I do only do one thing, and they may just have had enough of it. If that is the case, then I really have got problems.’
There was a pause. They both drank from their glasses of wine. What Bernard said next took Charles completely by surprise. ‘Which is why,’ he pronounced slowly, ‘I need your help.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I need your help. I need someone involved in
‘What?’
‘Listen, that series is thriving at the expense of my series. The company’s decided they can’t do both. That’s been obvious since the spin-off was first mooted. They can’t give Dob and George Birkitt star billing in one series and then put them back as supports in
‘So you’ve known from the start that they wouldn’t make any more of yours?’
‘No, no, I thought they’d make more with new neighbours. Pay off Dob and George and introduce a new couple. I talked to Rod Tisdale about it and we worked out a few story-lines. But now they’ve cancelled the series flat.’
Bernard looked at the light through his wine glass before continuing.
Charles nodded, waiting.
‘I keep trying to think what could stop it from getting made. The best thing I can think of is if Dob were to die.’
It was spoken very casually, but Charles felt a cold chill. It seemed incredible that he was with the same man whose philanthropy with the spastics he had witnessed a couple of hours earlier.
‘Unfortunately,’ Bernard went on, ‘though she’s the right sort of age to pop off at any moment, she seems remarkably robust. Have to wish for something else. That’s why I’m glad you’re there in the cast, Charles.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I think you owe me a few favours. I mean, I got you the job, after all.’
‘Are you asking me to sabotage the show?’
‘No, no, no. Nothing as dramatic as that. I just want you to keep me in touch with the production, how it’s going, you know. There may be something I can use. I mean, how did this week’s recording go, for instance?’
‘Not very well.’
‘Good. That’s exactly the sort of thing I want to hear.’
Charles tried to recover himself. The new direction of the conversation had come as a shock to him. It had confirmed his conjecture about Bernard’s motivation, but he had not expected such a direct statement of the situation. ‘I suppose then,’ he began slowly, ‘you must have been pretty pleased to hear about Sadie’s death. And Scott’s. Both liable to slow down the advance of the series.’
Bernard nodded. ‘Yes. Except that neither of them slowed it down enough. No, I’m delighted so far. The series seems to have got off to a very unpropitious start. But it’s not enough. It’s still going ahead. I need something a bit more central than those two deaths. A rather more permanent spanner in the works.’
He stumbled a bit over the last sentence and Charles suddenly realised that the star was very drunk. He must have been at the bottle all day, maybe every day since he had heard of his show’s cancellation. That would account for his atypical indiscretion and the strangeness of his approach. But it didn’t explain away his desire to destroy
Simultaneous with Charles’s realisation, the power of the drink seemed to get through to Bernard, who looked blearily about him.
‘Sadie,’ Charles nudged gently.
‘Sadie.’ The name was repeated without emphasis.
‘She came to your dressing room after the pilot. .’
‘Yes.’
‘And she called you a bastard.’
‘Yes.’
‘You had an argument and a little later she fell to her death from the fire escape.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you argue about?’
Bernard stopped nodding and a look of cunning came into his face. ‘I’d complained to the Producer about the allocation of dressing rooms. She regarded this as sneaking behind her back.’
‘I see. And Scott?’
‘Scott drove too fast.’
That was all he got. In a moment Bernard started drinking black coffee, suddenly aware of the state he was in. He clammed up, realising he had said too much already.
But Charles was pleased with what he had heard. There was now no doubt about the strength of Bernard’s motivation and his desire to destroy
All that was needed was evidence to link the two deaths to Bernard. At least now Charles had a clear line of investigation. After rounding off the evening at the Montrose, he went to bed relatively content.
His content was broken the next day at lunchtime when the radio news announced the death of Rod Tisdale, who had been run over by a vehicle which didn’t stop.
Not very funny. Minor accidents are funny, fatal accidents aren’t. Basic rule of comedy.
More pertinently, Rod Tisdale had already delivered the six scripts he was writing for the series, so his removal did not impede the progress of
What was more, he was a person to whom Bernard Walton looked to provide him with a new star vehicle.
And, most galling of all to any theorist trying to see a pattern of murders committed by the star, Rod Tisdale had been killed at nine o’clock the previous evening. At which time the main suspect was sitting in the Greville Club, dining with Charles Paris.
The case was once again wide open.
CHAPTER EIGHT
West End Television Ltd,
W.E.T. House,
235-9 Lisson Avenue, London NW1 3PQ.
18th June, 1979.
Dear Charles,
I thought I’d just drop everyone a note after recent events to assure them that, in spite of problems you all know about, everything is okay on
Until recently we weren’t certain whether Rod Tisdale was going to write the remaining scripts in the series or not. He was undecided about it. Obviously now the decision has been made for us, and I am delighted to be able to announce to you that the rest of the series will be written by none other than Willy and Samantha Tennison! I’m sure you’re familiar with their work from hosts of successful sit coms, but if your memory needs any nudging, let me just mention such series as
Willy and Sam are delightful people and great chums and I’m sure will be absolutely
Thank you, incidentally, for your continuing hard work on the series. We really have got a smashing cast and I
