Love Him to Death by Tanya Landman

faithful hound. Josie settled herself on a sun lounger and the photographer circled her, snapping from every angle. Maybe she felt obliged to carry on with it. There was probably some sort of contract. Or maybe she was just heartless.
    “That’s not her usual look,” I said thoughtfully.
    “Isn’t it?” asked Graham. “Is that significant?”
    “Could be. She looks kind of casual in most of the photos I’ve seen. Wears jeans nearly all the time. Yet that outfit’s downright trashy. The question is, which image is really her?”
    Graham frowned. “Are you suggesting that Josie’s manner of wide-eyed innocence might be assumed?”
    “Yes, perhaps it’s an act. It certainly worked on Bill, didn’t it? And now that she’s married him, she’s rich. Maybe those catty things they wrote about her in the papers were true: maybe she really is a money-grabbing little gold-digger. And suppose she had it in for Ruby for some reason?”
    “But why would she? Bill’s mother clearly had no control over him.”
    “Ruby seemed quite sympathetic to Angelica, though, didn’t she? That might be enough to make Josie angry.”
    We weren’t getting anywhere. Nothing made much sense but I couldn’t shake off the gut feeling that those pills had been removed deliberately. My suspicions as to who might be responsible were evenly divided between Josie and Angelica.
    “I wish we knew more about Angelica,” I said, frustrated. “I mean, why has she gone so completely bonkers?” I remembered Becca, a friend of my mum’s, who’d gone pretty weird after her husband had walked out on her. Mum had sat up with her night after night having long, anguished discussions around the kitchen table. Becca had been desperate, but nothing like as bad as Angelica. She hadn’t
completely
fallen apart. “Do you think Angelica was always a bit loopy? Maybe she was like it when they were married. If she’s always been difficult, it might explain why Bill fell for Josie. I wish I knew how to find out.”
    There was silence for a while as we both considered the matter. Down below us came the happy sounds of minor celebrities splashing around in the pool. I noticed that Josie didn’t go in the water – she was posing by the edge but seemed reluctant to take the plunge. Perhaps she didn’t want to ruin her perfectly arranged hair.
    “Sizal!” I exclaimed suddenly.
    “What about him?”
    “He used to do Angelica’s hair when she was with Bill. Women talk to their hairdressers, Graham! I bet he can tell us loads about her. Come on!”
    I was off, with Graham at my heels like a
Hi!
photographer, as we ran in search of Sizal Bouffant.
    He wasn’t stuffing his face along with Lucia and Hazel and the rest of the make-up and costume crew. He wasn’t splashing in the pool or sipping a drink on the lower terrace. We found Sizal Bouffant in the room where he had adjusted our wigs earlier that day.
    And there was a large wasp banging against the glass. Banging and banging, trying to get out.
    Sizal wasn’t hysterically begging and pleading for someone to get rid of it. He was lying, perfectly still and perfectly silent, across the chaise longue. His face was red and swollen. Five angry bumps on his cheek and neck had come up where he’d obviously been stung.
    Next to him, hanging onto his lifeless arm like a drowning woman clinging to a log, was Angelica.

a sting in the tail
    Graham and I stood in the doorway staring at the dead hairdresser and his very-obviously-demented client.
    “Get Tessa,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. “I’ll stay here.”
    Angelica’s eyes were fixed on the wasp that was still battering itself against the window. Quite what I was going to do if she switched her attention to me was anybody’s guess. If she’d attacked, maybe I’d have fought back or maybe I’d have just run away. As it turned out I didn’t need to do either, because at that moment somebody changed the CD that was playing outside. All