The Wire in the Blood by Val McDermid Page A

easily from there, while Suzy would have to make a deliberate and obvious shift of position to get Betsy in her line of sight. That also made it possible for Betsy to signal caution to Micky without being seen. ‘This is such a lovely room,’ Suzy gushed. ‘So light, so cool. You don’t often see something so tasteful, so elegant, so— appropriate . And believe me, I’ve been in more of these Holland Park mansions than the local estate agents!’ She twisted round awkwardly and said to Betsy in the same tones she’d have used to a waiter, ‘You have made sure the caterers have all they need?’
    Betsy nodded. ‘Everything’s under control. They were delighted with the kitchen.’
    ‘I’m sure they were.’ Suzy was back with Micky, Betsy dismissed again. ‘Did you design the dining room yourself, Micky? So stylish! So very, very you ! So perfect for Junket with Joseph .’ She leaned forward to stub out her cigarette, giving Betsy an unwanted view of a creped cleavage that fake tan and expensive body treatments couldn’t entirely disguise.
    Being commended on her taste by a woman who could without any indication of shame wear a brash scarlet and black Moschino suit designed for someone twenty years younger and an entirely different shape was a double-edged compliment, Micky felt. But she simply smiled again and said, ‘Actually, it was mostly Betsy’s inspiration. She’s the one with the taste round here. I just tell her what I want the ambience to be like, and she sorts it out.’
    Suzy’s reflexive smile held no warmth. Another wasted opening; nothing quotable there, it seemed to say. Before she could try again, Jacko strode into the room, his broad shoulders in their perfect tailoring thrusting forward so he appeared like a flying wedge. He ignored Suzy’s fluttering twitters and made straight for Micky, descending upon her with one enveloping arm, hugging her close, though not actually kissing. ‘Sweetheart,’ he said, his professional, public voice carrying the thrum of a cello chord. ‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ He half-turned and leaned back against the sofa, giving Suzy the full benefit of his perfectly groomed smile. ‘You must be Suzy,’ he said. ‘We’re thrilled to have you here with us today.’
    Suzy lit up like Christmas. ‘I’m thrilled to be here,’ she gushed, her breathy voice losing its veneer and revealing the unmistakable West Midlands intonation she’d devoted herself to burying. The effect Jacko still had on women never ceased to astonish Betsy. He could turn the sourest bitch Barsac sweet. Even the tired cynicism of Suzy Joseph, a woman who had the same relationship to celebrity as beetles to dung, wasn’t sufficient armour against his charm. ‘ Junket with Joseph doesn’t often give me the chance to spend time with people I genuinely admire,’ she added.
    ‘Thank you,’ Jacko said, all smiles. ‘Betsy, should we be heading through to the dining room?’
    She glanced at the clock. ‘That would be helpful,’ she said. ‘The caterer wants to start serving round about now.’ Jacko jumped to his feet and waited attentively for Micky to get up and move towards the door. He ushered Suzy ahead of him too, turning back to roll his eyes upwards in an expression of bored horror for Betsy’s benefit. Stifling a giggle, she followed them to the dining-room door, saw them seated and left them to it. Sometimes there were distinct benefits in not being the official consort, she reminded herself as she settled down with her bread and cheese and The World at One .
    There was no such relief for Micky, who had to pretend she didn’t even notice Suzy’s vapid flirting with her husband. Micky tuned out the boring ritual dance going on next to her and concentrated on freeing the last morsels of lobster from a claw.
    A change in Suzy’s tone alerted her that the conversation had shifted a gear. Time for work, Micky realized. ‘Of course, I’ve read in the cuttings how you two