Dead Famous

DAY THIRTY-TWO. 10.15 p.m.

“Very short fuse, Master David,” Coleridge observed thoughtfully. “Short enough for murder, do you think?”

Rewinding slightly and freezing on David’s furious face, it did seem possible.

“He certainly looks like he wants to murder her,” said Hooper. “But of course it wasn’t Layla that ended up getting killed, was it?”

“As we have discussed endlessly, sergeant. If the motive were obvious our killer would be awaiting trial right now. All we can hope to find is the seed from which a murder will grow.”

Hooper informed Coleridge as briskly as he dared that he was aware of this.