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

tried to console myself that she’d spotted me and was trying to throw me off the scent again, but by the time she’d reached the breakfast cereals and her trolley was almost full, I had to concede I’d overreacted. I strolled alongside as she grabbed a packet of Weetabix.

      ‘I said I wanted you to answer a few questions,’ I remarked casually. She nearly jumped out of her skin, so I added, ‘Just like Jett invited you to yesterday.’

      She was torn between the desire to piss me off in good style, and the sure and certain knowledge that if she did, I’d go straight to Jett, reporting on the merry dance she’d just led me. Her adulation of the boss won. ‘You’ve got till the check out,’ she said, trying to sound tough and almost succeeding.

      ‘It may take longer than that, but I’ll be as quick as I can,’ I replied calmly. ‘Where were you between eleven and two the night before last?’

      ‘I’ve already told the police all this,’ she complained, moving ahead down the aisle.

      ‘I’m sure you have. So it should all be clear in your mind.’

      Gloria’s blue eyes narrowed in a glare. If looks could kill, the corn-fed chicken would have been well past its sell-by date. ‘I was in the TV room watching The Late Show on BBC2 till quarter to midnight. Then I came into the office to check the answering machine. There were no messages, so I went straight up to bed. I was reading till the sound of the intercom disturbed me.’

      ‘You got there very quickly,’ I commented.

      ‘My bedroom is right at the top of the stairs,’ she replied defensively.

      ‘I thought you’d have a TV in your room,’ I said.

      ‘I do. But it doesn’t have stereo speakers and there was a band performing that I wanted to listen to. And before you ask, I didn’t see anyone except Kevin. He came into the TV room and watched the band with me, then he left. Now, if that’s all, I’ve got stuff to do.’

      I shook my head. ‘It’s a long way short of being all, Gloria. Why did you hate Moira so much?’

      ‘I didn’t hate her,’ she blurted out. The woman standing next to her having the mental washing-powder debate was so riveted she began to follow us before she was withered by Gloria’s hard stare and her muttered, ‘Do you mind?’

      A few feet further on, she said, ‘I just didn’t like the effect she had on everyone. We were all happy here together before she arrived. Since she got here, everyone’s been bickering. And whatever anyone else says, she made Jett edgy with her constant demands. Everything had to be just the way she wanted it.’

      ‘So you’re not exactly sorry she’s dead?’

      Gloria banged her fabric conditioner on the side of the trolley. ‘That’s not what I said!’ she flared. ‘Just because I didn’t think she was good for Jett doesn’t mean I’m not upset about the way she died. I know you don’t like me, Miss Brannigan, but don’t think you can pick on me!’

      I felt a pang of sympathy for her then. She was too young to be setting herself up as the devoted handmaiden to the great man. She should have been out there enjoying life, not stuck with a bunch of piranhas who fed off each other’s emotions and talents. I mean, for God’s sake, who sends a qualified secretary round the supermarket these days? Apart from anything else, it would be cheaper to hire a woman from the village.

      ‘How long have you been with Jett?’ I asked, hoping to defuse her anger.

      ‘Three years and five months,’ she replied, unable to keep a note of pride out of her voice. ‘I was working at his record company, and I heard he needed a secretary. Of course, the job has grown a lot since I took over. Now I organize his schedule completely.’

      This time my sympathy was all for Jett. Again, I switched the subject, hoping to catch her off guard. ‘When I told you about Moira, you seemed convinced that she was doing drugs. Why did you think that?’

      Gloria refused to meet my eyes. ‘Everyone knew she’d been a drug addict,’ she mumbled. ‘It was the obvious conclusion. We all knew she’d be back on the drugs again as soon as she got half a chance.’

      ‘And did you help to give her that half a chance?’ I demanded, leaning over Gloria to study the assorted nuts, so close I could smell her fresh lemony perfume.

      ‘No!’ she cried desperately.

      ‘Somebody did, Gloria,’ I insisted.

      ‘Well, it wasn’t me. You’ve got to believe me,’ she pleaded. ‘If she was doing drugs, she was doing it of her own free will. Why else would she steal my syringes?’

Chapter 19

      I just stood staring at Gloria, who looked back at me with a mixture of triumph and defiance in her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’ I finally gasped.

      ‘Somebody has been stealing my syringes over the last four weeks or so,’ she said.

      ‘What syringes?’ I almost howled in my frustration. The snacks section had never seen drama like this.

      ‘I’m a diabetic. I have to inject myself with insulin. I keep a supply of disposable syringes in my room. On three or four occasions, I’ve noticed that there were a couple missing. I have to keep a close eye on them, because I daren’t run out.’

      I took a deep breath. ‘So why did you assume that Moira was responsible?’

      She shrugged. The shopping was forgotten now. We’d gravitated to the end of the aisle, and neither of us was showing any inclination to hit the soft drinks.

      Gloria dropped her voice and said, ‘Well, who else would want needles except a drug addict? And in spite of what you might think about the rock business, nobody in the house is a junkie. Jett just wouldn’t stand for it. He’s got very strict views on the subject. I know some of the others sneak away and do some coke, but none of them are stupid enough to get into heroin. Especially after what happened when Moira got hooked.’

      ‘Any other reason why you were sure it was Moira?’ I asked.

      ‘Well, for one thing, they’d never gone missing before she moved in. Then one day I came upstairs and caught her with her hand on my doorknob. She said she’d just knocked to see if she could borrow a book, but I wasn’t falling for that. I knew by then what she was after.’

      ‘And did she borrow a book?’

      ‘Yes,’ Gloria acknowledged reluctantly. ‘The new Judith Krantz.’

      ‘Was she in the habit of borrowing books from you?’

      Gloria shrugged. ‘She’d done it a couple of times.’

      ‘And did she know you were a diabetic?’ I asked.

      ‘There’s no secret about it. She never actually discussed it with me, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

      The next question was obvious, though I knew she wouldn’t like it. That was just tough luck. ‘Who else comes into your room either regularly or occasionally?’ I demanded.

      I was right. ‘Just what are you trying to suggest?’ Gloria flashed back, outraged.

      ‘I’m not trying to suggest anything. I asked a straightforward question, and I’d appreciate a straightforward answer.’

      Gloria pointedly turned away from my stare. ‘No one uses my room except me,’ she mumbled. ‘Moira was the only person apart from the cleaner who’s been in there.’

      I took pity on her. I couldn’t see being madly in love with Jett as an emotionally rewarding pastime, and I didn’t want to rub in the fruitlessness of her passion. ‘Given that it wasn’t a drug overdose that killed her, have you any ideas about who might have wanted rid of