Page 34 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

Madeleine spoke again. She looked dog-tired. ‘Someone followed you, James. They established that you were a regular visitor to Tata. Then you went to Russia. There they think everyone is a spy.’

‘We—’ he began, then stopped. Better not mention that they had been arrested and questioned.

Madeleine went on. ‘So they made an example. That’s what we think. Poor Tata was chosen. Or perhaps chosen is too strong a word. They told their operative, “Kill someone,” and he killed her.’

‘It’s happened before,’ Nina said.

‘But – but there’s no reason to think …’ James stammered. ‘It could have been just another vagrant, like the one who found her.’

Madeleine gave him a pitying look. ‘If it were that, her purse would have been taken, her trinkets. She might have been raped. There would have been a struggle, there would be torn clothes or bruises. This was not that. One cut, no other injuries, the body not interfered with, the possessions untouched. So quick no-one would have seen or heard a thing. A professional assassin. The flics know that,’ she concluded, with a contemptuous look. ‘That’s why they won’t investigate.’

‘Oh, God,’ said James.

‘So you go, now,’ Nina said, moving a step closer to James, threateningly. ‘And don’t come here again. Don’t come near any of us. You smell of death.’

James turned and left, walked out into the street with no idea of where to go or what to do. He walked, without seeing where he was going. In his mind, Tata danced across the darkness, the placement of her hands and white arms pure Cecchetti, her hair flying about her face.

The competition for the film rights of Gone With the Wind had thinned out. The front-runner, Jack Warner of Warner Brothers, had just dropped out.

‘He wanted it for Bette Davis,’ Al Feinstein said, ‘but she didn’t fancy the part.

’ He was standing at the window of his office, his back to Lennie, looking down onto the lot, his fists jammed into his trouser pockets, jingling his change.

It was a hot day, and he had abandoned his jacket.

In a blue-and-white-striped shirt and scarlet braces, he looked a yard wide, immovable as an elephant, and oddly festive, like a circus tent.

He swung round. ‘That’s what happens when a star gets too big.

They start thinking they run the show. They forget who made them a star in the first place,’ he said accusingly.

Lennie, accustomed to Al after all these years, didn’t flinch. He had read the book now. ‘Bette Davis wasn’t right for it anyway.’

‘She’s young. She’s spunky.’

‘Not the right sort of spunky.’

‘Yeah,’ Al conceded. ‘ She wouldn’t have mooned over that Ashley feller. She’d have kicked his pansy ass. Well, Jack’s out. Louis Mayer’s out. That leaves us and Fox. Fox has made an offer, but I don’t know how much for. I’ve not made up my mind.’

‘The book’s doing well,’ Lennie mentioned.

‘Mixed reviews. The New York Times says it’s too long.’

‘Reviewers don’t like long books because it takes too long for the reviewer to read them,’ Lennie said. ‘The public don’t mind. More to enjoy.’

‘Hmph,’ said Al. ‘They’re paying three dollars a shot for it – who ever heard of a book costing three dollars?’

‘I think you should make an offer,’ Lennie said.

‘You in?’

‘You know my condition.’

‘Yeah, Rose gets to be Scarlett. Hey,’ Al brightened, ‘Rose – Scarlett. She was pink, now she’s red.

’ Al never made jokes, and was pleased with himself.

He swirled the cigar from the side to the middle of his mouth and grinned round it.

‘Okay, I’ll make an offer. You visiting Rose now? She’s filming in Stage Three.’

‘I know,’ said Lennie.

Rose had returned to work, was doing back-to-back movies with the western star, Hoot Gibson – Al had got the idea of Rose on a horse into his head, and matters had gone from there.

They were shooting The Arizona Ranger at present, a story about a retired ranger and his new young wife: the past returns to haunt him when a cattle-rustler he brought to justice is released from prison, vowing to avenge his brother, who was shot and killed by the ranger in a thwarted raid.

Rose, playing the young wife, had some moving scenes.

It wasn’t a bad part – a little meatier than the usual western offering.

Lennie had resigned himself to looking after her for a while yet – she seemed too fragile to cast off into the wider ocean, but she was definitely better for being at work. He hoped it would not be long.

They were doing the interior filming at the moment, and Lennie slipped into Stage Three and watched for a bit, but it was obvious they weren’t close to breaking, so he slipped out again, lit a cigarette, and strolled along the lot’s main street.

There was always something interesting to see.

He stopped by Stage Two, the largest, and looked in.

There seemed to be some kind of Roman epic building, and he watched for a moment, wondering what it was. He hadn’t heard anything about it.

Then a man who had been bent over some plans at a table just inside the door straightened up, caught sight of Lennie, and came across, his hand out. It was Eric Chapel.

Lennie shook. ‘I didn’t know you were back in Hollywood. I thought you’d abandoned us for Paris and the world of fine art.’

‘I had an exhibition in London cancelled – my work was too modern for them. So I decided to come back to America, where I’m appreciated.’

‘And what are you doing here?’

‘Working. A man has to eat.’ Lennie waved his hand at the set, and Eric went on: ‘The interior of the great Library of Alexandria. Make it look Roman, Mr Feinstein said. People like Roman. But it’s supposed to be Greek, Mr Reznik said.

So, make it Roman with a touch of Greek, said Mr Feinstein.

I love the way that man cuts through all problems.’

‘By ignoring history.’

Chapel shrugged. ‘People don’t go to the movies for history. As long as it’s magnificent, they don’t mind if it’s Greek, Roman or Babylonian.’

‘What’s the film called?’

‘ Alexander the Great. ’

‘Hmm. I wonder why I haven’t heard about it.’

‘I think Mr Feinstein didn’t want you to know, in case you asked for Rose to have the part of Roxane. You are becoming known, my friend, for your advocacy. Producers and directors run away when they see you coming.’

Lennie laughed. ‘I know that’s not true. Producers and directors brush off agents like flies.’

‘It’s just my fun. I see she’s working again.’ He nodded towards Stage Three. ‘A cowboy film?’ he queried. ‘After The Falcon and the Rose ?’

‘A woman has to eat.’ Lennie gave him his own words back. ‘And there are bigger things on the horizon.’

‘You mean Gone With the Wind ? I heard the agents are getting quite ambitious. They have turned down the only offer they had, from Fox, because it’s not high enough. It would be a good role for Rose, if Mr Feinstein was willing to offer enough.’

‘You’ve read it?’

‘Everybody’s read it. A strong leading role, but not sympathique . I suspect the second-lead Melanie character will steal the show. By the way,’ he said, ‘I saw your cousin recently. Mrs Alexander that was – Mrs Morland, as she now is.’

Lennie’s heart contracted merely at the name. ‘In London?’

‘I didn’t go to London in the end. No, I saw her in New York.’

‘What was she doing there?’ Lennie was puzzled.

‘She came over on the Queen Mary . The maiden trip. She was invited as a guest by the shipping company because her factory supplied the linens. Apparently, it was a tradition begun with her father.’

Lennie pushed his hands into his pockets so that Chapel should not see his fists clenched with emotion. ‘I wonder why she didn’t tell me she was coming. I could have come across and met her.’

‘But it was a short visit. Only a week.’ He stopped, turned his head away, cleared his throat. ‘She went back on the next crossing.’

‘I’d still have come. I’d have liked to see her,’ Lennie said. ‘How did you happen to meet her?’ That Polly should have come to New York without telling him was hurtful enough, but if it transpired that she had told Chapel she was coming, had arranged to meet him …

‘It was just chance,’ Eric said, giving Lennie momentary relief. ‘I met her at an art exhibition. I had no idea she was in America.’

‘Did you see much of her?’

‘Quite a bit. She seemed well. It was a pity,’ he said, in a changed tone, ‘that she had to go back. But that estate of hers is a hard master.’

‘Morland Place? Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘She will not leave it again, I think?’ Chapel said.

There was the suggestion of a question mark, but Lennie was too preoccupied to notice.

Why had Polly not told him she was coming over?

Was she angry with him for cancelling his visit?

Had he offended her in some other way? Or – something he could hardly bear to contemplate – had she entered a relationship with a man back home, and didn’t want to tell him?

She knew, of course – he had never hidden it – that he was in love with her.

Did she perhaps think that the less she saw of him, the better it was for him?

Chapel had said something else, that he had missed. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said that it is good to be kept busy. And there is always plenty of work in Hollywood.’

‘Yes, I suppose there is,’ Lennie said absently.

Robert’s nuptials would take place while Richard was on honeymoon, so given that neither would be at the other’s wedding, Richard asked Robert to a bachelor luncheon beforehand.

Robert suggested the Peers’ Dining Room at the House.

But Richard wanted to be on his own ground.

‘No, no, this is my show entirely,’ he said, and took him to the Savoy.

Over the menus, he suggested the most expensive dishes, and ordered a fine claret to accompany the beef Wellington Robert chose.

It was rather pathetic, he admitted to himself, to try to impress, but he didn’t want his brother to pity him.