'Relax,' she'd told me.

We'd spent last night in bed together, Bel asking questions about my life, and me deciding how to answer them. I'd deflected her for a while by talking about guns. She knew a lot about guns and ammo, but that didn't mean she liked them. They scared the h.e.l.l out of her.

Now we sat in Draper's offices, pretending to be CID. We were wearing the same clothes as yesterday, down to the black leather gloves. We weren't leaving fingerprints anywhere.

Bel flicked through a trade mag, while I watched Teletext. There were three monitor-sized TVs in reception, all with the sound turned down. One of them was showing a looped montage of recent Draper output. The secretary kept deflecting calls to Draper's a.s.sistant.

T did that,' I said. Bel looked up from her magazine.

Teletext was running a news page, all about how two East European countries were about to close their shared border.

Tensions had been high between the neighbours since the break-up of the Soviet Union, but a recent perceived i35 a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on a diplomat based in London had brought things to a head.

'Maybe you should do something about it,' she whispered.

The whisper wasn't necessary, the secretary having put on headphones so she could start some audiotyping.

'Like what?'

'I don't know, own up or something, say the diplomat was never your target.'

'But that would mean telling them who my real target was. I quite like it that they're not sure.' I was smiling, but Bel wasn't.

'You could start a war, Michael.'

I stopped smiling. 'You're right. Maybe I could offer Draper the exclusive.'

She slapped me with the magazine, then went back to reading it. Teletext flipped to its News Directory. There was some story near the bottom about a shoot-out on a north - London street. It was coupled with another story, some get-"

tough-on-drugs speech the Home Secretary had made. I didn't think it meant anything, but I got up and went over to the secretary. She stopped her tape.

'Yes?'

'Do you have a handset for the TV?' She looked disapproving. 'I don't want to change channels, I just want to check a story on Teletext.'

Without saying anything, she opened a drawer and brought out a couple of remotes.

'One of these has Teletext,' she said, restarting her tape.

'Thanks a million,' I muttered. I aimed one of the remotes and pressed three digits. Up popped the story. There was a bit about the Home Secretary first, then a slim paragraph about gunshots fired in a street in Tottenham. It was the street where Harry the Cap lived. Maybe some people believe in coincidence. I'm not one of them. I knew Hoffer was getting too d.a.m.ned close.

Just then Draper's door opened and a young man and 136.

woman came out. They were dressed like students, but carried briefcases. The boy had a ponytail, while the girl's blonde hair was cropped short and tipped with red dye. They shook hands with Draper, then headed for the door. Draper checked something with the secretary, then came towards us.

'Sorry to keep you, Inspector West.'

'That's all right, sir, we appreciate your finding time to see us.'

He was ushering us into his office. 'The gloves are a nice touch,' he said. I didn't get it. 'I used to produce a cop show called Shiner, maybe you know it?'

'I used to watch it,' said Bel. Draper looked pleased.

'Only,' he said, 'the Inspector in that used to wear gloves like yours.'

'I see,' I said. Draper saw that he hadn't scored any points, and shifted in his swivel-chair.

'I'm not sure how I can help. I've already told your colleagues everything I can think of.'

'Just a few follow-up questions, sir. A fresh perspective.'

'Well, okay then.' He clasped his hands in front of him.

'Tea or coffee?'

'No, thank you, sir. This is DC Harris, by the way.'

Draper had been staring at Bel. 'We're thinking of pitching a police doc.u.mentary series,' he informed her. 'Ever wanted to be on television?'

She smiled professionally. 'I don't think so, sir. Bright lights make me nervous.'

Draper laughed. 'Too much like the interrogation room, eh?' Now he turned to me. 'Shoot.'

I suppose he meant I could start asking questions.

'We'd like to know a little more about Ms Ricks, her family, colleagues, any possible enemies she may have had.'

'Well, none of her colleagues was an enemy. Lainie had a first-rate reputation. All her fellow journalists admired her. I i37 dare say a few TV people were preparing knives, but only in the figurative sense.'

'How do you mean?'

He opened his hands. 'She was going to be a star. She was a natural on TV.' He looked at Bel again. 'Know why?

Because she didn't trust the medium. And that came over, that honesty, that sense that she wasn't going to put up with any manure.'

'But she hadn't actually made any programmes?'

'That's true, I'm talking about the mock-ups we do- beforehand, especially with a tyro. Lainie breezed it. It was like she was walking on water. I knew when we got her on the screen, she'd start to make ... not enemies exactly, but there'd be jealousy from other presenters, because she was going to show them how the job should be done.' He shook his head and calmed a little. 'She's a big loss.'

He sounded like he was thinking of her in financial terms. .

'What about her family?' I asked. 'Did you know them?'

'Oh yes, I suppose I knew them as well as anyone can.'

'Meaning?'

Draper sighed, like he didn't gossip normally, but since we were the police how could he refuse?

'Freddy's not an easy man to like, Inspector. I mean, his star's so low it's sweeping up leaves. And that doesn't sit easy with Freddy. He still wants to act the soap star. Did you ever see him in Stand By Your Man? It wasn't exacting stuff.

Also, it was ten years ago, something Freddy doesn't seem to realise. He sees all this "vintage" comedy being repeated on the box, and his stuff isn't there. No surprise to anyone else, believe me. Meanwhile he sees his wife breaking into TV and there I am telling her how wonderful she's going to be. You can see it's not easy for him.'

'Yes, I can imagine. Did they have arguments?'

'All the time.'

'What about?'

'Everything under the sun. You want an example?' I 138.

nodded. 'Okay, Freddy blew their savings on a trip to Hollywood. He was out there looking for work, but all he came back with were a tan and some books of matches from expensive restaurants. Lainie was furious with him.' He paused. 'Look, there's no way Freddy would put out a contract on Lainie, that's not what I'm saying here. They had arguments, but they were never physical. They didn't even really have screaming matches. They just smouldered and wouldn't communicate for weeks on end. All I'm saying is, they did not have the perfect marriage. But then who does?'

Bel had a question. 'Did you like Ms Ricks as a person, Mr Draper?'

'Like her? I loved her. I'd've liked nothing better than ...'

He stopped and shook his head. 'I don't know.' His eyes were growing moist, but then he'd been around actors all his working life. Some tricks must have rubbed off.

'She had a son,' I nudged.

'That's right, a useless streak of sham called Archie. I say that, watch this, he'll be a millionaire at twenty-one.'

'What does he do?'

'He's in a band, programmes music samples, that sort of thing.'

'Electronics.'

'Yeah, I can't see the band doing much. I listened to their stuff as a favour, in case we could use any of it as backing to our programmes. Forget it. But Archie's a genius, in a limited sort of way. I see him moving into production, and that's where he'll make his pile.'

'Mr Draper, I know you've been asked this question before by my colleagues, probably by the media too, but can you think of anyone who would have wanted Eleanor Ricks dead?'

He shook his head. 'It had to be a mistake. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was obviously after Prendergast or the foreigner. Got to be.'

'You sent Ms Ricks to interview Molly Prendergast?'

i39 'No, it was Lainie's idea. I mean, she was running the whole show. It was her story right down the line, minimum input from me. She'd say she wanted to go in a certain direction, we'd talk about it, and she'd go off and do it. She was the driver, me, I was somewhere in the boot, like luggage. I hardly saw the light of day.'

'And what direction was she travelling in?'

He sighed. 'It'll probably never get made now.'

'We've spoken with Ms Ricks's solicitor, a Mr Johns. He'

mentioned something about religious cults?'

Draper nodded. 'Prendergast's kid was in a cult for over a year. In the end, Prendergast mounted a commando-style raid to s.n.a.t.c.h her back. This was a couple of years back, it made the news at the time. The daughter's not too bad now, it was her we wanted for the programme, but her mother said no, if we wanted to speak to anyone it would have to be her. Lainie set up the meeting partly to get Prendergast's story, and partly to make her change her mind. We thought once Prendergast met Lainie. she might melt a bit.'

'So it was a programme about Prendergast's daughter?'

'G.o.d, no, she was just a sentence, a phrase, in a much bigger book. No, Lainie was looking at the cult itself.'

'Which one?'

'The Disciples of Love. Sound like a band out of the 60s, don't they? You can see them opening the show at Monterey.'

'What sort of ... tone was the doc.u.mentary going to take?'

'It was basically an expose of how the group is run.

They've got one of these charismatic leaders, you know, like at Waco or the Children of G.o.d. But most sects go for your wallet before they try to s.n.a.t.c.h your soul, and the Disciples aren't like that. They take in poor people.'

"I don't see the problem.'

'Well, they won't say how they're funded. Lainie reckons it takes thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands a year to 140.

keep them operating, and their total income can't even be half that. So where does the money come from?'

'Did she try asking them?'

'They didn't so much stonewall her as put up the Great Wall of China. She got some financial wizards to do some sniffing. We got a bill from them that nearly killed us budget-wise, but they couldn't tell us anything about the Disciples.'

'Do you have anything here about the project? I mean, something I could take away with me?'

'Sure, I've got a few copies of the Bible.'

'Bible?'

He smiled again. 'That's what we work from, it's a sort of blueprint of the shape the doc.u.mentary's going to take. We use it to get backers interested.' He opened a cupboard. It was full of bulging files and reams of typed paper, scripts and the like. It took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for.

'Here we go, take one each.'

The Bible was loosely bound with a cardboard cover and a thin plastic sheet protecting it. There were holes in the cover through which appeared the name of the project, Draper's and Ricks's names, and a few other details.

The project was just called Disciples of Love, but with a question-mark.

'I appreciate this, Mr Draper. I'll see these get back to you.'

He shrugged. 'Keep them. The whole thing's history without Eleanor Ricks.'

'One last thing, did she have any favourite colour of clothing?'

The question threw him, so I smiled rea.s.suringly. 'We're still wondering if maybe the a.s.sa.s.sin mistook her for Mrs Prendergast.'

'I see what you mean, Lainie wearing the kind of clothes Prendergast would normally wear.' He nodded to himself.

141.