Preface to Murder, M Morris [best selling autobiographies TXT] 📗

o’clock and one in the morning. That gave you plenty of time to kill her and then return to your hotel. So unless you can account for your whereabouts that night, I’m going to recommend that you are charged with her murder.’

Grant lowered his forehead to the table in a gesture of defeat. Finally the knee that had been bouncing almost continuously beneath the table came to a halt. Bridget wondered if he had simply given up on life.

He lifted his head from the table as if it were a solid lead weight, and stared at her with a look of abject hopelessness. ‘The truth is, I lied,’ he said. ‘Or at least I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I did go to the White Horse, but I stayed there longer than I may have implied. I should have told you this earlier, but I didn’t think it was important.’

Bridget pursed her lips, waiting.

‘You see, I was meeting someone there.’

‘Who?’

‘Jennifer Eagleston and Michael Dearlove.’

Bridget frowned at this latest claim. ‘But Michael Dearlove said that he was driving straight home to London after the talk. When Diane asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink, he told her that he had to get away.’

‘Yes,’ said Grant, ‘but that’s because we were keeping the meeting a secret.’

‘Why?’

Grant rubbed at his blackened eyes, as if all he wanted to do was fall asleep forever. ‘Michael has a book he wants to write, but his current agent hasn’t been able to find a publisher for him. So after my success at getting Diane’s book published, he asked me if I would put him in touch with Jennifer.’

‘Why did that have to be kept secret?’

‘Because of Michael’s contract. He has an agent already, so he was breaking his exclusivity terms by speaking to me. The whole situation is very delicate.’

‘Not as delicate as your current predicament,’ said Bridget.

‘Quite. So that’s why I’m telling you everything now.’

‘You claim that you met Jennifer and Michael in the White Horse after Diane’s talk finished? We can easily verify that, you know.’

‘Yes. As long as they’re willing to admit to it.’

‘Let’s hope for your sake that they are. How long did this meeting last?’

‘Until eleven? Perhaps not quite as long as that. Let’s say a quarter to eleven.’

‘So why did it take you more than an hour to return to your hotel? Don’t tell me that you missed your bus.’

‘No, although the buses aren’t very frequent at that time of night. The plain truth is that I just fancied a walk. After a whole evening sitting down, and a long meeting in a crowded pub, I needed to clear my head. So I walked.’

Bridget did a quick calculation. The distance from the pub to the hotel was a little over two miles. Grant’s claim that he had spent an hour walking just about held up.

He leaned forward again as if keen to press home his case. ‘Look, I’m not proud of how I’ve behaved. I’ve done some terrible things. The death threat hoax. Going behind people’s backs. Lying to you. But my business has been in desperate trouble. I’m right on the brink of going bust. I had to do something.’

Bridget eyed him suspiciously across the table. ‘Do you know anything about payments that Diane received from a company called Per Sempre Holdings?’

He seemed alarmed by the sudden shift in questioning. ‘Per Sempre Holdings? I’ve never heard of it. What is it?’

‘It’s a Cayman Islands company. Diane appears to have been its sole director and shareholder. Might she have been doing secret book deals that you were unaware of, just like the one you were trying to arrange with Michael Dearlove?’

‘Impossible,’ said Grant. ‘The agreement between an author and their agent is a legally binding contract. You must understand that my discussions with Michael and Jennifer were just informal talks. If Jennifer gives us the go-ahead to proceed, Michael will need to terminate his contract with his current agent and appoint me to manage his negotiations. He can’t just do it himself. Publishers aren’t interested in receiving manuscripts directly from authors. They rely on trusted agents to filter out the dross.’

‘So Diane couldn’t have gone behind your back?’

‘Certainly not. Anyway, why would she? I negotiated her a good deal for her book. Jennifer wanted to pay her far less, but I got her to up the advance by twenty percent. I’m good at what I do.’

‘That may be so,’ said Bridget, although Grant’s dire financial predicament tended to suggest otherwise. ‘Yet Diane was earning a sizeable sum each month from this company of hers. Far more than she’s likely to make from sales of A Deadly Race.’

*

 

It was of little surprise to Bridget to discover that Jennifer Eagleston was still hanging around Oxford, attending talks and schmoozing with writers and their agents. In the light of what Grant had said about shady deals conducted over pints of beer in dimly-lit corners of pubs, Jennifer’s comment about poaching writers from other publishers had taken on more sinister implications. If Grant was to be believed, Jennifer wasn’t above breaking the law to get what she wanted.

‘DI Hart?’ she said breezily as she answered her phone. ‘How nice to hear from you again, but I’m a little busy to do lunch today, I’m afraid.’

‘I wasn’t going to suggest lunch,’ said Bridget. ‘This time it would be more convenient if you came to speak to me at the station.’

A stony silence greeted her words. A background buzz of conversation filled the void. Bridget heard a voice saying, ‘Jennifer, can I get you another drink?’

‘Is there a problem, Inspector?’ asked Jennifer after a moment.

‘I’m sure there won’t be,’ said Bridget pleasantly. ‘I’ll send a car to pick you up right away.’

The publisher