“I’m just relieved,” Baz said, a note of defensiveness creeping in. “I’ve got a lot riding on this book.”

“Oh, I know you have. A damn sight more than a bloody big hole in your catalog.”

Baz shifted in her chair, almost imperceptibly altering her position to close herself off from Lindsay’s probing stare. “You’re going to have to explain that. I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”

Lindsay snorted with sardonic laughter. “Was that meant to be a subtle attempt to find out which draft I’ve got? If so, there was no need for the subtlety. I’ll happily tell you, Baz. I’ve got the lot. I’ve got three early drafts, going as far as Chapter 18.” Lindsay paused, gauging Baz’s watchful stare. She thought she saw relief there, but couldn’t be sure.

“How soon can you let us have a copy?” Baz asked, fiddling obsessively with the pen she’d used to sign the document.

“That’s going to be up to Meredith and Catriona Polson,” Lindsay replied. “Oh, and probably the police as well.”

“Why should it have anything to do with the police?” Baz asked, her busy fingers freezing, the pen stationary in mid-turn.

“I’ve also got the final draft.” Lindsay stared steadily at Baz. “The one I wouldn’t want anyone to see if I was in your shoes. The one that gives you a motive for wanting Penny Varnavides dead.” Her words cut through the humid air like the hiss of a thrown knife.

Baz’s mouth twisted into the kind of smile that’s normally only seen in distorting fairground mirrors. “Come on,” she said in an attempt at jokey contempt. “You can’t be seriously suggesting that a rewrite Penny did in the heat of anger would give me a motive for murder?”

Lindsay’s grim smile would have worried a shark. “One,” she said, ticking off her points on her fingers, “Heart of Glass as rewritten represents total humiliation for you, personally and professionally. Two, Penny and you could never have worked together again, which scuppers your brilliant career. Three, your girlfriend’s going to be more than a little baffled as to why your formerly fabulous relationship with your most successful author has turned so sour, and I’m sure Penny would have been more than happy to enlighten her. Will that do for starters?”

Baz’s eyes narrowed perceptibly, but when she spoke her voice struggled for lightness. “This is madness. Look, whatever Penny may or may not have done in some intermediate draft, I was her editor and the final shape of the book depends on me as much as on her. I have the authority to demand that she change back to what was, after all, the book outlined in her synopsis, the book I had commissioned.”