“I should have realised. You would have got the job soon after Sabine got hers. Did you double for her in the past, in other shows?”
She shook her head.
“They were lucky to find someone who looked like her and could do the stunts. Stunt people aren’t necessarily stand-ins as well, are they?”
She shrugged. He was getting more of the silent treatment.
“You should get a double fee.”
She made clear with a sigh that this had gone on long enough.
“Do you get on with Sabine?”
“I don’t need to.”
He smiled. “She can be difficult at times, I’m told.”
She looked away. He’d get none of the lowdown from Ann Bugg.
There was movement at the end of the room and several people came in together carrying coffees. He recognised the camera supervisor and two of his team. They must have taken a break from filming. This was confirmed when two actors, male and female, in white dressing gowns, appeared in the doorway. Behind them came Greg Deans with the director, George Spode. They seemed to be looking for a space to occupy and then Deans spotted Diamond and came over.
“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, sunshine. You’ve found Ann, I see, our all-action lady, and I mean that in the nicest way. You’re our secret star, aren’t you, gorgeous?” he said, linking a hand inside Ann Bugg’s arm and standing as close to her as she would allow. She looked even more uncomfortable now. “I don’t know if this gent has introduced himself. He’s a very senior detective, a superintendent, no less.”
“Ann knows who I am,” Diamond said. “We met in the kitchen.”
“You really should give us advance warning of your visits, old sport. I was upstairs filming.”
“No problem. I’m not here to see you.”
“I should hope not. We covered everything I can think of when you last came.” He turned to Ann. “Would you mind, darling? The detective may have something confidential to tell me about his investigation.”
Would she mind? She was only too pleased of the chance to escape. She slipped her arm clear of Deans’s and made a beeline for the door.
“That’s a nervous young lady,” Diamond said. “Has she ever been in trouble with the police?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Deans said. “That’s not nice, if I may say so. In this business it isn’t done to enquire into each other’s police records. It’s highly unlikely she has one, I would say, knowing Ann as we do. She drinks in moderation and has a modest lifestyle.”
“A saint, in other words.”
Deans laughed. “She’d better speak for herself.”
“Not to me she won’t. Is she difficult to bring out in conversation, or is it me?”
More amusement. “You, I expect. Ann is as tough as they come. She’ll cheerfully run through a burning building or jump out of a moving car, but she doesn’t have much to say, I admit. What were you hoping to get from her — if that isn’t an indiscreet question?”
“Her thoughts on the newspaper story. She’s a professional risk-taker and she’s been here from the start, almost. She must remember every one of the incidents listed by the Post. Until I saw her just now I hadn’t thought of speaking to her. She’s easy to overlook.”
“Ah, there speaks a whodunit expert. Find the most unlikely suspect and that’s your perpetrator.”
“I don’t read the things,” Diamond said. “I’m only interested in true crime and then it’s generally obvious who did it.”
“Obvious to a top detective, but not the man in the street like me.”
Deans as the man in the street was a stretch of the imagination Diamond couldn’t make. “Did you come over to tell me something?”
“Not especially, but I might as well ask the question everyone wants to know and doesn’t dare ask. What else have you learned about the great jinx mystery?”
“Nothing worth passing on. We’re working on several lines of inquiry.”
“You definitely believe there’s something sinister afoot?”
“Definitely, no. But the Assistant Chief Constable ordered me to investigate and that’s what I’m doing.”
“For how long? No offence, but my actors feel uncomfortable rubbing shoulders with you and your officers. They’re sensitive creatures, like racehorses, easily unsettled.”
“No need, if they’ve done nothing wrong.”
Deans laughed. “Everyone in this room has done something wrong. I’ve got three penalty points on my driving licence, but it doesn’t make me a serial killer.”
“Is that what you think we’re dealing with?”
“Quite the opposite, love. I used the expression to show you how events get twisted out of proportion. TV production is a minefield and I treat you as a UID. Do you know what that is?”
“Go on. Tell me.”
“An unexploded incendiary device.”
Diamond had been called some things in his time, and at least this was new. “I’d say that’s out of proportion, too.”
“Maybe it was slightly OTT. I’ll put it another way. As executive producer, I have a vested interest in continuity. My job is dealing with the nasties when they occur and making sure the show goes on.”
“Are you calling me a nasty now?”
“Figure of speech, darling. Nothing personal. You know what I’m saying.”
Actually, Diamond felt more comfortable as a nasty than Greg Deans’s darling. He couldn’t get used to the endearments. “Is Sabine herself on your call sheet for today?”
“Sabine? She’s come and gone. She was first up this morning. All she had to do was open the door and catch the other two in bed — an in-joke you won’t understand unless you watch the series.”
“The handyman panics, climbs out of the window and is seen bare-arsed on the wisteria. I was here yesterday.”
“Ha — so you were.”
“I thought today you must have moved on from there.”
“We don’t film in sequence, sweetie.”
Sweetie? Diamond tried to let it wash over him. Thank God none of his team were here.
“That’s all sorted out in post-production,” Deans explained. “This bedroom scene is taking far too long.”
“Perhaps the actors are enjoying themselves.”
“No, no. They hate it. Ask any actor. Anyway, the sex is tame stuff, being a family show. The problem is that George the director thought he’d save time and money by using a real bedroom here with a genuine four-poster rather than build a set at the studio, but we have to be so careful with the furnishings. We can’t climb on the dressing table or back the cameraman into the wardrobe for fear of damaging a priceless Chippendale piece. It’s taking longer than anyone thought.” He sighed. “We’ll be running late tonight.”
“Like the night Jake Nicol was last seen alive?”
“Here we go again. You’re not very subtle, are you?”
“About that evening up at the airfield. What time did you leave?”
“I remember I was late home and got in trouble with Natalie, my partner. She relies on me for her main meal. We finished filming about eight. Everyone left except the grips.”
“By everyone, you mean all the actors and crew?”
“Absolutely. Charmy Down isn’t a place you want to spend your evening in.”
“Everyone including you?”
“I called a wrap and left immediately.”
“How about Sabine? She was still there, surely?”
“In a sense, yes. She went straight into her motorhome.”
“I heard it was still parked there when the riggers left.”
“You’d have to ask her. I’d gone.” He gulped the last of his coffee. “Listen, honey, I must round everyone up and get back upstairs for yet another take of the tumble in the four-poster.”