Private Lives

26



‘Your boss f*cked me over.’

Anna stopped in her tracks, surprised to hear Wayne Nicholls’ voice as she walked into Strawberry Studios just across the road from the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm. Nicholls was sitting in an office behind the reception, his feet up on the desk, cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth.

‘Slumming it a bit, aren’t you?’ smiled Anna, putting her head around the door. ‘I didn’t think you left trendy Clerkenwell these days.’

‘Don’t change the subject,’ said Wayne. ‘That snake of a boss of yours has done me out of an exclusive.’

Anna perched on the edge of his desk. ‘Okay, what’s your beef this time?’

‘Kim bloody Collier,’ said Wayne, stubbing out his cigarette angrily. ‘Ten measly grand for following that bag around for a couple of days. I’d have asked for fifty times that if I’d have known it was heading for this.’

He tossed a copy of the Evening Standard on the desk bearing the headline ‘Kim And Rob Love Split: Exclusive’.

Anna crossed her arms and smiled. ‘Like you’re not rich enough.’

‘That’s not the point. I feel stitched up.’

He looked so dejected, like a little boy being denied his favourite toy, that Anna couldn’t help herself: she cracked up with laughter.

‘Hey, it’s not funny, this is my reputation here.’

‘Come on, Wayne, even you must have guessed there was something going on. Matthew Donovan, a divorce lawyer, asking you to follow Kim Collier, see who she talks to?’

‘Course I twigged,’ said Wayne, pouting. ‘But there was no story – she didn’t meet with anyone, only her leg-waxer and a couple of fruits. I thought it was just Rob getting paranoid or something.’

‘And you didn’t think to tip off the papers about that? That’s very principled of you, Wayne.’

He looked down at his waste basket. ‘Yeah, well I’d signed one of them confidentiality wossnames, hadn’t I? Had to stick to it. As I told Donovan, you’re a tough old bitch.’

‘Well at least you’re in my good books.’

‘Then how about dinner?’

‘How about you show me where the shoot is?’

He sighed, shook his head, then got up from behind his desk. Anna had to grudgingly admit that she did owe Wayne Nicholls. He’d been true to his word the day before and called with the time and place of the shoot Mandy Stigwood had been booked for. In the meantime, Anna had sent Ryan Jones a photo of Mandy to confirm that she was indeed the girl he had met with Amy Hart that night in the club.

‘See?’ he had replied. ‘Told you she had great tits.’

Anna glanced at her watch as Wayne led her along a white corridor. Ten thirty already. Helen would be wondering where she was. Anna had managed to fob her off, saying she had urgent work of her own at the office, but she knew that Helen would be watching her time sheets like a hawk. Certainly if she wasn’t in court within the hour she’d have some serious explaining to do. Even so, Anna was prepared to risk her boss’s wrath. Over the past week, since her meeting with Ryan, she’d been unable to shake the thought of Amy Hart’s death from her mind.

She might know her case law inside out, but Anna knew that what made her a really great lawyer was her instinct, and it was her instinct that was telling her that there was more to Amy’s death than met the eye.

‘Check this shit out,’ said Wayne proudly, pushing through two massive double doors.

The studio was enormous, like an aircraft hangar. You could easily have fitted three double-deckers and Evel Knievel inside.

‘It’s huge,’ gasped Anna.

Wayne winked. ‘That’s what they all say, darlin’. But enough about me. The studio’s thirty thousand square feet of space, all within London’s Zone Two. It’s full every day. Catalogues, magazines, corporate work. No fashion yet; they’re so up their own arses they’re snooty about what studio they use, let alone the models and photographers. But they’ll come around when they realise how close we are to Soho.’

‘Remind me not to feel too sorry for you next time I get a two hundred thousand damages settlement out of you,’ said Anna slowly.

‘Yeah, well, the Heat years have been good to me, haven’t they? Everyone’s mad for celebrities. You know people slag off the pap agencies, but I’m just providing a service, satisfying a demand.’

They opened the door of Studio 5 on the top floor. Dance music was blaring out and the whole room was full of stylists fussing around rails of clothes, make-up artists laying out their wares and a whole crew of technical staff setting up lights, reflectors and camera triggers.

One end of the room had been decked out in red drapes, at the centre of which was a huge circular bed covered in black satin sheets. Nice, thought Anna. Classy. Wayne’s voice boomed across the studio.

‘Mandy, my darling. You have a visitor!’

A platinum blonde in lacy white lingerie stepped out from behind a screen and tottered towards them on stacked heels, pulling a short robe around herself.

‘Hi, baby,’ she said to Wayne, stooping down to his level to give him a kiss on the cheek. Wayne whispered something to her and she giggled, glancing in Anna’s direction.

‘Mands, we need you to jump on the bed in five, all right?’ shouted a man in a waistcoat.

‘Of course, babes,’ cooed the girl. ‘Just talking with the boss.’

‘I’m your boss today,’ said the man.

‘Course you are, sweetie,’ she pouted. ‘But Wayne’s special.’

Wayne slapped Mandy on the bum and sent her over towards Anna.

‘All right?’ she said, looking Anna up and down warily. ‘Wayne said you’re a lawyer. What’s this about then?’

Anna led her over to a quieter corner of the room, where three sofas were positioned round a coffee table laden with sandwiches.

‘Something about a date, was it?’ said Mandy, sitting down. She had perfectly even white teeth and a slender Barbie physique with a hand-span waist and cantaloupe-melon-sized breasts.

‘No, not exactly a date,’ said Anna. ‘Although I do have a lot of high-profile clients. I actually wanted to talk to you about Amy. Amy Hart.’

‘Amy? God, that poor cow,’ said Mandy, glancing over towards where Wayne was laughing with two other blondes. ‘Awful, isn’t it?’ she said sadly. ‘I mean, it could of been any of us, couldn’t it? Slipping on her heels like that.’

‘Were you good friends?’ asked Anna.

‘Not especially,’ said Mandy. ‘We used to hang about at parties and that, but we weren’t really close. I was sad to hear about it, though. She was pretty and clever, and she was a good girl.’ She glanced over at Wayne and the models again. ‘A lot of them girls can be right bitches, but Amy was always nice.’

‘You didn’t get called to give evidence at her inquest?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know nothing about an inquest. Why did she have one of those?’

‘They have inquests to work out exactly how someone died. Sometimes they call witnesses.’

‘But I thought it was an accident, wasn’t it? She fell down the stairs.’

‘Probably,’ nodded Anna.

Mandy pulled the tiny white robe tighter around her waist and frowned.

‘Don’t you believe them?’

‘I’m just looking into it for someone.’

‘Who, the police?’ Mandy said with wide eyes.

‘No,’ smiled Anna. ‘Amy’s sister Ruby, actually.’

‘Oh, her,’ giggled Mandy. ‘Amy brought her down one of the clubs once. I think she wanted to meet a footballer or something. But she was sweet. How can she afford a fancy lawyer like you?’

Anna smiled. ‘She can’t. I just want to see if there’s anything in what she says.’

‘And what’s that?’

Anna paused for a moment before she spoke. She had no idea whether she could trust Mandy, or where a conversation like this might lead.

‘Ruby thinks Ryan Jones killed her sister.’

Mandy gave a low, slow laugh.

‘Ryan Jones?’ she chuckled. ‘Ryan’s an arsehole, there’s no doubt about that. But a killer? He hasn’t got the balls.’

Anna smiled. Mandy had given a pretty accurate assessment of Ryan’s personality, in her opinion.

‘I spoke to Ryan at the weekend and he thought that Amy might have had another boyfriend. He was saying that he thought Amy used him to get back at someone. Do you know what he meant by that?’

Mandy pulled a face.

‘Like I said, we weren’t close, but I do think she was unhappy about some guy. That night we met Ryan, Amy had had a few drinks – she wasn’t usually a drinker but I think she was upset. I remember she asked me: “Do you think I’d get in the papers if I shagged Ryan?” At the time I thought it was weird, because she was never one to go boasting about her boyfriends.’

‘Why do you think she was discreet?’

Mandy shrugged.

‘There’s different reasons why we do this job,’ she said quietly. ‘People think we’re tarts, slags. And yes, some girls like showing off, they like the attention and all the parties. When you’re living in the back arse of nowhere, with no hope of getting out, it looks pretty nice dating people off the telly and that. But Amy wasn’t like that; she was smart, savvier than most. She wouldn’t do glamour or topless like this, only swimsuit stuff, because I think she had plans to get out.’

‘What plans?’

‘Sorry,’ said Mandy. ‘We never really had many heart-to-hearts, and like I say, she was a private sort of person. Don’t get me wrong, though, she did like the modelling and the partying, because of the people it could introduce her to.’

‘The men it could introduce her to?’ prompted Anna.

‘Yeah, sure. Amy just wanted a better life for herself. We’re all looking for a meal ticket,’ said Mandy, glancing at Wayne again. ‘And I actually think Amy had found hers.’

‘So who was it?’

Mandy looked down at her long, squared-off nails.

‘About twelve months ago we were driving past the Houses of Parliament. We were in a taxi going from one party to another one in Chelsea. Amy was drunk. She told me that she’d had sex there.’

‘In the Houses of Parliament?’

Mandy nodded. ‘Saucy, hey? Of course I asked who. She said it was that MP Gilbert Bryce. Always on telly. Bit of a wanker.’

‘And you think that’s who she was seeing just before she got together with Ryan?’

‘After she told me about it, I only saw her maybe twice a month. When I asked her about it, she totally clammed up. The only thing she said was that she was seeing someone but she couldn’t talk about it because if she did he might finish with her.’

‘And you think it was Gilbert.’

‘He’s a twat but he’s ambitious. If it came out about a relationship with Amy, the press would have spun it as “Bryce Dates a Glamour Girl”. He’d definitely want her to keep quiet about it.’

‘Oi, Mands!’ shouted the man in the waistcoat. ‘We’re ready for you.’

‘Okay, lover!’ she called, then rolled her eyes at Anna. ‘It’s a living,’ she said.

She stood up and Anna shook her hand.

‘Sorry I couldn’t help more,’ said Mandy.

Anna smiled at her.

‘Oh, I think you’ve helped a great deal.’