The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(90)

‘We don’t know is the honest answer,’ Ryan said.

‘But you suspect it?’

‘Let’s not jump the gun, eh?’ Ryan was keen to keep them talking. ‘We have many lines of enquiry. For starters, we’d like the names of everyone who took part in the making of that film, from the chief exec right down to the tea lady.’

‘There weren’t that many,’ Clark said.

‘Then it shouldn’t take long.’

‘Apart from Rebecca, three other sufferers took part – Josephine Nichol, Sandie Knox, Martin Schofield – each one fascinating in their own right.’

‘Is Sandie male or female?’ Ryan asked.

‘Female. And, if you are looking for suspects, you can strike her off your list. She’s since passed away. I have contact details for Jo, Martin and Rebecca on my laptop if you’d like me to print them off.’

‘That would be helpful,’ O’Neil said. ‘What about crew?’

‘I was the exec producer,’ Clark said. ‘The producer was a very dear friend, Art Malik. Not the actor, just named after him. A guy called Tony Gillespie produced the music—’

‘Who took care of cinematography?’ Ryan couldn’t help himself.

‘Dan Spencer. We call him Frank, after the BBC sitcom character.’ Clark grinned. ‘People usually laugh at that one.’

‘Do they?’ O’Neil wasn’t in a laughing mood. ‘Anyone else?’

‘Adam Jang edited for us.’

‘Chinese descent?’

‘African.’

‘Black?’ Ryan put up a hand in apology. ‘It matters in this instance.’

‘Yes, black.’

Mitchell’s eyelids were heavy. He was almost gone.

Ryan invited Clark to carry on. ‘Mo was our sound mixer and we had a sound recordist – Monty. Sorry, I mean Sophia Montgomery.’

‘Is that a complete list?’

‘Apart from our in-house technical production team.’ Clark reached for her laptop. Accessing a file with the full list of cast and crew, she tapped the keyboard and a small printer began spewing out the document. She handed it to Ryan. ‘I hope you find Laura.’ It was the first show of concern from her.

Mitchell’s eyes were shut. Apparently a man less troubled and lacking a guilty conscience.

Ignoring him, Ryan scanned the page. The listed technical production personnel added four names to those Clark had already given. He looked up. ‘Your in-house team—’

‘What about them?’

‘They’re all male?’

Clark grimaced. ‘I work in television, DS Ryan. You will find a disproportionate number of white males across the board. Women are still struggling for equality in my profession. Diversity and cultural identity are aims and objectives yet to be realized. It’s no different from the legal profession, publishing or politics. I’m sure the same could be said in your own organization. I take it you’re after a female?’

‘With a distinctive voice.’

‘Irish?’

Good question. ‘Accents can be changed.’

‘Well, there’s another one off your list. You can rule out Monty. She doesn’t talk.’

‘What do you mean, she doesn’t talk?’

‘She’s mute.’

‘From birth?’ O’Neil enquired.

Ryan could tell his guv’nor didn’t like what she was asking, let alone what they were both thinking.

Clark seemed to have drifted away.

O’Neil was forced to give her a verbal nudge. ‘Ms Clark? Sophia Montgomery . . . has she been mute since birth?’

‘Since she was a kid, I think.’ She almost shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. She’s freelance. We come across each other from time to time. Not that often. Mo recommended her when we were putting the documentary team together. To be honest, I never thought to ask. I’m not one to pry. You’ll have to ask her yourself. I was under the impression that it was caused by some traumatic event in her past—’

‘It was.’ Mitchell had woken up. ‘She lost her mother at a young age – eleven or twelve, I think, maybe earlier. The trauma triggered her condition. She doesn’t talk about it. No pun intended.’

‘You know her well?’ Ryan asked.

‘As well as anyone, I suppose. She’s an amazing talent. A great colleague, an award winner in her own right.’ He leaned forward, propping his head up with his right hand, elbow on his knee. ‘I’m sorry, it’s been a long day. I can hardly keep my eyes open.’

Ryan ignored the sob story. ‘Did she get along with Laura?’

‘We all get on,’ Clark said. ‘You have to in our profession, otherwise the magic doesn’t work. You’re not seriously suggesting that she might be responsible?’

Ryan sidestepped the question. ‘And you two . . . you seem very close.’

Maybe too close . . .

Formidable woman . . .

Skinny guy living in her shadow.

Clark’s hackles were up and it showed. ‘You came here to get information, which I have supplied. I didn’t have to talk to you and neither did he but, given your curiosity, Mo is my best friend. We’re spending Christmas together, not that it’s any business of yours.’