Classic Calls the Shots by Amy Myers Read Free Book Online Page A

that there was no way I could have mistaken those signs in Louise – but then, I had to admit, I’d barely met her. How could I know?
    Charden is the far side of Pluckley almost in the Ashford suburbs, and Harry’s home is next door to one of his garages. This one was his original investment, and the house was like his choice of cars: big, monstrous, showy. The only difference is that the cars are classics and the house is modern. Once I’d fought my way through the technology that guards his house from those who would like to put Harry in his place, he greeted me quite affably. I like his wife, but there was no sign of her today.
    Harry, as I said earlier, is first in line to write a cheque for Frogs Hill Farm and the Glory Boot in particular. He too is on the big showy side. He’s also an old rascal, but when the chips are down he can be surprisingly straight. It’s when the wheel’s still spinning that one has to watch him.
    â€˜What can I do for you, Jack my lad?’
    Jack his lad seethed, but I needed his help. ‘Auburn 1935, left-hand drive. Pinched from Stour Studios last Thursday night.’
    â€˜Yeah, I heard about it. Shouldn’t be hard to find, even for you.’ He sniggered.
    â€˜What did you hear, Harry?’
    â€˜Only that it had gone,’ he said hastily. ‘Public knowledge.’
    â€˜Nothing more?’ I was suspicious.
    Harry looked shifty. ‘Not our fault, Jack.’
    I had been right to be wary. ‘
Our
fault?’
    â€˜Security,’ he said carelessly. ‘I’ve got an interest in the firm that runs it. Shotsworth Security. First class, they are.’
    Harry has his fingers in so many pies it’s surprising there’s a crust left anywhere. ‘Well now,’ I said. ‘Fancy that. I’ll pop in and have a word with them. Nothing more you can tell me?’
    Harry seemed oddly relieved. ‘No, and ain’t that odd, Jack? You’d think I would have heard
something
.’
    â€˜That’s goodish news, Harry. If you haven’t, it confirms what I think. It’s a spite job. Someone at the Studios.’
    He blenched. ‘I wouldn’t be sure of that, Jack. Hearing nothing isn’t always good.’
    He actually looked quite worried on my behalf and he was still staring after me with a somewhat puzzled look on his face as I drove away. I had no doubt that he could have told me more, but had no intention of doing so. And that was bad news.
    Next port of call was the hotel where the crew and some of the cast were staying, although not the stars, who were tucked away on the Downs. Some of the crew commuted to the set daily on a need-to-attend basis, as did the extras and a few of the cast. That still left quite a number to be put up locally and Oxley Productions had taken over a big hotel on the edge of Harrietsham, the next village from Lenham on the A20 towards Maidstone. The pleasantly rural name, The Cricketers, refers to the village’s excellent cricket facilities in the early nineteenth century, which had fostered the career of Alfred Mynn, otherwise known as the Mighty Mynn or the Lion of Kent. The name was all that was rural about the hotel, which was large and modern and didn’t even try to look ancient, though it sported a few tubs of flowers around its forecourt.
    My guess was that whoever took the Auburn was probably staying here. Car commuters or local residents would face more problems over planning a theft such as that. From the hotel, however, it would be possible to walk to or from the studios, provided one didn’t mind crossing a couple of fields. That would solve the need to leave one’s own transport in the parking lot at Stour Studios. There was also, I’d been told, a bus that picked up those who needed transport in the morning and returned them at ten p.m. at the end of the filming day. That wouldn’t cover anyone who was working late, which on