Strictly Murder (5 page)

"Don't bother looking at anything within the last twenty years," she instructed. "I've been here that long and remember nothing of note."

I wrote all this down on my pad.

"Right. Can you call my agent and see if she's in, now, please. I've had an idea."

She turned back to the keyboard without elaborating. I picked up the phone and dialled.

"Emma Lawrence Associates."

"Good morning, Crispy Bacon Sandwich, please."

I heard a giggle in my ear.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mortified by my gaffe I hastened to apologise.

"Don't worry. We all call her that," the chirpy voice of the receptionist laughed back at me.

Well, with a name like Kristy Baker Sanders, what else could you expect?

"I'm sorry but she won't be in until three o'clock. Can I ask her to call you back?"

I relayed this information to KD, who mouthed 'yes' back at me without stopping the rapid flow of fingers over the keyboard.

I gave the receptionist KD's name and put the phone down.

Silverton Studios sprawled over several acres alongside the road between Crofterton and Bellhurst. I spent the journey going over the cover story I had concocted. It had more holes than a string vest, and I hoped I could brazen things out if it became necessary. Ten minutes after leaving KD's I pulled into the car park, at the same time as a large Mercedes. I followed the occupant, a portly, broad shouldered man with receding grey hair, towards the main entrance at the top of a broad flight of steps. A commissionaire in a fancy, dark green uniform manned the door and sprang into action as the older man reached the top of the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brackett."

"Afternoon, Ray."

This individual continued to hold open the door, murmuring a greeting as I passed through.

Inside the spacious lobby I headed straight for the reception desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brackett," the receptionist called out to the man from the Mercedes who had made a beeline for the smaller of two lifts to the left of her desk and now stood waiting for its arrival.

I gave my name and appointment time with JayJay's producer, Candida Clark, while wondering what might inspire parents to name their daughter after an embarrassing fungal infection. Her secretary soon came to collect me and we walked across to the lifts.

"What's the 'P' for?"

"Hmm?"

"The 'P'." I indicated the single button on the left hand lift.

"Oh, that's for the Penthouse suite. It's John Brackett's office on the top floor."

"He has a whole floor to himself, does he?" I smiled.

"Well, he is the CEO."

Deposited in her office some few minutes later, I found the producer of
Star Steps
was just as I had pictured her. Stiletto-heeled shoes made more of her medium height and build—she would probably run to fat in her later years— and with her honey–blonde hair swept up in a neat French pleat. She wore an expensive, pale grey business suit over a pastel silk blouse.

"Candy Clark."

Candy, now, eh? Well, that was hardly surprising. Not that I was going to let her get away with it.

"Candida. That's a pretty name," I said, innocently.

"Yes. It's from a Tony Orlando song of the same name. And you are?"

It was a bare five minutes since the receptionist had announced me. Ms Clark must have a very short memory.

"Oh, I'm Verity Long, '
Oh Hi!'
magazine." I might as well start as I meant to carry on - lying through my teeth.

She looked blank, as well she might seeing as it was an invention of my own, made up in the car on the drive to the studios.

"I don't think I've heard of that one."

"It's like
'Hello'
, only for the blind."

I mentally crossed my fingers and prayed that blind people everywhere would a) forgive me and b) miraculously be blessed by the gift of sight.

Candida, however, didn't bat an eyelid. She returned to her desk and waved me to a chair.

“
Hold all calls, please, Jenny, and if that old trout Kathleen Davenport calls, tell her I'm evaluating her proposal and I'll get back to her, OK?"

She slammed the phone down.

My ears pricked up at the mention of KD. What proposal was this and how dare this woman call her an old trout? I added it to my list of reasons not to like Ms Clark.

“
Kathleen Davenport?” I tried to make it sound as if the name was vaguely familiar instead of one I uttered every time I answered the phone in the morning.

“
Yes, she's some crime novelist who wants me to make a series out of her books, pfft.”

Did she indeed? I ignored Candida's dismissive tone. This was news to me and I thought it a brilliant idea. I was just about to say so when I remembered why I was there and my stupid cover story.

“
Anyway, er, Miss Long.” She checked my name on a scrap of paper. “I can give you ten minutes before an executive meeting. What can I do for you?”

“
I'm writing a piece about Jaynee Johnson,” I began in my best professional air and with what I hoped was a winning smile. “Her life and work, her rise to fame, that sort of thing.”

“
Well! You're certainly quick off the mark, I must say." She threw me a suspicious glance before adding, "and what's the point? The woman's dead, isn't she?”

Maybe Jaynee's producer had never heard of eulogies. She gave me an icy stare.

“
Yes, but I'm taking the line that a popular and much loved celebrity, who brought so much joy to so many people, especially our readers, has been taken from us far too early.”

Her eyebrows were nearly under her hairline and I felt like gagging on my own hypocrisy but I was in full flow now and gushed on.

“
We have lost a shining star from the television firmament, a star burnt out far too soon, too young, with the world at her feet and ...”

“
Yes, yes. I get the idea.”

Luckily Candida Clark interrupted this load of unmitigated tosh before I went too far overboard and turned a talentless slapper into a modern saint.

“
Well, what can I tell you?” Her gaze drifted to a point above my head. “JayJay was a much loved friend and colleague, easy to work with, who got on with everybody. She was warm-hearted, full of praise and encouragement for the contestants on
Star Steps
. JayJay was a perfectionist who worked hard to get things just right whilst making things as easy as possible for others. Her current fame was just reward for her natural talent and all the hard work she put in.”

Ye gods! I looked up from my notebook where I was making a good show of writing all this down. I had to hand it to her. I thought I'd been over the top but this woman was better at fiction than KD.

“
She will be a sad, sad loss,” she went on, bringing her gaze down from the ceiling, her voice growing mournful as she dabbed at dry eyes with a tissue. “It was a pleasure and a privilege to work with her. I shall miss her so much.”

The business-like tone returned.

“
There. Will that do?” She dropped the unused tissue in the waste basket.

The hypothetical readers of '
Oh Hi!'
might have lapped it up but it didn't help me to understand why someone had hated JayJay that much they'd put a dagger in her heart. I nodded before I said,
"I'm sure our readers will appreciate that. What did you think of Jaynee, personally?"

"Personally? Harrumph. Well, personally what I thought about Jaynee Johnson isn't fit for publication."

This was more like it. Now how did I get her to talk? She saved me the trouble.

"Not fit for publication at all," she looked at me pointedly.

"Ok."

I put the notebook away. I could take a hint and she wasn't to know I had a very good memory.

"Jaynee Johnson was a bitch. A scheming, conniving little bitch who would use anybody and anything to further her career."

"Anything?" Just what was she implying?

"Oh yes." She smiled grimly before answering my unasked question. "Including her body, of course, though she did have considerable brains."

"She did? She always seemed like an air-head to me."

Candida Clark gave a bark of laughter.

"Oh, she was certainly clever enough to give that impression." She looked down at her desk for a moment. "It is just so typical of Jaynee to mess everyone about by getting herself killed before the end of the run."

This seemed a little harsh even by the bitchy standards I assumed prevalent in TV and Theatre circles.

"How long is the run?"

"Usually eighteen weeks."

"As long as that?"

Hell's teeth! No wonder people talked of little else but '
Star Steps
'. They couldn't get away from it.

"Yes," Candida said. "It's a gruelling schedule. We are all feeling pretty exhausted by now. It's just a shame that JayJay's death means we won't get to record the final few programmes."

"Thank you. Our readers will appreciate a bit of background on the making of '
Star Steps
'," I lied. A sudden thought occurred to me and I tried one more question. "The public like to think of JayJay and Greg as a couple. Were they romantically linked, do you know?"

"I believe so, for a while at least, but I think that all ended about the middle of April."

She gave a grunt and looked at her watch - I'd had well more than my allotted ten minutes.

"Now, if you want to know more, especially about her personal life, you'd do well to speak to Holly." She picked up the phone and punched in a number.

"Holly?" I asked