Part Two

Chapter   13

The sound of the phone jerked me awake. “Kate? It’s Jett. It’s an emergency. Get over here right away.” Then the phone slammed down. The clock said 01:32. Happy Monday. I leapt out of bed and dressed on automatic pilot. I was halfway to the car before I remembered it had been six weeks since I’d stopped working for Jett. What the hell was he playing at? By then, I was awake anyway, so I figured I might as well drive out and see.

The gates stood open, and Jett was waiting for me on the doorstep. He looked stoned out of his box. I asked what was going on and he simply handed me the key and said, “The rehearsal room.”

It was my first dead body. The private eyes in books fall over corpses every other day, but Manchester’s a long way from Chicago in more ways than one. My first reaction was to get out of the room as fast as my legs would carry me and keep on running till I was safe inside my car.

Instead, I tried to fight my nausea by breathing in deeply. That was my second mistake. Nobody ever told me that freshly spilled blood has such a strong smell. My only experience with the stuff was when half a pound of liver leaked all over my check book. That hadn’t been too pleasant either.

I tried to behave like a professional and forget that I knew the person who was lying dead on the polished wooden floor. If I was going to get through this experience, I’d have to convince myself it was no more real than the Kensington Gore in a Hammer Horror film.

Moira’s body lay a few yards inside the door of the rehearsal

I walked cautiously towards the body, and noticed that her face looked mildly surprised. I crouched down, forcing myself not to think of this as Moira, and noticed that her hands were empty, palms upwards. No clues there. Feeling foolish because I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I picked up her wrist and felt vainly for a pulse. Nothing. Her skin felt warmish—not quite normal temperature, but not cold either. I got to my feet and glanced at my watch. It was forty minutes since Jett had woken me. What the hell was keeping the police?

With a deep sigh, I left the room and locked it behind me. I found Jett in the blue drawing room, huddled in a corner of the sofa. I sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. His skin felt cold and clammy through the thin silk shirt.

His eyes were frightened. I realized now he was in shock rather than stoned.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I’m afraid so.”