since nine. I didn't want to leave a message.'
He couldn't place the voice yet. 'Sorry. Who is this?'
'Amelia.'
Well, it was late, and it had been a long, taxing day. 'Come again?'
'Miss Snow.'
'Ah.'
'I - em - I need the video.'
'Why? What's up, love?' He called her love in response to the nervousness coming down the line.
'I know it's late, but can you possibly return it now?'
'Tonight?' Shouldn't have called her love, he thought. Naylor, you're getting in deep here.
She went on, 'Something has happened that I'd rather not discuss over the phone, and I'm not going to get any sleep if I don't do something about it'
He didn't believe there were things you can't discuss over the phone. Who did she think was listening? 'Do you know what time it is, Amelia?'
'Yes, and I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important.'
'Is it anything to do with Maurice?'
'Please come, Bob.'
What the hell? he thought. I can look after myself. 'Twenty minutes, then.'
'I can't thank you enough.'
Don't even try, he thought as he put down the phone.
He was coming out of the bathroom when Sue let herself in through the front door.
'Hi, Dad,' she called up.
'Hi, baby. Nice evening?'
'Not bad.'
He came downstairs. 'Got to slip out for an hour. Someone just phoned.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.' He felt as if he was the teenager.
'Girlfriend?'
'Ha ha.'
'Well, you know the saying, Dad: if you're not in bed by midnight you'd better come home.'
8
Write something, even if it's just a suicide note.
Anon, quoted in The Writer's Chapbook, ed. George Plimpton (1999)
'I can't tell you how grateful I am.'
Bob nodded and stepped inside. Miss Snow showed him into her writing den and closed the door behind her. She was as strung out as a line of washing.
'Did you bring it?'
He handed over the video.
Her voice shook as she said, 'The police were here this afternoon. They said they needed this as evidence. Maurice must have told them about it.'
'What did you say?'
'That it was being passed around the circle and I'd have to make some phone calls.'
'Fair enough.'
'I promised to take it in to the police station tomorrow.'
'And now you can.' He didn't understand why she needed it tonight. He could have delivered it in the morning, taken it to the nick himself if she wanted. And he couldn't see why a visit from the police had got her into such a state.
It was obvious he wasn't going to be offered a chair, so he took a step back, preparing to leave. His leg nudged a low table and a couple of magazines slipped off. He picked them up and replaced them. One was the TV Times and the other was The Bodybuilder, with a muscleman on the cover. We all get our kicks some way, he thought, amused, and warming a little to Miss Snow.
She was too wound up to get embarrassed. 'Poor Maurice must be at his wits' end,' she was saying. 'He wouldn't have told them about the video unless he was desperate.'
'Why not?'
'It's like informing on his friends. So out of character. Not the way Maurice would behave unless he was up against it.'
'If you or I were on a murder rap, we'd do the same. Anything to muddy the water.'
'But he's innocent,' she said.
'If he is, then someone else is guilty, and the odds are that it's one of the people on that video.'
Her eyes held his, and she said in a mystified voice, 'You still sound doubtful, as if you think he might have done it.'
'Open mind. I've talked to a couple of people this evening and I'm still in the dark.'
'Who?'
'Tudor and Fran. But I learned a bit more about Blacker and his dealings. He was a crooked publisher. None of his authors made any money. He took money off them.'
'Do the police know that?'
'Maurice knows. He will have told them.' He stifled a yawn. 'I'll be off, then.'
She put her hand to her throat and fingered her bead necklace. 'There's something I haven't told you.'
'What's that?'
'Later, after the police had been, I had a phone call. A man's voice. He didn't say who he was. He asked me if I was the
He couldn't place the voice yet. 'Sorry. Who is this?'
'Amelia.'
Well, it was late, and it had been a long, taxing day. 'Come again?'
'Miss Snow.'
'Ah.'
'I - em - I need the video.'
'Why? What's up, love?' He called her love in response to the nervousness coming down the line.
'I know it's late, but can you possibly return it now?'
'Tonight?' Shouldn't have called her love, he thought. Naylor, you're getting in deep here.
She went on, 'Something has happened that I'd rather not discuss over the phone, and I'm not going to get any sleep if I don't do something about it'
He didn't believe there were things you can't discuss over the phone. Who did she think was listening? 'Do you know what time it is, Amelia?'
'Yes, and I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important.'
'Is it anything to do with Maurice?'
'Please come, Bob.'
What the hell? he thought. I can look after myself. 'Twenty minutes, then.'
'I can't thank you enough.'
Don't even try, he thought as he put down the phone.
He was coming out of the bathroom when Sue let herself in through the front door.
'Hi, Dad,' she called up.
'Hi, baby. Nice evening?'
'Not bad.'
He came downstairs. 'Got to slip out for an hour. Someone just phoned.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.' He felt as if he was the teenager.
'Girlfriend?'
'Ha ha.'
'Well, you know the saying, Dad: if you're not in bed by midnight you'd better come home.'
8
Write something, even if it's just a suicide note.
Anon, quoted in The Writer's Chapbook, ed. George Plimpton (1999)
'I can't tell you how grateful I am.'
Bob nodded and stepped inside. Miss Snow showed him into her writing den and closed the door behind her. She was as strung out as a line of washing.
'Did you bring it?'
He handed over the video.
Her voice shook as she said, 'The police were here this afternoon. They said they needed this as evidence. Maurice must have told them about it.'
'What did you say?'
'That it was being passed around the circle and I'd have to make some phone calls.'
'Fair enough.'
'I promised to take it in to the police station tomorrow.'
'And now you can.' He didn't understand why she needed it tonight. He could have delivered it in the morning, taken it to the nick himself if she wanted. And he couldn't see why a visit from the police had got her into such a state.
It was obvious he wasn't going to be offered a chair, so he took a step back, preparing to leave. His leg nudged a low table and a couple of magazines slipped off. He picked them up and replaced them. One was the TV Times and the other was The Bodybuilder, with a muscleman on the cover. We all get our kicks some way, he thought, amused, and warming a little to Miss Snow.
She was too wound up to get embarrassed. 'Poor Maurice must be at his wits' end,' she was saying. 'He wouldn't have told them about the video unless he was desperate.'
'Why not?'
'It's like informing on his friends. So out of character. Not the way Maurice would behave unless he was up against it.'
'If you or I were on a murder rap, we'd do the same. Anything to muddy the water.'
'But he's innocent,' she said.
'If he is, then someone else is guilty, and the odds are that it's one of the people on that video.'
Her eyes held his, and she said in a mystified voice, 'You still sound doubtful, as if you think he might have done it.'
'Open mind. I've talked to a couple of people this evening and I'm still in the dark.'
'Who?'
'Tudor and Fran. But I learned a bit more about Blacker and his dealings. He was a crooked publisher. None of his authors made any money. He took money off them.'
'Do the police know that?'
'Maurice knows. He will have told them.' He stifled a yawn. 'I'll be off, then.'
She put her hand to her throat and fingered her bead necklace. 'There's something I haven't told you.'
'What's that?'
'Later, after the police had been, I had a phone call. A man's voice. He didn't say who he was. He asked me if I was the
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