Chapters (31)
- Title Page
- Praise
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- 1996
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Epilogue
- V. L. McDermid
- Copyright Page
Again the “Oh, God” upward flick of the eyebrows, accompanied by the heavy sigh of the hard done by. “All right, then, what do you want to know?”
“The couple of times I’ve been in reception, I’ve noticed you taking messages for people without checking if they were in. Is that a regular thing?”
Lauren frowned. “Yeah. I’ve got a list of about a dozen blokes. They never come in the office, but I get messages for them regular.”
“What do you do with the messages?” Lindsay asked. The hair on the back of her neck seemed to be standing on end and, in spite of the stuffy heat inside the café, she felt a chill inside. So much hung on Lauren’s answer.
“I pass them on to Danny’s secretary. When I started working on reception, I asked who they all were and she said they were business associates of Danny’s. She said they were consultants who didn’t have offices with secretaries of their own and it was convenient for them to be able to leave messages here. I thought they must be a right bunch of tossers if they couldn’t spring for a mobile phone or voice mail or something.”
Lindsay let out the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “Thanks, Lauren,” she said softly. “We’ll see you tonight.”
She nodded and gathered up her bag, pausing to light a cigarette. “Funny you should ask about the messages,” she said conversationally. “Penny wondered the very same thing.”
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Lindsay popped the last mouthful of strawberry tart in her mouth and carefully mopped her lips with the paper napkin. The movement of her jaw while eating still gave her twinges of pain, but she’d never been able to resist strawberry tarts, and those she’d found in California just weren’t the same. Sophie was watching her with an air of bemused affection. “I don’t know how you can think about eating when the next thing on the agenda is burglary,” she said.
“S’easy,” Lindsay said, swallowing her mouthful of cake. “Besides, it’s not burglary. No breaking, no intent to steal or rape or commit GBH on the premises. It’s not even criminal trespass.”
“You sure they haven’t changed the law since you last covered the criminal courts?” Sophie said dubiously.