’
‘Do you have any of Roy Johnston?’ I asked. ‘That was what I really needed.’
‘That’s him in costume as Gascoyne. But he didn’t look like that in real life – not quite as good-looking as that. And they’ve touched it up a bit – taken out a few lines here and there. And an inch or two off the waist, I’d have said. You men can be very vain.’
‘Any of him without make-up? Untouched?’
‘None that we can find.’
‘Can I keep this one at least?’
Gloria hesitated. ‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘You’re obviously a big fan of series one.’
‘Absolutely,’ I said.
‘You could start a Series One Facebook Group. Nobody’s done that yet.’
‘I wonder why not?’ I said.
‘I’d join it,’ said Gloria. ‘That picture there is George Mumbee.’
‘The current Gascoyne?’
‘Of course! I don’t think they’ll replace him in a hurry!’
‘No, I suppose not. Was it intentional to make him look as much like Johnston as possible?’
‘Yes. He was supposed to be the same person. Inspector Gascoyne.’ She explained it slowly, no doubt making due allowance for my age.
I looked at the two photos side by side.
‘You know Roger based Gascoyne on himself?’ said Gloria. ‘In the books.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I suppose I can see the resemblance, having met him. It’s quite strong, actually.’
‘Really? I never quite saw it myself. But some say they can. Roy Johnston was at least the right height and build. George is three inches taller. But not many people remember Roy now, so I suppose that didn’t matter. No, when I said he based Gascoyne on himself, I meant more personality and so on; but I can’t really see that either. Gascoyne is a cantankerous old bastard but nothing like as difficult as Roger could be – though I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Frankly, Ethelred, there were days when I could have cheerfully murdered him myself. You’re wrong, by the way, about him acting in one of the programmes. I’ve checked the records and there’s nothing at all. It’s not important, but just so as you know. I was right and you were wrong. I wouldn’t want you to put things in your book that weren’t true.’ Having set things right, she smiled and offered me a sugar coating to my pill of disappointment. ‘Now, I’ve got some really funny out-takes on DVD – if you’ve got an hour or two to spare, you should take a look at them, you really should.’
I phoned Elsie the following day.
‘It’s a different planet there,’ I said. ‘Gloria actually suggested that I should set up a Series One Facebook Group.’
‘And will you?’ she asked.
I decided to ignore the fatuous reply.
‘Anyway, I’ve got some photographs that may be helpful,’ I said. ‘If you’ve got time I thought we might meet up at a coffee shop and I can show them to you. I could come to one near the office.’
‘Maybe come to the office. I can’t leave it at the moment.’
‘Is the agency that busy?’
There was a long pause. ‘It’s just that I’m about to make an arrest.’
‘At your office?’
‘Yes.’
‘How do you propose to do that?’
She told me.
‘Elsie, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. And one of the most dangerous. And almost certainly illegal. Stay where you are. I’m coming over. And, for God’s sake, don’t try to arrest anyone until I get there.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
But that wasn’t the only thing that happened that morning. No sooner had I ended the call to Elsie than my phone rang.
‘Ethelred, it’s Cynthia here. Ethelred, I’ve been so stupid – and now I don’t know what to do.’
‘Where are you?’
‘London. I’m back at my flat.’
‘Do you know where Elsie’s office is?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then get the Tube down to Oxford Circus and meet me there. We’re gathering all the stupid people together in one place, apparently.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Elsie
‘Whatever,’ I said.
‘It cannot possibly work,’ said Ethelred. He wasn’t actually frothing at the mouth but he was working up to it nicely. ‘I forbid you to do it.’
‘Where in your contract,’ I asked, ‘does it give you authority to forbid me to do anything? Nowhere. That’s where. I, conversely, have you tied in more legal knots than you could count. So I hereby forbid you to forbid me. Legally I can do that. Check your contract.’
‘Where does it say that?’ asked Ethelred.
‘Section seven, para twenty-three,’ I informed him.
‘I bet it doesn’t.’
‘Do you have a copy of your contract to hand?’ I asked.
‘It’s in Sussex.’
‘Well, mine’s here and that’s what it says.’
I checked his mouth. Mmm … yes, the first signs of froth.
‘Look, Elsie, you can’t gather all of the suspects together in your office. It doesn’t work.’
‘Obviously. I know that. After last time. So, I am gathering just one suspect together.’
‘Who?’
‘I can’t say. Not until he or she arrives. I have, as I explained on the phone, written to all of the main suspects – plus one or two others just to be sure. I have told them that I know their dirty little secret and that they should meet me here at three o’clock. Failure to do so will result in my going to the police with the evidence I have. Most of the
people receiving the letter will be innocent. They will assume that they have been included in the circulation list by accident. They will recycle the letter in a responsible manner and think nothing more of it. But the actual murderer will know they have to act swiftly. And at three o’clock precisely they will come through that door and I – or if you prefer we – shall arrest them … What?’
Ethelred was looking less impressed than I had hoped.
‘Who have you sent it to?’ he asked.
I ticked them off on my fingers. ‘Lord Davies – don’t pull a face like that; Ogilvie the lawyer – that face is no better than the last one; Dr Slide – the wind may change, Ethelred, and you’ll be stuck with it. Then I thought I’d include Lucinda because you never know. Oh, and Cynthia’s mother on the grounds that it’s always the one you least expect. And she doesn’t get out much, so she’ll probably enjoy the trip up to London. I’d have sent an invitation to Roy Johnston but I don’t know where he is. My theory is, however, that it’s one of the other four.’
‘What about George, Vane’s agent?’
‘He has witnesses he was elsewhere. Anyway, it goes completely against the Agents’ Code to murder clients. It is specifically forbidden, in fact, however annoying the author in question happens to be. Whenever we’re tempted, we remember the Code and regretfully desist. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of writers out there today who are alive only because of the precise wording of the Agents’ Code.’
‘And Cynthia?’
‘I couldn’t contact her, but you say she’s coming anyway. When you think about it, she’s a bit too obvious a suspect, but we shouldn’t rule out a double bluff.’
Ethelred looked at me as if I was an idiot and checked his watch. ‘We have twenty minutes to prevent a complete fiasco,’ he said. ‘I would suggest you email all four of your suspects and tell them that it was a stupid joke and that there is no need—’
There was a knock on the door.
‘It looks as if he or she is early,’ I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Elsie
The door opened. It was Tim.
‘I thought I ought to come and give you support,’ he said. ‘Hello, Ethelred. I didn’t know you were joining us.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Ethelred replied. ‘Could you please talk some sense into our agent?’
‘It seemed a very good plan to me,’ said Tim.
Ethelred made a strange gargling noise and said something about it being great we’d managed to get all of the idiots together in one room.
‘Ethelred’s just been over to Oaklawn Studios,’ I said.
‘That’s nice,’ said Tim.
‘He’s going to start a Series One Facebook Group,’ I said.
Ethelred made another spluttering noise.
‘Well, you can count me out of that. I have no wish to have anything to do with Roy Johnston. Is there any coffee?’
I summoned Tuesday, who had already anticipated my request. She placed the coffee pot and cups on the table in front of us.
‘Ethelred’s starting a Series One Facebook Group,’ said Tim.
‘That’s nice,’ said Tuesday.
‘I am not starting any sort of Facebook Group,’ said Ethelred. ‘I don’t do Facebook.’
‘I could show you how,’ said Tuesday. ‘Older people often think it’s difficult, but it’s not really.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ethelred. ‘I’ll take your word for it. What I was doing at Oaklawn was in fact to get hold of a decent photograph of Roy Johnston.’
‘Why?’ asked Tim. ‘You’ve got a perfectly good one already on the wall of the flat.’
I looked at Ethelred and he looked at Tim and Tim looked at both of us. ‘What?’ said Tim.
‘Which picture?’ I asked. But I knew the answer already.
‘The one on the wall. The one that Roger put there in place of my award picture. The one I got him to take down years ago when I first moved in. I didn’t want his former boyfriend looking down on me the whole time.’
‘But that’s Roger in the picture,’ I said.
‘Roger? It was clearly taken on set. In costume. Roger never acted in any of his programmes.’
‘But Roger told me that it was him. That he’d had a walk-on part …’ I said. Or had I told Roger that it was him and he’d gratefully accepted the suggestion? Yes, maybe that.
‘Gloria always denied it,’ said Ethelred. He seemed a bit smug for some reason.
‘But he had the scar at the corner of his mouth,’ I said. ‘That’s why I was so certain that Roger Vane was Roger Vane. The scar proved it. Small, almost unnoticeable scar but identical. I told you about it. Why didn’t you tell me if I was wrong?’
‘You said some old photo of Roger looked like the man claiming to be Roger. You seemed very pleased with yourself. You never mentioned a scar.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘Roger never had a scar at the corner of his mouth,’ said Tim. ‘Possibly Roy Johnston did. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed Roy Johnston. Actually I never met him at all – unless you’re saying it was Roy Johnston who threw me out of the flat.’
There was a long silence.
‘But you must have seen the scar on the man claiming to be Roger,’ I said.
‘Elsie, I was with him for ten minutes, most of which time I was chucking things into a suitcase. You said the scar was almost unnoticeable and you expect me to spot it instantly under circumstances that were, frankly, fraught.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘it would certainly have saved us a lot of time if you had bothered to check just one small thing.’
‘So,’ said Ethelred. ‘The mystery of Roy Johnston’s disappearance is explained. Shortly after arriving here, he became Roger Norton Vane. Gloria said that Roger and Roy Johnston were a similar build. She also commented to me how much alike they were generally. I’ve only ever seen photos of Johnston on the set, in make-up, but it’s clear that they resembled each other facially – to some extent, at least. Johnston knew Roger well – as an actor he would have been able to reproduce Roger’s accent and tone of voice. As an actor he would have experience in doing himself up to look like somebody else. As Roger’s former partner he would have been able to study his character in some depth, would have known as much about him as almost anyone alive. We know that Johnston had left Australia shortly before the memorial service – an event that was widely publicised – saying that he would soon be rich.
‘So, he appeared dramatically at the church and then blustered his way back into his flat – behaving, oddly enough, exactly as Roger would have done. He took over Roger’s life – his home, his royalties, his suits – though it would seem he went out and bought new shirts, pants and socks. I think I might have done that too. It’s funny how so many small details – the new socks, for example – now suddenly make complete sense.’
‘Hold on,’ said Tim. ‘I know Elsie was convinced by the scar, but that wasn’t what swung it for me or Cynthia. Ethelred went and asked him a whole series of questions that he got right. How on earth was Roy Johnston supposed to know what had happened in Thailand twenty years ago. Or known that Cynthia’s nickname was Pobble?’
‘Unless,’ I said, ‘there was a spy in the camp.’
Ethelred looked at his watch. ‘Important though this is, it could be that we now have only fifteen minutes until the murderer arrives,’ he said. ‘I really think you should phone the people that you wrote to …’
There was a knock on the door.
‘Do any of you have a gun?’ asked Tim. ‘I think we need some way of protecting ourselves.’
‘Clearly not,’ said Ethelred. ‘And I think I know who the spy in the camp was.’
The door opened and Cynthia came in. She looked around. ‘I really do owe you all an apology,’ she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Elsie
Ethelred went out and found another chair for Cynthia. He’s a bit of a gent. The office was, I had to
admit, getting quite crowded now. I was in my chair behind my desk. Tim was in one of the two seats on the far side of the desk. Ethelred had been in the other one. The murderer, when he arrived, would have to stand – squeezed between the desk and the wall, probably – as we explained to him how we’d tracked him down and what we proposed to do next.
Tuesday brought more coffee and another cup. ‘I thought there would just be two of you at this meeting,’ she said. ‘Is that all now?’
‘Hopefully one more,’ I said.
Tuesday looked doubtfully round my office. ‘Shall I move you all to the meeting room? Robin’s practising his book fair presentation in there, but I could get him out if you want.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘One more, absolute tops.’
‘Can I make a note of his name?’ asked Tuesday.
‘He’ll introduce himself when he arrives.’
‘So, you don’t know who you’ve invited?’ Tuesday gave a nervous laugh. ‘Or are you just not telling me?’ I was often, in her view, kind of weird, but not usually quite this weird.
‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘One or other of those things. Now, if we could have a plate of biscuits, we’ll continue.’
Ethelred returned with a chair from the meeting room and we all settled down again.
‘So,’ I said, in my most businesslike manner, ‘I think everyone at this meeting already knows each other. Or perhaps we didn’t know each other as well as we thought? OK. Let’s do some introductions. On my right, Ethelred, the mid-list author and Facebook Group administrator. Then there’s Tim, Roger’s very unobservant former partner. And on my left, Cynthia, the traitor in our midst. Is that everyone? OK, introductions done. Thank you all for coming. And now it’s over to you, Cynthia. How did you stitch us all up?’
Cynthia put down her coffee cup, not an easy task with three other cups and two coffee pots already vying for space with my paperwork and a couple of ironically cuddly toys.
‘As you know,’ she said, ‘I was never convinced that the man claiming to be Uncle Roger actually was him.’
