Chapters (37)
- Dead Beat
- Dedication:
- Acknowledgments
- 1992–Part One
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Part Two
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- About the Author
“Please yourself,” I said angrily. “The next interruption you’ll get will be the cops. They don’t like being pissed about by little boys with expensive toys when they’re investigating a murder.” I turned on my heel and marched off towards the door, feeling strangely satisfied with my childish response. Two steps later, I regretted it. I’d thrown away the chance of watching his reaction to my news. I turned back quickly and saw he’d stood up.
The resemblance to a chimp was overwhelming. The long arms, the jutting jaw, the flat nose all gave Micky Hampton a startlingly simian appearance. His blond-streaked hair had been carefully cut, but it couldn’t altogether hide the Prince Charles ears. He’d have made a wonderful extra for Planet of the Apes. At least the make-up department wouldn’t have had much work to do.
As I watched, he disappeared from my sight then emerged from a small door at the back of the studio. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You’d better explain yourself. For a kick-off, who the hell are you?”
“I’m Kate Brannigan.”
Understanding flooded his face. His soft brown eyes were unexpectedly intelligent. “You’re the one who dug Moira up,” he acknowledged. “What did you mean about a murder?”
“Moira’s been killed. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but the police want to see everyone who was in the house tonight,” I parroted.
Micky’s eyebrows shot up. “They’re wasting their time with me. A bomb could drop up there and I wouldn’t know. I’ve worked in top-class studios the world over and I’ve never found one that was better soundproofed than this.”
His concern for Moira was overwhelming. I hid my contempt and simply said, “Nevertheless, they want to see everyone. The blue drawing room,” I added as I left him.
The hall had suddenly begun to resemble a police station. The scene-of-crime team had arrived with their cameras and fingerprint cases. Half a dozen uniformed constables were being directed to search the outside of the house and the grounds, to check for any signs of a break-in and to cover all exits. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me, so I slipped past them and crossed the hall. I headed down the corridor to Neil’s domain. According to Gloria, he’d been given an office on the ground floor near the dining room.