Free The Silver Stain by Paul Johnston

It had a great trumpet for a speaker and a label showing a dog listening to a picture of the same. His Master’s Voice, he remembered: except, in his case, it was His Mistresses’ Voices.
    As he left the room, he realized how unimpressed Niki would have been by that thought.
    This time the gorilla opened the door to Ms Parks’ accommodation without comment. Mavros walked into the living area to be confronted by more people than he had expected. Luke Jannet was sprawled in an armchair, a glass of some dark spirit in his hand. Behind him, perched on a dining chair sat Alice Quincy, an open laptop on her knees and a hands-free connection leading from her phone to her right ear. Cara Parks was at the end of the sofa where she had been sitting earlier, while Rosie Yellenberg was at the other. The atmosphere was icy, and not just because the air con was working hard.
    ‘It’s Philip Marlowe,’ the director said, proving that he wasn’t completely illiterate culturally. ‘Pull up a chair, man.’ It sounded like the drink wasn’t his first.
    Mavros nodded to him, and then to the others. He sat down in an excessively comfortable armchair and immediately felt his presence, such as it was, diminished. He should have remained standing.
    ‘Hello, Alex,’ Cara Parks said hopefully. She looked like she’d been crying.
    ‘Give us a progress report, Mr Mavros,’ Rosie Yellenberg said, her lips hardly opening as she spoke. ‘This time we’re all staying to hear it.’
    Mavros smiled and ran through what he had been doing. The producer said he would have the names of the crew members who had been driving the vehicles he had highlighted the next morning.
    ‘One of them was me,’ Jannet said, slurring his words. ‘Took some of the extras out for a night on the town.’
    ‘Young, female extras,’ Cara said, in a low voice.
    The director raised his glass to her. ‘At least they’ve been doing what their contracts say – working.’
    ‘Have you spoken to the resort owner?’ Yellenberg asked.
    ‘Yes, he’s been helpful.’
    ‘Should be, considering what we’re paying,’ the producer said acidly. ‘What did he give you?’
    It was time to draw a line in the sand, Mavros decided. ‘This isn’t how I work, Ms Yellenberg,’ he said. ‘Most of the information I dig up turns out to be useless. I’d be wasting your time and mine if I went through it all.’
    She accepted that with ill grace.
    ‘You do what you have to do,’ Jannet said, his eyes hardening. ‘We’re giving you another two days.’
    Mavros shrugged. ‘That’s up to you. In the meantime, what can you tell me about David Waggoner?’
    ‘That old—’
    Yellenberg raised a hand to cut the director off. ‘Alice, give Mr Mavros a summary of the appropriate file.’
    The director’s assistant’s fingers flew over her keyboard. ‘David Waggoner, Colonel, the Hussars, retired. Commanded a tank during the Battle of Crete, awarded the Military Cross. Escaped to Chora Sfakion and evacuated to Alexandria. Trained with SOE and landed by submarine near Treis Ekkliseies, November 4th 1941. Officer in command of Chania and environs until April 17th 1943, when he was sent back to Egypt with a shoulder wound. Returned by parachute—’
    ‘That isn’t what I want,’ Mavros interrupted – he could find the old soldier’s history easily in an online encyclopedia. ‘I meant, what impression do you have of him? He told me that he knows Ms Kondos by sight.’
    Luke Jannet laughed loudly. ‘You think that pompous Brit got the hots for Maria and kidnapped her?’
    ‘No,’ Mavros answered bluntly, seeing Cara Parks smile out of the corner of his eye. ‘There seems to be some animosity between him and Mr Kersten. Could that have any bearing on the case?’
    ‘I don’t see how,’ Rosie Yellenberg said, turning to the actress. ‘Do you?’
    Cara shook her head. ‘I’ve only spoken to Mr – what is it? Waggoner? – a couple of times. He told me about the