Cherringham--Final Cut by Neil Richards

to hurt the film …”
    “Based on what he said, could be anyone.”
    “Right. But what we don’t have is any evidence.”
    “Evidence of … what?”
    “Someone trying to intentionally harm Zoë. All the accidents looking accidental. Now this. People could easily imagine an actress using pain killers. Taking a bit too much. But there is one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    Jack turned, the sun hitting his face, and for a moment Sarah could see the years of thinking, dealing with murder, life … all etched into his face.
    Sometimes she thought of him as a peer.
    But to see that craggy face now, there was no question that time had taken its toll.
    And yet — she had to admit — what a rugged face.
    Could make some lady of the right age … quite content.
    “Zoë had nothing to eat. Just hit the set. And yet somehow the drug got into her.”
    “Yes — and?”
    He raised hand. “But she did have one thing. A thermos. Her herbal tea. Always by her side.”
    “You think someone spiked it?”
    A nod. “Could be. Anyway, I intend to find out.”
    “How?”
    “The set was cleared after the EMT arrived. I suppose there’s a chance the thermos could still be there.”
    “And we do have permission to go there.”
    “Yup. Though I better not let Alphonso see me,” Jack said, grinning. “And Ludo made me think of something that you could dive into, maybe with Grace’s help …”
    Sarah guessed what that could be. She and Jack’s minds had long ago started running down similar paths.
    “What’s the real story behind this film? Who stands to win if it’s made? Is there anyone who could lose? Did Ludo tell us everything he knows … or is there more?”
    “Just what I was thinking,’ Sarah said. “I’ve got some flyers for the St. James’s Spring Fete to finalise, and another go at a wedding invite — tis the season for that as well. But I’ll hit those fast, then into this …”
    Jack smiled at that. “You know, we did say we could … charge for these services. Maybe send a bill to the film company when we’re done?”
    “Good idea. But to tell you the truth — I’d do this for free.”
    “As would I. Okay, partner — let’s see what we can find …”
    And as Sarah got into her car she thought … hoped … they’d find something soon.
    Because it sounded like tomorrow, the star of The Rose of Cherringham would step back into costume and onto the set of what appeared to be one very dangerous film.

11. Missing
    Jack glided through the gates of Combe Castle in the black Mercedes, the glorious finale of Turandot filling the car.
    He pulled over halfway down the hill as that swelling chorus swept him back to the last time he’d seen the opera — with Katherine — back at the Met, just a few years ago.
    Dinner on the Grand Tier … a splurge.
    Champagne during the intermissions.
    Staying in a nearby hotel.
    What a night …
    And now, looking down into the valley — the castle, the sweep of the Thames silver in the afternoon sun — he so wished she could be here with him.
    The way they’d planned it. How it should have been …
    The music stopped.
    He turned the player off, took a deep breath, then flicked the car into drive and carried on down the hill.
    *
    Although the car park was still full of trucks and cars, Jack could see that most of the crew had finished for the day.
    Suits me, he thought.
    Checking that nobody was watching, he headed past the prop trucks — now with their shutters down — and up the side steps of the castle towards the door of the Great Hall.
    At the door, he turned the handle — but it didn’t open. And then a voice behind him:
    “It’s locked, mate.”
    Jack turned — to see Gary at the bottom of the steps, carrying what looked like a small tree on his shoulder.
    “Hi Gary.”
    “You looking for something?”
    “Zoë — she left her flask — asked me to drop by, pick it up.”
    “How is she? Everyone’s asking.”
    “She’s going to be fine.”
    Jack