And So To Murder Read Free Page A

Monica packed her bag and went to London.
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    Sitting now in the office of Mr Thomas Hackett, Monica was in almost a fever of impatience to begin work. And she would do something good, she swore to herself; she would make the script of Desire a screen masterpiece. For she was being treated with consideration, with courtesy, even with deference, by the man who had been described as the Young Napoleon of the British film industry. In pure gratitude for this, her loyalty went out to Mr Hackett’s curt practicality, his smooth, sure good sense.
    ‘Then that’s settled,’ said Mr Hackett, leaning across the desk to shake hands with her. ‘And now that you’re one of us, Miss Stanton, what do you think of it?’
    ‘I think it’s wonderful,’ answered Monica, with sincerity. But –’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Well, I mean – how do I work? That is, do I stay in town and write the script and send it to you? Or do I work here?’
    ‘Oh, you’ll work here,’ said Mr Hackett; and Monica’s joy bubbled clear to the top. It had been her one remaining anxiety. The mere sight of Pineham Studios had put the film-germ into her blood.
    ‘It’d hardly do to have you in town,’ the producer went on dryly. ‘I’ve got to have you under my eye. And I’ve got a fellow here who can teach you the hang of the game in no time. We’ll put you in the room next to him.’ He made a note. ‘But it means work, you know! Good, hard, solid work. And quick work, too, Miss Stanton. I’m keen about this. I want to go into production’ – his hand hovered over the desk, and descended on it with a flat, business-like smack – ‘just as soon as possible. Four weeks, if we can. Three weeks, maybe. What do you say?’
    Monica was not yet used to film tactics. She took him at his word, and was staggered.
    ‘Three weeks! But –’
    Mr Hackett considered, and made a grudging concession.
    ‘Well, perhaps a bit longer. Not much longer, though, mind! That’s the way we work here, Miss Stanton. I want this production to follow Spies at Sea , our present anti-Nazi espionage film.’
    ‘I know, Mr Hackett, but –’
    ‘ Spies at Sea should be finished by that time. I hope.’ A shade of hideous gloom went across his face. But he cheered up a moment later. ‘Say four to five weeks,’ he urged persuasively, ‘and give ourselves plenty of time. That’s it. That’s settled, then.’ He made another note. ‘What do you say?’
    Monica smiled.
    ‘I’ll try, Mr Hackett. All the same, please! Whether I can learn all I’ve got to learn, and still do you anything like a decent script for Desire , all in four weeks –’
    Mr Hackett regarded her rather blankly.
    ‘For Desire ?’ he repeated.
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘But, my dear young lady,’ said Mr Hackett, bustling out at her with a bland, paternal air, ‘you’re not going to work on the script of Desire .’
    Monica stared at him.
    ‘Oh, no, no, no, no!’ continued Mr Hackett, as though wondering what could have put such an idea into her head. He was almost reproachful about it. His dental smile flashed. He shook his head. All the force and radiance of his personality, which seemed to animate even his toothbrush moustache, was directed towards disabusing her mind of this fantastic notion.
    ‘But I thought – I understood –’
    ‘No, no, no, no, no,’ said Mr Hackett. ‘Mr William Cartwright is to work on Desire , and he’ll teach you what you need to know about the business. You, Miss Stanton, are to do us the screen-play for Mr Cartwright’s new detective novel, And So To Murder .’

II
The Tactless Eloquence of a Bearded Man
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    I F Mr Dunne’s theory is correct, some very peculiar things go on in the subconscious mind. Monica, even though for a moment she was breathless with shock, had nevertheless the feeling of being able to say: ‘I have been here before.’ The whole scene – the white-painted office, the chintz curtains at sunny windows, Mr Hackett’s voice mouthing