Fast and Loose - Page 103

‘Did you call the police?’ asked Jodie politely.

‘No, didn’t want any fuss…’

He broke off. Why had he broken off?

It took me a second or two to realise that Dean had caught up with me and now loomed over my hunched form, fairly quivering with perplexed ire.

/> ‘Ella Cox, get up from there! What the hell is wrong with you?’

‘I…can’t,’ I whispered. ‘Sudden attack of…’

‘Is everything OK?’ Keane’s voice, with a note of amusement, addressing itself to Dean.

I couldn’t move or speak. If I shut my eyes, perhaps he’d go away?

But Ed came to the rescue, emerging from his office with a genial ‘Ah, Councillor.’

‘Haydon, good of you to make time for me.’

I could hear from his voice that he was heading away towards Ed’s office. Perhaps it would be safe to stand up now.

I was halfway to my feet when Dean ruined it all with a stentorian invocation of my name.

It caused Keane and Ed to turn their heads and then all was lost.

Ed simply frowned, but Keane froze, his eyes – black and otherwise – widening with shock.

Dean wrangled my elbow in an effort to get me to move, but I was planted in position, unable to turn or look away.

Keane stared in a stricken fashion for what seemed an eternity, then turned to Ed and muttered something that caused him to copy Keane’s goggle-eyed stare.

‘Are you sure?’ I heard him say.

‘Positive.’

Ed cleared his throat. ‘Ella, er, would you step into my office, please?’

I looked towards the lift. Escape was not an option. Keane would have hold of me before I could press the button.

‘What’s going on?’ asked a bemused Dean, but I didn’t have time to furnish him with an answer.

I walked instead to my doom, entering the office behind Keane, who then turned and glowered down at me while Ed shut the door and sat down at his desk.

‘You work here,’ said Keane, in a low voice, practically a growl.

My reply was a silent cower. He knew the answer to that, so what was the point in saying anything?

‘You’re a journalist?’ he continued, but Ed corrected him on that score.

‘No, no. She’s a sub-editor. Ella, what’s going on here?’

‘I…don’t know,’ I said lamely.

‘Oh, I bet you do,’ snarled Keane. ‘And I’ll put money on you being in league with Crowley.’

‘With Tom Crowley?’ said Ed, pushing his glasses up his nose and giving us both an intent stare. ‘Why do you say that?’

Keane turned to Ed. ‘The reason I came here today,’ he said, ‘was to tell you about Crowley turning up at a dinner party I went to last night. One of Maria’s little soirées.’

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