SquidgeWorld Archive

34. Lights, Camera, Murder

James Stuart, the duke of Edinburgh, a.k.a Steven Taylor, sat staring at the
typed pages lying on his desk. The words just wouldn't come. No, that wasn't
it, not exactly. His memories were too fuzzy in some respects. That's what he
got for such an adventurous life. Deciding he needed a break, he left his study
and headed for the drawing room where he found his wife Alison regaling a young
woman about 18 years old and a youth near 20 with tales from her childhood in
South Africa.



Alison looked up and saw him standing in the doorway. "How's the re-write
coming?"



"It isn't. I didn't realize a script was so hard to write." He sat on
the arm of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be a lesson in
etiquette."



"It started out that way," said Jessie, who inherited her
grandfather's (Steven's uncle) title upon her recent arrival from America and
would soon be invested as the duchess of York. "Alison got a little
side-tracked then Jamie came."



Steven looked fondly at his adopted son. "I thought you had plans
tonight."



"I do. I came by to take Jess out dancing with friends. You?"



"I have a few more scenes to go over by tomorrow."



"Have they cast your part yet?"



"No, but they've told me they've narrowed it down."



"Any names?" asked Jessie.



"They're looking for an unknown so the public won't have any preconceived
ideas."



"Are they going to let you in on the final decision?" Alison asked.



"They haven't actually said so, but I'll make a point of it."



*************************************************



Later that evening, Jess and Jamie were dancing with friends at a club. The
only other girl was a vibrant redhead named Lady Margaret Weston-Smythe, known
to her friends as Mags. She leaned over to whisper in Jessie's ear. "I
don't know if you've noticed, but we are on the receiving end of some nasty
stares."



"Why?"



"We're with three great looking guys and not offering to share." Mags
smiled.



Next to Jamie sat a youth the same age herself--19--with sandy brown hair and
deep brown eyes. This was Andrew Moreland, Alison's son from her first
marriage. Jessie had only met him a few weeks ago upon his return from a hiking
trip in the Highlands. The third man was blond and blue-eyed and she had known
him for most of her life as they had gone to school together in Connecticut.
Cliff Mead came from one of the first families of the town. He had come over to
spend the summer in England.



"Have you heard from Dennis?" asked Cliff.



Dennis Howell was an aspiring actor from Canada that she and Jamie had met on
their voyage over. "I saw him the other day on Oxford Street. He
apologized for not keeping in touch and explained that he was busy with a
number of casting calls."



"Think we could get some free tickets if he lands the part?" asked
Andrew.



"I don't see why you should," answered Mags. "You've only met
him a couple times."



"I mean the group of us. He doesn't seem the type to leave someone
out," Andrew said by way of explanation.



"He may be trying out for a movie, did you think of that?" asked
Jamie.



They all looked at Jessie as if she knew. "No, he never told me what role
it was. Maybe he's not telling us in case he doesn't get it."



"Could be," agreed Cliff. "I've heard actors are a very
superstitious lot." He held out his hand to Jessie as the DJ played a song
by The Kinks. "A dance, milady?"



"Why, thank you."



Mags looked at Andrew. "Dance?"



"No, thanks. Why don't you go with Jamie?"



Mags faced Jamie who rose reluctantly and walked with her onto the dance floor.
As he passed his stepbrother, he whispered, "I'll get you for this."
Andrew only nodded and smiled.



*********************************************



Two weeks later, Steven heard that the producers were deciding on their star.
He made his way to the studio, and, after receiving directions from a stunned
guard, headed for the projector room. He sneaked in just as the lights were
going down and sat in the last row of seats. On the screen a nervous young man
stood in place until the director shouted "Action!" from off-screen.
The chosen scene was when he was saying good-bye to Victoria as she was
returning home after the war. The first couple of actors had the looks but
their movements were too wooden and voices too stilted. The next two split; one
had the voice but not the movements and the other was just the opposite. The
last seemed perfect. He had the coloring and build and his movements and voice
flowed naturally. When he was done, Steven was ready to believe that it was
just from another movie and had nothing to do with him at all.



The lights went up and the other members of the audience spoke about their
choices. "The camera just loves him," said a man a little older than
Steven with salt-and-pepper hair. "I think we've discovered a new
star."



"Yes, I agree," said Gareth Sands, the producer. "The others
were using stage techniques which are too exaggerated for film."



"I hope you're talking about the final actor," said Steven slowly
rising from his seat. "The others were terrible."



"Oh, your Grace. We didn't realize you were here," said Sands.
"Did you see them all?"



"Yes, though even if I had seen only the fifth, I would have chosen him
without hesitation."



"As I said, the camera loves him."



"Your Grace, may I introduce Quinn Douglas, our director."



Steven held out his hand. "A pleasure. I've heard a lot about your work.
Unfortunately, I don't have much opportunity to go to the movies."



"The pleasure is mine, your Grace," replied Douglas. "I hope to
do your story justice."



"I'm sure you will. At least you have a lot to work with," he smiled.



"The problem will be in editing."



Sands looked to the young woman who had been standing to the back during their
conversation. She was possibly in her late twenties and wore a simple dress
that just reached mid-thigh. "Karen, call the new star and tell him the
good news. Then prepare a press release announcing that the part of Steven
Taylor will be played by Dennis Howell."



********************************************************



Jamie entered the flat he shared with Jessie. He had heard some great news
while he was visiting with Steven and knew she would love to hear it. He heard
her moving about in the kitchen. "Jessie, I'm back!"



She stuck her head in the doorway. "I'll be there in a sec. I'm doing up
tea. Want some?"



"Thanks." He joined her. "I've got some good news."



"Me too." She poured.



"You first."



"I had a call from Dennis. He got that part he was going for."



"I know. That was my news for you."



Jessie seemed disappointed that her surprise was ruined. "How did you find
out?"



"Dad told me. He had gone to see the screen tests and Dennis was by far
the best. Even the director and producer thought so."



"Why didn't he tell us?"



"He probably thought that we might influence Dad, who, in turn, would
influence the studio. He wanted to earn it, not be given it."



"This is so fantastic! I hope this makes him a star. If not, he might have
to go back to Canada."



"He won't have much time for us for at least 6 months while they're
filming."



"I know, but at least he'll be here."



"Jessie, is there something going on you haven't told me about?"
Jamie asked in mock seriousness.



"No. It's just that I'm happy for another North American in London 'come
to find his fortune'."



"And what about Cliff?"



"He's just on vacation. Besides, he doesn't need to find a fortune."



"Neither do you," answered Jamie smugly. "So there goes your
argument."



"I may not have found my fortune, by I did find my heritage."



"I'll give you that." He put his feet up on a spare chair.
"Let's send Dennis a formal congratulatory telegram--you know, signed with
our titles. Then we can take him out to celebrate."



"Sure. Do you know how to go about it?"



"Hand me the directory." Jessie passed him the telephone directory
and watched as he flipped through the pages. "We call the post office and
give them the message. Ah, here it is."



Later that night, Jamie and Jess met Dennis at one of their favorite clubs.
Patrons were taking turns singing and playing on a stage to the side. "I'm
so happy for you," declared Jess. "This is great news."



"I know. I still can't believe it. I think tonight will be my last free
time for months."



"When do they plan to start filming?" asked Jamie.



"As soon as they can. All the parts are cast, and, from what I understand,
they want to do a lot of location shooting--Paris, Rome, and Berlin. My guess
is within the month."



"This is fabulous. You've only been here a couple of months and you've
landed the most coveted role of the year," remarked Jess.



"You guys didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"



"How could we? You never told us what you were up for," laughed
Jamie.



"True. I'd forgotten. I'm sure people are going to think that once they
learn we're friends."



"Dad can vouch for the fact that we never mentioned your name to him.
Besides, he said that the director and producer had already made their decision
before he said a thing."



"Just think, soon you'll be hob-nobbing with the rich and famous, and
jetting off to exotic places on a whim," said Jessie.



Dennis laughed. "I've already got the first part done. But I don't think
that one film alone will make me part of the jet-set. That would have to be
some film. I'm not saying anything against your father, mind," he added
quickly.



"I understand," said Jamie. "Just that if this does well, it'll
open doors for you, get you more roles. Then you can go jetting about the
globe."



"Just don't forget us when you become famous," said Jessie.



"I won't if you won't."



"A toast," said Jamie, raising his glass. "To the next Laurence
Olivier."



Dennis nearly choked in embarrassment. "I can't drink to that!"



"Why not?"



"I'll never be that good."



"Never say never."



Dennis reluctantly gave in.



On the stage, a man peered out into the crowd. "We are blessed tonight, my
friends. One of our best duos is here tonight. C'mon, you two."



The spotlight shone on their table and the crowd cheered. After a token
refusal, they took the stage, Jamie seating himself at the piano. He began to
play a track off the Beatles latest album and began to sing. "I get
high when I see you go by, my oh my. . ."



Jessie joined in on the chorus. "It's only love and that is all, Why
should I feel the way I do? It's only love and that is all, but it's so hard
loving you."



Andrew and Mags entered just as they finished. "Hello, Dennis," said
Andrew as he sat at the table. "I hear congratulations are in order."



"Does everybody know?" asked Dennis with a smile.



"Know what?" asked Mags.



"Some of us are privy to information before it becomes public."



"What information?" questioned Mags, completely in the dark.



"Go on, tell her," said Jessie and she and Jamie returned to the
table.



"Somebody tell me," demanded Mags.



"I landed a part today," started Dennis.



"That's marvelous!"



"Let him finish," said Jamie.



"There's more?"



"The best part," informed Andrew.



"It's a WWII film and I play the hero."



"The lead in your first movie?" Mags couldn't believe it.



"Mags!"



"You'd better just tell her the name of your character," said Jamie.
"This could go on all night."



Dennis smiled. "Steven Taylor," he said.



"What?"



"The name of the character I play is Steven Taylor."



"That's fabulous!" She kissed him on the cheek then looked at the
others. "Did you have anything to do with this?"



"No. We had no idea he was up for the part," said Andrew.



"This is definitely something to celebrate!"



"Too bad Cliff had to miss this," remarked Andrew. "Where is
he?"



"He wasn't home when I called," answered Jessie. "He must be
visiting family. That was one of the stipulations of the trip."



"I guess he'll have to find out through the news like everyone else,"
said Jamie.



"I'd like to try again when we get home," Jessie said. "If it's
okay with you?" she asked Dennis.



"Sure. He's one of the gang."



*************************************************************



In the ensuing days, the main entertainment topic for the media was the movie.
It seemed to Steven that it was one long press conference. The media kept
coming up with new poses for him and Dennis Howell, who did bear some
resemblance to him.



Gareth Sands stood off to the side and watched his discoveries handle the
press. Dennis stood between two beautiful women, his leading ladies. Alicia
Moran on his left was a young blonde cast as Victoria Bond, who later became
Steven's first wife. On his right was Kirsten ______, who would be playing
Alison. A cast of virtual unknowns. Sands was relying heavily on Steven's name.



Steven himself stood in the shadows and listened to the answers the actors gave
the press. "Dennis, how do you feel, having landed the most sought-after
role in film today?"



"I'm still in shock. I came here from Canada to get better parts. I never
dreamed of this."



"You're all so young to remember the war. Do any of you have family
connections to it?"



"My father was shot down over Germany but escaped through France,"
answered Kirsten. "He later took part in D-Day."



Alicia stated, "I never knew my father. I was born when he was taking part
in the invasion of Italy where he was later killed."



Dennis smiled. "My father was with the Navy in the Pacific in '44 and
'45."



"How do you plan to research your role?"



"Read up on what I can, watch newsreels, and to speak with the people who
were there."



"Had you met his Grace before today?"



"No, but I hope to get a chance in future to speak with him fully so I can
do him justice." He withheld the fact that he already knew three members
of the family.



Quinn Douglas walked over to Steven. "Quite a lad, that one. Has the press
eating right out of his hand."



"That's definitely better than the other way 'round." Steven shook
his head. "Discovering that they were infants when the war was over is
making me feel old."



"Your boy Jamie must be about their age. Did the orphanage tell you any of
his history?"



"Not too much. He was born in February '45--they celebrated the 20--and a
doctor from the local hospital brought him."



"Ah. He was probably a war baby."



"What?"



"He was probably conceived during a night of passion before the father was
shipped out. Not being married, the mother couldn't raise him alone."



"What an imagination."



"It's not so much imagination as logic," explained Quinn. "Nine
months earlier was May '44, just before D-Day." He left to speak with
Sands.



Steven barely noticed him go. What he had said about a final fling reminded him
of his last night with Alison before he left for D-Day. Could she have gotten
pregnant? Could he be a father?



*************************************************



A few days later, Jessie went to visit Alison because she was suffering from
Boring Sunday Syndrome. Jamie was with some university friends, Dennis was busy
with the movie, and she couldn't get a hold of Cliff or Mags. She took a
leisurely walk, knowing that it would soon be impossible once she was formally
invested.



She was admitted by Dawson. "Her Grace is in the den. Would you like me to
announce you?"



"No, thank you, Dawson." Jessie made her way to the den where she
found Alison looking through a pile of records.



She looked up when she heard Jessie's footsteps. "This is quite a
surprise. I thought you'd be with your friends this glorious Sunday
afternoon."



"I couldn't find anyone who wasn't busy." She sat next to Alison.



"I'm your last resort, am I?" Alison asked with a smile. Jessie,
embarrassed, stuttered out an apology. "That's all right, I'm only
teasing."



"What are you doing?"



"All this talk of the movie has got me feeling nostalgic. I started
thinking about these old records I had." She stood and cued a song on the
record player. Moonlight Becomes You by Glenn Miller began drifting from
the speakers. Alison began to dance about the room, eyes closed, imagining she
was back in a club with Steven.



Jessie tried to picture them together, twenty years younger, dancing in the
club along with other couples, some in uniform. "This was our song,"
said Alison. The song ended and she sat in the chair by Jessie.



"Tell me about it?" asked Jessie.



"Oh, you know the story."



"But not from your point-of-view."



"Where do you want me to start?"



"When you first met."



"That's going back a number of years. I don't think I can remember."



"He must have made an impression. You did marry him."



"Twenty years later. Okay. Let me see. I was on my way home to Capetown
because my father could no longer afford the tuition. The mine he owned had
finally dried up. I was sitting on one of the deck chairs reading when he took
the seat next to me and tried to act nonchalant. We talked for quite some time
and then he asked me to join him for dinner.



"He was very charming, and, as we were the only young people aboard, we
spent a lot of time together. He has this quality, this air, about him that
makes people trust him. My father, on first meeting him, invited him to stay
with us. It was a good thing, too, because he helped us trick a greedy man into
buying our worthless mine. We moved to London on the proceeds. I found out on
the trip to England that he was a thief. He even told me his real name."



"That was showing great trust," remarked Jessie.



"I know. We separated upon our return to London. I began reading articles
on jewel thefts and guessed that he was the Eagle. I started my own
scrapbook."



"You were in love with him then."



"I don't know if it was truly love at that point or just a schoolgirl
crush."



"Like something out of an adventure novel. When did you meet again?"



"I think it was May '43. I was out with friends dancing at a club. He
walked over to our table and asked me to dance. I was surprised to see him and
my friends took my hesitation as nerves. I'll admit I was afraid, for him and
myself. They were playing Moonlight Becomes You and he sang it to me as
we danced. When the music was over, I left him in the middle of the
dance-floor.



"It wasn't until I got home that I realized how cruel I had been. It had
felt wonderful dancing with him. Imagine my surprise when I came home from work
a few days later to find him talking over old times with my father. He
explained why he was back in London and we went out that night, the first of
many.



"He was supposed to meet me one night in May and never showed. The papers
then said he had joined the Nazis. I knew that was impossible. My friends told
me not to build my hopes up, he was a thief after all. As the year went on,
there was no more word. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the
Earth. He could have been dead. The next anyone heard of him was when he
arrived in Washington that Christmas."



"With Victoria."



"Yes. I was heartbroken when the media began stories of a romance between
them. We found each other again in May '44. He was here to take part in D-Day
and I was afraid I'd lose him again."



"Did you tell him?"



"No, I showed him."



"What do you mean?" The answer dawned on her. "You slept
together," she stated.



"I didn't know if I'd see him again and I just wanted to know what it
would have been like with him. You're shocked, aren't you?"



"Why didn't you marry?"



"One: he never asked, and two: I wouldn't have wanted to be a widow at
23."



"But you married Charles."



"That was after the war. Steven had lived and was now a hero. He belonged
to the world and I wanted something a bit more stable, a husband who would
always be there. Charles was everything I wanted at the time."



"Do you have any regrets?"



"Not one."



There was a polite knock on the door. "Are you indulging in private
girl-talk, or can I join in?" asked Andrew, standing in the doorway.



"Come in. We're done," said Alison.



He looked at Jessie as she stood, wiping off her skirt. "Enjoying a quiet
Sunday?"



"Yes. I hardly get a chance to speak with Alison."



"It does make a nice change from running everywhere. I relish days like
this."



The music changed to the upbeat In the Mood and Andrew reached out a
hand to his mother, "May I have this dance?"



Alison saw Jessie's foot tapping. "Why don't you and Jessie dance? I'll
take the next slow one."



Andrew looked questioningly at Jessie who offered her hand and they walked to
the middle of the den where there was the most room. Andrew was a good partner,
leading her through the different steps as she began to remember her mother's
lessons. Near the end, they became more daring and Jessie rolled over him,
back-to-back.



"You two dance wonderfully together!" exclaimed Alison. "Jessie,
how did you learn to dance like that?"



"Same as Andrew, I guess. My mother."



"I just came up with a terrific idea," said Alison. "You and
your friends have a band of sorts, right?"



"Of sorts," answered Andrew. "Why?"



"I know that they're scouting clubs to use in the movie and if you learn
some vocals and get the house bands to let you join in. . ."



"Mum, that would be dishonest," teased Andrew.



"I know. I learned it from my husband."



"It would be fun, though," mused Jessie. "Depending on the song,
Mags and I could wear long, elegant gowns . . ."



"Leave it to a woman to think of what to wear," said Andrew with a
laugh.



"Anybody can sing," replied Jessie, "but whether or not they get
anywhere depends on the presentation."



"And practice," added Alison.



************************************************



Steven watched from the side as they filmed the scene again. Something had
always gone wrong; an actor flubbed lines, a prop didn't work properly,
lighting was bad, or a microphone was in shot. Tempers were raw and on edge.
From what he could tell, Dennis was the only one trying to remain calm. They
had to make it in this take.



Quinn held his temper in check as he worked the actors through the scene. No
matter how many times he watched, Steven still couldn't get used to the fact
that it was his life they were portraying. He looked back at those watching and
saw that some had their fingers crossed. Once Quinn had called "Cut",
Alicia complained that Dennis had blocked part of her scene.



"Alicia, dear, I'm sure that's not so. He was on his mark," Quinn
tried to placate her. "This take seemed the best of all. We'll break for
lunch and I'll have a look at the rushes to see if we need another."



Alicia stormed off the set and Quinn rolled his eyes towards Steven as if to
say "Actors".



Steven made his way over to Dennis. "You certainly kept cool through all
that."



"I figured that another raised voice wouldn't help. I've been learning to
control myself."



"Has this been happening long?"



"For a number of days. It seems that almost everyone has blamed everyone
else for something or other."



" 'Almost everyone'?"



"Well, I haven't blamed anyone, really. I think it's just a bunch of
unrelated incidents."



"Could be," agreed Steven. "But who would want to close it down?
This is a major production, a big step up for everyone."



"You think someone is behind all this?"



"Maybe I'm reading too much into it. A bad habit I have. Just be careful.
I don't want to be the one to tell Jamie and Jessie about you."



Dennis was amazed. "How did you know that we're friends? I didn't think I
let it out."



"You didn't. I remember Jessie talking about an actor she met on her
crossing. When I heard you got the part, the name clicked."



"Okay, I'll be careful. Thanks for your concern. When will you be
back?"



"A couple of days or so. You can let me know if there are any further
'incidents'. If you need me sooner, call." Steven left a stunned Dennis to
make his way to the commissary.



**********************************************



Jamie walked into the flat and almost tripped over an endtable. "What the
hell is going on?"



"Oh, Jamie, I didn't expect you till later," remarked Jessie as she
placed a wing chair against the wall.



"Obviously," said Jamie, rubbing his shin. "What are you
doing?"



"Preparing for dancing lessons. I'm expecting Andrew, Alison, Mags, and
Cliff."



"That leaves you with an odd number. What were you planning to do?"



"Well, we didn't ask you because of the reason behind it."



"I don't think I'm going to like the sound of this."



"If we can learn the right moves and lyrics, then we can try out with a
swing band."



"Why this sudden interest?"



"Maybe we'll get a chance to be in the film."



"So that's what this is all about. What do you plan to tell the
band?"



There was a rap on the door. "Saved by the knock." She opened the
door and let in Mags and Cliff. "C'mon in. We're just waiting for our
instructor."



"Oh, hello, Jamie. Didn't expect to see you here," said Cliff.



"In my own flat? Yes, that is unexpected."



"There's no need for sarcasm," said Mags. "If we had known you
were going to be here, we would have made other plans."



"Why don't you want me to know what you're up to?"



"You haven't told him?" Cliff asked.



"I started to, I just haven't filled in the details."



"My last question was, what are you going to tell the band about
yourselves?" Jamie asked as there was another knock on the door.



"We plan to tell them only our first names before we perform in order to
earn it on merit," explained Mags.



"That's why we didn't ask you because you're so well-known. Don't think
it's because you're not wanted," said Cliff.



"We could use your help for practice," said Alison as she and Andrew
entered the room.



"Your servant, madam," he replied with an exaggerated bow.



*************************************************



The following morning, after a quick breakfast, Steven kissed Alison good-bye.
"I have business out-of-town today. I should be home by dinner. If not,
I'll call."



"Fine. I have to go into the office today anyway. I've a few proposals
piling up on my desk."



"All right. See you tonight."



As he drove out of London towards Kent and the Channel, he tried to justify why
he hadn't told Alison exactly where he was going. He wanted to have his proof
so he wouldn't accuse her falsely and make a fool of himself. He was also
surprised that a passing remark in a conversation would send him off like this.
Steven needed to keep this in perspective. Just because Jamie's birth was
somewhere near nine months after that night with Alison didn't't mean anything.
She would have told him, would have let him know he was a father.



He drove along the outskirts of Romney Marsh, at one point the stomping ground
of smugglers. Now that was a risky occupation. He continued on to
Dymchurch and parked outside the orphanage where Jamie was raised.



He learned that Mrs. Sumner was still in charge and would be glad to see him.
"Your Grace, what an unexpected pleasure. Please, sit down."



"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Sumner. I didn't expect to see you
here."



"These children are like my own family. Jamie is just one of the many who
come in here as babies with nowhere else to go. The lucky ones get to join a
loving family. I've been here twenty years and plan to be here for at least
another twenty."



"Then you might be the one to help me. I'm looking into the facts about
Jamie's birth."



"More specifically, you want to find out about his mother?"



"Yes."



Mrs. Sumner was quiet for a moment. "Jamie was born about nine months
after D-Day, if my estimations are correct. Many soldiers, afraid of not
returning, were ready to share what they thought might be their last night with
female company." She looked at Steven. "You think Jamie might be your
own son."



Steven was shocked. "You're very perceptive, Mrs. Sumner," he
admitted. "How did you know?"



"This sudden need to know had to be influenced by something recent as you
never wished to check his parentage before. Perhaps you heard or saw something
that brought this on. I then remembered reading that you were taking an active
part in the movie of your wartime escapades. I just put it all together."



"Your talents are wasted here, Mrs. Sumner. The CID could use you."



"I think I'm right where I'm needed. Let me see what I can do for
you." She stood and crossed the room to a row of file cabinets. She opened
one of the drawers and found the file she was looking for. "These files
are supposed to be confidential, but as you think you may be his father. . .
The doctor in attendance was Tom Bennett--he still practices in Dymchurch--and
the mother's name is Caroline Sutton of Romney Grange. Does that mean anything
to you?"



"No, nothing. Does that give her age?"



"31. If I remember correctly, she had been recently widowed and already
had three children. A fourth would have been too much strain."



"Do you think perhaps I could tell her, let her know that her baby is all
right?"



"That's kind of you, sir, but impossible."



"To Hell with your regulations! This woman needs to know!"



"I didn't mean it that way, sir. Mrs. Sutton passed away two years ago
from cancer. I am sorry."



"I'm sorry for yelling like that. I should have let you explain. Thank you
for your help, Mrs. Sumner."



"Being a parent does not always mean being related by blood, your Grace.
You have raised him well, as any good father would. Remember that. And give
Jamie my love."



"I will, Mrs. Sumner. Thank you."



*************************************************



The group of men were gathered around a table looking at a map. "The depot
is over here with only a few guards. There's enough darkness for us to sneak
by."



"How many men?"



"The six of us and a few locals."



"So when do we hit it?"



"Tomorrow night," said the first, rolling up the map. "There's
enough of a moon to see but not be seen by."



One of the men opened a cabinet that contained the radio and tuned it to the
BBC to listen for any coded messages.



"Cut!"



"What's the matter, Quinn? That take was perfect," said Jim Talbert,
one of the cameramen.



"I know. It's just that the scene doesn't seem to flow like it did on
paper. We need to add a little something." Quinn looked around for someone
and spotted her. "Liz, can you think of anything we can do?"



Elizabeth Michaels, the script editor, looked up from her copy of the script.
"There really isn't much we can do without changing a number of
scenes."



Quinn thought of what they could do to make things a bit more interesting. He
thought of the different things had happened in Europe at the time. He knew,
however, they needed the action to come to the Resistance at their base. The
only major communication they had was through the locals or by radio.
"That's it!"



"What now?" asked Liz.



"As they're changing the station, they come upon one of those
propagandists making a broadcast."



"I thought you said you wanted something interesting."



"It won't be a German, but an ex-patriate sympathizer."



"Do you know of any I can use?"



"No. I was in the Pacific. Perhaps his Grace can help you."



"I'll work on adding it in, leaving out a name or any catch-phrase."
Liz made a note of that on her pad.



"Okay, we're going to make a few changes in this scene and hopefully come
back to it in a few days," Quinn notified the rest of the crew. He checked
his list of scenes held by his assistant, Mike Harding. "I think we'll
work on the escape scene then break for tea."



That night, after the day's shooting was complete, a group of actors and
behind-the-scenes people asked Dennis if he wanted to join them for a drink.
Not wanting to seem cold by not hanging with them "off the clock", he
accepted. As they walked past Liz's office, Dennis noticed her light was still
on. "Did anyone ask Liz?"



"I did," said Mike. "She said she wanted to get those scene
changes done tonight so Edinburgh could give them the once-over tomorrow."



"Such dedication," remarked Kirsten. "You wouldn't catch me
staying here any longer than I had to."



"I wonder why she doesn't take it home," mused Alicia.



Unaware of the speculation surrounding her working habits, Liz typed on. She
knew basically what needed to be said: Go home to your wives and
girlfriends, you're fighting a lost cause. She thought that it would be
best if coming from a cultured voice, probably public school. That might be a
bit more acceptable--especially to the Germans.



She left at about 9:00, walking through the empty hallways, thinking ahead to
other possible changes. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost
walked into Karen. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."



"That's all right. No harm done."



They walked companionable to the car park. "I would have thought you'd be
out with friends," said Karen.



"The others asked me to join them for drinks, but I needed to get these
scene changes done for Quinn. I'm not the most sociable person at the beginning
of a project. What about you? You're normally not here this late."



"I had to finish some papers Mr. Sands needed for a meeting tomorrow
morning. I was almost home when I remembered, so I came back. I'd rather do it
tonight than rush through it tomorrow and make mistakes."



"I like working here at night, there are so few interruptions. No phone
calls, no neighbors. . ."



"What's it like working with his Grace?"



Liz laughed. I don't really work with him. I write scenes and leave them for
him to make remarks. He passes them back to me and I write the changes. I hardly
see him at all."



"That's too bad. See you tomorrow."



"Good night, Karen." She looked at her watch. It was going on 10:00!
Hopefully, she wouldn't have too many more nights like this.



**********************************************



"Ow," said Jessie, rubbing her foot. "I don't think I'm ever
going to get that right."



"You almost had it that time," said Andrew, her partner. "Let's
take a break and practice a song."



"Sounds fab," said Mags as she and Cliff stopped.



"Thanks for letting us use your folks' house," said Cliff. "This
place is great."



"I knew we couldn't always use Jessie and Jamie's flat, or even Alison's.
Besides, my parents are in the Mediterranean, Brat with them, thank God."



Jessie hobbled across the ballroom to where they had set up the record player.
"What song should we do first?"



"Apple Tree is always fun," said Andrew, "or Chattanooga."



"I thought my Bist du Schon needed work," remarked Jessie.



"Just a bit of polish, maybe," agreed Mags. "Let's work on the
group songs first."



They positioned themselves as if they were at a microphone and Andrew cued the
song. It was the song they had decided Andrew would sing lead. They sang along
with the record at just enough volume so they could hear it:



I just got word from a guy who heard

from the guy next door to me

The girl he met just loves to pet

And it fits you to a 'T', so



They joined in on the chorus:



Don't sit under the apple tree

With anyone else but me

Till I come marching home



Mags took the girl's reply:



You're on your own where there is no phone

And I can't keep tabs on you

Be fair to me, I'll guarantee

There is one thing that I'll do

I won't sit under the apple tree

Till you come marching home





When they were done, Cliff looked at the others. "I don't know about you,
but I think we sound great."



"It's time to find ourselves a band!" declared Andrew.



*************************************



The next day Steven went to the studio to check up on changes--and to try and
put his visit to the orphanage out of his mind. He had discovered that Jamie
was not his son, but there was still that nagging doubt that he could be a
father. He made his way to the soundstage to see how things were progressing.
He walked over to a young woman who was jotting notes onto a script. Since they
were filming, he bent over her shoulder and whispered, "You must be
Elizabeth Michaels."



Startled, she turned to face him and opened her mouth to speak. Smiling, he
placed a finger to his lips to remind her of the need for silence. Nodding, she
flipped over the script and wrote on the back. A pleasure to finally meet you,
your Grace. I have some re-writes for you to look at. She handed him the
papers.



He straightened up and read the scene. He saw that she had left the name of the
collaborator blank. The speech was close to what most of them said. She was
good. Once the filming was done, he told her so. "I can see you need a
name. Were you wanting fact or fiction?"



"Fact, if possible. I was helping you might help in that respect."



"There was an Englishman broadcasting out of Berlin while I was there. He
called himself Lord _______."



"I've never heard of that title before," remarked Liz.



"It doesn't exist. It was used to protect him in case the Germans lost. I
never met him, but he used my 'situation' as the basis for many of his
broadcasts."



"So, what do you think of the scene?"



"Well, Miss. Michaels--"



"Liz, please."



"Liz, it's a terrific scene. I might be able to help you by tracking down
a copy of one of his broadcasts."



"That would be marvelous, your grace. Do you really think you can get
it?"



"There's a strong possibility. Sometimes the OSS recorded such speeches.
If not, there might be one in Berlin--if it wasn't destroyed."



"What are you two nattering on about?" asked Quinn, coming up beside
them.



"His Grace was just looking over the scene changes I made."



"Good. Do you think you could run off some copies. . ." Liz stared at
him. "Or perhaps get someone to do it? I'd like to get it done so we can
work on location."



"I think so."



Liz looked at Steven and he saw she wanted him to mention the recording. He
did. "It may not exist as a recording at all, but there may be a
transcript. Would there be a problem of recording over the film? You won't have
to worry about dubbing at least."



"It will save us time," agreed Quinn.



"What's your location schedule? I might want to drop by."



"I've no idea at the moment as to the order. The weather'll play a major
role."



"I guess I'll have to check in. I'll make that phone call and see if we
can get a copy of that speech."



***********************************************



The following morning as they were preparing to film the re-written scene, a
messenger arrived with the speech from MI6. "Why do these intelligence
fellas always wait for the last minute?"



"We should be thankful that his Grace arranged this at all," said
Liz.



Quinn handed the tape to Mike. "Run this up to Sound. They'll know when to
run it." He then turned to the actors and filled them in on the change.
"The actual speech will differ from the one in the script so I want you to
react to it along similar lines. Ready?"



"Sure," said Dennis. The other actors nodded.



They were just about to start when Gareth Sands arrived with Karen. Liz nudged
Quinn. "Oh, Mr. Sands. I didn't expect to see you. What a pleasure."



"I'm sure," Gareth replied. "I thought I told you last night
that I planned to come by."



"Yes, well. . ."



"You didn't think I'd follow through." He smiled and sat in Quinn's
chair. "What are we doing now?"



"We're shooting a scene from the other day. We didn't like how the action
was going, so Liz made a few minor changes."



"Good. We want this perfect."



"Okay. Places, everyone." Quinn waited until all were ready.
"Action!"



The scene moved along as before with little or no changes until the radio was
turned on. "Hey, turn back," said Dennis. "I want to hear
that."



"Why? It's only some propaganda."



"I know. Don't you ever wonder what makes people turn like that?" he
asked as the cultured English voice sounded over the speakers.



Karen thought it was running quite well. She loved being able to see things as
they were happening. All her friends and neighbors kept pestering her for
inside gossip. She smiled and looked at her boss. He was watching with intense
concentration, a grimace on his face, his white-knuckled fingers gripping the
armrests. Why should he react that way? Maybe he was just mad they changed the
script without telling him.



"And cut!" called out Quinn. "That was great, guys. Let's
prepare for Scene 43."

*************************************************************

Cliff peered out from behind the curtains. "It's
filling up out there."



Andrew joined him. "Oh, Lord. There are Mum and Steven."



"I don't think I can sing tonight," whispered Jessie. "All those
people."



"It's just like performing at the club," said Mags. "Once you
start, you'll feel comfortable."



"That's easy for you to say. You won't be the first out there."



The band started with Opus One by Tommy Dorsey, a rousing number to get
the crowd involved. Then it was time for Jessie. She looked at the others for
assurance. As the band played the opening , she sashayed out and positioned
herself by the microphone. She tried to imagine that she was actually singing
to a wartime crowd which helped her to relax.



Bei mir bist du schon

Please let me explain

Bei mir bist du schon

Means that you're grand

Bei mir bist du schon

Again I'll explain

It means you're the fairest in the land



Mags was right, the more she sang, the more confident she felt.



Steven, who had decided to take Alison out for dinner and dancing, was
surprised to see his young cousin singing a 40's standard in front of a
nightclub in an evening gown. "She's fantastic," he said. He turned
to look at his wife. "You knew about this, didn't you?"



Alison smiled. "I knew she was trying to land a job with a band. She asked
to borrow some of my records."



"But why this song?" His eyes spotted Quinn and Gareth at a nearby
table. "She wanted to sing in the movie. Why didn't she say anything to
me?"



"Jessie wanted to get it all by herself without using her connection to
you."



"Going by the look on their faces, I think Gareth and Quinn are ready to
sign her on the spot."



Steven wasn't the only one surprised by Jessie's performance. Dennis had
received an invitation to come hear them sing and expected to hear more modern
tunes. He was stunned when he saw her on the stage, virtually ignoring his
companions which did not sit well with Alicia and Kirsten.



"I thought we were going dancing," complained Kirsten. "This is
boring."



"You'd better get used to it since we'll be hearing it throughout the
movie," commented Dennis as he led them to a table.



"Doesn't mean I have to like it."



"Who's that singing?" asked Alicia. "Is that the friend we've
come to see?"



"Yes."



"She's very pretty."



"Mmm." He never took his eyes off Jessie.



She was working up to her big finish.



I try to explain

Bei mir bist du schon

So kiss me and say you'll understand

I could say 'Bella, bella'

Even say 'Wunderbar'

Each language only helps me tell you how great you are



The patrons cheered and applauded, and, after a few curtsies, Jessie walked off
stage. "You were fabulous!" declared Mags. "You really put your
heart into it."



"How did you feel?" asked Cliff, who sang the next song.



"Once you get going, you forget about the crowd. I still can't believe
it."



"You'd better get changed for dancing," said Andrew. "Something
a little less formal."



As Jessie changed, Cliff sang It Had to be You and Mags followed with
</i>It's Been a Long Long Time</i>. Then it was time to dance. Mags
and Jessie both wore full skirts with crinolines. They waited until the band
started Benny Goodman's Sing Sing Sing before they made their way to the
dance floor and started their moves. The dancers parted to give them more room.
Jessie danced her shoes off and smiled when Andrew squeezed her hand before the
finale. "Ready?" She nodded and he spun her around, she squatted,
arms outstretched as he lifted his right leg over her arms then pulled her
forward between his legs and she jumped into the air, turning to face him as
she did so. He then lifted her straight up and over his head.



Quinn looked at Gareth across the table. "What do you think?"



"The band is good, and if those kids come with it, it'll save us the
trouble of hiring singers."



"Should I sign them up?"



"You brought the contracts with you?"



"Of course," Quinn smiled. He motioned for a waiter and told him to
tell the bandleader that they wanted to see him. "Oh, look, there are our
stars. I wonder what they're doing here?"



"Why shouldn't they come here? It's a nightclub."



"But to come to a club playing big band music instead of the new
songs?"



"It's a very popular place tonight," remarked Gareth. "There's
Edinburgh."



As the two movie men watched, Steven and Alison were joined by Jamie.
"Sorry, I'm late. Did I miss them?"



"You knew about this?" Steven asked.



"How could I not? They practiced in the flat. So, how were they?"



"Wonderful," answered Alison. "I never realized how talented
Andrew is. We think they'll get to be in the movie."



"There'll be no living with them, then," Jamie teased. "Uh-oh,
speak of the devil." Thinking they were heading for the table, Jamie
hushed. Instead, they went past with the bandleader.



"Are you enjoying the show?" asked the bandleader as he reached Quinn
and Gareth's table.



"Very much," said Quinn. "Allow me to make the introductions. My
name is Quinn Douglas and this is Gareth Sands."



"Gary Evans. These are tonight's singers; Jessica, Cliff, Margaret, and Andrew."



"It's rather unusual to see kids your age performing this type of
music," remarked Gareth. "What made you decide to do it?"



"I grew up listening to it," answered Andrew. "I always thought
they were fun to sing."



"Mr. Douglas and I are currently filming a movie based on the duke of
Edinburgh's wartime exploits and we'd like to use you and the band for our
nightclub scenes."



"How wonderful," said Evans. "Do you need us to come to the
studios to sign?"



Quinn smiled. "We have the contracts here."



"Just give me the pen," said Cliff.



"Aren't you with the band?" asked Gareth.



"They just joined," said Evans, coming to the rescue. "We
haven't had time for a formal contract."



Quinn looked at Gareth, who shrugged. "They can sign individually."



They all signed the contract and Quinn welcomed them to the project.



Dennis smiled when he saw the group approach Sands and Douglas. What a scheme!
"It seems like we've got our band. I think I'll go congratulate
them."



"Then can we leave?" asked Kirsten.



"If you still want to."



Alicia slowed when they passed Steven's table. "Is that Lord Jamie with
the Edinburghs?"



Dennis gave the table a quick look. "Yeah. Do you want to meet him?"



"You know him?" Kirsten thought the evening was picking up. "For
how long?"



"About three or four months."



As they passed the table, Jamie turned and saw them. "Dennis! What are you
doing here tonight?"



"Hello, Jamie. Your Graces," he said as he nodded his head in Steven
and Alison's direction, hoping that was the proper way to address them.
"Some friends of mine would like an introduction" He presented
Kirsten and Alicia.



Jamie and Steven stood while Alison bowed her head in greeting. "How nice
to formally meet you," said Steven as he welcomed the young actresses.
"I've seen you at the studio."



"This is an honor, your Grace," said Alicia, even though she was
looking at Jamie.



She was stopped from embarrassing herself further by Mags as she reached the
table. "The most wonderful thing has happened."



"You made it into the movie," said Jamie.



"You could sound a bit more enthusiastic."



"Why? I had no doubt that you would all pull it off."



"Don't you think they would find it the tiniest bit suspicious, seeing you
here with us?" asked Steven.



"It can't hurt," said Andrew as he and Jessie came over. "We've
already signed the contract." He kissed his mother on the cheek.



"With our real names," added Jessie, "so there won't be any
accusations of misleading them." She saw the new arrivals. "Dennis, I
see you got my invitation."



"I brought along a couple of friends. I hope you don't mind." He
introduced the two women again. "You guys were really good. I was just
surprised over the choice, is all."



"Where's Cliff?" asked Jamie, trying to extricate himself from the
attentions of both Mags and Alicia.



"Using the Gents," answered Andrew.



Just then he came rushing over. "You will not believe what I just
heard."



"What? Give," said Jessie.



"There's been a murder."



Mags was inclined to disbelieve him. "Pull the other one, Cliff."



"I'm serious. I heard it from a reliable source."



"And just who is this 'reliable source'?" asked Jamie.



"Gareth Sands."



"What?" asked Steven. "How did you hear this?"



"He was on the phone as I passed it on the way from the bathroom. I wasn't
listening until I heard the word 'murder'. Of course, then he had my attention.
After that, most of the conversation was on the other end. Sands said he'd be
right over."



"So we don't know who or where," said Jamie.



"We do know where," Steven said. "Who would be calling Sands
here?"



"Someone from the studio," answered Dennis, catching on.



"Exactly. Andrew, you see your mother home. I'm going to the studio. No
arguments," he said as Jamie opened his mouth. He left money with Alison
for the bill. "I'll let you know what I find out." With that, he was
gone.



Dennis looked at Kirsten. "Do you still think it's boring?"



**********************************************



Steven arrived shortly at the studio and made his way up past the police
barricade. He followed the signs of commotion and found himself in one of the
offices on the upper floor. Seeing a familiar face, he walked over.
"Keeping busy, John?"



Superintendent John Dolittle looked up. "What are you doing here?"
Since they had been friends for close to twenty-five years, he was one of the
few people who could treat Steven like an unwanted guest and get away with it.



"I was at the club when Sands got the call. Knowing it originated here, I
came right over." He tried to look into the office. "Who is it?"



"Elizabeth Michaels. She was--"



"The script editor on my movie." Steven walked inside to where the
photographer and medical examiner were getting the details of the site.
"She was a brilliant writer, you know. What was the time of death?"



"Somewhere around 7:00 or 8:00," replied the examiner, a dour man who
seemed immune to what he saw around him. "Due to the vomiting, I'd say she
was poisoned. I need to do an autopsy for details."



"Thanks." Steven stared at the body of the woman who just yesterday
showed so much enthusiasm for her work. "I want you to get whoever did
this, John."



"You know I will. If you don't get him first."



********************************************



Steven let himself in the front door then headed for the kitchen in the hopes
of getting a hot cup of coffee. As he passed the door to the den, he heard
Alison call out his name. He walked in to see her sitting on the couch, her
legs tucked up underneath her. With one look at his face, she was up and
hugging him. "Was it so horrid?"



"As far as corpses go, no, it wasn't. It was most likely poison so there
were no outward signs of violence." Alison knew there had to be more. Of
all the deaths he had investigated in the past, nothing had affected him like
this. She led him back to the sofa and sat beside him, her arm about his
shoulder. "I knew the victim, Alison. This time it wasn't just a body,
wasn't just a name." He looked at her. "She was Liz Michaels, the
script editor for the movie."



"Oh, my God!" There wasn't much else she could say.



"All I want to do now is get a little something to drink and go to bed.
Peace and quiet is just what I need to get myself together."



"I'm afraid that's not what you're going to get."



"What?"



"You have an audience waiting to hear from you. The group from the club
have been waiting in the kitchen since we got back."



"Maybe we can sneak away upstairs before they realize I'm back."



"I don't think so."



Steven was about to ask why when he heard voices in the hallway. Andrew was the
first to reach the room. "I told you I heard the door," he said to
the others.



They entered and gathered closely around Steven so they could hear every word
he said and satisfy their morbid curiosity. Jessie noticed something different
about Steven. He usually reacted to murder by going off and investigating, not
by sitting and moping. She also noticed how Allison sat with her arm about his
shoulders as if she was comforting him. "You knew the. . ." She
couldn't bring herself to say "victim".



He looked at her. "Yes, I did."



This statement made Dennis, Alicia, and Kirsten nervous. If it was someone from
the studio that Steven knew, odds were that they knew the victim as well.
Dennis asked the question on everyone's lips. "Who was it?"



"Liz."



"Oh, my God," said Kirsten. Alicia crossed herself as Dennis slid
into a chair in shock.



"How did it happen?" asked Andrew.



"They're not positive, but as there were no signs of violence, the coroner
thinks it was poison."



"But why Liz? Surely she had no enemies," remarked Kirsten.



"You knew her?"



"Not well. She kept to herself after hours, but she was nice to everyone
on the job. Even when we all were tearing our hair out, she was calm."



"We invited her to join us for drinks the other night," said Alicia,
"but she preferred to stay late and get her work done."



"You can tell that to the police when you go to work tomorrow. Any little
bit can help."



"Do you really think they'll continue working on the film?" asked
Jessie.



"Oh, yeah. I don't mean to sound cold, but they won't let a death stop
them permanently. They'll stop for a couple of days, then it's back to
business." He looked at the three actors. "You'd better get home as
you have an early start."



"Thank you, your Grace, for taking the time to tell us," said Dennis
as they left.



"You deserved to know." Jamie, Jessie, and the others left rather
subdued. "I'll keep you up-to- date when I can," he told them. He
closed and locked the door. He then turned to Alison. "How about a
brandy?"



*************************************************



Dennis arrived at the studio the next morning to find the police questioning
everyone involved just as Edinburgh had said. Quinn greeted him when he reached
the soundstage. "Dennis, there you are. I guess there's no delicate way to
tell you: Liz Michaels was found dead in her office last night."



"Oh, Lord," said Dennis with feigned shock. "How did it
happen?"



"They haven't said. The police are questioning everyone."



"I'll be glad to help."



"Good lad." He introduced Dennis to the man in charge of the case,
Spt. John Dolittle.



"We're just doing some preliminary questioning of everyone who came in
contact with Miss Michaels while she worked."



"I'm so glad you didn't say 'the deceased'."



"Pardon?"



"I'm glad you used her name instead of referring to her as 'the deceased'.
It doesn't sound so cold that way."



"I find more people cooperate if you use the name whenever possible. Now,
did you know Miss Michaels?"



"Not well. She was very professional when she was working. She would try
and lighten the mood sometimes by cracking a joke or two. From what I could
tell, everyone liked her."



"Do you know what she was like outside of work?"



"No. We asked her to join us for a couple of drinks a few nights ago, but
she stayed late to get some work done."



"We gather that's what she was doing when she died. How many people knew
she liked to work late?"



"I couldn't really say. There were about ten of us going out that night,
but I don't know how many--if any--others."



"Thank you, Mr. Howell. I may need to ask you some more questions,
so--"



"I know. Don't leave town. If they carry on with the filming, you can
always check with the studio for our location schedule." Dolittle made to
leave. "Can I ask you a question, Superintendent?"



"I guess."



"Are you a friend of the duke of Edinburgh, the John Dolittle in our
film?"



"Yes. Ironic, isn't it?"



After questioning all the studio personnel about Liz, Dolittle and his men
returned to Scotland Yard. Dolittle went up to his office and found Steven
waiting for him. "Hard day at the office?"



"Very funny. I was out at the studio questioning suspects. Quite a bunch
there. Oh, they say they were saddened--'What a tragedy'--but then they seemed
to wonder how her death would affect them. Except for one. Howell, I think his
name was."



"Ah, Dennis." Steven stood so John could sit behind his desk.
"He plays me in the movie. Nice kid."



"So what brings you here?"



"Well, I knew you'd be at the studio and wouldn't want me underfoot and I
figured the preliminary autopsy reports would be in . . ."



"Sometimes I wonder why I bother to ask," said John with a smile.
"They should be sending it up sometime soon." There was a knock on
the door. "Come in."



A young constable stood there with a file in her hands. "From the
coroner's office, sir. Said you were to have it straight away."



"Thank you." The constable handed it to Dolittle, and, with a
startled look at Steven, left. "What is this affect you have on
people?"



"I've no idea. Sometimes it comes in handy, though." He leaned
forward in his seat. "Well, what does it say?"



"It confirms poison. Isopropanol, large concentration on the
fingers."



"The typewriter," said Steven in a flash of inspiration. "Our
murderer coated the typewriter keys with poison knowing that he didn't have to
be there when it happened."



"A great alibi for time of death. I'll have to check and see if they found
isopropanol on the typewriter."



"It may have evaporated by the time you got there, but traces may have
been found."



"Then we'll have to start questioning all over again."



"Good luck."



"What's that supposed to mean?"



"There are those who don't exactly tell the full truth to the
police."



"And you think you can do better?"



"Not this time, but I know someone who can give us a little help."



Steven followed Dolittle over to the studio. "Back again,
Superintendent?" asked Sands. "Come to harass my employees?"



"No, I'm here to see justice done," Dolittle replied. "Since I
was here this morning, we've learned how Miss. Michaels was killed. I need to
ask more questions."



"If you find it necessary to disrupt work--"



"If you don't let me pursue my questioning, I could have you arrested for
obstruction."



"That was not my intent, Superintendent. Of course, you must continue you
investigation. It's just that there are other films being worked on and
disruptions would set things back."



"I will be as discreet as possible, Mr. Sands." Once outside the
offices, they walked to the soundstage. "He's a cold one. You'd think he'd
show a bit more sympathy."



"He's a producer. They don't have time for sympathy. He's The Money. His
main concern is that the film doesn't go over-budget and ever delay means more
money."



"Are you defending him?"



"As a suspect? No. I'm just pointing out the reason for his attitude. One
thing to be said in his favor, though."



"What's that?"



"Her death is costing him money."



John shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind."



***************************************************



Alicia took a sip of her drink. "I can't believe we were questioned by the
police twice in one day."



"The first was necessary to follow-up the death," said Dennis.
"The second was after they found out how she was killed."



"God, what a way to go," remarked Kirsten. "Poisoned by her
typewriter."



"But why?" asked Karen who had joined them. "What could Liz have
done to make someone need to kill her?"



"The police are convinced it was someone from the studio," said
Dennis. "We have just got to figure out what happened at the studio, when
things started going bad."



" 'We'?" asked Alicia. "You're taking this whole thing rather
seriously, aren't you?"



"The police always ask if there have been any changes in habit or emotion.
We're the ones who have the best chance of noticing such changes."



"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Kirsten.



"If we can figure out when the changes started, we might be able to help
find out who killed Liz and why."



"This could be fun," said Alicia.



" "Fun'? This could hardly be considered fun," said Karen.
"There's a murderer somewhere in the studio."



"Okay. When did things start to go wrong?"



"From the beginning," said Kirsten. "There were always problems.
Lighting, props, that stuff."



"That goes on with every film," said Dennis. "When did something
different happen?"



They were quiet while they thought back on what had happened. "Everything
was going fine until the re-write of that scene, you know, the one with the
speech," said Alicia.



"I thought there was some tension between Quinn and Sands," remarked
Dennis.



"But why would tension between them result in Liz's death?" asked
Kirsten.



"Maybe it was everything to do with it, maybe nothing."



"Very Holmesian, Dennis," said Alicia. "But it might have been
something in the scene rather than who wrote it."



"And the one thing in the scene that changed was the speech," said
Kirsten.



"Why did they go after Quinn since adding the speech was his idea?"
asked Karen.



"Because whoever it was didn't realize that. Besides, I think that the
deciding factor was the use of the recording."



"So the killer could be the man who was a Nazi sympathizer?" asked
Alicia.



"He heard the tape and was afraid that the person who wrote the scene used
it on purpose to flush him out," said Kirsten.



"I think we'd better go tell the duke of Edinburgh," said Dennis.



"Now?" asked Karen. "Are you sure?"



"The time we waste, the killer gets further away."



**********************************************



Steven sat at his desk trying to work on some new scenes. The show must go on,
after all. He tapped his pen against the desk. He couldn't get his mind off
Liz's death. He knew the victim; he felt he should be out there tracking down
her murderer, not sitting here in his study overcome with grief.



A corner of an envelope caught his attention: the return address was from
someone named Sutton of Romney Grange. That's the name of the woman on
record as Jamie's mother. What's Alison doing with a letter from there?



Alison came in and found him staring at the desk. "Oh, there's that letter
I've been looking for."



"What letter?"



"From my cousin Edmund Sutton in Romney."



"I didn't know you had family there."



"I could have sworn I mentioned them. Aunt Caro was Dad's younger sister.
I used to visit them while I was in school."



Caro. Caroline Sutton. That was the name Jamie's mother gave at the
hospital. This couldn't be coincidence. "Did you visit there during
the war?"



"Quite a number of times. It was so peaceful there compared to London. The
hard thing to get used to was driving without road signs."



"It's ironic that you spent time in Romney during the war and Jamie was
born in Dymchurch in '45."



"I never realized that."



"Alison, about Jamie--" The doorbell rang.



Dawson knocked on the door. "Sir, Dennis Howell to see you."



"Thank you, Dawson. Send him in."



"I wonder why he wants to see you?" asked Alison.



"Probably has questions about Liz's death. I asked him to keep watch on
the studio for me."



Dennis came in. "Thank you for seeing me, your Grace. I hope I wasn't
interrupting anything?"



"Nothing that can't wait." After all, it's waited twenty years.
"What did you want to see me about?"



"After shooting today, Kirsten, Alicia, Karen, and I got together and
talked about when things started happening at the studio. Kirsten said that the
murder in tied-in somehow to the propaganda speech because it was after that
scene changed that Liz was killed."



"That makes little sense. Why kill Liz when it was Quinn's idea to use a
speech and mine to use a real one from the MI6 archives?"



"It would if the murderer thought Liz was responsible. Alicia thinks that
the murderer is the man who made the speech."



"True. Many sympathizers used pseudonyms to keep their identities secret
should they return to everyday life after the war."



"So this means that the murderer is definitely one of the men from the
studio," said Alison. "Someone who wouldn't be given a second glance
going into her office."



"And once he finds out his mistake, Quinn and I are next on the list.
Thanks for telling me all this, Dennis. I'll pass this on to Superintendent
Dolittle."



"Good night, your Grace--both of you." With a smile, he left.



Steven reached for the phone, dialed Scotland Yard, and asked for Dolittle. He
didn't notice when Alison left the room. "John, a theory has been put
before me that sounds like it could be a good lead." Steven told him all
that Dennis had said.



"So you think you and Douglas will be nest?"



"If he finds out he's made a mistake. See if you can get histories on all
the men at the studio who could be Lord ________. I'm going to visit MI6 and
start from the opposite end."



"And the moment either of us discovers anything--the moment--we call the
other. Right?"



"Oui, mon capitain."



*************************************************



As Dennis was walking across the studio grounds, Kirsten came up to him.
"Your friends are over at the recording studio."



"Really?" Dennis was surprised they hadn't told him. "How do you
know?"



"I saw them. Lord Stuart wasn't with them, though."



"Why would he be?" he asked with a smile. "He doesn't sing with
them."



"Oh, I don't know. Moral support, maybe?"



"Thanks for telling me." He looked at his watch. "I've got time
to stop by." He waved and headed for the recording studio.



When he arrived, they were in the middle of a vocal so he could only watch
through the window in the studio door. A young technician saw him. "May I
help you, sir? This is off-limits to the general public."



"Oh, I'm working on a movie here. That group singing now are
friends."



"Really? They're pretty good, but my tastes run towards the newer
stuff."



"They sing that, too. One of them even met the Beatles." That
impressed the technician who let Dennis watch the rest of the session from the
mixing room.



When they were done, Dennis joined them in the studio. "You guys were
fab."



"You're not just saying that, are you?" questioned Mags.



"'Course not. How come you didn't tell me you were going to be here? I had
to find out from Kirsten."



"We tried to reach you, but you must've already left," said Cliff.
"How're things going with the film?"



"Very slowly, but things may be looking up soon."



"Has something broken?" asked Andrew.



Knowing there was less chance of being overheard outside, Dennis said,
"Why don't you walk with me to the soundstage and I'll tell you what I
know."



During the walk, Dennis told them everything, with only a few interruptions
from Mags. "That's some story," remarked Cliff.



"Did Steven give you any idea of what he was going to do next?" asked
Jessie.



"No. Just that he was going to notify the superintendent."



"Well, you can be sure he's doing something more than that," said
Andrew. "He's going to be in this all the way."



Dennis stopped outside the set. "Do you guys want to get together
tonight?"



"Sure," said Mags. "I can always find time for a few
drinks."



Dennis laughed. "I'm not sure when I'll be done, but I'll call."



*****************************************************



After Steven had left for the Foreign Office, Alison placed a call to her
cousin in Romney. "Edmund."



"Hello, Allie. I wasn't expecting a phone call."



"Yes, well, there are some things I need to talk about and this is more
immediate than a letter."



"What's wrong?"



"It's something Steven said last night." She took a deep breath.
"Do you remember when I came to the Grange near the end of the war. .
?"



"When you were enceinte?"



"I think he knows."



"Alison, you're not making any sense."



"I think Steven knows I had his baby. He was asking about my visits to
Romney and if I went during the war. He then said it was ironic that I visited
there so close to the time Jamie was born in Dymchurch."



"He believes Jamie to be your son?"



"It's possible. I never knew whether it was a boy or girl. Jamie's
birthday falls around the same time."



"What do you want me to do?"



"Check the orphanage and see if they can tell you anything."



"I don't know if they can give out that information."



"Please?"



"Oh, all right. I'll call you back as soon as I can. I still think you
should tell him."



"You're right. I will. Thanks, Eddie." Alison hung up the phone.
"The only problem is when and how."



******************************************************



Steven looked up from the reports he was reading and rubbed his eyes. "I
probably should invest in a pair of glasses," he said to the empty archive
room. "I don't know how people can do this all day for a living."



He had read through transcripts of Lord ________ speeches and a character
profile--what they could learn from his speeches, plus formulated ideas on the
type of man he would be. There were even reports from dialecticians trying to
place his origins!



The most agreed-upon premise was that he had spent time in Germany in one of
three ways: (1)he was born there and later moved to England, (2)one or both of
his parents were born there, or (3)he was educated there. Being exposed in such
a way to the German culture and way of life, he felt that what Hitler said was
right and wanted to help The Fatherland in any way he could. When the war was
over and Germany had lost, he returned home to try and pick up where he left
off, no one being any the wiser.



The information itself was nothing earth-shattering, but hopefully, in
combination with John's, it should help them catch a murderer.



He returned the files to the archivist and used the phone to call Dolittle.
"Hello, Steven. Any luck?" John sounded rather animated.



"Some. Nothing positive, though. Everything's very vague. You must've come
across something, otherwise you wouldn't sound so up."



"I don't think it's something we should discuss over the phone. Stop by
and I'll tell you all about it."



Steven drove to the Yard and made his way to John's office. Dolittle smiled and
shut the door behind him. "Wipe that smirk off your face and tell me what
you found out. It's been driving me crazy the whole way over."



"For once I have the upper hand," said John. "I'm going to savor
it for awhile." He sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair.



Steven tried to act non-chalant by leaning back in his chair and acting as if
he had all day. He stared at John thinking that might break him. It didn't
work. He then began to drum his fingers on the chair's armrests. "Okay.
Spill. I'm not very good at this waiting business."



Dolittle smiled. "I was wondering how long it would take." He sat up
and pulled a couple of files from the desk. "There are two possibilities,
but I have my favorite."



Steven took the proffered folders. The first held nothing overly significant.
He was the right age and had spent a good deal of time in Germany before the
war. He then looked at the second. "I see what you mean." His parents
were from Cologne and they had moved to England before the outset of WWI. He
was born in 1915, went to a minor public school, then two years at Oxford and
one at Heidelberg. He had been visiting friends in Germany when the war broke
out and he spent the intervening years in Switzerland.



"This is too ridiculous. Five years in Switzerland when they could have
easily arranged a way home? The Germans could have provided a second passport
with no problems. His real one was used to enter Switzerland and the second to
go back to Germany. When the war was over, his original would have been ready
and waiting."



"A lovely scenario. I wouldn't have thought of that."



"I always fell back on a number of passports myself."



"How could I have forgotten?" John sat back. "We may have found
our sympathizer, but we're no closer to our murderer."



"Oh, I think we are. This file plus what Dennis and the others told us
leaves no doubt."



"The evidence is barely circumstantial. We need more to arrest him."



"Frustrating, isn't it? It should be easier to catch him now that we know
the proper bait to use."



"We let it leak out that you know who the murderer is and then we wait for
him to make his move."



"You know, you should do this professionally."



"Very funny. How are we going to leak the information? It'll look
suspicious coming from us."



"All we need to do is tell one person and the word will spread."



**********************************************



Later that evening as he was preparing to leave his office, Gareth Sands
received a visit from Quinn Douglas. "I'm sorry to bother you,
Gareth," he said, rolling his Rs in nervousness, "but something's
been bothering me."



"If it's about the filming, I think we'll be able to start up again at the
end of the week."



"No, it's not that."



"Well?" Knowing this was going to take time, he motioned for Quinn to
take a seat.



"I've been wondering why someone would want to kill Liz. I realized it had
to do with the film, but I wasn't sure what it was. In the commissary, I heard
talk that it might be because of that speech we added."



"That was rather daring, using a real speech. There is a chance that the
man is still alive or has family."



"I know, but the idea to use a speech at all was mine and his Grace
recommended using a real one for authenticity."



"So you're feeling guilty?"



"Well, of course. It should be me that's dead, not her."



"We're all feeling guilty that something like this could happen on studio
grounds. Possibly, by one of us."



"That's what I've heard."



"Really?"



"That's what Scotland Yard suspects. Liz was killed because the murderer
thought she knew his secret."



"Maybe you should try never to be alone with anyone," remarked
Gareth. "Since it could be anyone." He picked up his briefcase and
headed for the door. "If you want, I'll walk with you to the car
park."



"No, thanks. I've a few things to arrange for the locations."



"Very well. I'll notify Security that you're still here."



"Thank you." Quinn released his pent-up breath once Gareth had gone.



From their hiding place in the corridor, Steven and Dolittle watched him go.
John spoke into his radio. "All units, suspect is on the move, possibly
towards the car park. Keep your eyes open and mark if he does anything
suspicious."



"You were wonderful, Quinn," said Steven as that man joined them in
the hall. "That should have him worried."



"It's hard to believe that Gareth's the killer."



"He was protecting a secret he had kept for twenty years."



Dolittle's radio crackled. "Go on."



"Hawkins here, sir. The suspect has just entered the car park."



"Good. Keep an eye on him." John looked at Steven, gave a quick jerk
of his head, then started down the corridor.



"Shall we go? I don't know about you, but I don't want to miss the
fun." He noticed Quinn's startled reaction to the curt way John had
treated him. "You're wondering why I put up with it?"



"It did cross my mind that it's a strange way to treat royalty,"
Quinn replied as they followed the policeman.



"Dolittle's known me since I was a reforming thief during the war. It's part
of his personality. I can't expect him to change because of a title."



They caught up with John at the lift. "What kind of car does he
drive?"



"A Jaguar, I think," replied Douglas. "Why?"



"He's entering a _______. I take it that's your car."



"What's in doing in my car?"



"Obviously, he plans to sabotage it," remarked John dryly as the lift
doors opened.



"But why? I still don't get what's going on."



"From your recitation in his office, he thinks you now know his secret.
When he realized his mistake, he made immediate plans to rectify the
situation."



"You mean all that about the speech is true?"



John let Steven explain it to Quinn while he thought about how to handle the
situation. He wanted to call his men but the noise of the radio would give everything
away if Sands heard it. The lift doors opened on the ground floor and the three
walked towards the main doors. "Where are you parked?"



"To the left when you get outside, a few spaces down."



"He'll spot us if we all go out." He looked down the hall.
"There's got to be an office with a window. I have to signal my men to
move in."



"Follow me." Quinn then led them down the hall. "This should be
the one."



Steven went to the window and peered out. By the light in the car park he could
see Sands bending over the car with the bonnet open. "I see he has taken
up car mechanics."



"Would you come into the office for any reason?"



"Yes, he wouldn't be suspicious," replied Quinn.



"Great." John backed up against the wall by the window and Steven did
the same on the other side. "Now, turn on the light and do what I
say."



*****************************************************



Hawkins saw the light go on in the office behind Sands. Puzzled, he watched as
the shadow walked back and forth, almost in a pattern. He recognized it as
Morse code. He signaled the other men and moved forward. He approached Sands
and said, "Pardon me, sir, but could you use some help?"



************************************



"Okay, turn off the light."



Quinn did so and Steven peered out the window. "One of your men is with
him now."



"Time to go." John and Steven rushed out of the room, down the hall,
and outside, with Douglas tagging along.



Once in the car park, they approached the two men by the car. "What seems
to be the problem, gentlemen?"



"It looks like a ruptured break line. I was just offering this gentleman
my assistance," replied Hawkins.



"Your Grace. Superintendent. I didn't expect to see you here," said
Sands.



"We needed to work out a few things," replied Dolittle. "I'm
surprised by your choice of car. I expected an Aston-Martin or a Jaguar."



"It belongs to a friend," said Sands. "Mine is in the garage.
I'm afraid I don't know much about cars. Is this serious?"



"Oh, very," answered John.



"Could be fatal," agreed Steven.



"You were goin' t' kill me!" exclaimed Quinn, his burr becoming more
noticeable.



"Douglas, you're here as well?"



"He's taking your advice, Gareth. You told him not to get caught
alone."



"I don't know what you're talking about."



"Don't try to deny it. There were witnesses," said John.



Quinn pointed to the other end of the car park. "Don't believe that story
about his car. His is that forest green Jaguar over there."



"What read on would I have for killing him?"



"You thought he knew your secret, the same secret you thought Liz
knew."



Sands laughed nervously. "A deep dark secret? You should write gothic
novels."



"I think spy fiction is more my thing, Herr Steiner," Steven replied
with a sly smile.



"You knew! It was you all along!" Sands--Steiner--swore in German and
moved towards Steven, only to be restrained by Hawkins and one of the other
undercover men who had come forward during the conversation.



"Gareth Sands, born Gerhardt Steiner, you are under arrest for the murder
of Elizabeth Michaels and the attempted murder of Quinn Douglas," stated
Dolittle as Hawkins put the handcuffs on him.



********************************************************



"How did you realize it was Sands?" asked Jessie.



"It wasn't any major revelation. Dolittle researched the background of all
our possibilities and discovered that Sands was the best prospect."



"But you had no actual proof that he committed the murder," said
Jamie.



"No, we didn't. We had to force his hand."



"So you had Quinn tell Sands that he was responsible," said Andrew.
"What would you have done if Sands hadn't gone for the bait?"



"We would have thought of something." Alison appeared in the doorway
and looked at Steven. "It appears I have an important conference."



Jessie looked at the two of them and knew they needed to be alone. "Why
don't we go tell the others the news?"



Andrew was about to ask why when he saw the look on her face. "What are we
going to do? Call them or meet them at the club?"



"We'll think of something," said Jamie as they walked out the door.



Alison closed the door behind them and walked over to her husband. "I have
something to tell you."



"You don't have to stand there like you've been sent to the headmaster's
office. Sit down and tell me," he said with a smile.



Alison fought a smile. "This is hard enough. I need to do it this
way." She took a deep breath. "Two months after you left for France I
discovered I was pregnant." She looked at Steven who showed no emotion.
She continued. "My father thought it best that I got out of London before
neighbors started asking questions. I let all my friends know that I was going
to the country to get away from London while I stayed with my aunt. We told her
neighbors that I was widowed.



"When the time came, we went to the hospital and I used my aunt's name.
The attending doctor was a good friend of hers and thought it a good idea. I
didn't even know if it was a boy or girl because I didn't want to wonder if
every child I saw was mine."



Steven stood and held her in his arms. "It's all right," he said
comfortingly.



She shuddered in relief. "It feels so good to let that out. I know I
should have told you earlier, but I was afraid of how you would take it."
She looked up at him. "You're taking it better than I thought."



"I will admit it's not a total surprise to me. Remember when I went out of
town? I went to the orphanage at Dymchurch. When they were taking cast photos
at the beginning of filming, Quinn pointed out that Jamie was probably
conceived in a 'night of passion' before the father went to war. Anyway, Mrs.
Sumner at the orphanage told me the name of Jamie's mother--Caroline
Sutton."



"Oh, my God! You mean. .?" She sat down in shock.



Steven went to the door. "Jamie!" he called. "Can you come here
for a minute? Alison and I have something to talk to you about."