Fettle consulted more of the Film Review books. A few more minutes passed before he eventually answered. “Aye, he did.”
“When was that?” asked Gardener.
“1917.”
“Christ,” replied Reilly. “What was that about?”
“Doesn’t say,” replied Fettle. “But you’ve gotta remember, Chaney made bloody hundreds of films. Most of ’em were little shorts, three or four reels. They weren’t all feature films, so there isn’t much information about ’em.”
“What about something called Whispering Creek?”
Fettle seemed pleased to be useful. “As in The Tragedy of Whispering Creek? That’s even further back, 1914.”
“What’s that about?” Reilly asked Gardener.
“That was the name of Corndell’s house.”
“Seems to me that this Corndell bloke has a bit of an obsession with Chaney,” said Fettle.
“That’s what worries me. On the face of it, so does the killer. He’s very good with make-up. He leaves clues, which may or may not be from the films, but I suspect they are. Even in the clues, there’s a reference to one of Chaney’s films,” said Gardener.
He rose to leave. “Okay, Mr Fettle, thanks for the information, you’ve been a great help. If you could look into what we’ve asked, I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll give you a ring when I’ve done.”
Gardener and Reilly climbed the stairs to the stage door. Before leaving, Gardener stopped, turned, and walked back down to Fettle.
“What have you forgotten now?”
“I don’t suppose the names Rupert Julian or Wallace Worsley mean anything to you, do they?”
Fettle consulted the books again.
“I don’t think you’ll find them in there,” said Gardener.
“I think I will,” said Fettle. “They don’t sound like actors with modern names, do they?”
“Directors, from what I can gather.”
“Aye, you’re right there,” replied Fettle after scanning a few more pages. “What do you want to know?”
“The kind of stuff they’re directing at the moment?”
Fettle glanced up from the book and laughed. “You’re joking, aren’t you? They’re both dead, man. Years ago.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Despite the information they had so far received, Gardener sensed an air of trepidation descending upon the incident room. His colleagues were beginning to show signs of wear, as they always did when an investigation yielded nothing but dead ends.
On the face of it, the meeting with William Henry Corndell had proved intriguing to say the least. His knowledge of his trade may well prove valuable. He knew enough about the films and the theatre to provide a smattering of information, although Gardener had been far from satisfied, and would like to have heard more.
However, he had provided a link worth pursuing. A connection between silent films and the man they were trying to find. But was the killer really emulating a film star? If that was the case, had Fettle provided the answer in Lon Chaney? Was Corndell himself obsessed with Lon Chaney, and had simply chosen not to mention it? What about his lost films collection? What did he have in there, and did he have any of Chaney’s?
Gardener also suspected that there was a lot more to the house than met the eye, and Sean Reilly had already revealed to him that each and every one of the rooms upstairs were locked. Why was that? Surely there was little need to lock any door in your house if you lived on your own and never left. Did he have a house full of valuable items, or was he hiding something?
Although the meeting with Fettle had confirmed the link to Lon Chaney, it revealed nothing further about Corndell. Gardener was satisfied that they were searching for a man with an incredible knowledge of the film world, and very likely the actor Lon Chaney, for whatever reason. But the fact that Fettle had never heard of William Henry Corndell – given his pedigree – was interesting.
So, was Corndell who he said he was? Who he led people to believe he was? Based on a first meeting with little evidence, had they actually been talking to the maniac responsible for the two most violent murders they had ever seen? Or was Gardener on the wrong track? They had so far drawn a blank with every lead. Had he allowed himself to concentrate on someone who was perhaps mad but harmless? One way or another, he would have to incite his team into producing results before another murder was committed.