Believing the Lie - Elizabeth George [173]
“From far more than hugs, I hope,” Yaffa said.
“That,” Zed told her, “you may rely on.”
She laughed. “You’re a very naughty boy.” And then to his mother, “Mama Benjamin, our Zed’s being rather naughty again.”
“‘Mama Benjamin’?”
“She insisted,” Yaffa said, and before he could comment, she went on. “So tell me what you’ve uncovered, my dear. You’ve moved your story forward a leap, haven’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”
The reality Zed admitted to himself was that this was the real reason for his call. He wanted to crow to the woman who was pretending to be the love of his life, as any man putatively caught within the snares of adoration would wish. He said, “I’ve found the cop.”
“Have you indeed? That’s marvellous, Zed. I knew that you would. And will you phone your editor with this news? Will you”— she made her voice appropriately anxious— “will you come home?”
“Can’t yet. I don’t want to phone Rod, either. I want to have this story signed and sealed so I can hand it over and tell him it’s ready to be run. Word for word with every detail chased down. I’ve spoken to the detective and I’ve struck a deal. We’re going at it as a team.”
“My God.” Yaffa produced breathless admiration. “That’s brilliant, Zed.”
“She’s going to be helping without knowing she’s helping. We’ll track down one story as far as she’s concerned, but I’ll end up with two and one of them is her.”
“The detective’s a woman, then?”
“Detective Sergeant Cotter, she’s called. First name Deb. Got her nailed down. She’s part of the story but she’s not all of it. Turns out she’s looking into the wife, Alatea Fairclough. She’s not onto Nick Fairclough at all. Well, she was at first, but turns out there’s something particularly iffy about the wife. Have to say I reckoned that from the first. It never made sense that someone like Nick Fairclough could have ended up with an Alatea.”
“Oh?” Yaffa sounded interested. “Why is this, Zed?”
“He’s an okay sort of bloke, but she… His wife’s drop-dead gorgeous, Yaf. I’ve never in my life seen anyone like her.”
There was silence from Yaffa’s end. Then a little, “Goodness,” comprised her entire response, and Zed wanted to slap himself sharply. What a bloody gaffe, he thought. He said, “She’s not my type at all, of course. Cool and distant. The sort of woman keeps a man running to do her bidding, if you know what I mean. Sort of a black widow and you’re in the web? You know what black widows do, eh, Yaffa?”
“They attract males to mate with, as I recall,” she said.
“Well right. Of course. But point is, they’re deadly. It’s the old mate-and-die. Or rather, it’s the old mate-and-be-murdered. Gives me the absolute willies, Yaffa. She’s beautiful, but there’s something strange going on with her. One can tell.”
Yaffa seemed to take comfort from this although Zed wondered what it meant that she needed comfort, what with the loathed Micah in Tel Aviv studying to be a physician, a nuclear physicist, a neurosurgeon, and a financial wizard all rolled into one. She said, “You must be careful then, Zed. This could be dangerous.”
“Not a worry there,” he told her. “Plus, I’ve got the Scotland Yard detective with me for added protection.”
“Another woman.” Did Yaffa sound sad?
“A redhead like me, but I like my women dark.”
“Like this Alatea?”
“No,” he said. “Not one bit like this Alatea. Anyway, darling, this detective’s got information by the bucketful. She’s giving it to me in exchange for my sitting on the story for a few more days.”
“But what will you tell your editor, Zed? How long can you hold off giving him something?”
“No problem there. I’ll have Rodney where I want him once I tell him about the deal I’ve struck with the Met. He’ll love that. It’s right up his alley.”
“You be careful, then.”
“Will do, always.”
Yaffa rang off then. Zed was left