the press. He’s been running around like all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rolled into one for the last six months. He threatens, he rants, he rages, but still the stories keep leaking out. One diamond.”
“Pass. It drives him demented,” Teddy said with a smug little smile that revealed rodent teeth.
“One heart?” I tried, wondering what message that was sending to my partner. When he’d asked what system of bidding I preferred, I’d had to smile weakly and say, “Psychic?” He hadn’t looked impressed.
“It’s not the scandals that really push his blood pressure through the ceiling. It’s the storyline leaks.” Gloria lit a cigarette, eyeing Teddy speculatively. “Two clubs. Remember when the
Sunday Mirror
got hold of that tale about Colette’s charity?”
“Colette Darvall?” I asked.
“That’s right.”
“I must have missed that one,” I said.
“Two diamonds,” Clive said firmly. “Off the planet that month, were you? When her daughter was diagnosed with MS, Colette met up with all these other people who had kids in the same boat. So she let them use her as a sort of figurehead for a charity. She worked her socks off for them. She was always doing PAs for free, giving them stuff to raffle, donating interview fees and all sorts. Then it turns out one of the organizers has been ripping the
“Oops,” I said.
“By heck, you private eyes know how to swear, don’t you?” Teddy said acidly. “I don’t think ‘oops’ was quite what Colette was saying. But Turpin was all right about that. He stuck one of the press officers on her doorstep night and day for a week and told her not to worry about her job.”
“That’s because having a fling with somebody else’s husband is sexy in PR terms, whereas flashing at schoolgirls is just sleazy,” Clive said. “Have you taken a vow of silence, Teddy? Or are you going to bid?”
“Oh God,” Teddy groaned. “Who dealt this dross? I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, Glo.”
“Pass,” I echoed.
“And I make it three in a row. It’s all yours, Clive.” Gloria leaned back in her chair and blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. “God, I love it when Rita’s not here to whinge about me smoking.”
“Better not let Turpin catch you,” Clive said.
“He sounds a real prize, this Turpin,” I said. “I met him yesterday and he was nice as ninepence to me. Told me nothing, mind you, but did it charmingly.”
“Smooth-talking bastard. He did the square root of bugger-all about sorting out my security. Bloody chocolate teapot,” Gloria said dismissively. “At least this latest furor about the future of the show has stopped him going on about finding out who’s leaking the storylines to the press.”
“The future of the show? They’re surely not going to axe
Northerners
?” It was a more radical suggestion than abolishing the monarchy, and one that would have had a lot more people rioting in the streets. For some reason, the public forgave the sins of the cast of their favorite soap far more readily than those of the House of Windsor, even though they paid both lots of wages, one via their taxes, the other via the hidden tax of advertising.
“Don’t be daft,” Gloria said. “Of course they’re not going to axe
Northerners
. That’d be like chocolate voting for Easter. No, what they’re on about is moving us to a satellite or cable channel.”
I stared blankly at her, the cards forgotten. “But that would mean losing all your viewers. There’s only two people and a dog watch cable.”
“And the dog’s a guide dog,” Teddy chipped in gloomily.
“The theory is that if
Northerners
defects to one of the pay-to-view channels, the viewers will follow,” Clive said. “The men in suits think our following is so addicted that they’d rather shell out for a satellite dish than lose their three times weekly fix of an everyday story of northern folk.”
“Hardly everyday,” I muttered. “You show me anywhere in
“Pass. It drives him demented,” Teddy said with a smug little smile that revealed rodent teeth.
“One heart?” I tried, wondering what message that was sending to my partner. When he’d asked what system of bidding I preferred, I’d had to smile weakly and say, “Psychic?” He hadn’t looked impressed.
“It’s not the scandals that really push his blood pressure through the ceiling. It’s the storyline leaks.” Gloria lit a cigarette, eyeing Teddy speculatively. “Two clubs. Remember when the
Sunday Mirror
got hold of that tale about Colette’s charity?”
“Colette Darvall?” I asked.
“That’s right.”
“I must have missed that one,” I said.
“Two diamonds,” Clive said firmly. “Off the planet that month, were you? When her daughter was diagnosed with MS, Colette met up with all these other people who had kids in the same boat. So she let them use her as a sort of figurehead for a charity. She worked her socks off for them. She was always doing PAs for free, giving them stuff to raffle, donating interview fees and all sorts. Then it turns out one of the organizers has been ripping the
“Oops,” I said.
“By heck, you private eyes know how to swear, don’t you?” Teddy said acidly. “I don’t think ‘oops’ was quite what Colette was saying. But Turpin was all right about that. He stuck one of the press officers on her doorstep night and day for a week and told her not to worry about her job.”
“That’s because having a fling with somebody else’s husband is sexy in PR terms, whereas flashing at schoolgirls is just sleazy,” Clive said. “Have you taken a vow of silence, Teddy? Or are you going to bid?”
“Oh God,” Teddy groaned. “Who dealt this dross? I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, Glo.”
“Pass,” I echoed.
“And I make it three in a row. It’s all yours, Clive.” Gloria leaned back in her chair and blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. “God, I love it when Rita’s not here to whinge about me smoking.”
“Better not let Turpin catch you,” Clive said.
“He sounds a real prize, this Turpin,” I said. “I met him yesterday and he was nice as ninepence to me. Told me nothing, mind you, but did it charmingly.”
“Smooth-talking bastard. He did the square root of bugger-all about sorting out my security. Bloody chocolate teapot,” Gloria said dismissively. “At least this latest furor about the future of the show has stopped him going on about finding out who’s leaking the storylines to the press.”
“The future of the show? They’re surely not going to axe
Northerners
?” It was a more radical suggestion than abolishing the monarchy, and one that would have had a lot more people rioting in the streets. For some reason, the public forgave the sins of the cast of their favorite soap far more readily than those of the House of Windsor, even though they paid both lots of wages, one via their taxes, the other via the hidden tax of advertising.
“Don’t be daft,” Gloria said. “Of course they’re not going to axe
Northerners
. That’d be like chocolate voting for Easter. No, what they’re on about is moving us to a satellite or cable channel.”
I stared blankly at her, the cards forgotten. “But that would mean losing all your viewers. There’s only two people and a dog watch cable.”
“And the dog’s a guide dog,” Teddy chipped in gloomily.
“The theory is that if
Northerners
defects to one of the pay-to-view channels, the viewers will follow,” Clive said. “The men in suits think our following is so addicted that they’d rather shell out for a satellite dish than lose their three times weekly fix of an everyday story of northern folk.”
“Hardly everyday,” I muttered. “You show me anywhere in
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