Baz’s tight-lipped smile was closer to a sneer. “I was taking part in a panel of agents and publishers at a literary festival in Colchester at the time Penny died,” she said smugly. “I travelled down by car with Elizabeth Root. She’s an agent, her office is a few minutes’ walk from here. We had a drink together, then did the panel—which, incidentally, was broadcast live by Oyster FM. All four of us on the panel went for a meal afterwards, and I didn’t get back to London until nearly midnight. As I explained to the police the following day,” she added with a vicious little smirk.

Danny moved into the office and laid a friendly arm across Lindsay’s shoulder. “So you see, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree with Baz. Whoever killed Penny, it was nothing to do with Monarch Press.”

Lindsay edged away from Danny’s arm, making the excuse of standing up and moving towards the door. “Just because Baz seems to be off the hook, it doesn’t mean Monarch is in the clear,” she said in an attempt at a defiant face-saver.

Danny opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Baz butted in. “She’s got the book,” she said urgently.

He looked astonished. “You managed to track it down?” he said. “But that’s . . . that’s amazing. Wonderful. How soon can you let us have it?”

“It’s not up to me to let you have anything,” Lindsay said stubbornly. “It’s up to Meredith. She inherits everything from Penny. She might not want you to have it.”

“She’s got to, I’m afraid,” Danny King said, his patronizing tone setting Lindsay’s hackles on full-scale bullshit alert. “Penny signed a contract. She’d been paid the first chunk of a very substantial advance. The biggest we’ve ever paid, as a matter of fact. That manuscript belongs to us.”

Lindsay shook her head. “Not if Meredith decides to repay the advance,” she pointed out as she sailed out of the office, head held high.

The satisfaction of her parting shot lasted for as long as it took her to cross the rapt editorial floor and reach the street. Never had she been more grateful to breathe the fumid air of a steamy London morning. Without hesitating or allowing herself to think about what she’d just experienced, Lindsay strode across the supermarket car park and into their blissfully air-conditioned cafeteria, where she found a quiet corner to drink her mineral water and regroup.