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

Thursday night, the DOP’s lists had told me, had included crew, extras and a few of the cast.
    I ordered a coffee from reception as the bar was unattended. When it arrived it was lukewarm, but it served its purpose by giving me an excuse to wander round the hotel and stroll out into the garden at the rear. That makes it sound enticingly large, which this garden was not, although it was well tailored. My interest, however, was in the car park that lay behind it. I hardly expected to find the Auburn waiting for me, but there were two lock-up garages which I eyed thoughtfully, even though the chances of the Auburn being inside were virtually nil.
    I looked up at the North Downs rising gently behind the village. From here the Downs look green and pleasant and always remind me of the Psalmist’s: ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my strength.’ I know the Downs well. Narrow lanes that used to be smuggling and trading routes criss-cross them, and in between are hamlets and isolated farms aplenty. Any one of them could be hiding the Auburn. Beautiful though the Downs look, man has tampered with them; they have been fought over, dug up for quarries, and used to hide crime from prying eyes for thousands of years. They are timeless and they like you to know it, so it can be eerie up there as well as beautiful. Despite my addiction to cars, I love walking, but on the Downs, particularly in some areas, I often feel my steps quickening and it seems hard to realize that civilization – if one can call it that – is so near at hand. History and prehistory not only lie here, they shout at you.
    I returned to reception and produced my police credentials. The receptionist was unimpressed – until I mentioned
Dark Harvest
and Stour Studios. It turned out she was a film fan, and it was seventh heaven for her to have the hotel full of crew and staff. Once, she told me with pride, Justin Parr himself had come in and was ever so nice to her. It took a while for me to get her back to solid ground.
    â€˜Do the crew mainly use the bus?’ I asked.
    â€˜Sometimes,’ she said helpfully. ‘It comes back about ten fifteen. The bar closes at midnight, but some of them are still sitting around long after that. I work the night shift every so often.’
    â€˜Do many of them eat here?’ From what I’d glimpsed of the menu I didn’t think that the Roux brothers masterminded the Cricketers’ kitchens, and it was far more likely that the film crew and cast ate at the Studios. The food on film sets is usually excellent.
    â€˜Not often,’ she conceded.
    â€˜Were you working night shift last Thursday by any chance?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Her face lit up as she realized she could help me.
    â€˜Anything special happen that night? Anyone come in during the small hours?’
    She looked at me in wonder. ‘Of course. There’s a lot of clubs in Maidstone.’
    I realized I was going to get nowhere unless I had specific names. One last hope. ‘Do you have CCTV here?’
    She brightened up again. ‘Not here. In the car park.’
    That was something at least. I’d alert Dave to that one. ‘What’s in the lock-up garages?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’ Her face fell. ‘I could get Winston to show you.’
    â€˜I’d like that.’ I smiled at her, and she cheered up. Winston proved to be a lad of not more than twenty and spic and span in a uniform I recognized including the yellow jacket. The same firm as the Studios employed. ‘Shotsworth Security?’ I asked as we set off through the garden. He nodded.
    â€˜Good firm to work for. Why do you want to see the garages?’ he enquired.
    â€˜Part of a major crime investigation,’ I assured him, as he unlocked the first padlock and threw the doors open. All that greeted me was an empty garage.
    Winston thought this very funny. ‘No crime there,