Screen Savers

Chapter 9

Although he was well up my ‘things to do’ list, Mr Joseph Donn wasn’t right at the top. I had a Sly Burr radio ad to record in Edinburgh, and a busy weekend, with two GWA shows, one live, one recorded, in Milan — of course, Prim had to come with me — before I could think about tackling the old duffer.

It wasn’t until the following Monday morning, five days after our council of war at Susie’s place, that we were able to get round to planning our approach to the former finance director of the Gantry Group.

Prim gazed at me across the breakfast bar, her nice, post-orgasmic smile still showing in her eyes from an hour or so before. ‘If you think you’re keeping all the fun for yourself, my boy. .’ she chuckled. ‘It was one thing letting you tackle the Campbells without me. . there probably wouldn’t have been room for me in their flat with Jerry along. . but there’s no risk involved in this visit. Donn’s sixty-three, isn’t he?’ I nodded.

‘If there’s a chance that he is going to put his hands up and confess to writing those letters, I want to be there to hear it, and to witness his statement when we get it in writing.’

I was slightly concerned that when we confronted the old man we might find his nephew somewhere in the vicinity, but I could see that there was no point in arguing. Anyway, from what I had heard of Stephen, he didn’t sound like someone I couldn’t handle. I hadn’t been a part of the GWA circus for two years for nothing. Everett and Jerry had taught me some knock-down moves, and Liam Matthews, who had become a good friend after an awkward beginning, had shown me a couple of submission holds that he, in turn had learned on the for-real Bushido circuit in Japan. I might have been struggling against an experienced, head-butting thug like Malkie Campbell, but all I knew about the boy Donn was that he frightened women.

‘Okay, then,’ I said, making a show of grudging concession which didn’t fool my partner for a minute, ‘you can come on this one. So tell me; how are we going to make sure that the old bastard agrees to see us?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. I thought I might phone him and pretend to be a journalist, looking into the Gantry Group.’

‘What if he tells you to get stuffed? He’s got that confidentiality clause to restrain him, remember.’

‘I’ll charm him, my dear. I’ll tell him I only want background information on Jack Gantry, and that I won’t quote him. He’ll agree to see me, don’t worry. Then he’ll get a nice surprise when the two of us turn up on his doorstep.’

‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘Give it a try. The sooner we get it over with the better.’

‘You really don’t fancy him for it, do you?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m not going to prejudge him. I’ve never met the man, and neither have you. Once we have we’ll know better, so go ahead and make that call.’

‘Okay.’ Prim reached across to our kitchen noticeboard and picked off a yellow sticky with Donn’s number, which Susie had given us the week before, then picked up her mobile from the work-surface, and began to dial. She had punched in four numbers when the door buzzer sounded.

She stopped as I picked up the handset, frowning at the small video-screen on the wall, in which the figure of a shirt-sleeved man was framed.

‘Yes?’ I said.

‘Special delivery for Mr Blackstone,’ a tinny voice in my ear replied.

‘Okay.’ I pushed the entry button. ‘Come on up. It takes a bit of finding; it’s the top flat.’

I went to the front door and waited. When finally he appeared in the hallway, the delivery man was out of breath. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered, more than a shade grumpily. ‘Could yis no’ have lived on the ground floor?’

‘We like it up here. What have you got for me?’ I asked, eyeing a bulky padded envelope tucked under his arm.

‘Parcel.’ He stated the obvious as he thrust a delivery slip in my face. ‘Jist sign, then print your name below.’

‘Why print my name? My signature’s not that bad.’

He looked at me blankly. ‘Jist,’ he said, taking back his pen and handing over the packet.

‘Have a nice day, now,’ I called out to his departing back as I closed the door.

‘What is it?’ Prim asked as I stepped back into the kitchen.

‘Parcel.’ I said, looking at it for the first time. Some people open padded envelopes carefully, so they can re-use them. I’m rich, so I didn’t bother; I just ripped the thing open. I knew before I looked at the handwritten note on top that it was a revised script for Miles and Dawn’s movie.

Quickly I scanned the letter. ‘Oh shit,’ I whispered.

‘What’s up?’

‘Listen to this,’ I told her, holding up the paper. ‘It’s from your brother-in-law. “Dear Oz. I showed your screen test to our writer when he arrived in Scotland. He thought you were very good. So good, in fact, that he’s suggested writing in a couple of new scenes for you, to replace some of the narration. This will mean that we need you on set the Monday after next, instead of on the dates I agreed with Sly Burr. When you get this, gimme a call on my mobile to discuss.” ’ The number was scrawled as a ‘PS’.

Prim’s face creased in a sunny smile. ‘That’s great. How are you placed for next Monday?’

‘I hope I’m all right. The GWA shows are in Glasgow next week, so that shouldn’t be a problem. With any luck we’ll have Susie’s stalker sorted out by then.’

‘Right let’s get to it.’ She picked up her phone again and went back to calling Joseph Donn. He took her journalist bait, hook, line, and sinker. The meeting was set for Thursday.