Strictly Murder (38 page)

“
Well, Jaynee was wearing a silvery-white dress and lay on her back on the bed. There were no signs of a struggle. As I said, she looked very calm, very …” I sought for the word I wanted but couldn't find it. In the end I settled for, “She looked at rest.”

He gave a deep sigh.

“
Oh, thank you. That's eased my mind.”

Yours, maybe, but not mine, I thought.

“
As for my interest …”

He looked up quickly. “Yes?”

“
I want to know who killed her. I want to know who left her body in an empty house for some unsuspecting person, in this case me but it could equally well have been a young estate agent, to find. But above all, Mr Cameron, I want justice for Jaynee Johnson.”

Even to my own ears that had sounded dramatic and I expected Kenny Cameron to burst out laughing at any moment. Instead he gazed at me sombrely.

“
You're right,” he said softly. “I'm sorry for my harshness.”

I brushed aside his apology with a smile.

“
Not at all.”

“
Thank you for your time and patience, Miss Long.”

I sat on the bench and watched him walk away, then went home in thoughtful mood

Chapter 16

After dinner, I took out my pad and jotted down what I'd learned from Kenny Cameron. I felt sure he had given me the last link in the chain of this investigation, if only I could put those links together in the right order. I re-evaluated last night's conclusions in the light of what he had told me, and realised that the pattern had shifted and now, someone else had been brought into the frame. Surprised, I once again paced the carpet while I thrashed out motive, means and opportunity.

When the last piece of the jigsaw finally fell into place the outcome was so obvious that I kicked myself. Well, I certainly had the answer now, didn't I? I might have had it long since if I hadn't been so fixated on that stupid diary, so hamstrung by my own prejudices and deceived by appearances instead of listening to what people actually said. I took a break to make myself another drink and then went over it all again, just to make doubly sure.

At ten o'clock, convinced and happy with my reasoning at last, I picked up the phone.

"Jerry? It's Verity. I know who killed Greg and JayJay."

"You do? Well done, Sherlock ."

I ignored both the incredulity and the mockery.

"I'm serious. Listen …"

I told him of my visit to Silverton Studios, I told him about my meeting with Cameron and, finally, I told him who had killed the stars and how. Then I told him why. At the end, he let out a long, low whistle.

"I see. Yes, I see."

"I don't have any evidence, though, Jerry …"

"Oh, we'll find that—now we know where to look. Leave it with us."

For once, I agreed.

"Yes, OK. You'll let me know what happens, won't you?"

"Of course. Good night, Verity. Sleep well."

I put the phone down and headed for the wine rack. Back on the settee, I consoled myself with a glass of red and the thought that I had done the right thing although, Lord knows, it hadn't been easy. I shook my head. Verity, I reminded myself, means truth.

I allowed myself a lie-in the next morning and it was nearly eleven o'clock before I'd showered, dressed and had breakfast. I was just about to go and fetch a paper when the phone rang.

"Hello. Is that you, Miss Long?" came a breathless, agitated voice.

I had been so sure that it would be Jerry Farish, I nearly dropped the phone.

"Hello, Holly. Are you all right?"

"Oh, Miss Long, please help me. I'm so scared."

"Why? What's the matter, Holly?

"Can you come round to my flat? It's 42, Beaumont Mansions. I've just had a phone call from Ms Clark."

I pricked up my ears at mention of the producer.

"Candida? What did she want?"

"She threatened me, Miss Long. She said I was an interfering do-gooder and it was about time she silenced me."

"What?" That was a bit blatant - even for the likes of the outspoken Candida Clark.

"And she said she was coming round here and, I thought, if you were with me, then she wouldn't be able to do anything, would she?"

"Go and stay with a neighbour, Holly," I said, trying to be practical in the face of Holly's rising panic.

"There's nobody in, Miss. Two of the flats are empty on this floor and my neighbour's out at work. Please come. I'm frightened."

"Holly, why don't you phone the police?"

"But what would I say?" she bleated. "They wouldn't believe me and it would be my word against hers. Besides, she could come back when the police aren't here."

There was a sudden loud bang from the other end of the line and Holly squealed.

"What is it? Holly? Are you there? Holly?"

But the line had gone dead and I was talking to thin air and the dial tone.

Damn. Damn, blast and set fire to it. I really didn't have any choice. A killer might strike at any minute. I fetched the toy gun from the drawer in my desk and dropped it in my pocket, picked up my bag and then called Jerry Farish.

"It's Verity. I've just had an hysterical Holly Danvers on the phone claiming Candida Clark has threatened her and is on the way to Holly's flat to silence her. I'm going round there."

"No! Don't you dare," he screamed. "Stotty and I are on the way and there's a patrol car already
despatched.
Leave it to the police, Ve …"

I pressed the button and ended the call. "Leave it to the police"? I had left it to them and now see what had happened. Besides, there was no way I was staying out of it. I'd been involved from the beginning; it was only right that I should be there at the death. Just as long as it wasn't
my
death we were talking about.

I announced my arrival outside the block of flats with a squeal of tyres and a spray of gravel. There was no sign yet of the police and I listened in vain for the wail of a siren as I belted for the outside door.

My heart pounded as I ran up the stairs, fear clutching at my belly, breath catching in my throat, hoping I was in time to prevent another senseless death. At the top of the third flight I stopped, bent double, hands on hips, struggling to draw air into my aching lungs. I heard a thud from the floor above and forced myself upwards. At the top of the stairs the over-powering smell of Youth Dew stopped me as effectively as a brick wall. I took a moment to steady myself and tried not to inhale. I knew I was being stupid, that I ought to wait for the police, but when had being stupid ever stopped me? I walked down the corridor to meet Holly Danvers—the killer of Jaynee Johnson and Greg Ferrari.

Outside Flat 42 I put my hand to the door and felt no surprise when it opened at my touch.

"Come in, Miss Long, we've been expecting you," said a cool voice.

In an ice-blue dress that showed off her hour-glass figure and matched her frosty manner, Holly Danvers slammed the door shut behind me.

"Do take a seat next to my other … guest. It's quite a party we're having."

Candida Clark sat on the settee, trussed like a chicken, arms tied behind her back, legs roped around her shins above her red stiletto shoes. Across her mouth like a great grey gash was a strip of duct tape.

With a push to my back Holly propelled me forward. My mind raced. Time, you need time, said my brain Somehow I had to delay things until Jerry got here.

"Why did you kill Greg, Holly? Did you hate him so much?"

"No! I didn't hate him. I loved him."

"Nonsense. If you love a man, you don't put a computer tie around his neck and pull it tight. She loved him." I flung out an arm towards the woman on the sofa. "That's how I knew she didn't kill him. You did."

Holly picked up a wicked looking carving knife off the table.

"He deceived me," she spat, eyes narrowing. "He said he would marry me."

I backed away as she took a step toward me.

"Is that why you slept with him?"

"I gave him my honour and he rejected me."

"You were a virgin, weren't you? And religious, too."

Around her neck she was still wearing the crucifix on its slender gold chain.

"Yes. He broke his promise."

So I'd been right about the motive, after all.

"But why kill JayJay?"

I inched further away, trying to put the settee between us.

"She tempted him. She lured him away. Just like that bitch, there."

She pointed the knife at Candida who flinched and moaned behind the gag.

"Did you know Jaynee suffered from low blood pressure?"

"She used to send me to the chemists for her prescription so, yes, I knew."

"So you got your friend to make you up as an old woman, put on a grey wig and went to view the house. Then you stole the key."

"Oh, haven't we been busy," sneered Holly.

"You even called yourself Mrs Smith. Did you know it was Greg's real name?"

"Of course. It would have been my name too."

She seemed happy to answer questions, so I pressed on.

"How did you get Jaynee to the house?"

"Oh that was easy. I told her I'd moved and invited her to my house-warming."

"But, but, she went missing. Weren't you afraid she wouldn't come?"

Holly shrugged. I hoped she wasn't getting bored.

"No. I knew it was all a stunt and that she'd show up."

"And the drug?"

"Ha! I offered her a cold glass of lemonade on a hot evening."

And Midazolam was soluble, of course. She'd made the whole murder sound horrifyingly easy.

"And the Youth Dew? You said you didn't wear perfume but you were wearing Lily of the Valley at the studios the other day. Do you only use Estée Lauder when you want to murder someone?"