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

“Have you starred in any of your own material?” asked Gardener.

“Only once, in London. It was a play shown at Her Majesty’s Theatre before The Phantom of the Opera.”

“Was it a success?”

“Mr Gardener, all my work is successful. I also took the leading role in The Phantom.”

“I thought Michael Crawford was in that,” said Reilly.

“He came after me, Mr Reilly.” Corndell smiled. “Unfortunately, I broke my leg and was unable to continue... hence the cane. I don’t have to use it all the time, but I have my off-days when the stiffness is a little too much.”

“Apart from your love of theatre and your scriptwriting, I can see you also collect film memorabilia,” said Gardener.

“Oh, yes, all the time. It’s a life’s work trying to track down the lost films of the silent era. I have my own cinema.”

“Really?” he asked Corndell. “Where?”

“Here, in the house.”

“Your knowledge of films might just come in useful,” said Reilly.

“You’ll forgive me for asking,” Corndell said, “but I find it strange that you two gentlemen should come out here to my house and talk to me about films. I’m sure that there’s something else on your minds.”

“There is,” said Gardener. “We’re investigating a couple of extremely unpleasant deaths in Leeds recently.”

“Are you talking about the young girl who was killed in the shop in the arcade?”

“Did you know her?” asked Gardener.

“No, but I read about it in the papers.” He leaned even further forward. “You don’t think it was me, do you?”

“Was it?” asked Reilly.

Corndell stood up, his left eye twitching rapidly. “Am I under arrest?”

Gardener left his seat as well. “Not at all. We’ve come to you because we believe you may be able to help us. With your knowledge of film and theatre, you might be a real asset.”

“Of course,” said Corndell, sitting back down, using the arms of the chair as a guide.

“Would you take a look at these, see if you recognise them?” asked Gardener, passing over a piece of paper containing the quotes they had found next to the bodies.

Corndell studied the paper before passing it back to Gardener. “I can’t say I do, but they’re very dated.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Look at the phrasing, Mr Gardener. People don’t talk like that now.”

“So, they’re not from anything you’ve seen?” asked Gardener.

“I wouldn’t say that,” replied Corndell, sipping more tea. “I have seen literally thousands of films, and not just the well-known ones. My collection goes as far back as 1900. And in my experience, that could well be the era from which they originate, the Golden Age of Hollywood, the silent films. As I mentioned earlier, there is more acting skill involved in a silent film, your gestures are usually exaggerated. If you look at those quotes, that was how the dialogue was presented to audiences.”

“So, the person we’re looking for may be old, or he might live his life in that time period?” asked Gardener.

“Possibly both, maybe neither,” replied Corndell. “May I ask why you think he’s an actor?”

“It’s speculation at the moment, but the people he’s killed so far have both been connected to the entertainment world.”

“So, you think he might be a failed actor? Someone with a grudge?”

“Not entirely, but we have reason to believe that he’s very good at disguising himself. The eyewitness reports we’ve collated describe him as looking like two completely different people.”

“Maybe it was two different people.”

“Unlikely. The modus operandi was very similar, and then we have the quotes, quite apart from the fact that he was actually the spitting image of one of the people he killed.”

Corndell was about to take a drink, but decided to hold his cup before it reached his lips. “You don’t mean that nice Leonard White?”

“You knew Leonard White?” asked Gardener.

“Yes, I did. Not that I worked with him, but he actually starred in one of my father’s films many years ago, just as he was starting out.”

“Which one?” Reilly asked.

“Tales From A Village Pub, 1957. It was a compendium of short stories. I saw him on and off over the years after that.”

“But you hadn’t seen him recently?” asked Gardener.

“No. But I must say, I rather wanted to go and see him at the Grand Theatre the night he was killed. He was only there for the one night, and I would have loved to have heard him talk, perhaps even had the chance to talk to him myself.”

“Where were you that night?” asked Reilly.

“I was here, at home.”

“Alone?” questioned Reilly.

Corndell knew that one was coming. “I’m always on my own, Mr Reilly. I am in constant demand with my work and I rarely, if ever, get the chance to leave the house these days.”

“Didn’t you buy the house from Leonard White?” asked Gardener.

“My father did, many years ago.”

“How well did you know him?”

“My father?” Corndell grinned. “Sorry... just my little joke. Well, I wouldn’t say I knew him all that well. I have seen most, if not all, of the films he made at Hammer. You have to remember, we travelled in different circles. When my father bought this house I was still in London, and remained there until after he’d retired. It was quite sad, really, because he never had the chance to appreciate it. He died four months after buying it. I came up to Leeds after his death, and stayed to look after my mother.”

“Is your mother still alive?” asked Gardener.

“I’m afraid not, she died of cancer many years ago.” Corndell finished his tea and continued with another question. “If he’s that good with his disguise, how will you catch him? You won’t know what he looks like.”

“Very true,”