Murder by Matchlight (British Library Crime Classics) by Lorac E.C.R

Author:Lorac, E.C.R. [Lorac, E.C.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: British Library Publishing
Published: 2018-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

II

The studio in which Macdonald and Jenkins were given a “run through” of the section of film Macdonald had asked to see was very different from the vast cinemas in which films are usually seen. The studio was just long enough to enable a limited number of people to see the screen at a sufficient distance to get a good view. To Macdonald’s mind there was something almost eerie in the fact of watching a film portraying a crowd of people waiting to meet the boat train at Charing Cross and himself watching for the appearance of a man whose body was lying in a mortuary. The star players in the foreground of the picture were arguing with passionate emphasis, and all around and behind them was a moving throng—rich men and poor men, guards, porters, inspectors; fur-coated women and well-dressed men, paper boys, buffet boys, couriers, chauffeurs—all the crowd of pre-war travelling days. Then suddenly, at the side of the screen, a man turned and faced the onlookers for a few seconds—a man with a dark whimsical face and a charming smile. He collided with a stout woman carrying a heavy suit-case and his expression and gesture of apology were curiously real. He drew back and stood on one side waiting, his face expressing an amused interest as he looked at the moving throng surging forward from the train—and then the scene flashed off and the white screen was left blank. “O.K.?” inquired a bored voice. “That’s the only station scene in that picture.”

“Thanks. That’s all I want for the moment,” replied Macdonald. He and Jenkins left the studio and went to interview one of the management staff. “We’ve spotted the man we’re interested in,” said Macdonald. “He was one of the crowd at the barrier—not a speaking part. Would there be any records of those employed for crowd parts in the studio where the picture was made?”

The reply was not encouraging: “You never can tell with these crowd scenes. The agents send along a job lot and a few odd ones may come in from nowhere in particular. That’s an old film—I doubt if any records would have been kept of the supers. Tell you what—I’ll put through an inquiry for you. Maybe we can find someone who was in that scene. If we can, we’ll run through it for you again and see if we can get the guy located. Is he wanted?”

“No. He’s dead. He was knocked over the head in Regent’s Park on Thursday evening. We want to get a line on his friends. The name he was using when he was killed was John Ward, but he may have been known as Timothy O’Farrel. He was an Irishman.”

“Right. I’ll see what I can do—but the trouble is he probably used another name at the Studio. They nearly always do.”

“Where was the film made?”

“Engleton Studios. They were blitzed in 1941.”

“I see. Doesn’t look very hopeful, does it?”

“Well—there’s always a chance. I tell you straight out it’ll be a hundred to one against, but I’ll do my best.

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