Brought to Book by Anthea Fraser Page A

unexplained event. Harvey was the author . . .
    How had they got hold of that photo? she wondered suspiciously, and in immediate reply the phone rang again and Barnie’s voice said in her ear, ‘Seen the plug I engineered for you?’ She’d told him of the project when she’d handed in the final article.
    â€˜So it’s you I have to thank! How did you manage that?’
    â€˜Just a word in the ear of a friend. It’s OK, isn’t it? I thought it would create a bit of interest in advance.’
    â€˜Well in advance!’ Rona said. ‘So far, I haven’t written a single word.’
    â€˜At least it’ll warn off anyone else whose thoughts might have been turning in the same direction.’
    â€˜It was a kind thought, Barnie. Thanks.’
    Meriel Harvey had also seen the item, and hers was the third phone call that morning. ‘Does this mean you’re ready to go ahead?’ she asked excitedly.
    â€˜Almost,’ Rona told her, ‘but the timing of the piece is pure coincidence; I didn’t know anything about it till I read it myself. Still, I’m posting off the signed contract today, after which I’ll be free to begin.’
    â€˜Excellent. Then perhaps you could come out again, and we could make a start? And please do stay for lunch this time; I’m sure there’ll be more than a morning’s work ahead of us. Would tomorrow be convenient?’
    Rona hesitated, taken aback by the immediacy of the invitation. She normally allowed herself a week or two to prepare for a new biography, using the time to ease herself into the mindset of it by roughly planning its shape, drawing up schedules of interviews, and, on a more mundane level, ensuring that she had adequate stocks of paper and spare cartridges. In this instance, she’d also determined to finish reading Harvey’s novels. On the other hand, it was as well not to dampen his widow’s enthusiasm.
    A little unwillingly, she said, ‘Thank you, yes. That would be – fine.’
    â€˜I look forward to seeing you, then.’
    Rona turned from the phone to the dog lying at her feet. ‘I’m not going to be allowed to hang about, Gus!’ she told him humorously. ‘Come on, let’s go to the park. I need a good blow to get my thoughts in order.’
    The Gallery Café was reached via a black iron staircase on Guild Street, next to the doorway of Willows’ Fine Furniture. As a puppy, Gus had mistrusted the open steps, but now he galloped up them confidently, pulling Rona behind him. Though the walkway above housed several specialist shops, the Gallery held pride of place since, like the furniture store below it, it rounded the corner from Guild Street to Fullers Walk, thus offering its patrons a choice of view. Max was already seated at a window table, and rose to kiss her as she joined him.
    â€˜What did you think of the newspaper article?’ he asked her, as she sat down and Gus made his way under the table.
    â€˜A little unnerving. It turned out to be Barnie’s doing; “A word in the ear of a friend.”’
    â€˜Well, it’s certainly announced your undertaking to all and sundry.’
    Rona looked at him closely. ‘You sound less than enthusiastic.’
    He shrugged. ‘I just wish it hadn’t implied you might come up with an answer on his death.’
    â€˜For pity’s sake, Max!’
    â€˜Well, if you remember, that was my main reservation about your taking it on.’
    â€˜But he
drowned,
for God’s sake! What’s so mysterious about that?’
    â€˜It was an open verdict, remember.’
    â€˜You’re not suggesting there was something suspicious about it, are you?’
    â€˜Not suspicious, so much as “unexplained”, as the article put it.’ He passed her the menu. ‘You’d better decide what you’d like; the waitress passes this way but once.’
    She