Calvin grinned.
Angrily, Dora grabbed the first letter out of his hand and stuffed it back in the envelope. ‘Well, what are you going to do about these?’
Calvin puffed out his cheeks. ‘You know what they say about publicity. I mean, it shows interest, people have taken the time to write.’
Dora snorted and pulled a copy of the local paper out of her handbag.
‘In that case you’ll probably be interested in this as well. I picked it up this morning to read the report on Jack’s funeral. Page three.’ She shook the paper into submission. ‘Here we are: “Home of Local Porn Queen Broken Into by Vandals.”’
There was a picture of Lillian Bliss above several column inches credited to one Josephine Hammond. Lillian’s picture was obviously a studio shot, a pouting master class photographed against a luxurious backdrop of foliage.
Calvin shrugged, leaning forward to light a cigar from the candle in the centre of the table. ‘The girl at the Gazette rang me for a few comments. She must have picked the call up on the police radio.’
A waiter handed them their menus.
‘I’m not sure I want to eat,’ Dora said.
Calvin feigned astonishment. ‘Good God, now I really am shocked. I’ve heard the profiteroles are very good here. Surely you can be tempted?’
Dora snorted and jiffled the chair closer to the table. ‘Be serious. How would you feel?’ she snapped brusquely.
Calvin’s face settled into an expression of concern. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, you’ve had a break-in and a few fan letters, that’s all.’
Dora let out a long shuddering sigh. ‘I told you she was dangerous. You’re going to have to get rid of her, Calvin.’
Calvin stared at Dora incredulously. ‘Fire Lillian? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a pussy cat. Okay, so she made one slip, but she’ll be fine, trust me.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘They could have come round to Gunners Terrace for a quote, you know.’
Dora picked at the posy on the table. ‘They did, but I was out all day after the TV interview –’ She stopped, letting her mind toy with the chain of events. ‘Josephine Hammond was prowling around on the doorstep when I got home, looking for Catiana. What I don’t understand is why she didn’t come back –’ Comprehension dawned. ‘You rang her up, didn’t you, Calvin?’ she hissed. ‘You rang the papers and fed them this entire story.’
Calvin lifted his hands. ‘I thought I’d defuse the situation. I knew you were upset, so I set up an interview at my office, so they wouldn’t come a-huntin’. I told you about it at the funeral, remember? Everyone is very curious about Lillian. And there’s no such thing as bad publicity. I just gave them a brief statement before they started to sniff for something bigger. I mean, isn’t that what we hired Lillian for? She’s paid to take your flak.’
Dora glanced down at the interview Lillian had given. ‘So, who wrote her script this time?’
Calvin looked uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to do it –’ he began.
Dora slapped the paper down in front of him and pointed to a line half way down the second column. ‘“I really love living in Fairbeach. My agent, Calvin Roberts, has got me this lovely little flat on Anchor Quay now I’m getting successful.”’
Calvin choked and grabbed the paper out of her hands. ‘Where does it say that?’ He read it and looked up at Dora apologetically, struggling to regain his composure. ‘She likes people to like her. She just wants to be helpful. She tells them what she thinks they want to hear.’
Dora gave him an icy stare. ‘That’s exactly why she has got to go, Calvin. She looks right but –’ Dora shivered, thinking about Catiana Moran sitting in Smith’s, surrounded by all those ordinary, dull people, in her sleek copper dress, lips drawn back in a carnivorous smile. She should have guessed that something so beautiful might well be dangerous. ‘Hiring Lillian was a bad move. I want my life back.’
Calvin beckoned the wine waiter over and ordered two brandies.
‘Look, Dora, you really can’t let this faze you.’ He shook out his napkin and arranged it across his lap. ‘Let’s change the subject, shall we? How’s the latest book coming along?’
Dora snorted. As far as Calvin was concerned, the matter was already closed. How could she make him understand that Lillian Bliss’ arrival had been like a hand-grenade exploding in her life? Calvin looked at her, expecting an answer. ‘Is this some sort of therapeutic attempt to make light conversation? I haven’t written a single word since the break-in.’
He blew a silvery plume of cigar smoke across the table. ‘It’s understandable you’re a bit upset but it’ll pass. Trust me. The publishers are desperate for the next one. July you said, but if you can get it to them early –’
‘Oh, right, so they’ve got plans for a best seller, have they, now we’ve got Lillian to push the books? I don’t think so. I really don’t think I can do it.’ She took a deep pull from the brandy balloon, feeling a flutter of annoyance settle alongside her sense of ill-ease as the alcohol hit her empty stomach.
Calvin leant forward and rested his fingers lightly on her arm.
‘Don’t get so touchy. I’m just pointing out you have contractual commitments. You’re losing sight of reality here.’ His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘You and I both know Lillian’s just an actress. Catiana Moran isn’t real. This will all blow over.’
Dora shook her head to clear it, feeling the warm glow of the brandy easing into her bloodstream. ‘Not if you keep wheeling Lillian out into the spotlight,’ she said softly, ‘she’s trouble.’
Calvin groaned and swirled his brandy. When the waiter stepped up to the table he ordered for them both while Dora sat staring out of the rain-streaked windows.
Jon Melrose had advised her to check her security – and that was before the letters had arrived. He’d looked very good, hadn’t he? She’d always thought he had beautiful eyes. She encouraged his face and the sound of his voice to float up inside her head as an antidote to Calvin’s indifference and found it as effective as Novocain. It surprised her just how much detail her memory had stored. Just as she was thinking about how Jon’s hair curled into the curve of his neck, she realised that Calvin was still speaking, and she struggled to snap back to catch the words.
‘I’m totally bloody lost without it …’
Dora reluctantly shook away the compelling image of Jon Melrose sitting on her sofa. ‘I’m sorry, Calvin. I was miles away. What did you say?’
Calvin’s face clouded. ‘Oh, for God’s sake. You’ve really got to get a grip, Dora. I was saying, the bastards who broke into the office stole my filofax, off my bloody desk. The only thing they took, I mean, it’s my lifeline, that thing.’
Dora stared at him. She hadn’t seen her diary recently either. Maybe Sheila had tidied it away; she would check when she got home.
‘Never mind your filofax, what are you going to do about Lillian Bliss?’
Calvin groaned. ‘Look, I didn’t invite you to lunch to have this conversation over and over again. I wanted to see how you were. I understand that you’re upset – I’m upset – but there’s the bigger picture to consider. I’ve been talking to the commissioning editor this morning. As far as he’s concerned we’ve hit pay dirt.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘Shame you can’t get the new book done more quickly. There’s an awful lot