trying to find out who’s behind it. It’s too good an earner for the mole to give it up, and no journalist on the receiving end of a series of exclusives like that is going to expose a source,” I said.
“It won’t be for want of trying,” Gloria said. “He’s even got every script coded so that any photocopied pages can be traced back. I hope whoever it is really is making a killing, because they’re not going to earn another shilling off NPTV if they’re caught.”
“You’ll never work in this town again,” Teddy drawled in a surprisingly convincing American accent. I was so accustomed to him behaving in character I’d almost forgotten he was an actor.
“And speaking of making a killing, Gloria, any more news from your stalker?”
Gloria scowled. “By heck, Clive, you know how to put a girl off her game. No, I’ve heard nowt since I took Kate on. I’m hoping we’ve frightened him off.”
“How do you know it’s a he?” Clive said.
“Believe me, Clive, I know.”
We played out the hand in silence for a moment. In bridge as in life, I’ve always been better at defense than attack. Clive also seemed to relish the taste of blood and we left Gloria and Teddy three tricks short of their contract. My client raised her eyebrows and lit another cigarette. “She lied so beautifully, Teddy. I really believed her when she said she was crap at this.”
“Don’t tell Turpin,” Teddy said sharply. “He’ll hire her out from under you.”
“My dears, for all we know, he’s done that already,” Clive said archly.
I should be so lucky, I thought as they all stared at me. I’m not proud about whose money I take. Maybe I should engineer another encounter with Turpin the hatchet man and kill two birds with one
I nodded. “Fair enough. Whose deal is it?”
Chapter 6
VENUS IN LEO IN THE 4TH HOUSE
She can show great extravagance, both practical and emotional, to those she cares for. She is loyal but likes to dominate situations of the heart. She has creative ability, which can sometimes lead to selfdramatization. Her domestic surroundings must be easy on the eye.
From
Written in the Stars
, by Dorothea Dawson
My second evening bodyguarding Gloria Kendal taught me that I really should pay more attention to the client. The evening engagement I’d so blithely agreed to turned out to be another of the nights from hell that seemed to be how Gloria spent her free time. That night, she was guest of honor at the annual dinner dance of the ladies’ division of the North West branch of the Association of Beverage and Victuals Providers. I’ve never been in the same room as that much hairspray. If taste were IQ, there would only have been a handful of them escaping Special Needs education. I’d thought the Blackburn outfit would have blended in nicely at a women-only dinner, but I was as flash as a peahen at a peacock convention. I should have realized Gloria wasn’t wearing those sequins and diamanté for a bet.
About ten minutes after we arrived in Ormskirk, I sussed this wasn’t one of those dinners you go to for the food. I know ’70s food is coming back into fashion, but the Boar and Truffle’s menu of prawn cocktail, boeuf bourguignon and, to crown it all, Black Forest gateau, owed nothing to the Style Police or the foodies. You could tell that every cooking fashion in the intervening twenty years had passed them by. This was a dinner my Granny Brannigan would have recognized and approved of. It wasn’t entirely surprising; nobody who had any choice in the matter would spend a
The landladies, most of whom almost certainly served better pub grub back home, didn’t care. The only function of the food they were interested in was its capacity to line the stomach and absorb alcohol. It wasn’t a night to be the designated driver, never mind bodyguard.
Gloria was on fine form, though. She’d heeded what I’d said about keeping her back to the wall and
“It won’t be for want of trying,” Gloria said. “He’s even got every script coded so that any photocopied pages can be traced back. I hope whoever it is really is making a killing, because they’re not going to earn another shilling off NPTV if they’re caught.”
“You’ll never work in this town again,” Teddy drawled in a surprisingly convincing American accent. I was so accustomed to him behaving in character I’d almost forgotten he was an actor.
“And speaking of making a killing, Gloria, any more news from your stalker?”
Gloria scowled. “By heck, Clive, you know how to put a girl off her game. No, I’ve heard nowt since I took Kate on. I’m hoping we’ve frightened him off.”
“How do you know it’s a he?” Clive said.
“Believe me, Clive, I know.”
We played out the hand in silence for a moment. In bridge as in life, I’ve always been better at defense than attack. Clive also seemed to relish the taste of blood and we left Gloria and Teddy three tricks short of their contract. My client raised her eyebrows and lit another cigarette. “She lied so beautifully, Teddy. I really believed her when she said she was crap at this.”
“Don’t tell Turpin,” Teddy said sharply. “He’ll hire her out from under you.”
“My dears, for all we know, he’s done that already,” Clive said archly.
I should be so lucky, I thought as they all stared at me. I’m not proud about whose money I take. Maybe I should engineer another encounter with Turpin the hatchet man and kill two birds with one
I nodded. “Fair enough. Whose deal is it?”
Chapter 6
VENUS IN LEO IN THE 4TH HOUSE
She can show great extravagance, both practical and emotional, to those she cares for. She is loyal but likes to dominate situations of the heart. She has creative ability, which can sometimes lead to selfdramatization. Her domestic surroundings must be easy on the eye.
From
Written in the Stars
, by Dorothea Dawson
My second evening bodyguarding Gloria Kendal taught me that I really should pay more attention to the client. The evening engagement I’d so blithely agreed to turned out to be another of the nights from hell that seemed to be how Gloria spent her free time. That night, she was guest of honor at the annual dinner dance of the ladies’ division of the North West branch of the Association of Beverage and Victuals Providers. I’ve never been in the same room as that much hairspray. If taste were IQ, there would only have been a handful of them escaping Special Needs education. I’d thought the Blackburn outfit would have blended in nicely at a women-only dinner, but I was as flash as a peahen at a peacock convention. I should have realized Gloria wasn’t wearing those sequins and diamanté for a bet.
About ten minutes after we arrived in Ormskirk, I sussed this wasn’t one of those dinners you go to for the food. I know ’70s food is coming back into fashion, but the Boar and Truffle’s menu of prawn cocktail, boeuf bourguignon and, to crown it all, Black Forest gateau, owed nothing to the Style Police or the foodies. You could tell that every cooking fashion in the intervening twenty years had passed them by. This was a dinner my Granny Brannigan would have recognized and approved of. It wasn’t entirely surprising; nobody who had any choice in the matter would spend a
The landladies, most of whom almost certainly served better pub grub back home, didn’t care. The only function of the food they were interested in was its capacity to line the stomach and absorb alcohol. It wasn’t a night to be the designated driver, never mind bodyguard.
Gloria was on fine form, though. She’d heeded what I’d said about keeping her back to the wall and
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