‘Of course. They’re not stupid. Maybe you can keep that sort of thing secret from the nosey parkers of Breckton, but the police can go around and question everyone who knew Charlotte, they can talk to the railway staff who saw her travelling up on her assignations, all that sort of thing.’
‘Yes. Well, if the police happen to tell you who the lover was — or any other useful snippets of information — you will pass them on, won’t you?’
‘If they are the sort of things I think I should pass on, yes.’
Charles had an urge to punch Gerald right in the middle of his formal solicitor’s face, but he decided it wasn’t worth losing friends that way. ‘Maybe I’d better go.’
‘Yes. I am meant to be getting on with my work. I do have clients depending on me, you know.’
‘Yes, I’m sure we can depend that one of them is paying for your time at the moment.’
Gerald didn’t rise to the running joke.
There was a copy of Spotlight in the outer office where Gerald’s secretary Polly sat. Charles picked up Actresses L-Z.
Sally Radford was under Juvenile and Juvenile Character. The photograph showed a strong face dominated by a largish nose. Straight dark hair parted in the middle and looped back like curtains behind the ears. It was one of those faces which in the flesh would either look very attractive or not quite make it. Depend to some extent on the colouring. Beneath the black and white photograph it said ‘5ft. 6in’ and ‘Blue Eyes.’ The blue eyes were unexpected and promising.
There was no name and number for an agent. Just ‘C/O Spotlight’ as a contact. That was revealing to Charles as an actor. Probably meant she had not yet got very far in her career and either couldn’t find an agent willing to represent her until she had more experience or had decided that for the moment she was going to do as well finding work for herself. It also probably meant that she was based in London rather than doing a season out at some provincial rep. If she were out of town she’d want an agent as a point of contact for inquiries.
Polly graciously granted him the use of her phone and he got through. The girl on the Spotlight switchboard said that Sally Radford was likely to be ringing in and could he leave a number where he could be contacted? He explained that that was rather difficult as he wasn’t sure of his movements.
‘Is it important?’ asked the girl, meaning ‘Is it work?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Charles replied, glad that she’d phrased it in a way that enabled him to reply without lying.
‘Okay then, I can give you a number to contact her.’
‘Thank you very much.’
Sally Radford answered straight away. Her voice was husky and well-articulated without being actressy. It confirmed the strength of character implicit in the photograph.
‘Hello, my name’s Charles Paris. I got your name through Spotlight.’
‘Yes.’
He heard the catch of excitement in her voice and realized that that was a rotten way to introduce himself to an out-of-work actress. He had better disillusion her quickly. ‘Sorry, it’s not about work.’
‘Oh.’ The disappointment could not be disguised.
‘No, I’m sorry, it’s a rather awkward thing I’m ringing about. I believe you were a friend of Charlotte Mecken.’
‘Yes.’ The voice went serious. Charles began to think that she was probably a talented actress; her inflections on small words were telling. She continued, not playing it tragic queen, just sad, ‘I thought somebody might be in touch. I suppose I was her closest friend — though with Charlotte that did not necessarily mean very close. Are you police?’
‘No, I’m not actually. I’m a…’ He resisted the temptation to say ‘private investigator’, which was a bit grandiose for what he was doing and probably an offence under the Trades Descriptions Act ‘… friend of Hugo’s.’
‘Ah.’ Again the intonation was informative and reminded him that Hugo and Sally had not got on well.
‘As you probably know, Hugo’s been arrested for murder…’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’m by no means certain that he’s guilty. That’s why I’d like to meet you and talk if I may.’
‘Sure. Anything I can do to help.’
‘Can we meet soon?’
‘Soon as you like, I don’t have a lot happening at the moment.’ The understatement spoke of some weeks of sitting by the telephone.
Charles arranged to go round to her flat in Maida Vale at six and put the phone down with the small satisfaction of having made a date.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sally Radford did look better in colour than in monochrome. The strength of the face and its potential hardness were made less daunting by the piercing blue of her eyes. She was dressed in a collarless man’s shirt with a brown stripe, well-cut jeans and cowboy boots. Almost flat-chested, but very feminine. A hint of some musky scent.
Her flat showed the same kind of style. Obviously rented furnished, but with sufficient touches of her own to take the curse off the Identikit furniture. A Japanese paper kite in the shape of a bird dangled over the fireplace. Tall grasses in the old green bottle balanced the slumped display of books on a low shelf. The decor was minimal, but assured.
The girl emanated the same confidence. Not the go-getting brashness that Charles had encountered in so many young actresses, but an inner patience, an impression that everything she did was logical and right.
Charles found her relaxing. Partly because of her directness, but also because she was an actress, a real actress to whom he could talk about the theatre without fearing the stupid or exaggerated responses he had come to expect from the Backstagers. It was only as he talked to her that he realized how long it was since he had been with real actors.
She sat him down and offered him tea or coffee. He chose tea, which came in a blue and grey earthenware mug. China with lemon. Good.
‘Okay, what do you want me to tell you?’ Down to business as soon as the social formalities had been observed.
‘Let me fill you in a bit on what I’m doing first. I was with Hugo when he found Charlotte’s body…’ He then filled her in on the background of Hugo’s confession and his reasons for believing that it was not necessarily conclusive.
Sally was silent for a moment, then made up her mind. ‘Okay, let’s accept your hypothesis for the time being. What can I do for you?’
‘Just a few questions about Charlotte. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t like Hugo, but I would like to clear up — ’
‘I didn’t dislike him. I don’t think he even disliked me. I think he just resented my friendship with Charlotte. Partly because he was jealous of what he imagined to be our closeness — he was terribly aware of their age difference and was afraid of Charlotte seeing too much of her contemporaries in case they took her away from him — which is ironic, seeing how the marriage turned out. Also I’m an actress and I tended to talk about the theatre. I don’t think Hugo really wanted Charlotte’s career to develop, in case that took her away from him.’
‘That’s rather what I thought.’
‘So he got very uptight if I started talking about contacts or auditions coming up or prospects for jobs or… Though,’ she added on a personal note of bitterness, ‘I don’t think he need have worried if Charlotte’s success had been anything like mine over the last couple of years.’
‘Work not coming?’
She shook her head wryly. ‘You’re a master of understatement. No, I’m not exactly fighting the offers away from my door. I’ve had a few radios, one or two close calls on West End auditions, but…’ She straightened up. ‘But you know all that. It’s familiar country.’
