Baz gave Lauren a final glare, then swung round with a broad smile towards Lindsay. “Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t offer her hand. “Sorry about that. You know what they say—you just can’t get the staff. My assistant tells me you’re representing Meredith Miller. Can I ask in what capacity?”

“Can we talk somewhere a little more private?” Lindsay said, stepping to one side to avoid a pair of young men walking through reception deep in discussion about book clubs.

“Is this going to take long?” Baz asked, glancing ostentatiously at a Mickey Mouse watch. “Only, I’ve got an important meeting in twenty minutes, so if you need longer, I’d suggest you make an appointment for another day.”

“Let’s make a start with that twenty minutes, then,” Lindsay said firmly. “If we need more time, I can always come back later.”

“Fine,” Baz said curtly. “Follow me.”

She led the way round a room divider and into a small office partitioned off the larger room, where people sat at computers and piles of manuscripts. Baz settled into a leather executive chair behind a desk cluttered with papers. She didn’t invite Lindsay to sit, but she did anyway, noting that the visitors’ chairs were significantly lower than the edge of the desk. The room had no door, and Lindsay felt strangely exposed with her back to the entrance.

Baz tilted her head to one side, frankly studying Lindsay. Lindsay returned the compliment, taking in a hennaed urchin cut over straight brows and eyes the same muddy color as the supermarket coffee. Her plump, jowly cheeks were at odds with a neat frame whose slimness was accentuated by the tight black jeans and vest she was wearing. Her shoulders were as pink as her cheeks and showed all the signs of peeling from too much sun. In her left ear was a single earring in the shape of an axe. In her right, a line of half a dozen silver studs marched upwards from the lobe till they met a pair of ear cuffs. “Sorry about that business out there. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you. It’s just that I am literally snowed under with work, and that idiot girl on reception keeps on funnelling wannabe writers through to me as if I’m running a counselling service for failures,” Baz said to break the silence.

“All the more thanks for giving me some time,” Lindsay said noncommittally.

“You still haven’t answered my question, though,” Baz said with a teasing smile that completely altered her face, reminding Lindsay that hamsters could be cute. She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk and gazed at Lindsay.

“At Meredith Miller’s request, I’m investigating Penny Varnavides’ murder.”

Baz looked incredulous. “You’re a private eye?”

“Not exactly. But I have had some experience of murder inquiries.”

“And Meredith’s hired you to clear her name, is that it?”

“Sort of.” For no reason she could put her finger on, Lindsay was reluctant to reveal how much she knew about Meredith or Penny. Admitting she was working out of friendship would be to give too much away.