The eighty-five-year-old was doing a leisurely backstroke while Antoinette had obviously just completed her workout and was emerging from the pool. She gave me – or more probably Oscar – a friendly wave and came over to where I was standing, keeping my hand on Oscar’s collar to prevent him from jumping into the pool. As the party was due to start in less than an hour, the last thing I wanted was a smelly, wet dog to further sour the already strained atmosphere among at least some of the guests.
‘Hello again, Dan, and hi, Oscar. Have you tried the pool? The water temperature’s perfect. Isn’t this an amazing place?’ Without Freddie Baker beside her, she looked and sounded decidedly more relaxed and happy.
I nodded in agreement. ‘I can’t think of many more charming places to have a party, although not everybody seems to be enjoying it.’ The atmosphere over lunch hadn’t improved, in spite of further culinary delights produced by Valentina so, seeing as Inow had Antoinette to myself, I thought I might do a little bit of investigating. ‘It’s a pity Freddie and Jack Sloane don’t get on. Is that recent, or have things always been strained between them?’
She cast an apprehensive look over her shoulder, but Norman was still in the pool and nobody else was to be seen. ‘To be honest, Freddie doesn’t get on well with most people.’ She took another wary look around. ‘I’m not sure that he likes anybody here.’
‘Apart from you, of course, Antoinette.’
‘Oh, yes, there’s me.’ The deadpan expression on her face and her lacklustre tone when she said it confirmed my suspicion that all was not well in this relationship either.
‘Presumably, he likes Alice, and she likes him, otherwise he wouldn’t have come, would he?’
For a moment, it looked as if she was going to say something more, but then she must have thought better of it and just nodded. ‘I don’t think he knows her that well. I get the feeling he only really came here because he knew there were going to be some big-name producers among the other guests, and he’s always on the lookout for potential investors in his projects.’ After another glance around, she added in a low voice, ‘The fat man wasn’t so far off the mark when he said Freddie would soon be going round knocking on doors for work. He has a habit of upsetting everybody he meets and, although he’s a very good director, he’s been blacklisted by a number of high-profile studios.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Desmond Norman heaving himself out of the pool. Antoinette must also have noticed as she gave me a little nod of the head and went off. I turned away, and Oscar and I continued our leisurely stroll, my mind churning. The more I discovered about this selection of guests, the more convinced I became that Alice would appear tohave gone out of her way to invite the most ill-assorted group of people she could possibly have assembled. I felt sure she was an intelligent woman, so I couldn’t help asking myself why she had done this. It seemed so senseless.
I explored the possible reasons she might have had, and not many presented themselves to me. First was the possibility that she was so naïve that she genuinely thought these people loved her, but I instantly dismissed that as a non-starter. I had no doubt that, after over forty years in the movie business, she would have developed keen antennae when it came to other people and their feelings towards her. If I discounted this hypothesis, what was I left with? Did she have a dark, malicious streak in her that had made her put together a group of people who disliked each other, so that she could watch them fight amongst themselves for her sport? Once again, I dismissed this idea. Of course, she was a very talented actress, and the impression I’d gained of her so far might have been an elaborate act, but I hadn’t sensed anything of the kind, and I normally pick up on that sort of thing.
Ruling out the other alternative that she was going gaga and was unaware of what she was doing, I struggled to come up with an explanation until my thoughts returned to the manuscript I’d seen lying on her desk with the titlePayback. Could it be that she had deliberately invited people who would figure in a tell-all exposé? Was she going to break the news to them that their reputations were about to be trashed? But, if so, how was she planning on doing this and why? Surely if she expected them to be annoyed, furious even, it made little sense to bring them here to her home. Of course, maybe I’d got it wrong, and what she was actually writing was a thriller. If so, I could see the logic of bringing together a group of Hollywood’s movers and shakers – even if a number of them weren’t her favourite people – in thehope of convincing them that her work was going to be the next big blockbuster.
I glanced down at Oscar, who was happily sniffing a statue of Venus – probably with the intention of marking it so that other dogs would know that he claimed the island as his own. I, too, knew that I wanted to do some sniffing about and I wondered which of these scenarios might be behind Alice’s invitations, or if there was something I was missing. Somehow, I had the feeling the big event tonight might answer that question. When Alice had told me the evening would have a twist in the tail, had she been referring to this? Maybe tonight’s murder mystery would turn out to be the prequel toPayback.
It promised to be an uncomfortable evening – and not just because I was going to be spending it in those damn blue tights.
13
SATURDAY EVENING
Deliberately avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, I donned my costume – including the grotesque mask – and tied the big, red ribbon onto Oscar’s collar. I left my room at six with him at my side giving me suspicious looks once more. I went along the terrace to the pergola where I found that I was the first guest to arrive. The only other person out there was Diego, dressed in his medieval servant costume, preparing a table full of bottles and glasses. When he saw me, he beckoned me over.
‘Ciao, Dan. You look good in your costume. How’re the tights?’
I grimaced. ‘Don’t ask. I don’t suppose you’ve got a beer, have you?’
He smiled and reached down to a cool box on the floor at his feet. ‘I thought you might ask me that, so I managed to find you an authentic Renaissance-style beer mug.’ His smile broadened. ‘Or at least a reasonably convincing imitation.’ He opened two bottles of beer and emptied them into the sturdy-looking pewter mug, roughly the size of a pint glass. ‘Here you go,cin cin.’
I toasted him and raised the mug to my lips, inadvertently immersing the hooked nose of my mask into the beer as I did so. Isnorted, wiped off the froth and pushed the mask up onto my forehead before taking a long, very welcome draught. I glanced at my watch, idly wondering if I should have taken it off for the sake of historical authenticity. ‘Ten past six and nobody else here. Did I get the time wrong?’
‘No, six was what Miss Graceland told everybody. I dare say they’ll start arriving soon – those of them who wake up in time. They got through a lot of wine at lunchtime. Did you see how much the fat man drank?’ There was awe in his voice. ‘Two and a half bottles of Barolo, followed by a huge glass of grappa, and he still managed to get up and walk after that. If I drank that much, you’d have to pump me out – assuming it didn’t kill me.’
I grinned. ‘I’ve a feeling that Mr Sloane is going to cost Alice a fortune in alcohol this weekend.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t think she noticed, and she probably didn’t care. She had enough trouble at lunchtime today as it was.’
‘Trouble? What sort of trouble, an argument?’ He nodded and I shook my head ruefully. ‘How weird. I was sitting at the opposite end of the long table, but surely I would have spotted something like that.’
‘Two arguments, to be precise. They came right at the end of the meal, and a number of people had already left. I think it might have been after you’d gone out to give Oscar a walk. The first row was between Miss Graceland and Foster, the actor with the perfect teeth.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I’ve never seen teeth that white. I wouldn’t be surprised if they glow in the dark.’
‘What was the row about?’
‘I’ve no idea. My English isn’t too good, and they were speaking very fast. I think it was about something that happened in the past, because he kept repeating the words “a long time ago”. It only lasted a minute or so, but voices were raised on both sides.’
This chimed with what Gupta and Rodriguez had told me about the brief affair between the two actors, culminating in the explosive conclusion. But that had been over twenty years ago, and I was surprised that relations between Alice and Foster hadn’t thawed in the meantime. But apparently not.
‘And the other argument? Who was that with?’
‘That was the old man, the one who smokes those torpedo-sized cigars. I didn’t hear anything of what was said, but he was the last to get up from table and as he passed Miss Graceland, he stopped and said something to her under his breath that must have really hurt. She jumped to her feet and, for a moment, I really thought she was going to slap him but, instead, she just gritted her teeth and the two of them had what looked like a really nasty row, all conducted sotto voce. I might not have heard what was said, but it looked like one hell of a bust-up.’
