Booked for Murder by Val McDermid Page A

West Country.
They’d met at Pride two years before, had been living together around eighteen months. Sophie and Lindsay had missed meeting her on their last trip home because she’d been off covering some obscure opera festival. “Good to meet you at last,” Lindsay said, taking Kirsten’s hand and letting herself be drawn into a welcoming embrace.
    â€œYou look completely shattered,” Kirsten said sympathetically. “Come on through, have a drink, something to eat. Helen’s in the kitchen.”
    Lindsay was past independent thought. She let Kirsten lead as they threaded a staggering path through the chaos of the living room into the kitchen.
    Helen jumped to her feet and greeted Lindsay with a huge bearhug. “Hey, Linds, it’s great to see you, girl. And now you’ve met Kirsten in the flesh. Isn’t she drop dead gorgeous?” She took one arm away from Lindsay to draw Kirsten into the cuddle.
    â€œBehave,” Kirsten protested. “You’re embarrassing me!”
    â€œImpossible, you’re a journo. And she was one for too long to believe in the possibility of another hack getting a red neck over a compliment,” Helen teased. She stepped back, looking critically at Lindsay. “Where you been till this time? You look like last orders in the dyke bar. We were going to wait to eat till you came back, but we couldn’t hang on, we were starving. But there’s loads left,” she added, waving a vague arm at an array of foil takeaway cartons that covered half the available worktop space. “Just load up a plate and smack it in the video cooker.”
    â€œI’m too tired to eat,” Lindsay said, disengaging herself from Helen’s arm and slumping into the nearest chair. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”
    â€œI’m made up you’re here. I’d have been really brassed off if I’d found out you were staying some place else!” Helen opened a cupboard and took out a wine goblet, picked up a bottle of red that was sitting beside the pile of papers she was working on and glugged out a glassful. “Get yourself wrapped round that and tell me what you’ve been up to. Oh, by the way, Soph rang earlier. I don’t think you’re top of her Christmas card list right now.”
    Lindsay took the glass and swallowed a mouthful of something that
reminded her of a pit bull terrier—warm but with a bite that didn’t let go. “She want me to call her back?”
    â€œShe said she’d ring again.” Helen glanced at her watch. “In about half an hour. So what have you been up to? What’s going on? Soph said something about some friend of yours being murdered. What’s the score?”
    â€œHelen,” Kirsten protested. “Let her get her second wind.”
    â€œIt’s okay, I’m used to her appalling manners,” Lindsay said.
    â€œOnly because I learned them off you!” Helen roared with laughter.
    Fortified by the wine, Lindsay gave Helen a succinct outline of recent events. “I’ll color in the picture when I’ve had a kip, okay?” she wound up.
    â€œYou just can’t keep away from it, can you?” Helen said. “We’re two of a kind, you and me. We can’t just sit on our hands when something needs sorting.”
    â€œMmm,” Lindsay grunted, reaching for the bottle and pouring a second glass. “So how’s the film business?” She needed to keep awake for Sophie’s phone call, and listening to Helen seemed a less taxing option than doing the talking herself.
    â€œIf I’m honest, Linds, it’s actually a bag of shit right now.”
    â€œWhat’s the problem?” Lindsay slurred through a mixture of drink and exhaustion.
    Kirsten groaned. “Don’t encourage her. We’ll be here all night and I need my beauty sleep.”
    â€œIf anyone needs their beauty