BooksBarbecue
Back The Dead Line
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

‘Bloody hell,’ Casey grinned. ‘What’s happened to Hippy now?’

‘The Enquiry’s fired him,’ Miranda sighed. ‘They had to, really, for appearances’ sake. They gave the Amners chief exec such a vast sum that it covered the pay-out he wasn’t getting from Amners after they’d gone bust. He was quite pleased, in the end, and didn’t bother with the police. Amners was going down in flames anyway, so he was past caring. I’m sure the Enquiry will take Hippy back by the end of the year. He’s off sailing round the Med in the meantime. Sounded quite chirpy when I last heard from him.’

‘How,’ Casey asked, ‘did the Enquiry know it was the Banner’s chief reporter who left the message?’

‘Oh …’ Miranda waved a hand airily. ‘They dropped enough hints. The Enquiry’s news editor is swearing vengeance in this life or the next. To be honest, Hippy thinks that’s why they’ll need to bring him back in the end. To do over the Banner once and for all.’

‘Fine.’ Casey crossed a name off her list. ‘Not Hippy.’

‘So.’ Miranda sobered up. ‘Who?

‘It’s going to have to be Ed.’

28

28

The room went black. For a second, there was complete silence, hundreds of people holding their breath.

Then a laser stabbed the darkness, twisting and dancing. Another sparked, and another, building up into an explosion of light, carving out a wilderness of brilliance in the dark. One more split-second of total darkness, and then all the lights dazzled at once, the music erupted, and models prowled out from the four corners of the huge room.

‘I need to get into the Mercutio show.’ Casey had sidled up to Cressida the day before.

‘Getting extra tickets for that is always a nightmare.’

‘It’s important.’

‘You always say that.’

Casey hovered until Cressida got irritated. It was London fashion week, one of the fashion editor’s busiest times of the year. While Casey had been in DC, Cressida had been in the flurry of New York. Next week the circus would roll on to Milan, then Paris, in a swirl of glitter and champagne, Cressida and her team alongside.

‘Please, Cressida.’

‘Sod off.’ A long pause while Cressida tapped at her keyboard and ignored Casey. Then, quietly, ‘Is it to do with . . .?’

‘Yes.’

Cressida glowered.

‘You’re not having my ticket. You’ll never get past the door. Everyone knows who I am.’ A hint of complacency in Cressida’s voice as she glanced round. ‘You can take Tosca’s ticket’ – a squawk from a pretty blonde sitting nearby – ‘but you are not to get caught, and you are not to embarrass my team, do you hear me, Cassandra Benedict?’

‘Yes,’ Casey had grinned.

‘And Tosca will style you first,’ Cressida said firmly. ‘You’re not bloody turning up dressed like that if you’re going from the Post.’