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  “Disgusting Derek,” they said in unison.

  “He’s a lech,” Marianne said. “Remember his wandering hands at the Christmas party?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have another choice.”

  Marianne’s pale blue eyes flickered with uncertainty.

  “You could give up on the movie,” she said at last.

  Davina took a deep breath before she spoke, allowing time to silently remind herself that most true artists were misunderstood.

  “I can’t do that, Mar. How else will I become famous?” She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of bottles of cola. “Seriously, I’m almost thirty. It’s getting harder and harder to break into the industry. People don’t want to take a chance on the fat girl with little acting experience.”

  “You are not fat and you’ve done loads of acting.”

  Davina smiled with gratitude.

  “Walk-on parts and playing dead people don’t really count. Neither does theatre work in towns that aren’t even on the map.”

  “You were a Redcoat.”

  “I’m not sure if having Butlin’s on my resume helps or hinders my career.”

  She knew Marianne was hurt on her behalf.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mar, I’m taking control of my life. Lots of actresses have made it big in indie films. And now, with the internet, I can release my own film. Hopefully someone will watch it online and take a chance on me. You never know.”

  Her stomach lurched at the thought. It had to work. It was her last chance at stardom. Her last chance to keep her dream alive. Her last chance to become the next Judi Dench, only younger and curvier. She caught sight of herself in the kitchen window. A lot curvier. Maybe she shouldn’t eat so many brownies? She shook her head.

  “Look, you’ve known me my whole life. If I don’t act what will I do? I was rubbish in school, I’ve been fired from so many jobs I’ve lost count and unlike you, when I see a column of numbers my palms sweat.” She placed the plates and paper napkins on the counter. “It’s acting or nothing. Plus, we both know that acting is the only area where I feel normal. I can be as wild as I like when I act. Everyone who acts is nuts, I fit right in.”

  She could see the hurt on Marianne’s face and she looked away from it. Just because her best friend understood her didn’t mean the world did.

  “You are normal. You’ve always been normal,” Marianne said.

  “Tell that to my parents.”

  “They love you, honey. They think the world of you.”

  “I know.” Davina’s shoulders dropped. “They just wish I’d fit in more.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  Davina gave her ‘the look’.

  “Fine, maybe a little. But it’s not easy being the vicar’s kid and they know that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is I was born to act and I need to make it happen.”

  They stared at the old cherry-patterned wallpaper in silence.

  “I thought the teaching job was going well,” Marianne said at last.

  “It’s only one evening a week,” Davina said. “Hardly a career. Plus, you know what they say: those that can – act, those that can’t – teach.”

  “They also say those that don’t want to live in a cardboard box and eat garbage – teach.”

  “Good point. But it won’t come to that. This movie is going to be big.”

  Marianne wasn’t convinced.

  “Really, Mar, I have faith that everything is about to change for the better.”

  Marianne let out a long sigh.

  “What can I do to help?”

  Davina grinned – that was more like it.

  “Nothing, we’re all set up. Once the boys get here we’ll carry on filming the scene in the basement.” She looked at the mountain of brownies in front of her. “After they’ve had a snack, that is.”

  “So we’re still on the part where the boys plot to kill the heroine’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “Abusive ex-boyfriend, who probably deserves it.”

  “Cheery,” Marianne said drolly.

  Davina ignored her. It sure as heck cheered her up.

  Jack was halfway home when he did a U-turn on the motorway and headed back to the house. His spidey sense was tingling. Sure he was still a little wound up from his encounter with his tenant, but it was more than that. He knew she was hiding something. In his house. It grated. He was a police officer – ex-police officer, he corrected, feeling the same pang of loss that had kept him glued to the couch and living off pizza for months. Still, being on the force was in his blood and he knew suspicious behaviour when he saw it. He looked back at the house. Davina Davenport was suspicious all right. And not just because she’d tied him up and then climbed all over him like a lap dancer desperate for tips.

  He pulled his SUV into a quiet spot behind a large rhododendron at the bottom of the drive. Would it really matter if he wandered up there to see what was going on? After all, it wasn’t as though he was trespassing. He did own the property. His phone rang.

  “Don’t do it,” Andy said in his ear.

  Jack frowned into the darkness in the direction of the house.

  “Do what?”

  “Whatever stupid scheme you’re currently hatching. Don’t do it. Put the car in gear and head home.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed.

  “How do you know I’m not driving?” He took the phone away from his ear to look at it suspiciously. “You downloaded one of those apps parents use to track their kids, didn’t you?”

  “So sue me. You’re not the only one with instincts. You’re sitting outside your aunt’s house about to do something stupid. Now, put the car in gear, go home and wait the two weeks you’re supposed to wait.”

  “I’m getting mixed messages here Andy. You spent the last couple of months trying to get me out of the house and now you’re eager to send me back.”

  “That was because you’d cemented your backside to the couch. It reached the stage where the guys at the station were drawing straws to see who would make you take a shower.”

  “Well I’m off the couch and shower fresh. So back off. I’m just going to wander up to the house and make sure everything is okay.”

  “She has the right to privacy.”

  “Yeah and I had rights when she tied me up and climbed all over me.”

  “You didn’t look like you were suffering.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, so he said nothing. Two mopeds passed him and turned into the driveway. One held two people. Jack’s attention zoomed in on them.

  “Three people just arrived on mopeds,” he told Andy.

  “I’ll sound the alarm, tell them we have a moped sighting.”

  “You’re a real funny guy.”

  “Seriously.” Andy sounded tired. “You need to back off and act normal. You’ll never get your job back if you go all Rambo again.”

  Jack gritted his teeth.

  “I hit one guy. One time. Hardly Rambo.”

  “It was the Chief Superintendent, Jack, not one guy.”

  “I know who it was.”

  Jack didn’t regret it for a minute. The guy was dirty. Unfortunately there wasn’t any evidence and who was going to believe a burnt-out cop over the Chief Superintendent? No one.

  “The guys at the station put their jobs on the line for you. They believe in you.”

  There was the rub. They might believe in him but they didn’t actually believe him. No one did.

  “Look,” he said evenly. “This isn’t the same situation. It’s my house and I want to make sure everything is okay.”

  “Do that in two weeks.” Andy let out a heavy breath. “You need to stop chasing crimes that haven’t happened. You need to rest up, get the counselling you’re supposed to get and hopefully get your job back. You want your job back, right?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Well, you know what to do.”

  Jack waited a beat.

  “I didn’t
imagine the stuff the Chief is into. I just couldn’t prove it.”

  “I know.” Andy’s words said one thing, his tone screamed another. Jack heard it loud and clear – ‘you couldn’t prove it, because it wasn’t real’.

  His shoulders slumped as he began to second-guess himself. He turned the key in the ignition.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Andy told him. “Don’t screw things up now.”

  As Andy spoke bright lights flicked on behind the bushes. There was a glow where his house used to be. He’d only seen lights like that in a couple of places – football matches, airports and home-made hydroponic environments for people growing their own stash. His blood pumped faster. He’d been right. His instincts were always right.

  “Got to go,” he told Andy. “Don’t come get me.”

  “Jack, Jack, don’t be stupid, put the car...”

  Jack hung up.

  In a few seconds he was out of the car and sneaking towards the house. He knew she was up to no good. The way she’d kept glancing at the house while she worried her lip. The flush in her cheeks when she looked him in the eye and lied about what he would find inside, and the way she paled before demanding that he wait two weeks. He wasn’t stupid. He was onto something here. He knew it. He followed the worn brick path around the side of the house, stepping off it into the bushes before he reached the rear.

  Voices.

  He crouched down low and slowly manoeuvred himself into a position where he could watch and listen. As he angled into the best spot, three hooded figures came into view. They each carried a little bundle.

  “I told you this was a great idea,” one of them said.

  Male. Young. Jack automatically filed away information he might need later.

  “Yeah, these are the best brownies I’ve ever had,” said another.

  Brownies?

  “Magic brownies,” the third said with awe and they began to giggle.

  “Better not let your mum get a hold of them, you know what happened last time,” the first one warned.

  “No way, I’m hiding these babies. She isn’t eating any this time.”

  They turned the corner of the house towards their mopeds. Jack sat on a low retaining wall that held up the weed ridden vegetable patch. The Blackpool Illuminations had nothing on the light coming from his house. He narrowed his eyes. From the basement of his house to be exact. He crouched low towards one of the narrow windows that would let him peek into the basement. They were covered with white paper. It seemed his tenant didn’t want anyone seeing what was inside. It didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t need twelve years’ experience in drug crimes to know what was going on.

  He stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the house.

  His crazy tenant was growing marijuana. And she was obviously making brownies laced with the stuff to sell to the local kids.

  It was the only explanation. He’d dealt with many drug dealers over the years, but Crazy Davy was something new. He had to wonder if she just woke up one morning and thought: I know a good way to supplement my income, I’ll grow dope. Jack shook his head. She was nuttier than even he’d suspected. One thing was for sure – he didn’t want it happening in his house. He needed to get to his car, call for back-up and shut this amateur operation down.

  It was only when he was halfway back to his car that he realised something: he no longer had the power to arrest anyone. And who was going to believe him after his spectacular public meltdown? The whole world knew he was in therapy. Jack’s grip tightened on the car door handle.

  He needed to regroup. He needed a plan. He needed more evidence to get the squad involved – apparently a hunch based on years of experience wasn’t going to cut it anymore. He glanced back towards the house. Whatever he did, he needed to do it fast. There was no way he’d let his house be used as a crime den. Regardless of what the criminal looked like, or how good she tasted.

  After the boys had left with the last of her brownies, Davina plopped down at the kitchen table and flipped open her screenplay. It needed a better title. Vengeance is Mine wasn’t right but she couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe it would come to her when the film was finally finished.

  “Those boys can act,” Marianne said as she brewed a pot of tea. “It was so believable listening to them plot murder. They really freaked me out.”

  “With your taste for gore, that’s high praise.”

  “Tea.” Marianne plopped a mug in front of her. “Have you decided what to do about your new landlord? I don’t know why you don’t just tell him that you’re filming a movie,” Marianne said. “Surely that’s better than hiding everything and worrying about getting turfed out on your ear.”

  “Money, that’s why. It’s much more expensive to rent a film location than it is to rent a house. And I need this house. It makes the movie, every single scene is set here. Without the Gothic atmosphere the story wouldn’t be so creepy.”

  “If he comes back before the two weeks are up and sees that you have a house full of equipment stamped property of Brighton Buzz TV Show, then you may lose more than your movie location. You’ll lose your home and probably your freedom. I don’t think an ex-police officer would be happy with illegal activity in his house.”

  Davina was getting a headache.

  “I keep telling you, it’s going back to the studio as soon as I’m done. It’s borderline illegal at most.”

  Marianne’s look said she knew better.

  “It’ll be fine,” Davina said as her head began to throb. “I just need to stall him until the movie is made.”

  Marianne was clearly sceptical.

  “You’ve seen the Terminator movies, right?” Marianne pointed at her as she spoke. Davina didn’t say anything. “That guy never gives up. They had to melt him to stop him.”

  “You’re not helping, Mar.”

  Marianne held up her hands in surrender.

  “I’m just saying.”

  Davina stared at the 1950’s style kitchen that no one had ever bothered to renovate. Tiny faded cherries danced across the wallpaper and around the yellow chipped Formica cabinets. It was her favourite room and usually lifted her mood. Tonight was the exception. Two weeks. One movie. And the Terminator out to get her.

  “We’re going to need more chocolate,” she said.

  “The boys ate all the brownies.”

  “I seriously regret offering to pay them in baked goods. I had no idea how much a teenage boy ate. It would have been cheaper to give them cash.”

  “Ah, but you don’t have cash.”

  “Good point.”

  If she had cash she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. If she had cash she would have rented a movie location and paid an experienced crew.

  “I had a couple of thoughts while we were filming,” she told Marianne as she sipped her Darjeeling. “When I go into work tomorrow, I’ll talk to my boss about taking the next two weeks off. I can’t work all day and get the movie done in time. I’d stop teaching the evening classes too but I need access to the editing equipment. At least they let me take some of that home legally.” Her smile felt pathetic.

  “You could rope in a couple of your students to help with production. Tell them it’s extra credit.”

  “Now you’re helping. Well done.”

  Marianne threw a dishtowel at her head.

  “I still need an actor to play the heroine’s new boyfriend. The boys are too young for the part.”

  It was all getting too hard. A tiny niggle at the back of Davina’s head prompted her to give up, to let the movie go, to find another career. After all, if she was any good as an actress she would have been snapped up by now – right? She told her rebellious brain to be quiet. The last thing she needed now was logic.

  “Don’t worry,” Marianne said with a grin. “If it comes to it, I can paste on a beard and say the boyfriend’s lines.”

  Davina threw the dishtowel back at her, wishing it was something heavier.

  C
HAPTER THREE

  13 DAYS TO MAKE A MOVIE...

  IT WAS A TYPICAL DAY on the set of Brighton Buzz. The morning magazine show was off and running and so was Davina. In her role as general dogsbody she rushed between the producers and the rest of the crew doing everything from fetching coffee to calming guests.

  “We need you in the green room,” one of the producers told her. “The guests for the next segment are at each other’s throats.”

  Davina looked at her schedule and her heart sank. She deeply regretted saying she’d work the morning before taking her two weeks’ vacation time.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Five minutes later she was trying to jam a particularly obnoxious cat back into its cage.

  “What do you think you’re doing bringing an animal without a cage?” the cat owner yelled at one of the other guests.

  “It’s on a lead,” he yelled back.

  “It’s a frigging lizard. It shouldn’t be on a lead.”

  “Hello, cat lady, help needed,” Davina said as the blue eyed Persian ripped her to shreds.

  The owner’s head snapped in her direction.

  “What are you doing to my baby?” she shrieked before taking the cat and the cage from Davina.

  The furry rat looked at her with evil eyes and began to purr.

  “You’ve upset him,” the owner reprimanded between soothing noises towards the cat.

  Davina bit her tongue. The cat wasn’t the one who’d have to wear long sleeves for a month until the scratch marks healed.

  “Why don’t I find another room for you?” she said to lizard man.

  “Good idea.” He cuddled his iguana like a baby.

  In the corner a tiny woman cooed soothing words into the ear of an alpaca. Davina wondered which one of the producers had the bright idea to do a segment on local award-winning and unusual animals? Maybe they would like five minutes alone with an evil cat?

  During a quiet moment, Davina found Derek the camera guy at the coffee pot. It was hard to believe that when she’d first come to work on the Brighton Buzz show she’d actually thought he was handsome. He flicked his perfectly styled blond hair, folded fake-tanned arms over his chest, and looked in her direction, with blue eyes she now knew to be coloured contacts.