“I’d heard that about the American justice system,” Helen said sweetly, catching the barman’s attention and ordering without consultation two bottles of Belgian raspberry beer. Lindsay looked dubiously at the brownish red liquid in her glass, shrugged resignedly and sipped.

“I’ve tasted worse,” she muttered as she followed Helen to a quiet corner booth.

“I picked up a tasty bit of goss this morning that might interest you,” Helen said, settling herself on the bench and fanning her face ineffectually with a beermat.

“About Penny?”

“Penny’s books, actually. I was talking to a mate of mine, Kes, who brokers co-production deals, and I asked her what she was working on and she told me she’s putting something together on Penny’s books. Some transatlantic deal to do a TV series. Serious players, too. Galaxy Pictures in the States and an independent over here called Primetime, who’ve got it slotted in with the BBC.”

Lindsay stared. “The Darkliners novels? Is that what we’re talking about?”

Helen nodded. “Apparently so. We’re talking a big deal here. First series will be three books, three thirty-minute episodes per book. If it takes off, they’ll do all the books, then they’ll do like they did with Morse—use the characters and get other writers to do the storylines.”

Lindsay shook her head. “There must be some mistake. Penny hated the idea of her books being made into films or TV programs. Producers were always pitching her and she always turned them down. She said it wasn’t like she needed the money, and she didn’t want to see her characters trashed on the screen. I remember she used to say, ‘Any time I’m tempted, I say the magic words “V. I. Warshawski” and I waken from my enchantment.’ Are you sure you got it right?”

Helen breathed heavily through her nose. “I’m sure I’m sure. I didn’t realize Penny felt like that. I thought this was some routine agreement they were working out with her. From what Kes was saying, they’ve just got some final details to iron out, but the deal should be done and dusted within the next few weeks.”

“I just can’t believe Penny would agree to this,” Lindsay said. “She said nothing to me about it, and I’m sure if she’d discussed it with Sophie, I’d have heard. Meredith said nothing about it either. I wonder how they persuaded Penny? It must have taken something really special to get round her objections . . .” Lindsay’s voice tailed off and her eyes widened.

“Like murder?” Helen wondered.

“Like murder,” Lindsay echoed. “If you kill somebody, you don’t need their consent any more. Particularly when you’re their literary executor.”

There was silence for a moment while they both considered the implications of what Helen had learned. “That can’t be right,” Helen said eventually. “This isn’t something that’s just been cobbled together over the last couple of days. Kes’s company must have been in negotiation for months.”

“Would Penny have had to know that?”

Helen pondered. “Not necessarily, I suppose. Authors tend to get involved in negotiations if they want to write the script themselves or if they want to have a fair bit of input into the end product. But some of them just want to take the money and run, in which case they leave it up to their agents to do the business and they never actually meet the people who are planning to make the film.”