Their exchange gave me a few minutes to study this latest addition to my collection of Journalists Of The World. Neil Webster had that slightly disreputable air that a lot of women seem to find irresistible. I'm not one of them. He looked to be in his late thirties, though a journalist's life does seem to accelerate ageing in everyone except my own Peter Pan Barclay. Neil's brown hair, greying at the temples, looked slightly rumpled, as did the cream chinos and chambray shirt he was wearing. His brown eyes were hooded, with a nest of laughter lines etched white in his tanned skin. He had a hawk nose over a full pepper and salt moustache and his jaw line was starting to show signs of jowls.
My scrutiny was interrupted by his own matching appraisal. 'So who's the lovely lady? I'm sorry, my love, that oaf you came with seems to have forgotten his manners. I'm Neil Webster, real journalist. Not like Richard with his comic books. And you're…?'
'Kate Brannigan.' I coolly shook his proffered hand.
'Well, Kate, let me get you a drink. What's it to be?'
I asked him for my usual vodka and grapefruit juice, and he turned to the bar to pour it. Richard leaned past him and helped himself to a can of Schlitz. 'You didn't say what exactly you were doing back here,' Richard pressed Neil as he handed me my drink. I tasted it and nearly choked, both at the strength of the drink and the impact of Neil's reply.
'Didn't I? Oh, sorry. Fact of the matter is, I've been commissioned to write Jett's official biography.'
3
Richard's face turned bright scarlet and then chalky white as Neil's words hit him. I felt a cold stab of shock in my own stomach as I shared his moment of bitter disappointment. 'You've got to be joking,' Richard said in an icy voice.
Neil laughed. 'Quite a surprise, isn't it? I'd have thought he'd have gone for a specialist. Someone like you,' he added, twisting the knife. 'But Kevin wanted me. He insisted.' He shrugged disarmingly. 'So what could I say? After all, Kevin's an old friend. And he's the boss. I mean, nobody manages a top act like Jett a dozen years without knowing what's right for the boy, do they?'
Richard said nothing. He turned on his heel and pushed his way through the growing crowd round the bar. I tried to follow, but Neil stood in my way. 'I don't know what's rattled his cage, but why don't you just let him cool down,' he said smoothly. 'Stay and tell me all about yourself.'
Ignoring him, I moved away and headed towards Jett. I could no longer see Richard's dark head, but I guessed that's where he'd be. I reached Jett's couch in time to hear Richard's angry voice saying, 'You as good as promised me. The guy's a wasted space. What the hell were you thinking?'
The adulatory crowd that had been eagerly congratulating Jett and trying to touch the hem of his garment had fallen back under the force of Richard's onslaught. He was towering threateningly above Jett, whose Fiona looked thrilled to bits by the encounter.
Jett himself looked upset. His honey-sweet voice sounded strained. 'Richard, Richard. Listen to me. I wanted you to do the book. I said that all along. Then out of the blue, Kevin dumps this guy on me and tells me I have to play ball, that he knows who's the best man for the job. And it's too late for me to do anything about it. Kevin's already signed the man up on a contract. If I don't play, we still have to pay. So I have to play.'
Richard had listened in silence, his face a tight mask of anger. I'd never seen him so upset before, not even when his ex-wife was being difficult about his access to Davy. I reached his side and gripped his right arm. I know what he's like when he's angry. The holes in the plasterboard walls of his hall bear eloquent testimony to his frustrations. I didn't think he'd hit Jett, but I didn't want to risk it.
He stood and stared at Jett for what seemed like an eternity. Then he spoke slowly and bitterly. 'And I thought you were a man,” was all he said. He tore his arm out of my grip and plunged into the crowd towards the door. Only then was I aware that the room had fallen silent, every ear in the place tuned in to their conversation. I glared around, and slowly the buzz of conversation built again, even louder than before.
I desperately wanted to chase after Richard, to hold him and make useless offers of comfort. But more pressingly, I needed to know what my part in this whole charade was. I turned back to Jett and said, 'He feels very let down. He thought you asked me here tonight to celebrate a book deal with us.'
Jett had the grace to look sheepish. 'I'm sorry, Kate, I really am sorry. I feel like a piece of shit over this, believe me. I wanted to tell Richard myself, not let him hear it from someone else. I know he'd have done a good job, but my hands are tied. People don't realise how little power guys like me actually have.'
'So why did you want me here tonight?' I demanded. 'To keep Richard under control?'
Jett shook his head. He half-turned his handsome head to the Fiona. 'Tamar,' he said, 'why don't you get yourself another drink?'
The blonde smiled cattily at me and poured herself off the couch. When we were reasonably private, Jett said, 'I've got a job for you. It's something that's very important to me, and I need to be able to trust the person I give it to. Richard's told me a lot about you, and I think you're the right one. I don't want to tell you about it tonight, but I want you to come and see me tomorrow so we can discuss it.'
'Are you kidding?' I flashed back. 'After the way you've just humiliated Richard?'
T didn't think you were the kind of lady who let personal stuff get in the way of her work.' His voice was velvet. To an old fan, irresistible. 'I heard you were too good for that.'
Flattery. It never fails. I was intrigued, in spite of my anger. 'There's a lot of stuff Mortensen and Brannigan don't handle,' I hedged.
He looked around him, trying to appear casual. He seemed satisfied that no one was in earshot. 'I want you to find someone for me,' he said softly. 'But not a word to Richard, please.'
That reminded me how angry I was on Richard's behalf. 'Morten-sen and Brannigan always respect client confidentiality,' I said, sounding stuffy even to my ears. God knows what the king of thirtysomething rock was making of it all.
He grinned, flashing a display of brilliant white teeth at me. 'Come to the manor tomorrow about three,' he said, not expecting any more problems.
I shook my head. T don't know, Jett. We don't usually touch missing persons.'
'For me? As a personal favour?'
'Like the one you've just done Richard?'
He winced. 'OK, OK. Point taken. Look, Kate, I'm truly sorry about that. I shouldn't have mentioned it to Richard and raised his hopes without clearing it with Kevin. When it comes to things like contracts, he's the man who makes the decisions. He keeps me right. In the business side of things, he's the boss. But this other thing, it's personal. This is really important to me, Kate. Listening to what I want won't cost you anything. Please,' he added. I had the feeling it was a word he'd lost familiarity with.
Wearily, I nodded. 'OK. Three o'clock. If I can't make it, I'll ring and rearrange it. But no promises.'
He looked as if I'd taken the weight of the world off his shoulders. T appreciate it, Kate. Look, tell Richard what I said. Tell him I'm really sorry, would you? I've not got so many friends among the press that I can afford to lose my best one.'
I nodded and pushed my way through the crowds. By the time I'd reached the door, Jett and his problems were at the back of my mind. What was important to me now was helping Richard through the night.
When the alarm went off the following morning, Richard didn't even stir. I slid out of bed, trying not to disturb him. If how I felt was any guide, he'd need at least another six hours' sleep before he returned from Planet Hangover. I headed for the kitchen and washed down my personal pick-me-up. Paracetamol, vitamins C and B complex and a couple of zinc tablets with a mixture of orange juice and protein supplement. With luck, I'd rejoin the human race somewhere around Billy Smart's house. I had a quick shower, found a clean jogging suit and picked up a bottle of mineral water on the way out of the front door. Poor Richard, I thought as I slipped behind the wheel of the car and drove off. I'd caught up with him in the foyer, kicking his heels for want of a better target while he waited for a taxi. He'd been grimly silent all the way home, but as soon as he'd had half a pint of Southern Comfort and soda, he'd started ranting. I'd joined him in drink because I couldn't think of anything else to do or say that would make it better. He'd been shat on from a great height, and that was an end to it. It didn't make me feel any better about having agreed to Jett's request for a meeting, but luckily Richard was too wrapped up in his own disappointment to wonder why it had taken me so long to catch up with him.