PI Kate Brannigan Series Books 1-3: Dead Beat, Kick Back, Crack Down. Val McDermid

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СКАЧАТЬ police?’ The puzzlement on her face looked genuine. ‘What d’you mean?’

      ‘Like I said, I’ve got some bad news. Moira’s dead,’ I said.

      It was as if I’d pressed the freeze-frame button. Tamar stopped dead, her face immobile. At first, she said nothing. Then a slow smile curled her lips. ‘Well, what a shame,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I suppose she just couldn’t stay away from the stuff.’

      Tamar might have been a blonde, but I was far from convinced that she was dumb. And if she was guilty, she was choosing a very clever way of hiding it.

      ‘You’re right off track,’ I commented. ‘Moira’s been murdered. In the rehearsal room.’

      That got a reaction. Tamar flushed scarlet. ‘I … I don’t understand,’ she whispered.

      ‘I don’t know any more than that myself,’ I said. ‘I called in to see Jett, and he went to fetch Moira. He discovered the body, and we called the police. They’re waiting downstairs. You’d better get down there now. Everyone’s in the blue drawing room.’ I know I’m not going to win any points from bereavement counsellors for my attitude, but as far as I was concerned, Tamar lost all rights to my sympathy with that smile.

      I moved towards the door. ‘Wait,’ she called. I turned back. ‘Do you know who did it?’ she asked.

      I shook my head. ‘Not up to me, Tamar. It’s the police who work that sort of thing out. And they want to see you now,’ I added, twisting the knife as I closed the door behind me.

      I didn’t hang around to see if she was following me. I tripped back down the curving stairs, half-expecting a Busby Berkeley chorus to break into song. But all I could hear was the police radio chatter. As I reached the hall, the intercom sounded again. This time, the constable on the door dealt with it so I made my way to the cellar door at the end of a short side-passage. I opened the door which led to a tiny vestibule with a flight of steps. I descended and found myself facing a heavy steel door. Above it was a red light. I know what happens in computer games if you ignore warnings like that, but I thought the chances of being zapped by an android were pretty remote, so I opened the door. Just shows how wrong you can be.

      I was in a large recording studio, walls and ceiling covered in acoustic tiling. Keyboards, drum machines and mikes filled most of the available space. At the far end of the room there was a wall of glass. Behind it, a man sat hunched over a series of control consoles, a cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth. I could actually feel in my chest and stomach the throbbing bass line that emerged from tall speakers. I walked down the studio and waved to catch his attention. Abruptly the music stopped and a deafening voice yelled over the intercom, ‘Get the fuck out of here! You blind, or what?’

      I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I spoke anyway. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have to come upstairs.’ I was beginning to wish I’d left this to Gloria.

      ‘Look, sweetheart, it might have escaped your obviously limited intelligence, but I’m working. I don’t stop on the say-so of anybody’s bimbo, so just fuck off and find someone else to bug,’ he snarled back at me, stubbing out his cigarette and immediately lighting another.

      ‘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.

      I knocked on his door and heard him call, ‘Come in, open all hours.’ I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. The wood panelling obviously deadened any noise from outside. The small room looked remarkably like Richard’s study. I wondered if journalists are born untidy or if they think the appearance of complete chaos is a necessary part of the image. Neil sat at the eye of the storm of paper, facing a computer screen, a small tape recorder beside him. He leaned back in his chair and grinned at me. ‘Kate! Glad you could find the time to pop in on a humble scribe. Sorted out your business with Jett?’

      ‘I’m afraid this isn’t just a social call,’ I said. ‘I’ve been asked to come and fetch you.’

      His hooded eyes half-closed as a guarded expression crossed his face. ‘Fetch me?’ he queried. ‘Who wants me?’

      ‘The police,’ I said.

      I could see the muscles in his jaw clench. ‘What’s all this about, Kate?’ he forced out in a light tone.

      ‘Bad news. Moira’s dead.’

      His eyes opened wide in horror. ‘Oh no!’ he exclaimed. ‘Moira? Dead? How? What happened? Has there been an accident?’ His questions spilled out, the professional habit attaching itself to his obvious personal shock.

      ‘No accident, I’m afraid. Look, Neil, you’d better get along to the blue drawing room. The police want to see everyone who was in the house. They’ll be able to fill you in on the details.’

      ‘You mean, it happened here?’

      ‘Why? Where did you think it had happened?’

      ‘I don’t know. She said something earlier about going down to the village to see someone. I suppose I assumed she was attacked on her way back or something. Oh God, poor Jett. He must be in a hell of a state.’ At last, someone СКАЧАТЬ