The Final Curtain (29 page)

Korpanski suddenly twigged. ‘So might that be a reason for someone wanting to
suppress
the memoirs?'

She nodded.

Korpanski ventured further. ‘Stop their publication?' He paused, watching the expression on her face. ‘Try and frighten her into submission?'

‘I think you're getting there, Mike.'

‘I think
we're
getting there.'

They looked at each other. So naturally attuned, voicing the next logical question was unnecessary.

Who?

‘I've left someone off the list,' Joanna said. ‘Freeman, the producer of Butterfield Farm. He may be elderly now but he would still want to guard his reputation, wouldn't he?'

‘Suppose so,' Korpanski agreed.

She looked at her watch. It was five o'clock. ‘I'll be talking to Diana Tong again in a minute,' she said. ‘Want to join me?'

‘Wild horses wouldn't keep me away, Joanna.'

She put a hand on his arm. ‘There were a couple of things,' she said, ‘that came up in the post-mortem.'

‘Go on.'

‘At some point she'd had a child.'

‘What? Was Matthew sure?'

She nodded. ‘And it had gone full term. She'd given birth. It wasn't a miscarriage.'

‘But she said …'

‘I know what she
said,
Mike, but the evidence was there. And,' she continued, ‘she'd broken her right arm at some point. Matthew thought that it had probably happened when she was about ten but it looks as though she didn't receive medical attention.'

‘It doesn't make sense,' Korpanski said.

She waited for him to draw his own conclusions. And he did, his face grim. ‘So she was both neglected
and
abused.'

‘It would appear so.'

‘Crikey,' he said. ‘Her autobiography would have been a hot potato.'

‘Exactly. Shall we?'

They crossed the icy yard and entered the house, found Diana Tong sitting on the sofa, quite still. Logs were burning in the grate, giving out a sweet, smoky scent. As they opened the door a billow of smoke puffed into the room adding to the hazy look. After the chill of the outside and the half warmth of the barn the room was warm and the woodsmoke welcome. At a guess Diana had been sitting, without moving, for some time. She moved her head stiffly as they entered.

Joanna murmured more polite condolences before she and Mike settled themselves into the two adjacent armchairs and opened up the questions. ‘For now, Mrs Tong,' she said, contrasting the careless appearance of the companion with her erstwhile employer's carefully manicured public image. How must it feel always to be the ugly sister, second fiddle, the understudy instead of the star? ‘We'll just stick to the facts. There's a lot you haven't told me, isn't there?'

The companion's lips tightened and she said nothing. Joanna gave Mike a quick glance. This was going to be a long haul. She leaned forward. ‘You don't mind if we record this?' Mrs Tong looked as though she would love to have refused the request. As it was she contented herself with a very negative-looking shrug. Joanna glanced across at Korpanski, who was sitting in the adjacent chair, his thighs apart, watching eagle-eyed. She was glad he was there and looked forward to his feedback later. She knew she could trust him not to interrupt unless it was called for and she also knew that he wouldn't betray by look, words or gesture the information she had just fed him.

‘You were born in …?'

‘Nineteen forty-four.' She seemed to feel that something extra was called for. ‘I was eight years older than Timony.' Her mouth twisted but it didn't look anything like a smile. ‘Twenty when I began working for and with her.'

‘And you joined the staff of Butterfield Farm in?'

‘Nineteen sixty-four.' Again, she seemed to think that she should add something so said, uncomfortably, in her gruff voice and without apology, ‘I was a school-leaver. Not very academic. More practical.'

Joanna nodded. ‘What exactly did you join Butterfield as?'

‘Sorry?'

‘What was your title?'

‘I – I didn't really have one. I was a sort of gofer.'

‘But as regards Timony? You were employed to look after Timony?'

‘Well, ye-es.'

‘And it worked?' Joanna prompted.

‘Obviously,' she retorted stiffly, ‘otherwise I wouldn't still be here, would I?'

‘I suppose not.'

‘We became friends, I suppose. Naturally we became close.'

‘Was it you who was encouraging her to write about her experiences?'

‘Not really. But—' Here she stopped herself abruptly.

‘But …' Joanna prompted her gently.

‘Timony lived a lavish lifestyle,' Diana said. ‘And her series ended a long time ago. They didn't pay that much in the sixties.'

‘But Timony told me there was plenty of money left. She told me she was worth a few million.'

Diana's response was a wry smile. ‘I'd have thought you would have realized that Timony was a fantasist.'

Joanna gave Korpanski a swift look.

‘Her divorces didn't come cheap either. Bloody scumbags took her to the cleaners.'

‘Which particular scumbags do you mean?'

‘Brannigan, MacWilliam and Rolf. The damned lot of them,' she said. ‘Timony was a soft touch. Even Rolf, that toad. What I'm saying is that there wasn't that much money left.' Diana spoke reluctantly, every word dragged out of her as though it pulled at her flesh. ‘So she approached some publishers to see if they were interested. Initially they weren't and then they were.' Something in Diana Tong looked proud. ‘She decided to reject the offers of a ghost writer and write it all herself. I could tell the publishers were a bit sceptical. Actresses, particularly child stars, aren't known for their writing skills. Anyway, they said they'd take a look when she'd finished. They warned her it wouldn't be quite as easy as she thought but she got on with it. They'd promised her a “generous” advance on delivery and acceptance of the manuscript. I assume the word acceptance meant if it was publishable and there was a market.' She attempted an explanation. ‘The grey brigade, you know. There's a lot of nostalgia for the sixties. The publishers thought there would be a demand providing it gave away enough secrets.' She smiled and looked directly at DS Mike Korpanski, who did not return the smile but beetled his eyebrows together as though evaluating her ‘story'. His eyes were dark enough to be unfathomable and after a moment or two Diana Tong looked away. Joanna watched his face and wondered what he was making of all this. She'd know later. Korpanski wasn't one for concealing his feelings.

Diana Tong absorbed the snub with a toss of her head. ‘It's always hard,' she insisted, ‘to know what to buy the over-sixties as presents for Christmas and birthdays. They have everything. What they want is nostalgia. They want their past back. And so you give it to them as a book or a DVD. You give them back their memories of when they were young.'

Joanna nodded. ‘I've been reading bits of it,' she said. ‘I'm not sure her readers would be expecting some of those “secrets”'.

Diana Tong sat so still it was as though she was frozen into a solid block of ice. Joanna knew why. She was wondering what bits the detective had read. Joanna returned a bland smile. Diana Tong cleared her throat, licked her lips. ‘The trouble was,' she said slowly, ‘the publishers made it clear that they wanted what they called “the dirt”.' Her gaze drifted upwards to stare into Joanna's face as though trying to convey a message without actually speaking the words. She licked her lips again and ploughed on. ‘They didn't want some bland, jolly sixties thing, all hair ribbons and pretty frocks.'

‘Let me get this quite clear,' Joanna said slowly so there could be no mistake about her question. ‘Are you saying that Timony might have …'

‘Embellished her story? I suspect so, though I haven't read all of it.'

‘But you've read most of it?'

Oddly enough, Diana Tong didn't appear to know how to answer this. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Joanna took note and changed the course of the questions. ‘You are married, Mrs Tong?'

Diana did not like the question and tried to fend it off with one word. ‘Briefly.'

‘Your husband's name was …?'

‘Colin. Colin Tong. We weren't married for long. Less than a year.'

‘And when you joined the cast in nineteen sixty-four you say you were twenty and Timony nearly thirteen.'

Diana Tong nodded warily, obviously anticipating an awkward question.

‘So you were there when she was assaulted.'

‘I've already told you, I wasn't with her that night.'

Joanna smiled. ‘So you have. I understand that after the assault she took some time off.'

‘Naturally.' Even this silky answer was guarded.

‘Her parents didn't keep in touch?'

‘I don't think so. It was better they severed contact. It was discouraged.'

Funny, Joanna thought. It would be the exact opposite in today's climate.

Father in prison + living in a slum + morphs into a successful actress = Great Story.

Diana seemed to think she needed to say something more. ‘I really have no idea whether her mother attempted to make contact and was discouraged by the studio or if she simply let her go,' she said. ‘Why don't you ask James Freeman? He'd know. All I know is I never met her parents.'

‘Why exactly
were
you taken on?' Korpanski put in.

Diana Tong looked astonished by the question. She tilted her head on one side and regarded Mike Korpanski who returned her gaze steadily.

‘I don't understand, Sergeant,' Diana said.

‘Well. When she was younger, eight, when she first joined the set, Sandra McMullen looked after her, didn't she?'

Joanna knew he was thinking about the broken arm.

And Diana Tong understood. ‘Sandra left,' she said, ‘I took her place.'

‘As?'

‘You mean was I engaged as a chaperone?'

Joanna nodded.

Diana Tong seemed to have to think about her response to this one. She drew in her breath. ‘No. I was engaged more as a companion,' she said, ‘and general dogsbody.'

And here you've stayed for nearly fifty years
, Joanna thought. She wanted to ask so much more, more about the ‘long-lost sister', about the fan, about the multiple marriages, about relationships between cast members, about the ‘secrets' which Timony had supposedly embellished. But she decided to hold back. She didn't want to antagonize the companion.

Keep something up your sleeve, Piercy
,
and
better to have a card up it than just a handkerchief
. She smiled. It had been one of her father's favourite sayings.

So instead of pursuing the subject she veered off towards the practicalities. ‘Will you be dealing with her funeral arrangements?'

‘Yes.'

‘You realize we'll have to wait for the coroner to release the body?'

‘Yes.'

‘Had she
no
family?'

‘Not that I know of. None that she was in touch with.' But her words were said dismissively, without conviction, her eyes flickering along the floor. Diana Tong was considering her situation. Joanna waited, watched her face for clues and wondered whether she was about to volunteer some information but after a pause, Diana looked up and met her gaze with a steady stare. And Joanna knew she was going no further. Not today, at least.

Well, two could play at that game. In return she would suppress the fact that the post-mortem had revealed that Timony had had a child.

Tit for tat.

J
oanna scanned the room. This was how she liked her officers: awake, alert and, above all, eager. All except Hesketh-Brown, who looked a little bleary-eyed and was doing his best to disguise a yawn as a cough. She could forgive him. He had a little baby, Tanya, who had the habit of keeping Danny and Betsy, his wife, up for much of the night. Lately he had looked permanently tired. But studying the others' expressions she knew they would work doggedly and keep working until they'd got right to the bottom of this.

She turned to the whiteboard and began briskly. ‘So, we'll begin with you, Bridget and Phil. I think you were going to tackle the two ex-husbands and Rolf Van Eelen, as well as speak to Mrs Weeks' solicitor about her will.'

Phil spoke up for both of them. He'd always been keen to join the plain-clothes branch and had only recently moved to the detective force from uniformed. Joanna smothered a smile. The newly created Detective Constable Scott was still intent on proving himself and self-conscious enough to blush like a virgin when addressing his colleagues.

He cleared his throat, looked around to make sure he had everyone's attention, and began. ‘We spoke to Mrs Weeks' solicitor,' he said, ‘a Mr Claude Drake from Battersea. As Timony died intestate and she had no other close relatives he's confirmed that Mr Rolf Van Eelen will be cited as her next of kin. There'll be nobody to contest it so he'll probably get everything as they were never divorced.' He grinned. ‘There's not quite as much as Mr Van Eelen might have hoped. Apart from the farmhouse Mrs Weeks didn't have a lot of assets. In fact she might have struggled to hang on to the farmhouse. According to Mr Drake she wasn't exactly careful with her money. And then – his words not mine – there were Mrs Tong's wages to be paid.'

Joanna felt her expression change. She had not asked about or considered the companion's wages.

‘Did he say how much Mrs Tong was paid?'

‘Forty thousand a year plus expenses. But he did add that for that Mrs Tong practically gave up her life.'