PI Kate Brannigan Series Books 1-3: Dead Beat, Kick Back, Crack Down. Val McDermid

her. ‘You’re damn right, it’s a bad time. I suppose you’d better come in. Let me tell you, sister, this better not be bad news.’

      I waited for Maggie to move reluctantly away from the door before I entered the tiny dressing room. There were two small formica topped tables in front of mirrors, a corner sink unit, three chairs and several hooks on the wall. Moira sat down in one chair facing a mirror and carried on removing her make-up. Maggie leaned against the wall, arms folded.

      I pulled a chair over beside Moira and sat down. ‘I don’t think it’s bad news, but that’s for you to decide. My name’s Kate Brannigan and I’m a private investigator.’ Moira flashed a quick look at me, fear in her eyes, then forced herself to look back in the mirror.

      ‘So what’s your interest in me?’ she challenged.

      ‘Jett asked me to find you,’ I told her, watching for her reaction. The hand with the make-up removal pad shook and she quickly lowered it to the table.

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said in a low voice.

      ‘He wants to work with you again. He bitterly regrets what happened all those years ago,’ I tried. My instincts told me that with Maggie in the room, I should steer well clear of the emotional arguments.

      Moira shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.’

      ‘I think you should go now,’ Maggie piped up.

      I ignored her. ‘Look, Moira, Jett is desperate to reach you. He says his work has gone down the tube since the two of you stopped writing songs together. As a fan, I have to agree with him. And I bet you do too. He just wants to meet you, to talk about the possibilities of making music together again. That’s all. No strings.’

      Moira laughed, a harsh bark. ‘Oh yeah? And what’s Kevin going to say about that? If you’ve been looking for me, you know what my life’s been like the last few years. I’d be too much of a skeleton in the cupboard for Mr Clean. Never mind what Jett will think.’

      ‘Jett knows all about it. And he didn’t tell me to stop looking just because you’d been on the game, or on smack. He wants to talk to you. He doesn’t care what’s happened in between,’ I argued as fiercely as I could.

      Moira ran a hand through her short curls. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said softly. ‘Too much water under the bridge.’

      ‘You heard her,’ Maggie interjected. ‘I really think you’d better go now before you upset her any more.’

      I shrugged. ‘If that’s what Moira wants, I’ll go. I told Jett he might be wasting his money, asking me to find you. I told him you might not want to be found. But he’s not going to be satisfied with that. And the next private eye he hires might not do things my way.’

      ‘Don’t you threaten us!’ Maggie exploded.

      ‘I’m not threatening you,’ I flashed back. ‘I’m simply trying to be straight with you. Jett wants to find you. Whatever that takes. You might do a runner after tonight, but you’ve got to leave traces. Someone else will track you down, just like I did. And next time, it could be Jett knocking on your door. Don’t you think it would be better to meet him on your terms, when you’re prepared for it, rather than have him catching you by surprise?’

      Moira’s head dropped into her hands. ‘You say he knows already?’ she mumbled.

      ‘He knows about everything except the singing.’ And I don’t think that’s going to give him the screaming habdabs, I thought wryly.

      Moira’s head came up and she stared at her face in the mirror. ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully, lighting up a pungent Gauloise.

      Maggie crossed the room, all two paces of it, and put a protective arm round Moira. ‘You don’t need him any more,’ she declared. ‘Where was he when you really needed help? If he’d been so bloody keen to find you, why didn’t he do it when you left? He’s just being selfish. His career’s a disaster area, and he wants you to get him out of the shit. You don’t owe him anything, Moira.’

      ‘Oh, I see,’ I remarked. ‘There’s a statute of limitations on feeling guilty now, is there? Just because Jett didn’t act right away, then he can only be out for himself? Is that it?’

      Maggie glowered at me, but Moira actually smiled as she reached up to squeeze her lover’s hand. ‘He’s really not like that, Maggie. He’s one of the good guys. I didn’t expect him to come after me. I’d been doing his head in for so long he must have been glad of the peace.’

      ‘So what’s it to be?’ I asked. ‘Will you at least listen to what he’s got to say?’

      Moira took a deep drag on her cigarette. Maggie looked as if she was holding her breath and praying. Moira blew two streams of smoke down her nose and nodded at me. ‘I’ll listen. When can you set it up?’

      ‘The sooner the better. He’s at home working on his new album. Believe me, he needs your help yesterday.’

      Moira smiled, a wide grin that lit up her whole face and took ten years off her. ‘I’ll bet,’ she said. ‘What about tonight? Might as well get it over with.’

      ‘But it’s past ten o’clock!’ Maggie protested. ‘You can’t go off there now.’

      ‘Maggie, unless Jett has had a personality transplant, he’ll be up watching videos and listening to music till three or four o’clock. He doesn’t get up to listen to the Archers omnibus on Sunday mornings,’ Moira replied, a gentle tease in her voice.

      Maggie flushed. ‘I still think you should leave it till tomorrow,’ she said stubbornly. ‘You’re tired. You need a night’s rest after the show.’

      She still had a lot to learn, I thought sadly. Every performer I’ve ever met is so high after a show that they need half the night to come down to a point where sleep’s possible. That’s why so many of them get hooked on a mixture of uppers and downers.

      As if reading my thoughts, Moira said, ‘No, Maggie. Right now, I’m on a high. All that applause! Tonight, I feel like I could meet Jett as an equal. And if I sleep on it, I’ll probably bottle out. Or else I’ll let you talk me out of it.’

      Moira got to her feet and put an arm round Maggie’s waist. ‘Kate, if you’ll give me ten minutes, we’ll meet you in the car park. Ours is the red 2CV. I’ll have to go home and change into something more suitable,’ she added, waving at her blue lurex dress and a jogging suit. ‘If you follow us back there, then you can take me over to see Jett. If that’s OK with you.’

      ‘Fine by me,’ I confirmed, feeling exultant. There’s no better feeling in the world than the moment when you know you’ve cracked a difficult job. Moira wasn’t the only one who was on a high.

      An hour later, Moira and I were heading back down the motorway towards Manchester. ‘I feel like I’ve spent more time on this motorway in the last couple of weeks than I’ve spent in my own bed,’ I muttered to break the silence that had fallen on us since Maggie had waved a mournful farewell on the doorstep.

      Moira chuckled. ‘I’m sorry I’ve given you so much trouble,’ she remarked.

      ‘Oh, it’s not just you. It’s another case I’ve been working on. A team that’s flooding the country with fake watches. You know, Rolex copies, all that sort of thing.’

      Moira nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean. A lot of the guys in Bradford are into that kind of thing. It’s a nice little earner. They do a lot of fake jogging suits and t-shirts. You know, any big thing like the Batman movie, or the Teenage Mutant Turtles. They just copy the legit stuff and flog it round the pubs and the markets. The guy I worked for in Bradford even had us selling fake perfume to johns for their wives, can you believe it?’

      I laughed. ‘Wonderful. I love the psychology.’ I put Everything But The Girl’s Language Of Life in the cassette and