IMPERFECTION Ray Clark (ebook pc reader txt) 📖

“Now then, gentlemen, I’ll pour the tea and you feel free to ask me anything you like.”

All three sat down and Gardener removed his hat. “Where were you last night?”

“You know very well where I was,” replied Corndell, sliding their tea across the table.

“After the show.”

“You turned up here wanting to speak to me, but I wouldn’t let you in.”

“I know where I was. I’m asking you where you were. Answer the question.”

“Of course. I was here, Mr Gardener, where else would I be? Has something happened?” Corndell banged the teapot on the table and stood up. “Has someone else been murdered, and you want me for a scapegoat?”

“Such a vivid imagination, Willie boy,” said Reilly. “No wonder you write scripts.”

Gardener ignored Corndell’s question. “Perhaps your CCTV will show us what time you arrived back at the house, Mr Corndell?”

“It would if it was working.”

“Oh, well now, isn’t that convenient?” said Reilly. “Your closed-circuit TV system is on the blink the night you need to prove your innocence.”

Corndell took a sip of his tea. “I beg to differ, Mr Reilly. It is you who has something to prove, not me.”

Another condescending reply that made Gardener’s skin crawl. As far as he was concerned, the man had guilt written all over his face, but what they lacked was concrete evidence. And at the rate they were going, they would never find it. “What’s wrong with your CCTV?” he asked.

“That’s a silly question, Mr Gardener. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called them out.”

“Name of the company, please.”

Corndell left the room but returned quickly, with a card.

Gardener read it, put it in his pocket, and then continued. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about our previous meeting... in particular, your phones.”

“What about them?” replied Corndell.

“According to the information we have, you don’t have a mobile number, and you’ve only received one call to your landline in the last ten years.”

“Am I under arrest?” asked Corndell.

“No.”

“Suspicion, then?”

“The very nature of your business means we have to carry out a detailed investigation,” replied Gardener, before adding, “if for no other reason than to eliminate you from our enquiries.”

“Perhaps it would be better if I phoned my solicitor, Mr Gardener.”

“Something to hide, Willie? Use your mobile, why don’t you?” suggested Reilly.

To Gardener’s astonishment, that’s exactly what Corndell did. He picked up his mobile and placed a call through to his solicitor and asked him to return the call when it was convenient.

“Give me that number,” Gardener demanded.

Corndell did as he was asked and wrote the number down. He passed it to Reilly, who placed the slip of paper into his pocket.

With a smug expression, Corndell continued the conversation. “You see, Mr Gardener, your records must be incorrect. Most of my business is either conducted online or through my mobile.”

“Our evidence doesn’t support your statement,” replied Gardener, making a mental note of the fact that Corndell used a computer regularly.

“Then I suggest you retrace your steps.” Corndell took another sip of tea. “Now we’ve cleared that one up, what else would you like to ask me?”

Gardener was unwilling to show his annoyance, but he realised he was treading water. Without a warrant, he couldn’t force the issue. “Let’s talk about films. In particular, your cinema–”

Corndell stood up, beckoned them, cutting Gardener dead. “Say no more, Mr Gardener. I shall take you.” Leading them out of the conservatory, he said over his shoulder, “I do realise that under normal circumstances you would have to obtain a warrant to do this, and we all know that if I push you hard enough, you will. I have nothing to hide, so I am now inviting you of my own free will into my cinema.”

Gardener wondered if Corndell was recording the meeting. No one spoke like he did. They followed him up the stairs. He made a point of showing them his favourite film posters, informing them of their value and rarity. At no stage were his attitude or his expressions those of a guilty man. Before continuing up to the top landing, he turned and spoke to them.

“I think I should take you in here first, Mr Gardener, it’s my make-up room.”

Corndell opened the door and switched on a light. Along the back wall stood a range of mannequins dressed in a variety of guises. Gardener immediately recognised the costume from last night’s performance of The Hunchback; the Phantom was also there, and others of which he had no idea.

“I don’t recognise all of them. Enlighten me.”

“Over there, is the Ape Man from the film A Blind Bargain. And there you can see the Clown from the 1924 film He Who Gets Slapped.”

“Who starred in those films?” asked Gardener.

“Lon Chaney, of course.” Corndell had made the statement so boldly that Gardener was convinced he was trying to rile him.

“I thought Lon Chaney only made horror films. What was the clown film about?”

“It shows how little you know about him, Mr Gardener. He was the greatest actor the world has ever seen. The film was based on a play by the Russian writer Leonid Andreyev. It had a successful run on Broadway in the 1920s. Chaney plays a struggling scientist in Paris who is betrayed by his wife and his benefactor, Baron Regnard. The Baron stole his essays, took the credit, and his wife. Disillusioned, Chaney eventually runs away and becomes a clown in a circus, changing his name to ‘He Who Gets Slapped’, because his fellow clowns slap him no matter what he does.”

Corndell had thrown in details that very few people left alive would know. Maybe that’s what Gardener needed, Corndell knocking nails into his own coffin. Perhaps now he could alter the course of the interview by turning