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“What’s that?” asked Briggs.
“It’s a piece of paper with the quotes on. When Sean and I went to see William Henry Corndell today, I let him handle it. I’m the only other person who has.”
“Well done,” said Briggs. “How did you get on with him?”
“He’s intelligent, and he knows a lot about his trade. But I think he has a secretive side,” said Gardener.
“Don’t we all?” asked Briggs.
“I’m still not sure whether or not the whole interview was an act.”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Briggs.
“We need to take a closer look. He’s locked up inside a huge mansion that looks like a shrine to the film world. It’s full of posters and very probably props.”
“And locked rooms,” added Reilly.
“What do you mean, locked rooms? Have you been searching his house without a warrant, Reilly?”
“It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t find the toilet.”
“Oh, Jesus,” said Briggs, running his hands down his face. “Why is it that everything he does has disaster written all over it?”
“With all due respect, sir,” said Gardener, “you’d have to see him to know what we’re talking about. He’s superstitious, although he denies it. Eccentric. He hates being challenged. Self-conscious. He was dressed all in black with a red tie. Not that that’s a problem, but you’d think he could match a few more colours together.”
“None of which proves he’s mad,” retorted Briggs.
“Maybe you’re right. When all is said and done, he did provide what I think will be a valuable clue.”
“Go on,” said Briggs.
“He suspected the quotes came from the silent film era, the Golden Age of Hollywood, as he calls it. When films were silent, with no synchronized sound, they used title cards to communicate what was being said. He feels these quotes are written in the same style as those cards.”
“Did he recognise them?”
“He said he didn’t.”
“But you think otherwise?” Briggs asked.
Gardener nodded. “We went to see Fettle afterwards, the old guy who looks after The Grand in Leeds. He told us about Lon Chaney, an actor in the silent films who was a master of disguise. He played the part of Inspector Burke of Scotland Yard, and the part of the vampire here.” Gardener held up the artist impression. “In a film entitled, London After Midnight.”
“I remember him,” said Briggs. “He also made that film about the Hunchback.”
“And The Phantom of the Opera. Fettle also mentioned a film called A Blind Bargain, another of Chaney’s, about a mad scientist. Both that one and London are what you call ‘lost films’. Corndell told us he collects lost films, and that his favourite was A Blind Bargain, and he provided us with a lot of information about make-up. What bothers me most is a conversation he was having on his mobile phone when we arrived, supposedly with Hollywood. He was discussing the choice of director for his work. He wasn’t happy about it, and said he would make changes if they didn’t like his script.”
“The problem is?” asked Briggs.
“When I asked Fettle to verify the directors Corndell mentioned, Fettle said both of them had been dead for years.”
The silence that followed was claustrophobic. Gardener sensed the clocks ticking and the wheels turning. Had they found their man? He faced Trevor Thorpe, the profiler. “Trevor, any thoughts?”
Thorpe was dressed as they’d seen him previously, in a tweed jacket and brown cords. Once again, he left his chair and glanced at the ceiling as he walked.
“Well, Mr Gardener, a very interesting character. Someone I would perhaps like to meet. Did he appear very confident when challenged?”
Reilly nodded. “Pretty much.”
“What was his house like? Clean and tidy?”
