Not Dead Yet

fell asleep on the sofa.

101
    The production did not wrap until almost 1 a.m. Part of the problem causing constant delays to the outdoors filming, Anna Galicia could see, watching among the thinning crowd of onlookers from New Road, was the constant coming and going of Police, Fire Brigade and Scientific Support vehicles.
    The scene they were filming was Gaia, or rather Maria Fitzherbert, bewildered and in tears, storming out of the front entrance of the Pavilion, having been dumped by her royal lover.
    Although the crowd were kept too far back to hear what was being said, except for that final call announcing it was a wrap, it was clear that Gaia had been keeping everyone waiting and was in an irritable mood tonight. Big surprise there! Bloody bitch.
    She watched her return to her motorhome.
    Finally, at 1.20 a.m. someone emerged, a fit-looking female in jeans and a blouson jacket, and it took Anna a moment to realize this was Gaia with cropped hair. She was accompanied by an assistant, and instantly surrounded by her security guards. Much earlier, Anna had watched the boy leave, accompanied by another assistant and two security guards. Presumably back to the hotel, to bed.
    There were rumours going around the crowd that he’d narrowly missed being killed by a falling chandelier. Shame that, she thought. She’d have liked to have seen Gaia grieving. Although it would have messed up her plans.
    The convoy of five black Range Rovers swept out of the grounds, and there was a general hive of activity in their wake. Lamps being shut down, equipment being moved and stowed in the trucks parked in the grounds. The police cordon broke up, and within ten minutes several white Sussex Police vans had arrived and were loading up with officers. Anna, watching keenly, began walking, looking for her opportunity.
    It came sooner than she had anticipated. As she reached theentrance to the car park at the rear of the Dome concert hall, she saw that the three police officers who had been manning the cordon were walking away. Two people were closing up the catering truck and four men were occupied in lifting some camera dolly track.
    No one took any notice of her as she slipped between the trucks, then over to the motorhomes. She paused in the shadows between Judd Halpern’s and Gaia’s and looked around. Neither had lights on inside. She saw a security guard standing nearby, smoking a cigarette and talking on his phone or radio, looking away from her.
    Now!
    She stepped up to the front door of Gaia’s trailer, clutching the key she had collected from AD Motorhomes in St Albans earlier in the day, and slipped it into the lock.
    Then she turned it.

102
    Roy Grace woke up at 2 a.m. in front of the television, to see Jack Nicholson on the screen, in a hard hat, standing in flat, open land in front of the nodding-dog arm of an oil derrick. He yawned and hit the off-button. Humphrey was fast asleep beside him, the half-destroyed stuffed elephant lying on the floor below him.
    He hauled himself upstairs, brushed his teeth and fell into bed. But for the next three hours he barely slept a wink, a jumble of disturbed thoughts playing, like a video, inside his head. Gaia was in all of them. So was the Chief Constable Tom Martinson, repeatedly berating him for missing a vital clue.
    Completely wide awake at 5 a.m., he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Cleo, padded through into the bathroom and closed the door. He showered, shaved and brushed his teeth, then dressed and went downstairs. Humphrey was still curled up on the sofa, asleep. He picked up his briefcase and stepped out into the courtyard. It was now almost full daylight and raining lightly.
    Fifteen minutes later, using his security card, he let himself in through the front door of Sussex House, climbed the stairs, walked through the deserted offices of the Major Crime Branch and entered his office. He put his briefcase down, went into the kitchenette area and made himself a strong coffee, which he carried back to his office.
    Then he logged on to the internet and entered a Google search for Gaia and auctions .
    There were thousands of results, but it didn’t take him long, narrowing down the criteria he entered, to find what he was looking for. The auction for the yellow check suit had taken place over two weeks last November. The suit had been sold for £27,200.
    Although he didn’t know much about these things, that struck him as a lot of money, however good the