Chapter 45
‘Everyone’s dead except you and Eriksson,’ says Rosie. ‘And that makes me suspicious of you.’
Vern is lying beside her in bed. He wasn’t bad at all. An absolutely solid seven out of ten. Would order again. Sure, he’s been lying to them about Connor Brooks. But men lie about things, you have to bake that into the cake.
‘That’s fair,’ says Vern, pulling the covers up to his chest. ‘Can I say a word in my defence?’
‘By all means,’ says Rosie, lighting a cigarette. ‘You’ve earnt it.’
‘If there was going to be a last man standing,’ says Vern, ‘then it would always be me. I was only really there as peacemaker. I was the smallest dog in the fight, the least threat. Every list you could put me on, I’d be at the bottom.’
‘If I was Jakob Eriksson I would have killed all of you,’ says Rosie. ‘Seems strange not to complete the set?’
‘Give the man time,’ says Vern. ‘He might not be done.’
Rosie has no intention of telling Vern what she now knows. He is a very bright man. However, she certainly wants to push him and pull him and see if he breaks. Steve will be here soon, and the ‘Connor Brooks’ discussion will be had when he arrives.
‘He’s playing a different game with you,’ says Rosie. ‘Killing your bodyguards and not telling you why? That’s why I don’t trust you. You stand out. I just have to work out the reason. Anything you want to tell me about Jakob Eriksson?’
‘I don’t believe you’re suspicious of me,’ says Vern. ‘You wouldn’t be alone in the house with me if you thought I was dangerous. You certainly wouldn’t have just taken me to bed.’
‘Au contraire,’ says Rosie. ‘I know what I like.’
Rosie has to be honest. His blatant lying has given him an extra appeal.
‘Well, I’m very happy to take advantage of your suspicion,’ says Vern. ‘The actual truth will be a disappointment to you.’
The actual truth? That Jakob Eriksson is Vern’s old friend Connor Brooks.
Was his friend at least.
Rosie’s phone pings and she reads her message. Steve. She turns to Vern.
‘Put some clothes on, Steve’s due in twelve minutes and twenty-eight seconds.’
Now Rosie’s phone rings. Her manager, Elspeth.
‘Elspeth, tell me the news,’ says Rosie.
Last week And the Devil Blinked First had been number five.
Rosie knows that isn’t good enough. But Elspeth had arranged a lot of interviews for her this week.
She has done a podcast called My Perfect Morning where she pretended that her perfect morning involved a long walk with a rescue dog in a misty valley, rather than falling asleep on Dustin Hoffman’s sun lounger after a night in an illegal Vietnamese casino.
She has done an interview with the Mail called ‘Me and My Cat’ where Steve had put Trouble on Rosie’s shoulder to pose for photographs, much to both Rosie’s and Trouble’s distress, and a YouTube show where Americans tried British chocolate bars. That one was called Give Us a Twirl.
Surely one of them has done the trick and And the Devil Blinked First will have moved up to number one? Then Rosie can relax a little. Not that she’s unrelaxed. Certainly not right at this moment.
‘Are we number one?’ asks Rosie.
‘We’re number fourteen,’ says Elspeth.
‘Impossible,’ says Rosie. This is very bad news. She feels the ache in her ribs. ‘I didn’t even know there was a number fourteen.’
‘No need to panic,’ says Elspeth. ‘Sometimes books just don’t connect immediately.’
‘Tell them I’ll do the chicken wings thing,’ says Rosie. Has it come to this? Eating spicy chicken wings just to sell a few books?
‘We asked already,’ says Elspeth. ‘They said it’s a no for now.’
‘A no?’ says Rosie. ‘They said no?’
‘Only for now,’ says Elspeth. ‘They said they might have a slot next spring. If we can develop your profile a little in the meantime.’
‘I’m not famous enough to eat chicken wings?’ Rosie says. She looks away from the phone and towards Vern. ‘I’m not famous enough to eat chicken wings. Are you hearing this?’
‘Oh,’ says Vern, and fair enough, what else is he supposed to say? He just wants a post-coital snooze, and who can blame him? He’s not a young man. And his day is about to get a lot worse when Steve arrives.
‘But people loved the “Me and My Cat” piece,’ says Elspeth. ‘Cat Monthly wondered if they could do a follow-up photo shoot?’
‘I’m not going to do a photo shoot for Cat Monthly,’ says Rosie.
‘I think they just meant with the cat,’ says Elspeth. ‘If you could pass on the message?’
Rosie is prepared to admit that this now officially counts as a crisis. She has sweated bullets for many years to make her life look effortlessly manicured and gilded. But you don’t achieve Rosie’s level of success through champagne and the right shoes alone. Time to go to work.
Time to get off the floor and hide the pain.
‘What do you need me to do?’ asks Rosie.
‘Well, the main thing is that it’s a great book,’ says Elspeth.
‘That is not the main thing,’ says Rosie. ‘There are loads of great books. The main thing is that it’s a great book and people buy it. My job is to write the great book, and your job is to sell it.’
‘I think we’re out of ideas here,’ says Elspeth. ‘So unless you have thoughts?’
‘What if I got married?’ says Rosie. She steals a quick glance at Vern, who shakes his head.
‘I think if you married Timothée Chalamet, then yes,’ says Elspeth. ‘Otherwise I don’t think it’s going to move the dial. I don’t suppose that’s a possibility?’
‘Me and Timothée Chalamet?’ says Rosie. ‘No, I don’t think that’s a possibility.’
‘I didn’t think it would be,’ says Elspeth. ‘But you never know with you, so I thought I’d check.’
‘What’s number one this week?’ Rosie asks. ‘Just out of interest? The dragon thing again?’
‘A woman who declutters your house, then solves murders,’ says Elspeth. ‘It’s very good.’
‘You’ve read it?’ Rosie asks.
‘No,’ says Elspeth. ‘I don’t really read, you know my attention span. It just sounds good, doesn’t it? My house is a tip.’
‘Elspeth, I’m going to love you and leave you,’ says Rosie. ‘You let me know if you have any more bright ideas.’
‘I almost certainly won’t,’ says Elspeth. ‘Don’t forget to forward me the cat’s details.’
Rosie ends the call.
‘Bad news?’ asks Vern.
‘I’m not sure I understand the world any more,’ says Rosie.
‘You and me both,’ says Vern. ‘Can I help?’
‘Could you pop out to Waterstones and buy 17,000 copies of my book?’
‘I actually could,’ says Vern. ‘But I’m not supposed to go out.’
As Rosie leaves the bedroom, she passes Lee sitting guard outside.
Rosie nods at him. ‘Sorry you had to hear all that. Some men are screamers.’
Lee pulls earbuds out of his ears. ‘Podcast.’
‘Lucky for you,’ says Rosie.
Lee nods at the earbuds. ‘I honestly didn’t know you had a rescue dog. It was really lovely. I needed that today.’
Rosie leans in. ‘Lee, you’re young. If someone listens to me on a podcast, why wouldn’t they immediately go out and read my book?’
Lee thinks about this. ‘Well, I don’t think they’d have enough time. You know, because of all the other podcasts they have to listen to next. I went straight on to one about plane crashes.’
That’s useful consumer insight.
Rosie needs to focus on the murders for now and not book sales. In fact, if they solve the murders, then who’s to say that won’t actually help sales? A nice photo of Connor Brooks in cuffs, Rosie with a gun? Would that work?
A few years ago it would have been a surefire winner. But it seems the rules of publicity have changed while Rosie was busy elsewhere.
She will think of something though. Will have to think of something. It’s what she does.
A horn toots three times outside. Steve and Amy. Lee heads down to the door. Rosie heads back into the bedroom.
‘Fix up, look sharp,’ she says to Vern. ‘We need a quick word.’
‘A word?’ says Vern, pulling on his trousers.
‘Just a word,’ says Rosie. ‘Everything’s fine, unless you’re hiding anything from us.’
Vern buttons up his shirt. It is short-sleeved. Acceptable in Italy, but not here.
‘Not that shirt,’ says Rosie. ‘Sleeves, please.’
Rosie heads down the stairs. Lee is letting Steve and Amy in.
‘Welcome to my humble home,’ says Rosie.
‘Where’s Vern?’ Amy asks.
‘He’ll be down in a minute,’ says Rosie.
‘What’s he doing upstairs?’ asks Steve.
‘None of my business,’ says Rosie. ‘Taking a nap?’
Amy looks at Lee. ‘What’s Vern doing upstairs?’
Lee shrugs and holds up his earbuds. ‘No idea, podcast.’
Vern appears on the stairs. ‘And they’re all here! Rosie, forgive me, I was taking a nap.’
My God, thinks Rosie, this man is an incredible liar.