“As used by Cordelia Brown and Laura Craig. They should rechristen it Betrayal.” Suddenly, Lindsay sat bolt upright. “Conference Chronicle must have got it right about her being a Special Branch plant. No way she could afford Cartier on what the union pays her.”

“You’ve completely lost me, Lindsay,” Sophie complained. “Although you do seem to have astonishing recall considering this hypnosis business doesn’t really work,” she added, tongue firmly planted in her cheek.

Lindsay apologized and brought Sophie up to date on the allegations about Laura. “And there’s something else I didn’t go into detail about. I don’t know what bearing it has on what’s happened now, but old sins cast long shadows. It was another unexpected death that looked like it could have been an accident. Let me tell you a bedtime story,” Lindsay said. She put her arms round Sophie and cast her mind back nine years to her first union conference.

Succinctly, reviving her dormant journalistic skills, Lindsay outlined the circumstances of Ian Ross’s death. “He died instantly,” she concluded. “And all because his inhaler ran out at the wrong time.”

Sophie, who had been listening intently, frowned. “That can’t be right, Lindsay. It can’t have happened like that.”

Chapter 10

10

“It is worth remembering that, like football fans, we are ambassadors. People have a low enough opinion of the media without us making it worse. If delegates feel the urge to behave badly, we strongly suggest they do so within the confines of the conference venues.”

from “Advice for New Delegates”, a Standing Orders Sub-Committee booklet.

“I’m telling you, that’s what happened,” Lindsay said obstinately.

Recalling in the nick of time her partner’s fondness for being right, Sophie diplomatically said, “I’m sure that’s what people were saying at the time, but I find it hard to credit.”

Lindsay’s chin lifted. “What exactly is it you are taking issue with? I mean, I was there, and I’ve not exactly gone senile yet. I can still remember what happened, even if it was nine years ago.”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with your recollection, sweetheart. Just that whoever told you what happened might have got it wrong, that’s all.”

“Wrong about what?” Lindsay persisted, only slightly mollified.

Sophie absently massaged the back of Lindsay’s neck, kneading the tight muscles as she formulated the least inflammatory approach. “How long had Ian been asthmatic?” she eventually asked.

“I don’t know. Since he was a kid, I think. Certainly as long as I knew him. He didn’t make any secret of it. He used his inhalers wherever he happened to be—in the middle of the office, in the car, down the pub. Mmm, that’s wonderful, gimme more!” Lindsay groaned, leaning back into Sophie.