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Rivers—’
    â€˜The Money’s missus?’
    â€˜Cousin. Not that we don’t show any woman we come into contact with absolute respect.’ His new colleague looked doubtful. ‘But she’s the only one we let in without checking first with Andy – who, by the way, is Mr Rivers to you, and never the Money in front of anyone.
Ever
. And she’s the only one we leave alone with him.’
    â€˜What about Mrs M—’
    â€˜It’s Mrs Rivers, and she’s not here. OK?’
    The bruiser nodded sullenly.
    I smiled at Griff. ‘You’d have made a splendid infants’ teacher.’
    â€˜I’m a killer on the PTA,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘Better go on in, Sophie. He’s got company, by the way.’
    â€˜Company’ turned out to be a couple of uniformed officers, trying to piece together what had happened. I gave them my story.
    â€˜Come on, miss – you must have seen more than that.’ The constable tried to look stern, but since he was scarcely old enough to shave he wasn’t very convincing.
    â€˜When you’ve got all those loudspeakers going at full belt, when the lights are specifically angled to prevent you seeing anyone except Andy, you can’t tell what’s going on,’ I said. ‘I’m sure someone will demonstrate – Jonty would fix it.’
    Jonty nodded.
    â€˜Might be useful,’ conceded the elder officer, a ginger-haired woman sergeant of about my age: Kerry, Andy soon discovered, was her first name, but I don’t think he troubled about her surname.
    â€˜What about the show?’ Andy asked. ‘I want it to go ahead.
Everyone
wants it to go ahead. Do we have to get permission, Kerry?’
    â€˜From the Health and Safety Inspectors, sir,’ she said. No doubt to her acute embarrassment, a vivid blush oozed up her neck, until her whole face was awash.
    â€˜If the show were to go ahead, would you both like tickets?’ Women have gone down on their knees for a smile like that: to do Andy justice, I don’t think he meant it to be as devastating as it always was. ‘Could you see to it, Jonty?’
    If I knew anything about it, they’d come. And Jonty would ensure they had some merchandise to take away at the end of the evening. It wasn’t bribery, just PR. It had worked on Lady Thatcher, when she was plain Mrs T, though Andy would never reveal even to me the size of the personal donation she made. Yes, given a chance, he’d charm money for UNICEF out of the most red-necked, jingoistic American senator. Given a chance.
    â€˜You have to tell them. There may be something there on that stage that’ll help trace whoever it is that’s threatening you. Can’t you get that into your head? More to the point, there may be something there that’ll help the police find out what happened to Pete. If the police treat it as a straight accident, they’ll give no more than a cursory inspection to the stage. They may miss something vital.’
    â€˜The Health and Safety people said—’
    â€˜They said they found no problems with any equipment. They didn’t look for anything else. Why would they? They’ve no reason to be suspicious.’
    He was silent.
    â€˜What did Ruth say?’
    He looked me straight in the eye. ‘Find who did it,’ he said. ‘And have the party. Call it a wake.’
    The sergeant, her skin icing-pale again, was clearly out of her depth. Quite clearly she wanted to yell at him for his foolhardiness: equally clearly she was too much in awe of him to do anything of the sort.
    The woman she summoned – acting Detective Inspector Stephenson – had no such qualms. She turned up within fifteen minutes of the sergeant’s call. One step behind her was another plain-clothes officer, my old friend Ian Dale, who greeted everyone, including me, with exaggerated formality. When I caught his eye he raised