'If you'll follow me, Inspector, we need to make a little visit to Mr Webster's office,' I said formally.
'Wait a minute,' Neil said, showing traces of apprehension for the first time. 'What the hell do you think you're going to find there?'
'My proof,' I said, stalking out of the room. I didn't need to look back to know that I could easily have passed for the Pied Piper.
Neil overtook me on the threshold and snapped loudly enough for Jackson and everyone else to hear, 'Just what the hell do you think you're playing at? All this because your precious boyfriend wasn't good enough to write Jett's biography?'
'This has got nothing to do with Richard,' I informed him and everyone else within earshot. The tension was beginning to eat into me, and I didn't know how long I could maintain my cool facade.
'Oh no?' he sneered.
Ignoring him, I went straight to his computer, sat down in front of it and switched it on. Jackson leaned over my shoulder, while the others crowded round behind him. Neil hung back slightly, but his eyes were glued to the screen. I briefly looked through the text files in the directory where he stored his stories, then I moved over to his communications program and keyed into it. 'For those of you who aren't familiar with computers,' I said as I hit the keys, 'this is a program that sends material over the telephone lines to another computer. Journalists use it to file copy electronically to newsdesks.'
I chose the 'text edit' option and called up the first story he'd sent out about Moira's killing. I slowly scrolled through the story till only the last line remained off screen. 'As you'll see, Neil had all the details of how Moira was killed. No problem with that if the story was filed after the police gave you all the details of how Moira was killed. Details which none of you who were shut up in the blue drawing room knew except Jett.'
'Which it was,' Neil blustered. 'And you can't prove otherwise.'
In silence, I brought the last line up on the screen. It gave the date-stamp on the story. 2.35 a.m.
'It's a set-up,' Neil shouted wildly. 'She's set this up, can't you see? She's the only one who knows enough about computers. She's framed me.' His face was glossy with sweat and his eyes flicked nervously round the room.
'You can confirm that evidence with the company who transmit the electronic mail, I should imagine, Inspector,' I said coldly.
'Neil Webster,' Jackson intoned, pushing through the press of bodies. 'I must warn you…'
The rest of his official caution was drowned by the sound of breaking glass as Neil threw himself through the window in a sparkling shower of splinters.
A soft kiss tickling the back of my neck woke me up. “I hear you nailed the bastard,' Richard murmured into my ear. 'Well done.'
I groaned softly and rolled over on to my back. I could feel the warmth of his naked flesh next to mine, and the prospect of snuggling into him was more tempting than I wanted to admit. So I complained, 'Couldn't it wait till morning?'
'I only just heard about it. I went in to the Mirror to drop off some copy, and they told me Neil had been arrested, thanks to some nifty footwork by Mortensen and Brannigan,' he said proudly.
'Mmm,' I said. 'That's about the size of it.'
'So tell me all about it,' he demanded enthusiastically. He moved away from me and I heard the soft pop and hiss of a champagne bottle being opened. There was no hope of catching up on sleep now. I sat up and switched on the bedside light.
Richard blinked in the unexpected glow, then gave me his cutest smile as he handed me a fizzing glass of pink champagne. 'Every cough and spit,' he demanded.
So I told him all about the showdown, and how Neil had been picked up within five minutes by the team Jackson had wisely stationed outside. He'd been taken to hospital where he'd been formally charged while the casualty staff sewed up his cuts.
'Great job,' Richard said with as much satisfaction as if he'd been the prime mover. 'But I still don't understand why he killed her. Surely it wasn't just to produce a scandal that would sell his book?'
'Not quite. I don't think he actually meant to kill her. There was nothing premeditated about it. He was just incredibly lucky that no one else had an alibi and everyone else had better motives.'
'But why?' Richard howled in frustration.
I smiled sweetly and took a long, slow mouthful of champagne. 'Can't tell you. It's all subjudice, and you journalists can never keep your mouths shut.'
'Kate!' he wailed, his face a mixture of injured innocence and pure frustration.
I had to relent. 'When Moira left Jett all those years ago, she was pregnant. She had nowhere to go, and not a lot of cash left, so she had an abortion. Jett never knew about it, and it's a pound to a gold clock that he would never have had her back if he had done. The guy's notoriously anti-abortion, and he'd never have forgiven her for killing his own kid. Anyway, Neil found out about the abortion, and he told Moira he knew. Maybe he was even trying a spot of blackmail. She didn't want a walking time-bomb like that around the place. I questioned Kevin about it last night, and it turns out that she was trying to do a deal with him where Neil would be kicked out. In exchange, Moira wouldn't tell Jett about Kevin's little games with the money. Once Neil was out the door, anything he said would be seen as sour grapes.
'She must have been crowing to him about it in the rehearsal room. The prospect of being deprived of what must have been his last chance of a meal ticket was too much for him. He snapped and picked up the nearest object and thumped her with it. Like I said, I don't think murder was part of his plans, but having done it, he did his damnedest to make sure he got away with it.'
'And he would have done, too, if you hadn't known about the date-stamp on the files,' Richard said. 'Bloody clever of you.'
'Mmm,' I said. 'I wouldn't have known what to look for if Bill hadn't been able to hack into the electronic mail company's records to check exactly when those files were sent.' I carefully put my glass down on the bedside table and rolled over into Richard's arms. I deserved some fun after the last few days.
As my body started to tingle under Richard's familiar caresses, I made a mental note to burn the cassette of that earlier interview with Neil. It wouldn't do for Inspector Jackson to find out that Neil not only hadn't date-stamped his files. He hadn't even known how to.
