DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

but if it’s scurrilous enough, the publisher’s lawyers will call our bluff, ask us for a reason for halting its release. Once the gutter press gets involved, well, you know the consequences.’
‘Yes, of course.’
MacTavish relieved that he had given his reasons, phoned for some tea. Five minutes later, a pleasant middle-aged woman entered and placed the pot and two cups on the desk, with some small cakes on a plate to one side.
‘Mrs Gregory makes them for me. Wouldn’t know what I would do without her fussing over me.’
‘Please sir, you’ll make me blush.’ With that, she left the office unobtrusively.
Cups of tea in hand, and cake consumed by both men, the conversation continued. ‘Detective Superintendent, here’s the deal. We know she will talk, and there’s every sign that she is becoming irrational. We’ve had some experts assess her behaviour, and there are the early signs of premature senility. She may well say something inadvisable, even when she intends not to. We can’t take the risk. If she’s dead, then that’s fine. Harsh to say, of course, but there it is. If she’s alive, we’ve got to stop any publications and her talking out of turn.’
‘But how can you do that?’
‘That’s the hard part. We’re a democratic country, with free speech, so we can’t restrict her or the media. I wouldn’t agree to that anyway. It’s a dilemma, and I’m pleased to say that’s not my responsibility.’
‘What does she know?’ The detective superintendent wasn’t sure he would get a response.
‘You’re putting me on the spot. It’s privileged information, on a need-to-know basis, and frankly you don’t need to know.’
‘Sir, I can understand the dilemma, but is it that serious?’
‘Political dynamite! Hits at the highest levels of the government. It could cause a major electoral defeat.’
‘Who she’s been screwing recently, or in the past, that sort of thing?’
‘In the past, and yes, there’s plenty of what you just intimated, plus some more.’
‘We’ll keep looking. I’ll tell my people that it’s important. They’ll just have to trust me on this one.’
‘Will they?’ MacTavish asked.
‘If I give my word, they’ll accept it. It won’t stop them fishing around.’
‘If they get too close, let me know.’
***
On the face of it, Fiona Avers had all the right ingredients: celebrity mother, acting ability. There were, however, two elements apparently vital in the acting profession that the daughter of Marjorie Frobisher did not have, the most obvious being that she was not attractive. In fact, the less generous would have said she was plain, verging on ugly. The less obvious of her two main failings was a violent temper, coupled with an incredibly short fuse. Unattractive women have reached the pinnacle of acting success, but invariably they came with a winning personality, a willingness to understand their shortcomings – in fact, to embrace them.
Fiona Avers was a tall woman with what could only be described as masculine features. Her arms were bulbous and appeared a little short for her height: substantially taller than her mother, a good head and shoulders above her father. Her legs were also on the fat side, her calf muscles tending to bulge. Attempts at rectification through exercises ‒ her parents had paid plenty to help ‒ had come to nought.
Her face, some would say, showed character, but they were generous in their comments, and the only one who said it with any conviction was her friend, literally her only friend, Molly Waters. They had met at school, experimented with lesbianism, even when at their most precocious, most promiscuous, and most willing to screw any male they could lay their hands on. Unfortunately for both, there was a surfeit of young and attractive females, also at their most precocious, most promiscuous, and invariably both Fiona and Molly were left with each other to satisfy their carnal lusts. Molly did not find the experience unpleasant, Fiona did, although she endured and eventually embraced the experience.
Molly was fat at school, although she had a pleasant face and a personality to match. The fatness of youth had carried over into adulthood, and now she was severely in need of a healthy diet and a good makeover. The pleasant personality remained, and it served her well in life. She had tried men for a while, even found a man who treated her well, moved in with him for a few months, but realised from her early intimate encounters that it was women that satisfied her sexually, especially a woman by the name of Fiona Avers.
Fiona Avers, however, felt no such allure for the female body except for hers when a man was labouring on top of her, and that was rare. The world, the society that she moved in, was awash with attractive women, and she was invariably left the wallflower at any social gathering. ‘The girl least likely to get laid’ had become a catchphrase among those she regarded as friends, although they were fair-weather friends lured by her spending and her tenuous connection with celebrity.
Her face ‒ only Molly Waters saw it as beautiful ‒ was large with a pronounced forehead. Her eyes were sullen with overhanging eyelids. Her ears were small with a distinctive lobe which she concealed by growing her hair long, which did not help as her hair was curly and harsh. Her nose had also given concern. Cosmetic surgery had dealt with that problem, although it had done little to help with her overall appearance.
Her mother had elegantly balanced features and could only be described as beautiful; her father had a rugged look about him with strong masculine characteristics. Not handsome, but interesting – women felt comfortable in his presence.
Everyone in her close family, uncles and aunts mainly, always said that she reminded them of Great Granny Maud, but the only photo that Fiona had seen of the family stalwart was old and grainy –