The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club #3)(64)

‘I say no,’ says Fiona. ‘Obviously.’

There is a knock at the door. ‘Fiona? Back on floor please.’

‘I have to get changed,’ says Fiona, getting up.

Elizabeth stands with her. ‘Fiona, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I mention it in case you find it interesting. My friend Joyce here would not be able to tell you herself, for obvious reasons, but she was, for many years, a very highly decorated member of the British security services.’

Fiona looks at Joyce.

‘I know, you wouldn’t believe it to look at her,’ says Elizabeth.

‘I actually would believe it,’ says Fiona.

‘So we are many things,’ says Elizabeth. ‘A nuisance, yes. Something you could live without, certainly. A pain in the backside, spot on, you’ve got us. But we are also serious, we are also no threat, and we are, believe it or not, once you get to know us, rather a lot of fun.’

There is a knock on the door again. ‘Fiona?’

‘So what I’d love,’ says Elizabeth, ‘is for you to go out and finish your shows, for Joyce to sit in the audience and watch, and then afterwards the three of us can have a drink and a chat, and see if you can help us solve the murder of Bethany Waites.’

Fiona looks between the two of them.

‘There’s a Wimpy on Borehamwood high street,’ says Joyce.

‘Admit it,’ says Elizabeth. ‘We do seem fun? And we are investigating two murders.’

Fiona looks at Joyce. ‘You were really in MI5?’

‘I can’t say,’ says Joyce. ‘I wish that I could.’

‘Take a look in her bag if you don’t believe her,’ says Elizabeth.

Joyce, understandably, looks puzzled as Fiona peeks into her bag. There, in pride of place, is Elizabeth’s gun.

‘Whoah,’ says Fiona.

‘I know,’ says Elizabeth. ‘The worst thing I’ve got in my bag is a packet of Fruit Pastilles.’

Elizabeth sees Joyce take a quick look into her own bag, and, seeing the gun Elizabeth recently slipped into it, shakes her head and gives her friend a despairing look.

‘And you’ve spoken to Mike Waghorn?’ says Fiona.

‘We do little else these days,’ says Elizabeth.

Fiona’s mind is made up. ‘OK, done. A quick drink after the show. I was very fond of Mike Waghorn.’

‘And Bethany?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘You were fond of her?’

Fiona is about to respond, but thinks better of it. ‘Well, we can discuss that after the show, can’t we?’

‘You have been very patient with us, Fiona, thank you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I promise you will enjoy talking to us.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ says Fiona.

‘Unless you murdered Bethany Waites,’ says Elizabeth. ‘In which case we will be your worst nightmare.’

‘I should think if I murdered Bethany Waites and have been smart enough to get away with it all these years,’ says Fiona, her brilliant smile filling the dressing-room once more, ‘then I might just be your worst nightmare.’

Elizabeth nods. ‘Well, I must say I’m looking forward to this immensely. See you anon. Break a leg.’





52





‘That’s impossible,’ says Kuldesh Sharma, pushing eighty, handsomely bald, and wearing a lilac suit and a white silk shirt unbuttoned to a point beyond the confidence of any ordinary man.

‘Improbable, certainly,’ says Stephen. ‘But not impossible. I saw them with my own eyes. Book after book, all just sitting there.’

Donna is browsing at the back of the dark shop. ‘This is beautiful,’ she says, holding up a bronze figurine.

‘Anahita,’ says Kuldesh, looking over. ‘The Persian goddess of love and battle.’

‘Love and battle, good for you, Anahita,’ says Donna. ‘I love her.’

‘Unless you love her two thousand pounds, I might have to ask you to put her down,’ says Kuldesh.

Donna places Anahita down very carefully, her eyebrows rising in counterweight as she does so.

‘Is full of stuff, your shop,’ says Bogdan. ‘Is very beautiful. Very beautiful.’

‘One acquires things,’ says Kuldesh. ‘Over the years.’

‘And if I put everything you’ve acquired through a police computer,’ says Donna, ‘is there anything that would raise an alarm?’

‘Save yourself the time,’ says Kuldesh. ‘The only dodgy old things in this shop are Stephen and me.’ Donna smiles. ‘Now, shall we get to the business at hand?’

Stephen shows Kuldesh the list he wrote in the car. ‘And these were just the ones I could identify. Books everywhere.’

Kuldesh runs a finger down the list, puffing his cheeks as he goes. ‘The Deeds of Sir Gillion de Trazegnies?’

‘A few million?’ guesses Stephen.

‘At least,’ says Kuldesh, still reading the list. ‘This list is completely insane. You would need billions to buy all of these. The Monypenny Breviary? How does Billy Chivers have all of these?’

Bogdan pulls up a wooden chair to sit with Kuldesh and Stephen.

‘I wouldn’t sit on that,’ says Kuldesh. ‘It’s worth fourteen grand, and you are tremendously large. There’s a milking stool somewhere.’