The Dead Dog Day (19 page)

He didn't answer, and Cora felt a little lurch of fear. BANG! BANG! She jumped at the loud knock on the satellite truck's sliding door. Rodney slid it open.

‘Scott Edson?' The taller of the two policemen barked his question at Rodney, who instinctively took a step back.

‘No – I'm Scott Edson.' The engineer's voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

The other officer stepped into the truck, pulled out some handcuffs and in one swift movement snapped them on to Scott's wrist.

‘In that case – Scott Edson, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Jeanette Kendrick. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.'

Cora gasped as Scott, white-faced and silent, half-walked and was half-dragged from the truck. Rodney was rooted to the spot, eyes huge behind his glasses. Only Nathan seemed able to speak.

‘But – officers – seriously? You're arresting him for
murder
? Is this some sort of joke? And we're in the middle of a live broadcast. What are we supposed to do now?'

‘Sorry, sir. But we're in the middle of a murder enquiry. I think that rather takes precedence, don't you?' the taller policeman said tersely over his shoulder. He started to cross the road, his colleague gripping Scott firmly.

‘Hang on – please, just one minute,' Scott begged, his voice hoarse.

The officers paused. Scott turned to look at his friends, his eyes anguished.

‘Guys – I'm so sorry about this. I need to talk to you … tell you something …'

‘Come on, that's enough. Save your telling for the station.' The policemen led Scott briskly across the road, the taller one holding up his hand to stop the traffic, and bundled him into the back of their car. A minute later, it sped off down the road and was gone.

Feeling weak with shock, Cora sank back onto her seat. Rodney was still standing stock still, wide-eyed. Nathan ran his hands frantically through his hair.

‘What the hell? Seriously – they can't be serious – can they?'

‘I hope not, Nathan. I mean, he didn't do it, I don't believe he did for a minute. But – they've kept coming back to him, haven't they? There must be a reason, it can't just be because he punched a lift. And he was so angry that day, Nathan. I'm scared …'

Cora's voice tailed off.

‘There's no way. No way. Not Scott.' Rodney somehow found his voice.

‘And – what do we do now, Cora? We're on again in fifteen minutes.'

Cora pulled herself together and sat up. ‘Well, that's not going to happen, is it, without Scott? I'll ring the desk and tell them what's happened, they'll just have to drop the last hit. Nathan – can you ring the programme organiser? They'll have to send another engineer to pick up the truck. And Rodney – go and see Mrs Gupta, apologise – you know the score.'

The boys nodded and stepped sombrely out of the truck, Nathan grabbing his phone as he went.

Cora picked hers up too and hit the speed dial for the news desk, suddenly realising her hands were shaking slightly.

‘Sam? Sam, it's Cora. You're never going to guess what's just happened …'

Two minutes later, she and a shocked Sam agreed the next step was to speak to the police and see if they could get any more information. If charges were imminent, this was going to be a huge story.

‘It can't be real though, Sam. They won't charge Scott – not with murder. I know him, he's a gentle giant. He wouldn't hurt anyone.'

Sam sighed down the phone. ‘Cora, I admire your loyalty and I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, you guys have been friends for years. But the simple hard truth is he's been arrested on suspicion of murder. Of the murder of
our boss
. And it doesn't matter who he is, we have to treat this like we would any other arrest on a high profile murder case. Talk to the cops, get all the details and we'll run it as a news flash. I'm sorry Cora, I have no choice.'

‘I know. OK, I'll call you straight back.'

With a heavy heart, Cora dialled Adam's number. She didn't feel much better after she'd spoken to him.

‘Well?' Nathan was standing at the open door of the truck, watching her. ‘What are the cops saying?'

‘Nothing really. He was really abrupt. Just confirmed Scott was to be questioned later today on suspicion of murder, and he'd tell the press as soon as there was anything more to say. This is just bloody awful, Nathan. I feel sick.'

‘Come here.' Nathan stretched out his arms and Cora stepped out of the truck and into his comforting embrace.

‘It'll be OK. Our Scott didn't do anything, I'm sure of it. It's a pigment of their imagination, as he'd say.'

Cora couldn't even raise a smile.

‘There's something going on with him, we know that. But not this. It can't be, I refuse to believe it.' Nathan pulled Cora closer.

‘Me too. But I'm frightened, Nath. I don't like this.' Her words were muffled by her cameraman's thick fleece as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Nathan stroked her hair. ‘Nor do I, babe. Nor do I.'

28

Sunday 21
^st
January

‘Sweet dreams tonight Cora – dirty ones hopefully! Filthy, in fact. But not diarrhoea filthy – the good sort of filth!'

Nicole cackled as she wrapped her big, black scarf tightly round her neck, then leaned forward to kiss Cora on the cheek before stepping out into the icy evening.

‘Oh, Nicole, you're so one-track minded!' Rosie giggled and gave Cora a hug, then followed Nicole outside. They linked arms and turned to wave as they crunched down the drive. Cora waved back and blew her friends a kiss, watching until they turned left onto the road and vanished. She was about to shut the door when something caught her eye – a shadow by the hedge at the end of the driveway. It moved briefly, then disappeared. Was somebody there?

Cora stared into the darkness for a moment, but the light from the streetlamps didn't penetrate far enough inside the gateway for her to see clearly. Then a movement by her right foot made her jump violently.

‘Oliver! You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

The black cat peered haughtily up at her and walked disdainfully into the hall, swinging his tail.

Cora glared after him.

‘Was that you, lurking down there by the gate?' she hissed. The cat, now bounding up the stairs towards his first floor home, ignored her.

‘It WAS you, wasn't it?' Oliver's bottom disappeared round the bend in the stairs. Flipping heck, she was talking to cats' bottoms now. What next? She slapped herself on the cheek and closed the door firmly. But still feeling slightly uneasy, she bounded up the stairs to her apartment two at a time and double-locked her door.

Telling herself not to be paranoid, she quickly tidied away the debris of a late afternoon tea with the girls, poured herself a small glass of red wine and snuggled up on the sofa, pulling a fake fur throw over her knees. It was only six o'clock, she was as yet unassigned for tomorrow morning's programme and had been told that was unlikely to change, and
Midsomer Murders
would be on soon. A recipe for a perfect Sunday evening, if only she could quell the anxiety that kept bubbling up inside her.

She sipped her wine and lay back on the cushions, reflecting on the past few days as she waited for the programme to start. Friday had been weird – with a temporary satellite engineer taking Scott's place on the truck, Cora and the boys had been live outside the police station where their friend was being questioned. Having to tell the nation that a member of
Morning Live
staff had been arrested on suspicion of murder was one of the hardest things Cora had ever had to do.

‘At least I didn't have to give his name – small mercies,' she thought, and took another deep gulp of Shiraz. Despite several calls to Adam and the police press office over the weekend, she'd gleaned nothing except that officers had been granted extra time in which to question Scott. But that time was running out. She did a quick calculation. He'd been arrested on Thursday morning – the 96-hour rule meant they'd have to either charge or release him by first thing tomorrow morning.

‘Please, please let him be coming home,' she sighed, heaving herself off the sofa to top up her glass. Then she snuggled down again, pushing Scott out of her mind and smiling soppily. The rest of her weekend had been rather good. Pretty fantastic in fact.

Benjamin Boland. My boyfriend. Crikey. Who'd have thought it?

Her boyfriend was currently on a plane to Dubai. Placing his champagne glass carefully on the little table next to him, he stretched luxuriously in his First Class seat and shut his eyes, mind drifting back to Friday night.

Cora had been distraught when she'd rung him on Thursday, tearfully telling the story about how her friend had been arrested. He'd tried his best to comfort her over the phone, and insisted that as soon as she finished work on Friday she come straight to his place so he could cheer her up properly. When she arrived not long after ten, pink-cheeked and damp and still a little emotional after a morning broadcasting from outside the police station, he had been surprised at the depth of feeling she stirred in him. Wrapping her in his arms, he'd vowed to get her smiling again by Sunday morning. Luckily, it didn't take that long, as they'd instantly fallen into bed and were both smiling rather broadly when they surfaced again at midday.

After tea and toast with Stilton and strawberry jam – an unusual combination that it turned out they both adored – they'd dragged themselves out of the apartment for a walk in Hyde Park. It had turned into a perfect winter afternoon, sunny and cold, and as they'd strolled hand in hand among the joggers, cyclists and nannies and parents with prams, Benjamin kept glancing sideways at his new girlfriend, fascinated by the way her eyes flashed an even brighter green in the winter sunlight. She'd grinned up at him and slipped her arm round his waist.

‘What are you looking at, Mr Boland? In your, I have to say, rather strange hat.'

Cora giggled and reached up to pull the red and white striped monstrosity further down over his eyes.

‘Oi!' Benjamin laughed and straightened it again. ‘It's my disguise – nobody's ever bothered me when I wear this in public. I'm such a style king normally, no one would expect me to go out in this!'

‘Dead right.' Cora yanked the hat down again and wriggled out of his grip, shrieking as he gave chase. She skidded to a halt at the bank of the Serpentine, snorting as Benjamin, still half-blinded by his hat, almost fell over a duck. He sank down onto a wooden bench and hauled her onto his knee, panting.

‘Aargh. Out of breath just chasing you, you little minx. I'm supposed to be desert hiking in Dubai on Monday – you're wearing me out!'

Cora leaned in for a kiss and then squeezed his biceps through the thick wool of his jacket.

‘Oh, I think you're pretty fit, I wouldn't worry too much!'

She slipped her arms around his neck and for a moment they sat in silence. Benjamin rubbed his nose against the soft skin of her neck, inhaling her musky scent. He hadn't felt like this for so long. He hadn't even looked at another woman for – what? – ten days now. Or maybe it was nine, since their first date? Anyway, he hadn't even thought of going out girl-hunting since he'd spent that first evening with Cora. And for him, that was a record. A first, in fact. And at the moment, he was quite happy with that. More than happy. Content, that was the word. Content just to spend his time with this one woman. It was a feeling he was not very familiar with, and he was very much hoping it would last.

‘Right, Cora Baxter. It's freezing, and I need warming up. Time for tea?'

‘Mmmm, yes!'

‘Race you to the café then!'

They'd spent the rest of the day and night in a loved-up haze, eating, drinking, and laughing, when they weren't wrapped in each other's arms.

Now, with a few days of working abroad ahead of him, Benjamin drained his glass, waved away the steward who rushed over clutching a new bottle of Moët and pulled down his eye-mask. He'd ring her as soon as he landed, he vowed, and fell into a deep, contented sleep.

29

Monday 22
^rd
January

‘The member of
Morning Live
staff arrested on suspicion of the murder of programme boss, Jeanette Kendrick, has this morning been released on bail pending further investigations, police have confirmed …'

Hugely relieved, Cora sank back onto her pillows as she watched Alice Lomas read the seven o'clock bulletin, her voice unusually tremulous as she mentioned Jeanette's name.

‘Drama queen,' thought Cora. ‘Surprised she hasn't burst into tears live on air, just for the attention.'

Nestling back into her warm bed, and luxuriating for another long moment in the joy of being unassigned on a Monday morning and actually watching the show from home for a change, Cora smiled to herself about Scott's release, then thought for a minute and started to worry again.

What was the wording Alice had used? ‘Released on bail pending further investigations'? OK, so Scott was free. But that wasn't the same as being released without charge – all that meant was the police didn't have enough evidence to charge him. There was every chance he could be taken into custody again.

‘Dammit, Scott, why won't you tell us what's going on?' Cora shouted to the empty room, and thumped her pillow.

She suddenly decided she couldn't wait a second longer. Grabbing her phone from the bedside table, narrowly avoiding knocking her water glass to the floor in the process, she punched in Scott's number and waited.

He answered within two rings.

‘Cora! Hi. Yes, I'm out. It's been awful. You OK?'