IMPERFECTION by Ray Clark (good books to read for women TXT) 📕

admired your work. I’ve even seen a copy of the film you produced which your father directed. Ahead of its time, is all I can say.”

“You flatter me, Mr Brown, but don’t stop, I could get to like it. However, you still haven’t answered my question. What do you want of me?”

“I’d like to book you, Mr Corndell.”

“Pardon?” Corndell sounded shocked, as if what Martin was asking was not an everyday occurrence.

“I’m in charge of the entertainment at the University of Leeds, and one of the students suggested we have a night of culture. They wanted me to find a classical actor of your ability to put on a one-man show here. I was really hoping that you were still involved, and wondered whether or not you’d be interested.”

“You have my undivided attention. I’m flattered you know so much about me. But there are two things I must ask. Firstly, when is it? Second, and perhaps equally as important, do you have the necessary funding?”

“I’m sure we could negotiate the price.”

“Don’t count on it, Mr Brown.”

Martin’s heart sank a little. He might be stepping out of his league, and he was beginning to think it was a bad idea. But at least he’d managed to avoid answering how he’d obtained the number. “I wondered if you would consider April 1st.”

The pause on the end of the line seemed to last forever. “I’m impressed, young man. But I have to say I’m extremely busy with Hollywood at the moment, negotiating for my latest manuscript, which, of course, must take precedence. But you’ve obviously gone to a lot of trouble to track me down and ask me to entertain your students. And furthermore, you’re asking if I’ll do it on my birthday. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Isn’t that what you wanted?” asked Corndell.

“Yes it is, but I never expected.”

“Don’t be negative, young man. Positive thinking has brought you this far. I presume you know my address, particularly as you know my ex-directory telephone number.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Good, then put a contract in the post to arrive no later than two days’ time. I shall sign and insert the price at the same time.”

“But that’s just it. The price. I’m not sure we can afford you.”

“The price, sir, will not be negotiable. If you want the best, then you have to be prepared to pay for it. However, my quote will not disappoint. Thank you and goodbye.”

Martin was listening to the dialling tone again. He was amazed, not only to find he had booked a man whose work he admired, but the fact that the conversation had ended so abruptly. He wasted no time in making the next call.

“Hello?” answered Laura.

“Laura? It’s Martin, from the university.”

“Hi Martin, how are you?”

“Just great. I’ve got an assignment for you.”

Chapter Eighteen

“You seem in a good mood tonight, Laura,” Reilly said to his wife.

“I am.” She helped herself to another mouthful of pasta.

“Is it the university job?”

“Yes, but I can’t think why. I mean, when Martin rang me, he was ridiculously excited that he’d managed to book some obscure actor called William Henry Corndell for the uni. Like I said, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Have you checked him out?”

“I have. Can’t find any reference to him.” She had recently changed direction with her career. For many years she had been a freelance photographer. Examples of her work were framed around their two-storey house in Yeadon. More recently she had gone back to the second love of her life, entertainment journalism. Most magazines carried her reviews of the local and regional plays. Every three months she travelled down to London to keep her eye on what was up and coming and would eventually be touring.

“Wallace Henry Corndell, yes, but not William.”

“Who was Wallace?”

“A big film director back in the Sixties, worked for Ealing, turned out a string of comedies. Judging by the reports I’ve read, he was very good at his job.”

“Is Corndell a relative in the same line of business?” suggested Reilly.

“Perhaps, but not as successful, otherwise I would have heard of him. Anyway, mine is not to reason why. Martin absolutely raves over the man. Said he saw him down in London when Corndell was rehearsing for Phantom of the Opera.”

“Well, there you are then, he must have a talent.”

“But that’s just it, I can’t find a reference for that either. We all know Michael Crawford was the star of that show, and there have been various leading men since, but I’m sure that William Henry Corndell wasn’t one of them.”

Reilly finished his food, sat back in his chair. As Laura had already finished hers, he signalled the waiter once more for the dessert menu. “It must be costing the university a small fortune if they’re shipping him all the way from London for one night.”

“That’s just it, they’re not. Apparently he lives locally.”

“Where?”

“About five or six miles from us, in Horsforth.”

“Does he now? Well, I never knew that.”

“See! You men never pay attention.”

Chapter Nineteen

Gardener glanced at the clock: 7:30.

He was feeling guilty for spending the last two hours at home, leading something close to a normal life. Before leaving the station he’d phoned ahead, and Malcolm had made an early dinner of chargrilled chicken breasts and salad, with granary baguettes. All three ate together before Malcolm had taken off for a night at the small private cinema in Headingley. Gardener hoped it would lift Malcolm’s spirits.

He cleared the pots, took a shower, and thought some more about the case. Most of the team had spent the day trawling through the huge pile of witness statements, consulting HOLMES. A number of cases came to light regarding blood being drained, but