Jessica, attractive, slim, and articulate, had found herself very quickly out of work after such a promising start. The one highlight of the programme according to Alexander Lewis, one of the directors of the production company, had been the quality of the continuity.
Jeremy Lewis, Alexander’s eldest son, was only two years older than her. They had dated for a while, became lovers, moved in together only for her to move out two months later. No reason other than they both felt they were too young, and they still wanted to play the field. The one result of the coupling was that she acquired a close friend, and he had guided her career since then.
He ensured that her career progressed in a succession of increasingly important jobs, including a stint working with a news unit covering an outbreak of insurrection in the Middle East. She had been enamoured of the job when it was first offered – soon became disillusioned after she had become separated from her team during a demonstration.
She had found herself surrounded by a group of men who forgot what they were protesting about and turned their attention to her. It took a few soldiers and a lot of shots to get her away from them and to the nearest hospital. She decided after the wounds had healed and the trauma had subsided that she was better off back in England.
The series producer’s job had come about as a result of the previous incumbent having a blazing row with one of the directors over editorial content, and storming off the set.
She had been brought in at short notice on the recommendation of her ex-lover, and most, at least the senior production team, agreed that the end result was good, but her dictatorial style was hard to take. She had taken control of the Billy Blythe episode where he met his fate and had done it well – even dealt with Charles Sutherland when he called her an arrogant little bitch. It was clear to her and senior management that she was going to stay, and a two-week stand-in had extended to six months and looked to be continuing for the foreseeable future.
Isaac Cook’s previous question had generated a glowing reference. His next question would be more telling. ‘Miss O’Neill, the actor who portrays Edith Blythe?’ he asked.
‘Call me Jess.’
‘Jess, of course. Marjorie Frobisher, the person, not the actor.’
‘Unless she’s confirmed dead, I have to be careful what I say.’ Her manner had changed. Isaac noticed that she had subtly pulled back from him. Before his earlier question, she had been close, personable. Now, she was professional and distant. The change interested him. He determined to persevere.
‘Jess, you’re right, of course. At the present moment, we’re not dealing with a murder, only a missing person.’
‘But you’re here from the Serious Crime Division. I can’t see why they would send a detective chief inspector purely to find a missing person. It seems incongruous to send someone as smart as you to look for her unless there’s something you’re not telling me.’
‘Orders from on high or I wouldn’t be here. I’ve got enough bodies out there looking for a culprit. Here is the last place I want to be at the present moment.’
‘DCI, I’ll give it to you straight, in confidence.’
‘Sure, in confidence. This is not an official enquiry yet, so what you tell me doesn’t have to be reported. Of course, if it does become official, then what you say may become relevant and on the record.’
‘Marjorie Frobisher was not a nice person. In fact, she was not popular at all with anybody here. Always pushing her weight around, causing trouble, debating her lines, the camera angle, her profile. She saw herself as a prima donna, an A-List movie star, but what was she? Just an actor.’
‘But you said she was brilliant.’
‘Brilliant, of course, but this is hardly Gone with the Wind or Casablanca.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She was at the pinnacle of her career. I know she believed she was destined for greatness in a major movie in America, but that was never going to happen.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Isaac struggled with the answer. Jess had once again relaxed and moved closer to him, disarmingly close. It was always an occupational hazard. Start interviewing a female witness and they were invariably charmed by his good manners and his black complexion.
He was not a vain man who regarded himself as automatically attractive to the opposite sex, but he was not impervious to reality. He remained single, not out of any great desire for bachelorhood but because a succession of attractive women was constantly heading in his direction and his bed. He did not want Jess O’Neill to be one of them, especially if a body was found and the missing person’s case became a murder investigation.
Conflict of interest would have been an issue if one of the witnesses, possibly one of the suspects, possibly the murderer, was sharing his bed as well.
Jess continued. ‘She was ideal for a television drama. For a woman in her fifties she was certainly attractive, but not attractive enough for a major movie, or, at least, not as one of the leading ladies.’
‘That’s a broad statement.’
‘I worked on a major movie here in England. Just one of the script writers, but I interfaced with some big names in the business, Oscar winners.’
‘And?’
‘There’s something about them. They had a presence, magnetism, a “je ne sais quoi”. Marjorie Frobisher didn’t have it.’
‘Is that because they are
