aggressive when she turned him down, called her a “frigid fucking bitch.” The door staff ejected him, and then came back and asked her to leave too. She’d had enough anyway by then.
The studio was echoing in silence, the only sound the buzzing inside her own head. She curled up on the old sofa, pulled a dust sheet over herself, and sobbed until sleep took her.
05:30
The alarm rang at five thirty, too early, still deeply dark. Lou pressed the snooze button and allowed herself another few minutes. She would feel better after she had been in the shower. As soon as the alarm rang again she got out of bed. If she was late today she would never live it down.
Her mobile was charging downstairs, and already there were two missed calls. One from Andy Hamilton’s mobile, late last night, and one from the office. Nothing on voice mail, so nothing urgent.
Her mind was starting to race ahead. Results from the initial inquiries would be pouring in to the MIR today. Once she had finished the press conference and the results were aired, broadcast, printed, and published, even more would come in. Of course, a lot of it would be worse than useless—the cranks, the would-be investigators, the psychics, the people who only wanted to be helpful, and somewhere, in among it all, would be the crucial bits of information that would lead them to the person who took Polly’s life.
Briefly she wondered about the Fletcher-Normans. Of course it could be something straightforward, with no connection to the Polly Leuchars murder other than a horrible coincidence of time and location. But it felt like an uneasy tangle of events. The forensics would help to sort out one case from the other, and Jason’s reports, once they started to come through. She was lucky to have him; not any old analyst, since they were in such short supply, but one of the seniors. Unhelpful as he’d been during that initial phone call, it was clear that he knew what he was doing, and he was committed enough to the investigation to put in the hours. They weren’t all like that.
Hope I get to keep him , Lou thought.
07:14
From somewhere far away, Flora could hear her phone ringing. In her dreams she kept answering it, only for there to be no one on the other end.
“Polly?” She woke herself up saying the name out loud, then, as she realized that her mobile was ringing, it stopped.
Moments later it rang again.
“What.” Her voice sounded like it was a long way off, even to her.
“Flora. It’s me. Are you okay?”
Taryn, at last! Her best friend, the only person who would understand the devastation . . .
“Oh, Tabby . . .” Tears started. Only moments since she’d opened her eyes and everything was there despite the headache thumping inside her skull. Polly was dead, Polly was dead . . .
“Flora? What’s the matter? I know about Dad, if that’s what you were calling about. The police came round to work yesterday. I got your messages and—”
“Polly’s dead.”
“Polly? What? Flora, how?”
Flora took a moment, a few deep breaths to steady herself, prepare her voice. “She was murdered, Tabs. Someone hit her on the head. The night before last. They don’t know who. I’ve been trying to ring you, but there were so many people at the farm, and Mum’s gone mental, of course.”
Shocked silence, then: “Barbara’s dead too!”
“What? How? And what’s happened to your dad?”
“I don’t know about Barbara, I didn’t wait for them to tell me. I suppose it was a car crash or something. Dad had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital—they said he’s critical but they don’t know him, do they? He’s a tough old sod . . .” Her voice trailed off. And then: “I didn’t realize. Poor, poor Flora, I’m so sorry about Polly.”
“There’s been nobody I can talk to about it. Mum—well, you know what she’s like. And she found her—Polly, I mean. Oh, Tabs, I missed you so much yesterday.”
“Where are you? Do you want me
The studio was echoing in silence, the only sound the buzzing inside her own head. She curled up on the old sofa, pulled a dust sheet over herself, and sobbed until sleep took her.
05:30
The alarm rang at five thirty, too early, still deeply dark. Lou pressed the snooze button and allowed herself another few minutes. She would feel better after she had been in the shower. As soon as the alarm rang again she got out of bed. If she was late today she would never live it down.
Her mobile was charging downstairs, and already there were two missed calls. One from Andy Hamilton’s mobile, late last night, and one from the office. Nothing on voice mail, so nothing urgent.
Her mind was starting to race ahead. Results from the initial inquiries would be pouring in to the MIR today. Once she had finished the press conference and the results were aired, broadcast, printed, and published, even more would come in. Of course, a lot of it would be worse than useless—the cranks, the would-be investigators, the psychics, the people who only wanted to be helpful, and somewhere, in among it all, would be the crucial bits of information that would lead them to the person who took Polly’s life.
Briefly she wondered about the Fletcher-Normans. Of course it could be something straightforward, with no connection to the Polly Leuchars murder other than a horrible coincidence of time and location. But it felt like an uneasy tangle of events. The forensics would help to sort out one case from the other, and Jason’s reports, once they started to come through. She was lucky to have him; not any old analyst, since they were in such short supply, but one of the seniors. Unhelpful as he’d been during that initial phone call, it was clear that he knew what he was doing, and he was committed enough to the investigation to put in the hours. They weren’t all like that.
Hope I get to keep him , Lou thought.
07:14
From somewhere far away, Flora could hear her phone ringing. In her dreams she kept answering it, only for there to be no one on the other end.
“Polly?” She woke herself up saying the name out loud, then, as she realized that her mobile was ringing, it stopped.
Moments later it rang again.
“What.” Her voice sounded like it was a long way off, even to her.
“Flora. It’s me. Are you okay?”
Taryn, at last! Her best friend, the only person who would understand the devastation . . .
“Oh, Tabby . . .” Tears started. Only moments since she’d opened her eyes and everything was there despite the headache thumping inside her skull. Polly was dead, Polly was dead . . .
“Flora? What’s the matter? I know about Dad, if that’s what you were calling about. The police came round to work yesterday. I got your messages and—”
“Polly’s dead.”
“Polly? What? Flora, how?”
Flora took a moment, a few deep breaths to steady herself, prepare her voice. “She was murdered, Tabs. Someone hit her on the head. The night before last. They don’t know who. I’ve been trying to ring you, but there were so many people at the farm, and Mum’s gone mental, of course.”
Shocked silence, then: “Barbara’s dead too!”
“What? How? And what’s happened to your dad?”
“I don’t know about Barbara, I didn’t wait for them to tell me. I suppose it was a car crash or something. Dad had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital—they said he’s critical but they don’t know him, do they? He’s a tough old sod . . .” Her voice trailed off. And then: “I didn’t realize. Poor, poor Flora, I’m so sorry about Polly.”
“There’s been nobody I can talk to about it. Mum—well, you know what she’s like. And she found her—Polly, I mean. Oh, Tabs, I missed you so much yesterday.”
“Where are you? Do you want me
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