Karen Spencer didn’t bother to tell her friend why she loved the movie they were watching as much as she did. It was one of those secrets she shared with no one, not even Andy. Jimmy Stewart, who was playing a dedicated but painfully shy lawyer who had gone out west to bring justice to a land ruled by lawless miscreants, reminded her of her father. And Vera Miles, the love interest in the movie, was the way Spence liked to remember her mother, a strong, self-assured woman with a kind heart.
Pamela watched spellbound. She had rarely seen any old black-and-white movies and, when Spence had told her about her choice for that night, hadn’t been sure what to expect. So she wasn’t quite prepared to be as drawn into the movie they were watching as completely and utterly as she had. With rapt fascination, she watched the drama play out. It was during the scene where Lee Marvin, a lowlife hired gun, was bullying Jimmy Stewart that a thought occurred to her.
“Why can’t we do that?”
“Do what? Beat up lawyers?” Spence asked playfully.
“No, you twit. Take out the bad guy.”
“What bad guy?”
“The slimeball who’s stalking Eva, of course,” Pamela replied as she sat up straight and stared excitedly at her friend.
“I thought you were going to talk her into going to the police?”
“Yeah, I know. But wouldn’t it be great if we could do it? You said yourself that friend of yours is overstretched. We could sort of help out.”
Spence couldn’t remember saying anything of the sort as Pamela plowed on with growing enthusiasm. “What if the git is overseas or something? It’s the Internet. He could be someplace where they don’t have indoor plumbing, let alone prosecute someone for sending foul and abusive e-mails and messages.”
“We really oughtn’t take the law into our own hands, Pam.”
Pamela grinned mischievously as she did her best to affect a John Wayne drawl that did not mesh at all well with her distinctive British accent. “There don’t seem to be much law south of the Picket Wire, pilgrim.” After they both enjoyed a good laugh over this, Pamela gave Spence’s arm a tug. “Come on, it’d give us something to write about in the blog. The Lady would love it!”
Spence took a long, hard look at her friend before answering. “Give me a call tomorrow,” she finally muttered halfheartedly. “I need to check a few things.”
“Brilliant! Now that we’ve got that little problem sorted for the moment, we can enjoy the rest of the movie.” Satisfied with herself, Pamela flopped back on the sofa as she grabbed another handful of popcorn. “Rewind it, would you?” she asked innocently. “I want to see that last part again.”
The next day was a busy one for Pamela. Between a commercial shoot in the morning, a session in the gym, and fittings for the forthcoming Emmanuel Zspartov collection for the rest of the day, it was six o’clock by the time she got home to her flat. After turning on the kettle, she grabbed her phone and hit Spence’s number on the speed dial with anticipation. “Hi, Spence. Just got in. Well?”
There was a long pause as Spence, who’d been in the middle of deciphering a program, frowned at being interrupted. “Well what?”
Pamela couldn’t help but grin as she wondered if her friend was toying with her by keeping her on tenterhooks as a means of revenge for the previous night, or if she had forgotten their exchange.
“You know very well what!” Pamela snapped back to be rewarded by Spence’s laughter.
“Like I said, I asked around and did some research.”
As she listened, Pamela fumbled the phone behind her ear as she started to make herself a cup of tea. Knowing Spence, and suspecting this could take some time, Pamela prepared to settle in and enjoy her tea while her friend engaged in a full-blown explanation that covered all sorts of technical minutiae. She was therefore quite surprised when Spence cut straight to the chase.
“We can do it,” Spence chortled. “And best of all, it’s completely legal.”
After waiting near a full minute for her friend to go on, Pamela realized Spence was definitely messing her about. “So, are you going to tell me how, or do I have to rush round to your place and beat it out of you?”
“Hmm, and here I thought you were switched on,” Spence snorted dismissively, launching into an explanation before Pamela could come up with an appropriate response. “We’re going to set up a honey trap, sort of like we did in Milan. Only this time we’re going to use Eva as the bait.”
An hour later the two young women were hunched in front of Spence’s laptop as she outlined her plan to her coconspirator. “I got the idea from a real-life case that happened a few years ago. This slimebag is fixated on Eva, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Pamela nodded.
“So, we set up a blog for her that allows people to respond to it. Everyone will naturally think it’s no different from any other personal blogging site. But this one will be. The special bit is that we include a private area with lots of her photos available so prospective clients can see if she’s a good fit for their project.”
“Tracy already does that for us. You’ve seen it.”
“Tracy doesn’t monitor every IP address that logs on to the site,” Spence explained. “Nor does she serve up super cookies that are pretty much impossible to delete, the kind that are able to tell her every site people visit before coming back to hers.”
Pamela frowned. “Are you sure this is legal?”
“Of course I am. In order to enter the site and gain access to the private photo area we’ll be setting up, visitors will have to accept cookies associated with it, acknowledging their acquiescence by clicking a tick box accompanied by lots of terms and conditions in the small print. It’s something just about every big website does these days.”
Pamela still found she was a little uncomfortable with the idea, despite Spence’s assurances. “How long will it take us to set this all up?”
“Not long. I’ve already done my bit. Evasmodelblog.com is ready to go. Now all you have to do is get Eva, her mother, and Tracy to play along. After that, we’ll need her to write the blog and of course, provide me with the photos they wish to have posted.” Having finished and quite satisfied with her own plan, Spence grinned as she waited for her friend to respond.
When she realized she’d drawn the short straw, Pamela rolled her eyes. “Is that all?” she muttered. “Why did I open my big mouth?” she sighed under her breath.
“Because you’re a good friend,” Spence chirped brightly.
“The least you can do is help me pitch this to Eva and her maternal slave driver,” Pamela grumbled.
“Oh, I suppose I could, provided you say the magic word.”
With a grunt, Pamela set aside the dread she felt over what she suspected was going to be a contentious row. Instead, she replied to Spence by flashing her a hand gesture used universally to express displeasure. “Meet me at the London Eye this Friday. There’s a charity event that Eva and I are both involved in.”
“I take it Mummy dearest will be there as well.”
Pamela snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Oh, rest assured, dear girl, you can put money on that.”
“I’ll be there, unless Andy decides to drag us all off somewhere, or Ed Telford needs us to fight off a fresh incursion of Daleks.”
3
Despite the spring sunshine, a chilly breeze sweeping up the Thames made Spence glad of her coat as she waited in the event organizer’s tent that nestled in the shadow of the London Eye. She watched with unfettered amusement as Pamela and the other models rushed in and out as they changed from one flimsy summer outfit to another, swearing and complaining bitterly as they did. Whilst the designers and photographers thought the playful afternoon breeze that fluttered and displayed the light fabrics was wonderful, the girls’ view was decidedly less enthusiastic as they huddled around a single space heater for as long as they could between sets.