Val Mcdermid - Killing the Shadows

“That’s the charitable version?”

“Come on, Fiona, you know Georgia. Most people who only see the public face find it hard to say much about her that doesn’t involve a certain degree of bitching.”

“I can’t wait for the uncharitable alternative,” Fiona murmured.

“That goes like this. After Drew’s murder, Georgia was bleating that she wanted Carnegie House to provide her with bodyguards. She took the line that she was a high-profile Queen of Crime who needed protection from the nutters out there, and that was the duty of her publisher. Of course, several of my colleagues thought it was just a way of getting Carnegie to pimp for her…”

“Oh, cruel.”

“But possibly true. Anyway, as you know, she was threatening that she wasn’t going to tour with the new book if they didn’t give her some protection with a bit more muscle than a publicist and a sales rep. And of course, this lecture was technically the first event of the tour. So several of my colleagues reckon that Georgia decided to do a no-show to put the frighteners on her publishers. After all, it’s not like the BFI is a bookshop. Not turning up there would hit the headlines without costing her too many sales,” he added cynically.

“The intention being that tomorrow morning her publishers will be calling her with promises of a pair of thugs to escort her round the book shops of Britain?” Fiona asked, trying not to sound as bemused as she felt.

“Yup. She’ll be ringing them up doing the pitiful, “Poor little me, I was so terrified that when it came to it, all I wanted to do was run away and hide.” Not to mention how heartbroken she is to have let down her legion of devoted fans. So, if Carnegie House really value their top-selling crime author, they will of course be laying on a bulletproof limo and a team of minders for her…”

“Which in turn will generate even more publicity.”

“A point which everyone is sure never crossed Georgia’s mind,” Kit said with affectionate sarcasm.

“That really is the most disgustingly cynical analysis I have heard in a very long time. You guys should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Kit gave a grim smile. “A fiver hopes they’re right. Because what they don’t know is that Georgia’s had a death threat. And that Georgia really did think she might be on a killer’s hit list.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“What would have been the point? Someone would have blabbed. When I started asking around to see who else had had letters, I was careful not to mention Georgia by name. With her name in the frame, somebody would have sold the story to one of the newspaper diary columns. So everybody was being very entertaining at Georgia’s expense this evening.”

“And you? Knowing what you know, what do you think?”

Kit ran his hands over his face and his scalp. “There are far worse things that could have happened to Georgia. I just hope everybody’s right. That she’s at the wind-up. Because if she’s not, then I think it’s about time I started to get seriously scared.”

What did I tell you?” Kit demanded, brandishing the Guardian under Fiona’s nose at breakfast two days later. “If it says it in The Loafer, it must be true.” He pointed to the item in the literary gossip column and read: The word on the mean streets is that crime writer Georgia Lester has gone to ground in fear of her life. Bestseller Lester failed to turn up for a prestigious lecture at the British Film Institute on contemporary noir films-of-books and has not been heard from since. Lester has apparently fallen out with publishers Carnegie House over their failure to provide her with minders on her upcoming book tour to promote her latest psychological thriller, Terminal Identity. Her demand followed hot on the heels of the shocking murder of Edinburgh-based wunderkind Drew Shand last month, which police believe may be stalker-related, and the equally bizarre murder of American recluse Jane Elias near her Irish estate, a supposed gangland killing connected to her lover, an undercover drugs cop. Now open season has apparently been declared on crime writers, a friend claimed that Lester was outraged by what she saw as a lack of concern for her welfare and reportedly said she’d make Carnegie pay for it. Whether in pain or in cash wasn’t clear. That Lester, noted for her willingness to accommodate the media, has turned her back on a major platform to express her views will surely have sent a strong message to her publishers that she isn’t going to be fobbed off, however paranoid her demands.

“Well, that’s what the world’s saying. So maybe I should stop worrying?”

Fiona shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not until you hear it from Georgia herself. What’s in The Loafer was probably leaked by one of your drinking cronies from the other night.” She was more worried than she was willing to acknowledge, however, so she searched for something more reassuring. All she could come up with was the line she’d been using ever since she’d seen Georgia’s death threat. “Whatever is going on, I don’t think the person who wrote your letter is responsible. Of course, it makes sense to be cautious. But I don’t think you should be living in fear.”

Kit grumbled indistinctly through a mouthful of Weetabix. The silence that followed was broken only by the sounds of breakfast being consumed and the turning of pages as they both read their sections of the paper.

Suddenly, Fiona rallied. This was far better reassurance than any platitude she could come out with. “Now, that is what I call much more interesting than the spreading of unsubstantiated rumour,” Fiona said, folding the news section over and passing it to Kit. Suspect held in Elias murder A man has been arrested in connection with the brutal murder of American thriller writer Jane Elias, the Garda Siochana in County Wicklow have confirmed. The suspect is John Patrick Regan, a 35-year-old house builder from Kildenny, a small town fifteen miles from Ms Elias’s estate on the shores of Lough Killargan. Ms Elias was found dead on a country road ten days ago. She was last seen by security guards at her estate leaving her private dock in a yacht twelve hours earlier. Regan is believed to be a cousin and business associate of Thomas Donaghy, who is currently awaiting trial on charges of heroin smuggling. He was arrested during a major operation by the Garda last year, which was the result of an undercover sting operation and led to the confiscation of heroin with a street value of 1.2m. Pierce Finnegan, the Garda officer responsible for the operation, is believed to have been Jane Elias’s lover and there was speculation last night that her murder was intended to discourage Finnegan from giving evidence when the case against Donaghy and his co-accused comes to court next month. A Garda spokesman said, “We have a suspect in custody who is being questioned about the death of Jane Elias. At this moment, no charges have been laid.” Jane Ellas’s death shocked the quiet Irish community where the reclusive writer was highly respected. Cont. p3

Kit scanned the newsprint quickly then looked up at Fiona with a half-smile. “I suppose that counts as good news,” he said.

“As good as it gets in a murder inquiry, I think.”

He shook his head, his mouth pursing in bitterness. “What a stupid bloody reason to die, though. I mean, to be killed not for anything you are or anything you’ve done. To be murdered because of the person you love.”

“It happens all the time when you think about it,” Fiona said. “Women murdered by ex-husbands who can’t accept they’ve chosen someone else to be with. People murdered because the person they sleep with is the wrong religion or the wrong colour. Or the wrong gender.”