A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

and from my previous visit all those years ago, I vaguely remembered that it led out onto a narrow corridor – then the window was the only possible exit.

So that meant that the person tampering with the lights should not have been there in the first place; they couldn’t allow themselves to be seen, or they could have styled it out and said they’d found the lights in that state. I reached up to the window, as if to grasp the frame. It also meant that the person who had stood in this spot had been considerably taller than me, because the window, which was an old wooden sash, would have to have been open a fair way for a body to climb through, and I certainly would not have been able to reach up and pull it down again.

That narrows it down, all five foot four of me, I thought sardonically. Zack was probably the shortest male member of the cast I’d seen so far, and he was at least six foot. But of course, it could be a crew member. It could be anyone…

I stepped back and frowned as there was a crunching sound under my trainers. I looked down. There at my feet, twinkling in the autumn sunlight, was a small patch of broken, very thin glass. The sort of glass you make lightbulbs out of.

I strolled thoughtfully back to the food truck. So the shoot saboteur had made their way into the old kitchen, smashed the bulbs to make it look like they’d blown – again, it was a bit of a pointless act, an annoying prank designed to hold things up temporarily, except it hadn’t because the lighting guy had gone in and checked before they started shooting – and then climbed out of the window to escape detection, obviously with a few shards of glass on their clothing, which had then ended up in the flowerbed.

But why? Apart from Gino breaking his arm, all these pranks (or whatever they were) were trivial, minor inconveniences. They’d held up shooting, but not for any significant length of time. No major damage or harm had been done (again, apart from poor Gino). It was almost like they’d just been designed to annoy everyone.

Or freak them out… The crew member I’d heard today had mentioned the shoot being cursed, and Tony had said that Faith considered him her ‘lucky charm’. Everyone knew how superstitious actors were, but the crew were in danger of succumbing to it as well. People were on edge. Was that what the saboteur was trying to achieve? Which brought me back to where I’d started: but why?

Chapter Nine

I couldn’t carry on wondering why, though, because while I’d been in the kitchen garden, the area around the food truck had become a hive of activity. The actors, who I realised must have been there all along, had finished in Hair and Make-Up and were heading over for breakfast. Gino had reluctantly accepted that he wasn’t likely to be back for a while yet, so had emailed Lucy a long list of instructions for me; I found them on the truck’s counter weighted down with the ketchup bottle to stop them blowing away.

Zack liked to start the day with a protein shake and a banana. At about 10 a.m. he’d be ready for a low-carb, high-protein muesli bar, to keep him going until lunch. He was happy to eat carbs at lunch, as long as they came with a lot of protein, so pasta with a meaty sauce and lots of vegetables was a good option, and that sort of dish was also popular with the crew.

Kimi was a vegetarian, but she would occasionally eat fish, so it was a good idea to keep some in the fridge in case she sprang it on you. She was lactose intolerant and only drank almond milk, but Gino had seen her polish off a massive bowl of ice-cream and chocolate sauce when she was stressed (which was a regular occurrence, apparently), and the dairy hadn’t affected her then, so… She also had a mild rice allergy, which meant she could only eat brown rice. For breakfast she enjoyed a smoothie made from almond milk, kale, fresh mango (because of course that was in season in Cornwall in October), apple juice, and carrot. Maybe ‘enjoyed’ was the wrong word for that sort of smoothie.

Faith was on a special diet for ladies of a certain age. Breakfast was porridge made with soya milk, dried cranberries, fresh blueberries, and a sprinkling of flax and sunflower seeds. For lunch, a nice piece of salmon or chicken, with salad and avocado. The occasional bowl of pasta, if it was going to be a long day.

Jeremy liked bacon, curry, and chips. Possibly all on the same plate. He would eat whatever you put in front of him. You know how pious health freaks always tell you their body is a temple? Well, Jeremy’s body really was a temple, but it was one of those ancient abandoned ones in India, surrounded by jungle and full of wild monkeys, screeching and swinging from the ruins. I decided I rather liked Jeremy after all.

I made Zack’s protein shake and Kimi’s smoothie and stuck them in the fridge, so I could serve them the minute they reached the canteen (or their trailer, in Kimi’s case; her sister, Aiko, would come and pick up her breakfast so she could eat/drink it in solitary splendour. What Aiko would eat, nobody had bothered to find out). I measured out Faith’s porridge oats and left them soaking in the soya milk; they would only take a minute in the microwave. I cooked a load more bacon and put it on the hot buffet, along with buttered rolls and ketchup; Jeremy could help himself, along with the bit-part actors and extras.

‘You look busy.’

I looked up and smiled at Nathan, who was standing at the counter. ‘Never too