2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink Read online

'Exactly. And I been reading up about her. She sounds a tartar - and real crazy about that house. Then there's a daughter, Lady Geraldine. She's a live wire, always in the gossip columns. Very much a mind of her own, too. That's the first point. Second is that I gotta check the house for suitability before actually committing myself to shooting there: make sure there are no snags — things that don't show up in the photos. So what I thought I'd do is write and ask if I can come and make a feasibility study for a day or two, bringing my leading man, Rex Ransom. That should make sure the Earl don't say no out of hand. Then if the place does turn out to be OK, it'll be your job to put all the famous Ransom charm into persuading the old dame to agree. OK with you?'

  'Sure it is. It'd be dandy to stay in a genuine old English country house. Should be real relaxing.'

  * * *

  'Good gad!' Lord Burford goggled at the letter he was holding.

  Lady Burford glanced up sharply from The Tatler. 'What is the matter, George?'

  The Earl gazed at her, wide-eyed with excitement. 'Rex Ransom wants to come here?'

  'Who?'

  'Rex Ransom, Lavinia. The film star!'

  'Oh.' The Countess was unimpressed. 'Why?'

  'To look over the house.'

  'What's to prevent him? Plenty of open days. I suppose he can afford two shillings.'

  'You don't understand. He — or rather his producer, this fellow who's written the letter, er, Haggermeir - wants to come here with Rex and go all over it, examine it at length.'

  'What on earth for?'

  'You'll never guess.' Lord Burford seemed to have swollen visibly with pride. 'It's a tremendous honour.'

  'Oh, I suppose he wants to make one of those absurd talkies here. Really, the insolence of these people!'

  The Earl's jaw dropped. 'Eh?'

  'Naturally, you will write and tell him that it's not convenient.'

  Lord Burford gave a squawk of dismay. 'I can't do that! Turn away Rex Ransom? When I've just been made Honorary President of the Westchester Film Society?'

  'Oh, dear. Well, I suppose if you want the man here you'll have to have him. But only him. We can't have this Hog man crawling all over the place, treating it like some second-rate film studio.'

  'I can hardly write to the chap and say Ransom can come but not him. It would be most insultin'.'

  Lady Burford sighed. 'I suppose you're right. But you must make it clear that filming here is out of the question.'

  'Yes, yes, of course, my dear. I will - er, after they arrive.'

  * * *

  The telephone buzzed in Cyrus Haggermeir's suite at the Ritz Hotel in London. He lifted the receiver. 'Yep?'

  'This is the desk, sir. There is a — a gentleman wishing to see you. A Mr Arlington Gilbert. His business relates to your forthcoming motion picture.'

  'OK, I'll give him five minutes. Send him up.'

  Three minutes later there was a loud and peremptory rapping on the door. Haggermeir opened it. Then he blinked. The man standing on the threshold was over six feet tall and of considerable girth. His hair was long. He was wearing a tartan cloak over a black and somewhat grubby polo sweater; black and white check trousers; and on his feet sandals over mauve socks. In his hand he was clutching a newspaper.

  For a moment Haggermeir stared at the visitor, then said, 'Er, good day. Mr Arlington Gilbert?'

  'I have that honour.'

  He had a deep and plummy voice. Then, uninvited, he stepped into the room, almost forcing Haggermeir to stand aside. With a swirl of his cloak he swung round and gazed at Haggermeir. His expression was of a man looking at some interesting but rather repulsive exhibit in a museum.

  Haggermeir said, 'I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure to know—'

  'A pleasure it most certainly ought to be. But I'm afraid you are not going to find it so.'

  'Mr Gilbert, if you could kindly state your business—'

  'My business, sir, is this.' Gilbert thrust the newspaper under Haggermeir's nose. It was folded to show a photo of a smiling Rex Ransom, surrounded by autograph-hunters. The caption beneath it read:

  Rex Ransom, the American film star, who arrived in London yesterday. Mr Ransom and the well-known producer, Mr Cyrus Haggermeir, are in England to make arrangements for their next picture, a Civil War drama to be called 'The King's Man.'

  Haggermeir said: 'Yes, I saw that. What about it?'

  'What about it?' Gilbert cast his eyes heavenwards. 'Jupiter's teeth! It may interest you mildly to know that this film you so blithely announce you are going to make is my property. I own the copyright. I wrote it.'

  Haggermeir snapped his fingers. 'Of course! Arlington Gilbert! I thought the name rang a bell.'

  Gilbert gave a snort of disgust. 'Absolutely typical. One sweats blood creating a work that they tell you is 'great' or 'the cat's whiskers,' and which is then locked away for years in some vault. When they do eventually deign to produce it they've forgotten your very name.'

  'Well, it has been a long time. And I don't think we ever met—'

  'True. You sent your underlings to deal with me - assistant producers, associate producers, lawyers - all the faceless men. But I fought them all and I retained the copyright. What's more, I obtained a contract which states that any rewrites necessary shall be done by me.'

  Haggermeir scratched his chin. 'Well, it seems our script department may have goofed on this, and I'm sorry you had to read about it in the papers.'

  Gilbert waved the apology aside. 'I am interested in only one thing: how much are you going to pay me for adapting the scenario into a talkie?'

  'Ah.' Haggermeir looked a little embarrassed. 'Well, that's something that'll have to be discussed. Will you take my word that—'

  'No. I won't take your word for anything, Mr Haggermeir. I want everything down in black and white.'

  Haggermeir flushed. 'I don't know what you expect to gain by insulting me—'

  'Insult you, sir?' Gilbert drew himself up to his full height. 'How is it possible for me, a creative artist and therefore one of the noblest of earth's creatures, to insult you who by definition are a villain of the deepest dye?'

  'Look here, you've no right to say things like that—'

  'I have every right. I have learnt from bitter experience that every film producer - and every theatrical impresario, publisher, editor, literary agent, accountant, lawyer and tax inspector on earth - is a rogue and a vagabond. A bloodsucker. A leech.'

  Thoroughly angry by now, Haggermeir stepped forward and jabbed a finger into the other's chest.

  'Now, get this, Gilbert—'

  'Sir, my friends call me Arlington. Others call me Mr Gilbert.'

  There was a pause. Then Haggermeir chuckled. 'If your writing's as plagiaristic as your speech, you got a fat chance of doing the script. That was a straight lift from Oscar Wilde.'

  For the first time Gilbert looked disconcerted. Haggermeir spotted this. 'Oh, I read sumpin' else besides screenplays and balance sheets.'

  'Congratulations. Now to revert: my fee.'

  At that moment a knock came at the door. With some relief, Haggermeir called, 'Come in.' Gilbert swore.

  The door opened and the head of a middle-aged man peered diffidently into the room.

  'Yeah?' Haggermeir barked.

  'Oh.' The head's eyes blinked. 'Mr Haggermeir?'

  'Yes, yes.' Haggermeir spoke irritably.

  'Ah, capital. Er, spare a moment?'

  'I'm very busy. What's it about?'

  'Well, I wondered if I could talk to you about—'

  'Well, come in, man! Don't yell at me from the doorway.'

  'Oh, thanks.' An untidily dressed body followed the head into the room. 'Sorry to interrupt, my dear chap, but I wanted a word about The King's Man!

  Haggermeir groaned. 'Not another one! I suppose you wrote it, too, did you?'

  'What's that?' Gilbert gave a roar. He stepped menacingly up to the newcomer. 'Let me tell you that I am the sole writer of The King's Man, and—
'

  'Really?' The other beamed and held out his hand. 'I'm delighted to meet you. I suppose that means you'll be coming down to Alderley, too, will you?'

  Gilbert stared at him. 'Eh?'

  Haggermeir goggled. 'Who - who are you?'

  'Oh, sorry. Should have introduced myself. I'm Burford.'

  Haggermeir's jaw dropped. 'Earl Burford?'

  'Of, as a matter of fact.'

  'Uh?'

  'Earl of Burford's the correct form. Not that it matters.'

  'Oh, my lord, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Do forgive me.' Haggermeir was red-faced. 'Please, sit down.' He ushered Lord Burford to a chair. 'Will you have a drink, sir?'

  'Ah.' Lord Burford thought for a moment. 'I'll have a bourbon old fashioned.'

  'Oh, I'll have to send down for that. I only have Scotch.'

  'No, no, Scotch and soda will be fine.'

  'Sure?'

  'Quite. Er, prefer it, actually. No offence. Just thought, you being American . . .' Lord Burford tailed off.

  Gilbert said: 'Whisky'll suit me, too, thanks - Cyrus.'

  Haggermeir, crossing to a makeshift bar, cast him a dirty glance.

  Gilbert flopped into a chair near the Earl's. 'Why should you expect me at Alderley, Lord Burford?'

  'Well, as the producer wants to look over the place to see if it's suitable for filming, I assumed the writer would want to, as well.'

  Gilbert nodded, as though a light had dawned. 'Ah, yes, of course -1 will want to. I was just surprised you, a non-professional, realising the necessity of that. Cyrus and I were hoping you'd include me in the invitation. That's settled, then. Now, let me see, Cyrus, you're going down when?'

  Haggermeir came hack carrying two glasses. He looked grim. He handed one to the Earl and the other to Gilbert, saying, 'Thursday. But on second thought, I'm not sure it's necessary for you to come - until I've decided if the place is suitable.'

  'Oh, nonsense. If you do decide on it, the script will need a lot of adaptation. I'll have to start the rewrite as soon as possible.' He downed his whisky and got to his feet. 'So Thursday it will be. I'll make my own way down, Cyrus. See you there. Thanks for the invitation, Lord Burford. I should be there for lunch. Bye.' And Gilbert ambled from the room.

  Lord Burford said: 'Interestin' feller.'

  Haggermeir grunted grimly.

  'Unusual personality. I didn't catch the name.'

  'Arlington Gilbert.'

  'Oh.'

  'Earl, it's an honour to have you here, but is there anything you particularly wanted to talk about?'

  'Well, just this: it's my missus. She isn't at all keen on having this picture shot at Alderley. Didn't want you to arrive assumin' everything was cut and dried.'

  'Oh, I won't be, my lord. I anticipated that situation. Now, firstly, so her ladyship doesn't object to my looking over the place, I recommend you tell her I want to do it because I'm thinking of building a replica of Alderley in Hollywood. It's quite true. If it turns out it's impractical to shoot at Alderley, I may well do that. Then, if I do find the house is OK, I suggest we leave the next stage to Rex. He has a very persuasive manner.'

  'Ah, I see.' The Earl looked knowing. 'Oh, that's splendid. Right ho. Er, he around, by any chance?'

  'No, afraid not. He's out seeing the sights. Naturally, we didn't expect you to call . . .'

  'Course you didn't. I'll see him Thursday. Must say it's a real thrill.' He stood up. 'Better be toddlin' off now.'

  Haggermeir got up hastily. 'Well, my lord, it's been a real pleasure. And I do apologise for that little misunderstanding.'

  'Think nothing of it. Sort of thing that's always happenin' to me. Lavinia says I lack an air of authority. Funny name, that.'

  Haggermeir looked blank. 'Lavinia?'

  'No, no - Arlington Gilbert. Backwards. Like that singer chappie.'

  'Er, I'm afraid I don't—'

  'Feller who sings with the MacDonald gal. Always think he ought to be called Eddy Nelson. Well, toodle-oo, my dear chap. Till Thursday.'

  Chapter Three

  The telephone rang at Alderley. The Countess, who happened to be near, answered it. Alderley One.'

  A woman's voice said, 'Is Lady Burford there, please?'

  'Speaking.'

  'Oh, Lavinia. It's Cecily.'

  'Cecily?'

  'Your cousin. Cecily Bradshaw as was.'

  'Good gracious! Cecily! It must be twenty-five years. I can hardly believe it. Where are you?'

  'London.'

  'I thought you were still in Australia. How long have you been home?'

  'Just a few days. We're here for a fortnight, then going on to America.'

  'We? Oh, that is you and, and—' Lady Burford groped unsuccessfully for a long-forgotten name, 'and your husband?'

  'That's right - Sebastian.'

  'How is Sebastian'?'

  'Thriving. Lavinia. I was hoping we could get together?'

  'That would be very nice. When were you thinking of?'

  'Well, we're fully engaged for the next few days, but we're free from Thursday until Monday. Could you come up to town?'

  'Unfortunately, that's impossible. We have guests. Next week perhaps?'

  'No, we're off to Norfolk to stay with some friends of Sebastian's on Tuesday. Oh, what a shame! I did want to see you again. You're one of the few relatives I have left in England.'

  Lady Burford thought rapidly. There was no help for it. 'Would you like to come here?'

  'You mean to stay? Oh, I wouldn't want to impose, if you have other guests.'

  'Oh, that's no problem. We have plenty of room.'

  'That's really very kind.'

  'It's settled, then. When will you be arriving?'

  'Well, we've hired a station wagon, so we'll be motoring down. We could leave Thursday morning and be there by lunchtime, if that's convenient.'

  'Perfectly. Very well, Cecily, we'll look forward to seeing you then. Goodbye.'

  'Goodbye, Lavinia, and thank you so much.'

  Lady Burford put down the receiver and was turning away when it rang again. She answered it.

  'Gilbert here.'

  'Who?'

  'Arlington Gilbert. Listen, I've got a message for the Earl or his old woman. Tell them I'll be bringing my secretary.'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  He gave a sigh. 'You deaf? I said I'm bringing my secretary, Maude Fry, for the weekend. I'll need her if I'm to work on this screenplay. She shouldn't be any trouble. She's a big woman, but she doesn't eat much and she's quite respectable — won't dance on the table or anything. Tell him we'll be arriving sometime Thursday morning. Mind you don't forget.'

  Gilbert rang off.

  * * * *

  'Really, George, the man was insufferably rude.'

  'Obviously thought you were a housemaid.'

  'That makes it no better.'

  'Well, you should have told him no.'

  'He didn't give me a chance. And it's getting out of hand. First there were to be two of these film persons, then three, now four.'

  'At least they're all friends together. It's you that's turning it into a confounded house party by bringing in outsiders at the same time.'

  'My cousin can hardly be referred to as an outsider.'

  'She is to Haggermeir and Co. And her husband is to all of us. Even Cecily's virtually a stranger to me; I only met her two or three times.'

  Gerry, who was sitting by doing a crossword puzzle, looked up. 'I remember hearing you mention cousin Cecily years ago, but I don't exactly know who she is.'

  'She's the daughter of my Aunt Amelia, mother's sister. Aunt Amelia was considered to have married beneath her. She died when Cecily was born. Her father brought her up and she never had much to do with us - her father moved in rather different circles from us. But she came to stay sometimes. Later on she decided to go on the stage. She didn't make much of a success of it, and ended up in a chorus line. Lived a rather fast sort of life, I believe - stage door johnnie
s, and so on. Which naturally was quite beyond the pale to my mother. She decided we wouldn't have anything more to do with Cecily. But I still met her occasionally in town. Your father and I were engaged by then, and one weekend 1 brought her to see Alderley. Then a few months later her father died and she told me that as she had nothing to keep her here she was going to try her luck in Australia. I had some letters from her over the next few years. She said she was doing quite well on the stage. Eventually she told me she was getting married - to a sheep farmer. I can't remember his surname, so I don't know what hers is now. She was going to send me her new address, but she didn't do so and I've never heard from her since - until now.'

  'You'll certainly have masses to talk about,' Gerry said.

  Lord Burford gave a grunt. 'Well, as long as no one expects me to talk to this husband about sheep, I don't mind. I'm going to be fully occupied with Rex and Haggermeir. Stupid creatures.'

  Gerry grinned. 'Rex and Haggermeir?'

  'No — sheep. Anyone seen my copy of Photoplay?' He went to the other side of the room and started vaguely picking up cushions.

  Gerry said, 'Mummy, did you remember her husband's first name?'

  'No; fortunately, Cecily supplied it - Sebastian. I wonder what he'll be like. And what can I do with him all weekend?'

  'I don't expect he'll be any trouble: a stable for his kangaroo, an open space to practice his boomerang throwing, plenty of billabongs to eat—'

  'Don't be silly, Geraldine. It's just that sort of facetiousness that irritates colonials - quite justifiably.'

  'Sorry. You mean you don't want him to be unoccupied all weekend?'

  'Well, I can see your father monopolising this Ransom man, and I can't imagine Sebastian having a lot in common with Mr Haggermeir or the Gilbert person.'

  'So you'd like there to be additional manpower here?'

  'It might be convenient.'

  'Mm.' Gerry was silent for a moment. Then she said, 'Excuse me,' and left the room.

  She was back in ten minutes. 'Problem solved,' she announced. 'Paul Carter and Hugh Quartus are both willing to help out.'