‘She’s upset about being removed from the station,’ Isaac said.
‘Tricia? Upset? It’s hardly likely. She received severance pay, a hefty bonus to go, no bad publicity or talking out of turn.’
‘It’s a public relations debacle for you,’ Isaac said.
‘Chief Inspector,’ Jaden said, ‘you don’t seem to understand. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, only how you deal with it.’
‘Are you saying you knew beforehand of what she was likely to say?’
‘Do you want to go down this road?’ Babbage said to Jaden. ‘What you say here will become part of a criminal investigation.’
‘I know what I’m saying. Bob, sit back, let me deal with this.’
‘In your own time,’ Isaac said.
‘Jim Breslaw, the head of programming before we gave Tom the job, wasn’t in favour of getting rid of Tricia. That’s why I let him go.’
‘We still need to interview him.’
‘As you wish, not that he can help you, too stuck in his ways, remembers the good old days, the time before social media and YouTube. Anyway, here’s how it goes. Simmons is dead, intentional or otherwise, murder or an accident; none of that matters to us here. Sure, we can pretend to be sorry, even believe it, but business is business, and the show must go on. I’m sure you’ve heard that adage.’
‘I have.’
‘Good. Angus is dead, and logically we should be throwing our support behind Tricia, bolstering her, promoting her heavily as the new look, but we aren’t. Instead, we sack her and all her people, make them feel as though they’ve been dealt a savage blow, which they have.’
‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Not to you. Simmons is dead, Tricia’s out on her ear, the social media is going wild, the other television stations are crucifying us. But he who laughs last laughs longest.’
‘How?’
‘You still don’t get it. Give it a couple of weeks, wait until the heat has died down, and then resurrect Tricia, her programme, the staff she wants, an increased budget, and she can travel the world, looking for the bizarre, the most interesting, the stories that will pull in the viewers.’
‘The damage’s done?’
‘The viewing public, I don’t think so. They’ll complain, then applaud. In the meantime, Karen’s out there, bringing in the advertising revenue. It’s a brilliant plan.’
‘If you say so. And what about Tom, your head of programming?’
‘We’ll bring in a high-flyer, put Tom alongside him, let him learn the ropes. Tom’s capable, just a little wet behind the ears. A couple of years, he’ll be able to take over the job.’
‘Alison Glassop?’
‘That’s up to Tom.’
Taylor just smiled.
‘Does Tricia know about this?’ Larry asked.
‘She does now. We kept her in the dark for a couple of days, let her blow off steam. But now, she’s got a contract in front of her. She’ll fight us for more, but Bob will hold firm, give in slowly.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Isaac said.
‘Chief Inspector, you deal with facts; we create illusions. I don’t expect you to like it, but none of us had anything to do with Simmons’s death. That’s all that you need to know,’ Jaden said.
Chapter 9
Isaac instinctively distrusted Jaden, and if the man had made a statement that wasn’t true, it did not bode well. However, Isaac believed the man more than he did Tricia Warburton’s denial. Jerome Jaden was smart, many years in the business, known as a straight shooter. He wouldn’t have risked raising the ire of the police.
Larry met Tricia this time, the friendly female banter with Wendy not working the last time. Either Wendy was losing her touch, or Tricia was more circumspect, more devious than first thought.
The inspector and the celebrity met: one of them in his forties and going to seed, the other in her thirties, svelte, jogging every day, her hair coiffured, her tan embellished every week.
Larry chose one of his favourite pubs, upmarket enough for the lovely Tricia.
In the dim light of the pub, the woman was more attractive than the first time he had met her, and she was beguiling.
‘Inspector, why are we here?’ Tricia said. ‘Is this to discuss Angus’s death, or is it something more?’
She was making him feel uncomfortable as if she was doing it on purpose. Larry didn’t like it. ‘A drink?’ he said.
‘A glass of wine for me.’
Larry left the table and went over to the bar to place an order.
‘Is that her off the television?’ the barman said.
Larry took out his warrant card, showed it. ‘Give me a white wine for the lady, a pint of beer for me.’
‘No need to have worried about me,’ the barman said as he pulled the beer. ‘See them here all the time.’
‘See who?’
‘The rich and the famous. Some are pleasant, leave a decent tip, some are miserable sods, heads up their arse, deem the plebs not worthy to lick their boots. What’s that one like?’ The barman cocked his head in Tricia’s direction.
‘So far, she’s delightful. Never know, not truly, not when you’re a police officer.’
‘Too friendly, you don’t trust them; difficult, you’re suspicious.’
‘That’s it.’
‘Did she have anything to do with him that fell off that building?’
Larry felt that cordiality had gone far enough. He picked up the drinks and returned to his seat.
‘Plenty to say?’ Tricia asked.
‘Fount of knowledge.’
‘Him or barmen in general?’
‘They don’t miss much, only too willing to talk if the money’s right or the conversation is convivial.’
Larry clinked glasses
