“How?”

“They had a bit of an argy-bargy about it. They were talking to Nigel, who does the covers, about what was going on the front of Heart of Glass. Penny told Nigel about the murder method and said the cover should be just the title and her name and a splinter of glass, all on a black background. And Baz said no, she’d been meaning to talk to Penny about that, and the whole thing was just too far-fetched and she didn’t believe in it and she wanted her to come up with a different idea. And Penny said no way, José, it was perfectly feasible and she thought it was dramatic and ironic and it was staying.”

“They got heated?” Lindsay asked eagerly.

“Not really. It was like it was part of the whole arm’s-length thing. Baz just wasn’t prepared to go head to head with Penny. She just backed down and said okay, if it was that important to Penny it could stay. Everybody was gobsmacked, because Baz never backs down with her authors. Like, never. That’s why it stuck in my mind. So you see, everybody at Monarch knew about the murder method. And God alone knows who they went home and told.”

Chapter 10

Lindsay sat in the swaying tube train, her thoughts swirling in confusion. At breakfast, she’d had two suspects—three if she’d been prepared to include Meredith. But thanks to Lauren’s revelations, she now had dozens. The publishing world was so riddled with gossip that if anything could be guaranteed, it was that half London would know Penny Varnavides and her editor weren’t seeing eye to eye. The disagreement over the bottled beer murder method would have been discussed avidly among publishers, agents and, by now, probably authors too. Rather than narrowing down her list of suspects, Lindsay’s visit to Monarch had swelled it a hundredfold.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she didn’t have the faintest idea what to do next. But if six years in California had taught her anything, it was that there weren’t many problems that couldn’t be eased by some judicious retail therapy. For some, that took the form of trawling the department stores and boutiques for designer clothes at charity shop prices. For others, the gourmet food stores were the fount of all comfort. For Lindsay, shopping paradise took the form of second-hand book and CD stores, where she could browse for hours, then emerge with some obscure gem that cost next to nothing. It didn’t matter when Sophie pointed out that in the time she had taken to find that single specimen, Lindsay could have written an article that would have earned enough to buy a dozen brand-new CDs or hardback books. The hunt was the fun as much as the purchase, and fun was what Lindsay needed in her present mood.

However, given Sophie’s decidedly stiff manner on the phone the previous evening, Lindsay realized a serious peace offering was going to be required at the airport when Sophie arrived the following week. There was nothing more calculated to win her round than some obscure object to add to her collection of historic obstetric instruments. Lindsay could hardly look at them without wincing and crossing her legs, but they fascinated Sophie. And if her memory served her well, one of the antique shops in Camden catered for such perverse tastes. Lindsay could find something for Sophie, then indulge herself in the second-hand stores around Camden Lock. And if she was really lucky, maybe the logical part of her brain, left in peace, would come up with a possible new direction for her investigation.