by Val McDermid
I turned my head towards Neil. His eyes were calm and clear as they met mine, as if he were offering me some kind of challenge.
31
The temptation to go for the high melodrama was almost overwhelming till I looked at Jett. It didn’t take much perception to see that the guy was near the end of his rope. So I didn’t point dramatically and say, ‘Inspector, there is your murderer.’
Instead, I took a swig of my drink and said casually, ‘Neil, why did you lie to me about what Kevin said to you?’
He smiled disarmingly and spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence. ‘But I didn’t, Kate. You’re surely not going to take Micky’s word against mine? A cokehead who relies on Kevin for the pennies in his bank account? He’s got every reason to lie to protect Kevin. But me? Why should I lie to you?’
‘There’s only one reason why, Neil. You killed Moira.’ A strange stillness seemed to have descended on the room. I’d certainly captured their attention now.
If I’d expected Neil to cave in, I was swiftly disappointed. He grinned and said, ‘I hope Mortensen and Brannigan have made a good profit this year. When I sue you for slander, I want it to be worth my while.’
I returned his grin. ‘I know I only managed to complete two years of law school, but it’s always been my understanding that truth is an absolute defence in slander actions.’
‘But you have to prove truth,’ Neil parried swiftly. ‘And I fail to see how you’re going to provide proof of something I didn’t do.’ His smile had a triumphant edge that almost made me doubt what I knew to be true.
‘But there is proof, Neil. Right under this roof is all the proof I need.’
He shook his head at me incredulously. ‘She’s out to lunch and not coming back in a hurry,’ he said to the room at large.
Just then, Jackson moved forward into the room. ‘I’d be interested in seeing your idea of proof, even if no one else is,’ he said. I had an idea how much it cost him to utter those words, and I had to grant him a reluctant respect.
‘If you’ll follow me, Inspector, we need to make a little visit to Mr Webster’s office,’ I said formally.
‘Wait a minute,’ Neil said, showing traces of apprehension for the first time. ‘What the hell do you think you’re going to find there?’
‘My proof,’ I said, stalking out of the room. I didn’t need to look back to know that I could easily have passed for the Pied Piper.
Neil overtook me on the threshold and snapped loudly enough for Jackson and everyone else to hear, ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at? All this because your precious boyfriend wasn’t good enough to write Jett’s biography?’
‘This has got nothing to do with Richard,’ I informed him and everyone else within earshot. The tension was beginning to eat into me, and I didn’t know how long I could maintain my cool façade.
‘Oh no?’ he sneered.
Ignoring him, I went straight to his computer, sat down in front of it and switched it on. Jackson leaned over my shoulder, while the others crowded round behind him. Neil hung back slightly, but his eyes were glued to the screen. I briefly looked through the text files in the directory where he stored his stories, then I moved over to his communications program and keyed into it. ‘For those of you who aren’t familiar with computers,’ I said as I hit the keys, ‘this is a program that sends material over the telephone lines to another computer. Journalists use it to file copy electronically to newsdesks.’
I chose the ‘text edit’ option and called up the first story he’d sent out about Moira’s killing. I slowly scrolled through the story till only the last line remained off screen. ‘As you’ll see, Neil had all the details of how Moira was killed. No problem with that if the story was filed after the police gave you all the details of how Moira was killed. Details which none of you who were shut up in the blue drawing room knew except Jett.’
‘Which it was,’ Neil blustered. ‘And you can’t prove otherwise.’
In silence, I brought the last line up on the screen. It gave the date-stamp on the story. 2.35 a.m.
‘It’s a set-up,’ Neil shouted wildly. ‘She’s set this up, can’t you see? She’s the only one who knows enough about computers. She’s framed me.’ His face was glossy with sweat and his eyes flicked nervously round the room.
‘You can confirm that evidence with the company who transmit the electronic mail, I should imagine, Inspector,’ I said coldly.
‘Neil Webster,’ Jackson intoned, pushing through the press of bodies. ‘I must warn you…’
The rest of his official caution was drowned by the sound of breaking glass as Neil threw himself through the window in a sparkling shower of splinters.
A soft kiss tickling the back of my neck woke me up. ‘I hear you nailed the bastard,’ Richard murmured into my ear. ‘Well done.’
I groaned softly and rolled over on to my back. I could feel the warmth of his naked flesh next to mine, and the prospect of snuggling into him was more tempting than I wanted to admit. So I complained, ‘Couldn’t it wait till morning?’
‘I only just heard about it. I went in to the Mirror to drop off some copy, and they told me Neil had been arrested, thanks to some nifty footwork by Mortensen and Brannigan,’ he said proudly.
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘So tell me all about it,’ he demanded enthusiastically. He moved away from me and I heard the soft pop and hiss of a champagne bottle being opened. There was no hope of catching up on sleep now. I sat up and switched on the bedside light.
Richard blinked in the unexpected glow, then gave me his cutest smile as he handed me a fizzing glass of pink champagne. ‘Every cough and spit,’ he demanded.
So I told him all about the showdown, and how Neil had been picked up within five minutes by the team Jackson had wisely stationed outside. He’d been taken to hospital where he’d been formally charged while the casualty staff sewed up his cuts.
‘Great job,’ Richard said with as much satisfaction as if he’d been the prime mover. ‘But I still don’t understand why he killed her. Surely it wasn’t just to produce a scandal that would sell his book?’
‘Not quite. I don’t think he actually meant to kill her. There was nothing premeditated about it. He was just incredibly lucky that no one else had an alibi and everyone else had better motives.’
‘But why?’ Richard howled in frustration.
I smiled sweetly and took a long, slow mouthful of champagne. ‘Can’t tell you. It’s all subjudice, and you journalists can never keep your mouths shut.’
‘Kate!’ he wailed, his face a mixture of injured innocence and pure frustration.
I had to relent. ’When Moira left Jett all those years ago, she was pregnant. She had nowhere to go, and not a lot of cash left, so she had an abortion. Jett never knew about it, and it’s a pound to a gold clock that he would never have had her back if he had done. The guy’s notoriously anti-abortion, and he’d never have forgiven her for killing his own kid. Anyway, Neil found out about the abortion, and he told Moira he knew. Maybe he was even trying a spot of blackmail. She didn’t want a walking time-bomb like that around the place. I questioned Kevin about it last night, and it turns out that she was trying to do a deal with him where Neil would be kicked out. In exchange, Moira wouldn’t tell Jett about Kevin’s little games with the money. Once Neil was out the door, anything he said would be seen as sour grapes.
‘She must have been crowing to him about it in the rehearsal room. The prospect of being deprived of what must have been his last chance of a meal ticket was too much for him. He snapped and picked up the nearest object and thumped her with it. Like I said, I don’t think murder was part of his plans, but having done it, he did his damnedest to make sure he got away with it.’
‘And he would have done, too, if you hadn’t known about the date-stamp on the files,’ Richard said. ‘Bloody clever of you.’
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t h
ave known what to look for if Bill hadn’t been able to hack into the electronic mail company’s records to check exactly when those files were sent.’ I carefully put my glass down on the bedside table and rolled over into Richard’s arms. I deserved some fun after the last few days.
As my body started to tingle under Richard’s familiar caresses, I made a mental note to burn the cassette of that earlier interview with Neil. It wouldn’t do for Inspector Jackson to find out that Neil not only hadn’t date-stamped his files. He hadn’t even known how to.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I picked a lot of people’s brains and stole a few jokes during the writing of this book. I’d like to thank Diana Cooper, Lee D’Courcy, Brother Brian, everyone at Gregory & Radice…Most of all, I owe an enormous debt to Linzi Day, who convinced me that I ought to believe in myself as much as she does.
About the Author
Val McDermid grew up in a Scottish mining community, then read English at Oxford. She was a journalist for sixteen years, spending the last three years as Northern Bureau Chief of a national Sunday tabloid. Now a full-time writer, she lives in Cheshire.
Dead Beat is the first of six novels featuring Kate Brannigan. The third, Crack Down, was shortlisted for the Crime Writers’ Association Gold Dagger Award in 1994.
Val is also the author of three tense psychological thrillers featuring criminal profiler Tony Hill (the first of these, The Mermaids Singing, was awarded the 1995 Gold Dagger Award for Best Crime Novel of the Year), two stand-alone thrillers, Killing the Shadows and A Place of Execution; and five novels featuring journalist-sleuth Lindsay Gordon.
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Last Temptation
Killing the Shadows
A Place of Execution
The Wire in the Blood
The Mermaids Singing
Kate Brannigan novels
Star Struck
Blue Genes
Clean Break
Crack Down
Kick Back
Lindsay Gordon novels
Booked for Murder
Union Jack
Final Edition
Common Murder
Report for Murder
Non-fiction
A Suitable Job for a Woman
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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First published in Great Britain by Victor Gollancz 1992 and Orion Books Ltd 1999
Copyright © Val McDermid 1992
Val McDermid asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © 1992 ISBN: 9780007327645
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