To Kill A Critic by Michael Leese

Author:Michael Leese [Leese, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mike Leese Communications
Published: 2018-01-13T22:00:00+00:00

George Mavers was regarded as the finest theatrical agent in London, representing a roster of top names. He operated from a three-room office close to the heart of Covent Garden.

The first, a reception, also acted as a small waiting area. It housed a large leather settee of indeterminate age, and a magnificent walnut desk at which two people sat, a slender young woman with a tattoo sleeve covering her right arm, and a very large man, aged in his early forties, with a cotton sleeve covering his left arm. They made an arresting sight.

Hooley and Roper were sat on the settee waiting for Mavers to come free from a telephone call. The DCI was happy with the wait, it gave him a chance to relax and catch up on events. He eyed the pair at the desk and noticed they seemed to be sharing the duties of answering the phone and dealing with paperwork, even though the man appeared built for guarding duties.

It was coming up to lunch time and Hooley’s nose twitched as a huge platter of sandwiches, covered in clear protective film, was delivered and taken through to the rear of the office.

All thoughts of his own food were dismissed as Mavers appeared. He was about the same height as Hooley, very skinny like Roper, and looked to be about 70 years old, with long, white hair that was still thick and parted in the middle.

He was wearing a suit made from a sort of grey and black check, a pink shirt and a large, black, bow tie. Hooley imagined that in other circumstances he might have looked quite dapper, but despite wearing a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, his red-rimmed eyes revealed his distress at the news of the Robert Randall’s murder.

The DCI was not a man given to fanciful thoughts but as he followed Mavers he could feel a deep sense of melancholy emanating from him. He glanced at Roper and could see that even though the younger man often struggled with emotions, his own or others, on this occasion he too was looking subdued, so intense was the grief of the man they had come to see.

They followed Mavers past the second room, which was filled with rows of desks topped with computer screens. Each space was occupied by a young man or woman, all tapping away at their keyboards. This is where the sandwiches had been delivered.

The agent turned and saw Hooley looking into the room.

“Facebook, Twitter, Instagram…” he rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the room. “Meet the team that keeps all our clients busy on the different social media sites. If it was left to me I wouldn’t bother, but you can’t get away from it today, so I leave that side of things to them.

“With a few keystrokes they can achieve what it used to take me weeks of careful preparation. It’s a lot more efficient, but a lot less fun than a long-lunch with a showbiz journalist. In fact, you can hardly get a journalist out for a lunch time drink now.

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