Classic Calls the Shots by Amy Myers Page A

that.’
    I didn’t ask who Greg was. It had been Rick I spoke to yesterday. But I’d lose all credibility if I queried it. Instead I followed in Bill’s wake as crew and staff scattered to either side like the waves of the Red Sea as he led the way to Greg’s domain on the first floor of the admin building.
    It turned out Greg didn’t have the list; it was on somebody called Jackie’s computer. Bill simply stood there. Greg got the message and the list shot through in double-quick time. He handed it over to Bill who skimmed it, and passed it to me. ‘Roger,’ he reminded me. ‘Now. Talk to Ken later.’
    So off we went again. ‘Tell me how my Auburn got out,’ Bill commanded. I obeyed but he was not that impressed.
    â€˜Good work over that hedge, Jack. But the joker still had to get into the garage to get those doors open.’
    Time to win a brownie point. ‘Not if he went into the garage during the day and unbolted the rear door ready for that night.’
    â€˜Still had to get in through locked doors.’
    â€˜Not that day. Your wife was out with Eleanor Richey in the Auburn.’
    â€˜Ahead of me there.’ He brooded as we crossed the courtyard. ‘So it’s someone here.’
    â€˜Looks that way, but not certain.’
    A piercing look came my way. ‘What are the chances of my getting it back?’
    â€˜Soon or sometime?’
    â€˜Both.’
    â€˜Soon – slim. Sometime – fifty-fifty.’
    â€˜As bad as that? Someone here has it in for the film, that what you think?’ he shot at me. ‘Angie loves that car. Always has. I owned it before I met her, I was driving it during
Running Tides
, but I guess she reckons it’s hers now, not mine. You’d best have a word with Angie. She thinks there’s something odd going on about the cars for this production.’
    â€˜If that’s so, that does affect
Dark Harvest.
Any reason why it should be the target?’
    â€˜No, but I’ve had security tightened. There are other cars to bear in mind – the Bentley, the Horch, the Fiat. Any or all of them could be next to go.’
    That was a looming disaster that I hadn’t thought of, but I did a good job of treating it coolly.
    â€˜Could be,’ I answered, ‘but the joker has made his point with the Auburn, so the others might be safe.’
    â€˜I want that Auburn back,’ Bill said drily. ‘It’s special.’
    I agreed. And there was something else that was special too: Louise. I caught a glimpse of her as we came out of the building, but she didn’t see me. It was all I could do to refrain from rushing after her to demand what Nigel Biddington was doing in her life, but I managed it. In any case, Bill was frogmarching me to Roger’s office so I had no choice.
    His office was beyond the reception desk I’d visited on my earlier visit. Bill strode right by the desk and thumped on Roger’s door. There was no reply.
    â€˜Is he in, Jane?’ he asked.
    â€˜I think so. He was earlier.’
    Bill didn’t deal in uncertainties. He gave her a scathing look and marched into the office with me close behind. The room was empty but the patio doors were wide open. ‘Must be in the garden,’ Bill said briefly, and out we went.
    I remembered that farmhouse garden. It had been a delightful one, even for a boy of my age, perhaps eight or nine. It wasn’t large, but instead of depending on open space for its effects it was an intricate puzzle of intertwining paths, little bridges over a running stream, tiny waterfalls and arches of roses. The farmer’s wife had probably created it as her own private domain and the studios had not altered it, as far as I could see, although it must take a lot of upkeep. Perhaps Roger Ford liked to relax here. I remembered there were a couple of stone seats hidden away in concealed nooks.
    Bill strode to the middle of