like to go through –’
Jon looked at her. ‘Things have changed a bit since I last saw you.’
Dora nodded, as Jon, like everyone else who ever visited her, stepped straight into her office. She sighed and went into the kitchen.
His disembodied voice followed her. ‘So how’s the writing coming along?’
‘Not so bad –’
‘Ever write that book we planned?’
Dora peered round the office door. ‘Some of it. I just couldn’t sell the idea to anyone else. Seems like a long time ago now.’
He had pulled out a copy of a Catiana novel and was squatting on his haunches in front of the book cases, letting the pages of print flicker open. Sensing her standing in the doorway he held it out towards her.
‘Do you read much of this stuff?’
Dora blushed crimson. ‘Er, no, actually I was going to ring the police about that.’
Jon lifted an eyebrow.
‘I couldn’t tell the officer who came round after the burglary because my sister was here.’ Dora bit her lip, marshalling her thoughts into neat crisp lines. ‘I don’t read them, I write them. I’m Catiana Moran.’
Jon pulled a face. ‘I’ve lost this somewhere.’
‘My agent, Calvin Roberts, hired someone to represent me – to pretend to be me, to promote my books. That was the girl who was on TV.’
‘He mentioned you were a client of his.’ Jon looked up and closed the book. ‘You’ve picked an interesting way to make a living.’
Dora blushed even more. ‘It pays the bills,’ she said defensively.
His face had settled into a flat landscape that told her nothing about what he was thinking. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it was your sort of thing.’
‘I’m not sure it is really, but it sells well.’
Jon looked at her levelly. ‘And, apparently, gets you burgled.’
Dora felt an unexpected crystal shard of pain in her throat, with tears pressing up fast behind it.
‘I wondered if it might be a coincidence,’ she said slowly, trying to steady each word before it came out.
Casually, Jon slipped the book back amongst the others. ‘Maybe. This sort of break-in is very common, but it seems odd after what you’ve just told me that they did over Calvin Roberts’ place on. the same night.’
Dora leant against the door frame, trying hard to fight back the compulsion to ask Jon the next question. ‘Do you think,’ she began unsteadily, ‘that I was burgled because of the TV programme?’
Jon pursed his lips, and stood up slowly. ‘No idea, but I don’t think we can rule out the possibility.’ He spoke on a long outward breath, holding her gaze. His eyes were very dark, like Whitby jet.
Dora looked away first. ‘I think I just heard the kettle. What about Calvin Roberts? Why did they go there?’
Jon shook his head. ‘The local police think it’s probably just kids. There was no money on the premises. A few quid in petty cash. It seems pretty senseless, unless of course they were looking for something and it wasn’t here –’
Dora hovered between the hall and the office. ‘Is that what you think?’
Jon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Weekday nights are usually quiet – that’s why I noticed the reports. If it had been Friday night you’d have been lost in the rush.’
A little flurry of something dark and cold had bubbled up from just below Dora’s navel. She leant back against the cool panels of her office door.
Jon pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. ‘Have you got any idea why someone would want to break in here?’
‘I’ve got nothing of any value.’ Dora paused. For a moment she imagined a figure creeping through the flat, his face in shadow. She shivered, a trickle of fear running down her spine like iced water. ‘Maybe we should ask Lillian.’
Jon looked confused. ‘Lillian?’
Dora nodded, working hard to keep her voice even. ‘She’s the girl we hired, the one who was on TV the other night. Her real name is Lillian Bliss. If someone thought she lived here …’ Dora’s voice faded. She didn’t want to talk about Lillian Bliss. She wanted things to be normal. ‘I think I ought to make the tea.’
Dora closed the kitchen door quietly behind her. If only Jon could have called, for another reason – any other reason. He’d looked so impassive when she’d told him about the books; a policeman’s face. She took two mugs off the draining board, trying to shepherd her thoughts back onto simple things. As she picked up the teapot, fear, red raw and completely unexpected, boiled up through her like a rising tide. Hands shaking, she grabbed hold of the kitchen sink and fought to regain her composure. It felt as if her mind could easily slip and race away from her if she didn’t keep a tight grip on it.
When she came back, a few minutes later, Jon had found his way into the sitting room and was folded comfortably on the settee. On his lap, Oscar curled and simpered, purring with delight. Dora stood the tray on the coffee table.
‘You really shouldn’t encourage that cat, he’s a complete tart.’
Jon grinned, stroking the cat’s ears. ‘I don’t mind.’
She thought he looked very at home on her battered sofa. The soft lamp light picked out the laughter lines round his eyes. Dora swallowed hard. She wished she’d had the courage to ring him years before.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ he asked, glancing round the room. ‘Do you mind if I smoke? I don’t remember …’
Dora nodded. ‘Not at all, in fact if you’ve got a spare I’ll cadge one.’
He shook out a packet and offered his lighter. Dora stood an ashtray between the mugs.
‘So, what else can you tell me?’
‘Nothing very much. Calvin Roberts hired Lillian Bliss to promote the Catiana Moran novels. I scripted her interviews and she learnt them.’
Jon leant forward. ‘And you very thoughtfully included your address?’
Dora shook her head. ‘Not exactly, she got caught on the hop and started ad-libbing. Anyway, I went out shopping the day after the broadcast and when I came back the place was wrecked. Nothing taken, just one hell of a mess.’
Jon took a long thoughtful pull on his cigarette. ‘Anyone know you were going to be out?’
‘No, nobody.’
Jon pulled out a small notebook. ‘Several people rang your agent to And out about Lillian. The TV station gave out his number to anyone who was interested, so that might explain how they found him. Perhaps they were looking for something. They
