Chapter 8

Only when the two females were in the depth of the shadows and well away from the dining room did the gun come away from Matilda’s head, but she was still—according to the woman holding the weapon—liable to be shot at the slightest untoward move.

“Your name?”Asked the woman, keeping her voice down still.

“Matilda Minerva. And yours?” Matilda had her hands up to show she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. She could not see the face of the woman who had pulled some sort of black hood over her head and was wearing a dark jumper and equally dark slacks.

“Never mind who I am,” said the voice. It was oddly familiar but Matilda couldn’t immediately place it. “I want to know why you are sneaking round this place trying not to be seen.”

“And I would like to know why you have a gun and yet haven’t announced me to Lady Carden. You clearly don’t work for her, or you’d have handed me in.”

“I still could, or I could shoot you.”

“True, but then you wouldn’t know why I was here.”

“Then tell me,” said the woman in black.

“Not sure that’s a good idea. By my being silent I hold one small ace. You kill me you never know what I know, and I imagine you need help. I think you are here to find something out, like me.”

“Why do I need help?”

Matilda sighed. “Because you aren’t dressed for their dinner party and you want to know what I know, or why I want to know what’s going on in the house. You would like to know too, I fancy.”

The woman in black gave a shrug, barely visible in the limited light. Then she sighed and put down her gun. “It was only a prop anyway. No one keeps live ammunition on a set in this country.”

It was then that Matilda remembered where she had heard the voice before. It was in a film she had seen recently. “Joan Willforth,” said Matilda, somewhat amazed. “You’re an actress.”

“Guilty as charged,” said the woman, and peeled off her hood. In what light there was, Matilda recognised the mop of curly red hair that was Joan Willforth’s trade mark, even though every movie she had seen the actress in was in black and white. The posters outside the Rialto cinema in the town however always showed Miss Willforth’s red hair in glorious colour whenever the lady was starring in the movie. “I suppose I should be angry with my performance. I didn’t convince you I was a bad person, ready to kill.”

“No, it was quite good. But I only know you as the easy-going girl next door type.” Matilda had lowered her hands now. She flexed her shoulders.

“Typecast,” said Joan morosely. “That’s why I’m in this film. The dizzy girl who doesn’t get her man, once again.”

“And working with Miss Sommers, I see.”

“Worse luck,” said Joan. “Bitch always gets the meatier part, as usual. I’m supposed to be her hopeless kid sister. No one will buy that. She is blonde, I’m a redhead and we don’t even sound the same.” Matilda knew that was true, but said nothing. The actress pressed on. “So, Miss Minerva, why are you here, sneaking around at this time of night?”

“I am investigating what started out as a loss of an intimate item, turned out to be theft and somehow included a kidnapping.”

“Diana’s girdle,” said Joan, her eyes wide. “It has to be.”

“So you know of that.”

“I know,” said the actress, “that my sister Diana was the model who has been wearing that new girdle for testing. Her figure is perfect for the testing of undergarments and thus she works for Ultratight. As I have been unable to reach her—her occupation is to play the everyday housewife during testing of any item of underwear—I have an uneasy feeling that she has been removed from her home while wearing it. Then I saw that man arrive and recognised him as an employee of my sister’s business. He looks a devious sort of chap, up to no good.”

“I fear you are right. In the meantime I now grasp it isn’t called a Diana girdle, after the Hunter-Goddess after all.” Matilda was on the verge of adding that made two kidnappings in all, but didn’t mention Jennifer Turner. Joan would only care about her own sister right now. “If it helps I can confirm that the man at the dining table is a Mr Porrett, a former employee of the erstwhile company. So may I ask, what is the allure of this girdle?”