The Circle

He fingered his earring. 'Like you suggested, I'm trying to draft a story that begins in the past, with Blacker and the guy in the photo, his gay lover — as we assumed.'

'You can assume anything,' she said. 'You don't have to bother with the truth. It's up to me to unearth the facts and write them down — as I'm doing, on the website — and you'd better start soon. The killing of Miss Snow gives this a dimension I hadn't dared to expect, definitely a serial arsonist at work.'

'Seems so.'

'Come on, Zach. Don't tantalise. How does your story go?'

'I had a good look at that photo,' he said. 'The writing on the back says it was taken in 1982, over twenty years ago. It would have been neat if the other guy turned out to be a member of the circle, but I can't see any resemblance.'

'There's such a thing as artistic licence.'

He shook his head. 'I've already headed in another direction. In this version, he's the second son of a duke. I've called him Jason. The family are rich, but rich, filthy rich.'

She gave an approving nod. 'That's always good in a book.'

'A castle, a house in Belgravia and a place in the South of France. Edgar Blacker — may I call him by his real name?'

Now she gazed down at her coffee. 'Maybe not. We'll think about that.'

'For the time being?'

A pause, then, 'All right.'

'He asks to use one of the family homes as the background to a photo shoot for a magazine feature, and that's how he gets to meet Jason.'

Naomi nodded again, liking it. 'They are attracted to each other and. . '

'Jason invites Blacker to share his penthouse in London. They're very close, those two. The next thing is, Jason's older brother — the heir to the dukedom — is killed in a boating accident'

'Lovely. Drops overboard?'

'On a sea trip off the coast of France.'

'Is it murder?'

'Of course. Blacker is responsible. While the yacht was anchored in a big marina and everyone was sleeping, he came aboard and chloroformed the brother and dragged him out of the cabin and heaved him overboard. The body isn't recovered for several days. No one suspects Blacker. No one knows he was anywhere near the boat.'

'This is more like it,' Naomi said, reaching out to put a hand over Zach's. 'You have such a fertile imagination.'

'It never sounds so clever just describing the plot,' Zach said. 'It will grab you when I get it on paper.'

'On the web,' she corrected him. 'It grabs me now. Does he tell Jason what he's done?'

'Not yet. But of course Jason is now the heir. Blacker does all he can to cultivate the relationship. For a time everything is cool. Then there are problems. Blacker is taking too much for granted, bringing clients back to the flat to impress them. There's a suspicion he's pocketing money that Jason leaves around. They fall out, big time. Jason shows him the door. Blacker goes apeshit and tells Jason what he did to ensure he inherited. He says if the murder ever gets known he'll swear he was acting under orders from Jason. He demands a big pay-off, and gets it. Do you see now? That's the back story. It's all set up for the murder of Blacker some years later.'

'By Jason?'

'Yes. Maybe Blacker has surfaced again and wants a big handout to finance his publishing venture. Jason can see this blackmail going on indefinitely.'

Naomi's eyes glittered. 'So he goes out to the cottage one night and sets it on fire? This is where our two stories touch base at a point of reality. Mine will be a faithful account of all the known facts about the fire while yours has soared away into fantasy.'

Zach nodded. 'But I'm still not clear how this will look on a computer screen. What's the reader going to make of it?'

'We'll use different fonts to avoid confusion. Mine will be in bold.'

'Why not mine?' he said, challenging.

'Because reality has to be paramount. The reader needs a structure and I'm providing it. You can be in italics if you want.'

'No, I'll stay upright. It's easier on the eye.'

With that settied, Naomi got him back on track. 'Where does the story go next? Have you thought of a reason why the other fires are started?'

'It's got to be Jason covering his tracks. He's heard about Maurice being arrested and the whole thing about the circle. He panics a bit over Maurice. You see, he has a conscience and doesn't want someone else to go down for the crime he committed.'

'That's all right — except you can't use Maurice's real name. Don't want to run the risk of libel.'

'You just said it was all right to mention Blacker.'

'That's because he's dead. You can't libel the dead. Never mind for now. We'll think of another name later. Go on. I'm hooked on this.'

'Jason finds out who the secretary of the circle is and makes the call to Miss Snow asking her to meet him at the boat house.'

'Why?'

'To make it obvious someone other than Maurice is the arsonist. But instead of Miss Snow, Bob Naylor shows up. Jason panics, thinking they must be on to him. He slams the door on Naylor and sets fire to the place. Naylor escapes through the roof, so no one is hurt.'

'You've really thought about this,' Naomi said with admiration. 'Now, what about the fire at Miss Snow's house?'

'That's Jason again,' Zach said. 'He's under tremendous pressure by this time because he made that call and he knows all the recent callers can be traced.'

'Why didn't he think of that before he made the call?'

Zach gave a shrug. 'Carelessness? This isn't a foolproof plot yet. So he decides to set her place on fire. He's in the clear and the spotlight shifts to the circle.'

'Not bad,' Naomi said. 'A few loose ends want tightening up, but you'll get there.'

'I'm not used to writing crime stories.'

'I said you'll get there,' she said with a touch of petulance.

'Okay. Are you going to tell me how you've been getting on?'

'You can read it on ChichesterMurderDetectives.com.'

'You're not putting everything on there, are you?'

She had a special smile for that question. 'Most of it.' She paused and looked to make sure they were not overheard. 'One thing I may not make public'

'What's that?'

'I've got a mole.'

'A what?'

'A mole.'

Zach didn't know how to respond. Alarm bells sounded in his head. She'd taken her hand away from his, but her hormones had to be churning wildly. If she offered to show him the mole, he wasn't sure what he'd say.

'I said I've got a mole.'

'I heard you.'

'Don't you want to know where?'

'Tell me, then.'

'In the MIT.'

'Ah.' He nodded as if a mole in the MIT was a common complaint.

You don't understand, do you? MIT is Murder Investigation Team. I've got a contact in the police station.'

Relieved, he heard himself say, 'Brilliant.' Then he added, 'Who?'