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to her London flat to relax before going to bed early. She gets up at two in the morning every day to get ready for the show, so I’m reliably informed. It must pay well if she’s prepared to do that. Anyway, that’s what you’ve got to do. Okay?’

‘How did you find out all this about her?’

‘It’s called knowing the right people.’

‘Did you explain why I want to question her?’

‘Um … I implied that it was linked to a police matter.’

Damn. That could prove to be an issue.

‘Why say that? You could get yourself in trouble if it gets back to the wrong people.’

‘I’ll deny it. The only person in trouble would be you for impersonating a police officer.’

‘Except I’m not going in as an officer.’

‘I was joking. Don’t worry, it’ll be cool. When you arrive at the studio, go to the front desk and ask to see her. Tell them you have an appointment and give my name as the person who organised it. There shouldn’t be any issues.’

‘So you will be incriminating yourself.’

‘You worry too much. After you’ve seen her, let’s meet up for lunch.’

‘Can you spare the time?’

‘Always, for you. There’s a pub around the corner from the studio. Meet me there between half-past twelve and one. We’ll have a good catch up.’

‘Can’t wait. Did you say it was just me, or did you mention that there might be two of us at the interview?’

‘How can I mention what you didn’t tell me? Who might you be taking?’

‘It’s a DC Bird, aka Birdie, from the Market Harborough force. She’s helping me on the side.’

‘I won’t ask how you managed to get the police to assist, though I’m not surprised with your charm. I’m sure it won’t be a problem and I’ll see you both for lunch, then.’

Seb ended the call and sent a text to Birdie,

Interview with Andrea Wood tomorrow in London. Want to come?

After a few seconds, he had a reply.

Yes. Call me.

He called immediately. ‘You wish to speak to me?’

‘Well, yes, obviously.’

‘Why didn’t you call me then?’

‘I can receive calls but don’t want to be seen making a call because Sarge is hanging around and as I’m not working a case, he might try to listen in.’

‘You know that makes no sense. He could still wonder what this is about.’

‘Stop being so literal. I want to know what’s happening. Thanks for arranging it on my day off. How did you manage to swing it?’

‘I didn’t know you weren’t working. Our appointment’s at twelve and I thought we’d take the ten o’clock train which arrives at St Pancras station a few minutes after eleven. That will give us plenty of time to get across town.’

‘What shall I wear?’

He frowned. ‘Smart casual. Why?’

‘We’re meeting a celebrity and I want to dress for the occasion. I might be spotted for some reality TV show.’

Was she being serious?

‘This isn’t an audition. We’re going to be with her for fifteen minutes at the most. So wear what you want and remember you’re not to ask anything other than what’s absolutely relevant. This isn’t a springboard for a career in TV.’

‘You’re so boring. Here was me thinking that my life was about to change and you’re trying to ruin in.’ She gave a loud sigh, followed by a giggle.

‘Nobody’s twisting your arm, you’re welcome to leave me to go alone,’ he teased.

‘No chance, mate.’

‘I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty so we have time to buy our tickets, in case there’s a queue.’

‘You know we can get them online.’

He’d already planned on doing that, but he didn’t want to tell her in case she thought they could leave arriving at the station until the last minute.

‘I’m not prepared to risk missing the train, so I’m warning you now. Don’t be late because I won’t wait.’

‘Not even one minute?’ she taunted.

‘Not even thirty seconds.’

‘I’ll be there on time. Just don’t knock at the door,’ she warned.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

He ended the call and smiled to himself.

The reason he’d said nine-thirty was to allow for her inevitable lateness.

He was looking forward to meeting up with Rob for lunch and have a catch-up. It would be interesting to see his take on Birdie.

He suspected they’d get on very well.

Chapter 19

14 May

Birdie ran from the bathroom to her bedroom, quickly peeping out of the window. Crap. Clifford was there already. Typical. Just one day, she might actually be on time. It wasn’t that she’d got up late, well, only a few minutes after falling back to sleep when her alarm went off. But even so, she thought she’d allowed herself sufficient time to get ready.

She ran back to the mirror, picked up the brush, and tugged at her hair. It was even worse than usual. She grabbed a hairband and tied it back, as there wasn’t time for her to coax it into shape. She’d made an effort with her make-up and worn a pair of dark flared jeans, with a short, ribbed cardigan over a white T-shirt. On her feet she had a pair of grey suede ankle boots with a two-inch heel. At least then she wouldn’t look quite so miniscule beside Clifford.

She grabbed her handbag from the bed, ran down the stairs and out the front door. Glancing at her phone on the way, she was pleased to see that she was only one minute late. It had to be a record. She opened the door and got in.

‘I made it on time,’ she said, grinning at Clifford, as she fastened her seat belt.

‘I was just about to leave.’

‘Yeah, of course you were. I’m only one minute late. Not even that.’

‘I told you I wasn’t prepared to wait beyond nine-thirty.’

‘And I knew you didn’t mean it.’ She didn’t know that at all, but she didn’t want him to realise that. ‘Well, come on, let’s get a move on.’ He started the engine and headed down the road. ‘Am I smart casual enough?’ She ran her fingers down her jeans. They were

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