The Stone Wife
- Автор: Ловси Питер
- Серия: Peter Diamond #14
- Год: 2014
- Язык: английский
- Год: Sphere
- ISBN: 978-0-7515-5405-2
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «The Stone Wife». Краткое содержание книги:
‘Well, yes. The photography won’t be anything special, but it’s the look that matters. It’s supposed to bring more integrity, like hand-held camerawork.’
‘Which has been done to death,’ Marcus said, turning away with a sniff. ‘Listen to me, people. You may be thinking we have all night, but I felt a spot of rain just now. Can we go again on the hour?’
‘Why don’t you get some shots with your phone right now?’ Lee said to Ingeborg when Marcus was far enough away. ‘Opportunity seldom knocks twice.’ Sylvie May had got it right. At some stage in her education, Lee had swallowed the Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs.
‘You don’t mind?’ Ingeborg said. ‘I was thinking of leaving now we’ve met. I didn’t want to start without your agreement.’
‘You mean a contract? There’s no need for that, is there? I assume it’s the usual understanding. I get to see what you plan to publish and right of refusal. My manager would insist on that.’
‘No problem. Who is your manager?’
‘He’s also my partner, Nathan Hazael. United we stand, divided we fall. He’ll be along shortly. You’ve got to meet him.’
13
‘Nathan calls me Lily,’ Lee told Ingeborg. The conversation was easy with this buoyant young woman. ‘I don’t mind. What’s in a name? It was my nickname at school, so I answer to it automatically.’
‘It’s cool.’
‘Sure, but in the music business I’m Lee Li. It’s all about image, isn’t it? Where does your name come from?’
‘Sweden, but I’m not from there. My parents are English. They picked it out of a book.’
‘But your hair…?’
‘… is natural, yes. I’m from several generations of blondes. My mother says I have her to thank for that. But my father, who is dark-haired, says it’s down to him because the males in the family have a genetic preference for blondes. Somehow I doubt if that’s good science.’ Ingeborg had been explaining all her life that her hair colour was unrelated to her name, so she didn’t think of it as giving much away. Every word was being overheard by the team of attendants fussing over Lee’s hair, make-up and costume. At least two more takes had been ordered by Marcus. ‘And from the way you speak, I’m guessing you’ve spent most of your life here.’
‘Not all of it,’ Lee said. ‘I was born in Taiwan. My parents brought me over. They had an import-export business in London. They’re both dead now. I thought you already knew my life story from Sylvie’s article. You’re doing a picture feature, right?’
‘I am, only I like to hear about the lives of the people I photograph. Have you trained as a dancer? You managed the flying as if you’d been doing it all your life.’
Lee twitched her shoulders. ‘I enjoy anything physical. Athletics, gymnastics, karate.’
‘I won’t pick a fight with you, then,’ Ingeborg said, actually thinking it would be fun. She was a black belt herself and Lee was a good mover and probably no slouch at karate. It was weird to be more relaxed with this stranger — even with all these people listening — than she had yesterday with Sylvie. Lee was calmer than Sylvie, which was remarkable considering the heart-stopping feat of agility she had just performed, and was due to repeat in a short while. ‘Will there be more flying in the video?’
‘Quite a bit. Most of it’s in the can already. What you saw is just one tiny sequence — the last of many. We wrap tonight.’
‘All of it featuring you?’
‘And some genuine seabirds.’ She smiled. ‘They’re smarter than me. They do theirs in one take. And they refuse to work nights.’
‘That’ll be the seabirds’ union,’ Ingeborg said.
Lee’s laughter was a joy to hear, a true expression of delight. ‘It’s such a pity you’ve come at the end of filming. I don’t know what else I can show you about my day that will make a good picture feature for you.’
‘Not a problem,’ Ingeborg said. ‘What my readers really want to see isn’t you in performance. Plenty of magazines cover that. This is about the everyday things you take for granted, your mealtimes, hobbies, pets, sports, the house you live in, your bedroom, all that stuff.’
A guarded tone entered Lee’s voice. ‘Some of that might not be possible. I’ll need to talk to Nathan first. He can be a little touchy about visitors. He’s a rather private man.’
‘But I expect you have parts of the house you can call your own.’
‘Sure. I have a purpose-built studio to practise my singing and there’s a gym that Nathan never uses, so I have that all to myself.’
‘Would he mind if I took shots of you there?’
She hesitated. ‘We can ask him. If he isn’t happy about it, we’ll need to think of somewhere else.’
‘I really want to photograph you at home,’ Ingeborg pressed her. ‘That’s the premise for the series and as you’re my first interviewee this will set the standard for everything that follows.’
‘I understand,’ Lee said with an effort to be helpful. ‘I’ll have to persuade him, won’t I? After all, it’s not as if he has anything to hide.’
Ho-hum was Ingeborg’s silent comment on that.
The director called from across the deck, ‘Two minutes. Let’s have you at your mark, Lee, and make it snappy.’
‘Listen to old bossyboots,’ Lee said. ‘You’d think it was World War Three, the way he carries on. Take your time, ladies. Slow but sure wins the race.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier for you if I’m not around when Nathan gets here?’ Ingeborg asked.
‘Not at all. I want him to meet you and see what a sweet person you are. He wouldn’t say so to me, but he’s partial to blondes. I’ve watched him give them the eye.’
Marcus called to her a second time. ‘For Christ’s sake, Lee. Everyone is waiting for you — again.’
‘How can he be so mean?’ Lee said without moving a muscle. ‘Am I looking good?’
‘You’re done,’ said the make-up woman.
The dresser nodded as well.
Lee yawned and stretched. ‘Help me into that horrible harness, then. The sooner begun, the sooner done.’
The two minutes had long gone by when she ambled to her mark.
Nathan’s face was well known to Ingeborg from mugshots. He’d been photographed after his arrest by Bristol CID three years ago — the abortive court case that sent a shockwave through every police authority in the country. The look said it all, the gaze of a man in custody who knew he was still streets ahead of his captors. Dark, cavernous, intimidating eyes. A suspect under arrest will often stare back at the camera as an act of defiance. This was something else, total disdain. He knew he would come out the winner.
And now she saw him in real life, standing in the shadow of the ship’s funnel watching the third take. His eyes caught the glare of the floodlights and glinted with all the arrogance of the police photos. Nothing was going to faze Nathan Hazael, not the technical wizardry of the production, nor the sight of his protégée being swung upwards by unseen wires. Smart, in a black overcoat with a velvet collar, he kept his arms folded, feet slightly apart. His hair was cropped so close that it was difficult to tell what colour it was.
Behind him waited two large men wearing shades who certainly weren’t anything to do with the film unit.
Ingeborg, standing among the make-up team and hoping to appear as if she was one of them, had a momentary loss of nerve. If police officers of far more experience had taken on this ogre and lost, what hope did she have? Then she reminded herself that she wasn’t in combat with Nathan. She was after intelligence about the shooting in the auction room and the source of the weapon. Nathan might be an accessory, but someone else would have fired the fatal shot.