Dead Giveaway by Simon Brett

for her lateness. Television time, Charles remembered, except for the unshakable rigidity of studio schedules, is always approximate.
    ‘Can I, er . . .?’ He looked round for the waiter.
    But she had already snapped her fingers to summon one, ordered herself a Screwdriver and ‘another of the same’ for him. Charles wasn’t used to being with these thoroughly emancipated women.
    Sydnee didn’t bother with small talk, but went straight to the point. ‘I’m convinced Chippy didn’t kill Barrett, but I want you to prove that she didn’t.’
    ‘Is she a close friend of yours?’
    ‘Fairly close, yes. We’ve worked on a lot of shows together. Been off on a few long locations. You get to know people pretty well stuck for a wet six weeks in a hotel in Scotland.’
    Charles nodded. There were people he had got to know pretty well in similar circumstances.
    ‘And, from what you know of her character, you don’t see her as a murderer?’
    ‘No way.’
    ‘What is she like?’
    ‘Well, she’s dramatic and she’s neurotic. Started as an actress before she went into stage management, so she tends to make a big production of everything. Also, looking like she does, she always has plenty of men after her . . .
    ‘But she’s one of those girls who always ends up falling for the ones who are complete shits.’
    ‘Right.’ Sydnee looked at him appraisingly, but with approval, respecting his judgement. As he had on the day of the recording, Charles caught a momentary glimpse of the real person beneath the surface efficiency.
    ‘And Barrett Doran was the latest in this long line of shits?’
    Sydnee nodded.
    ‘How long had it been going on?’
    ‘Maybe six months on and off. They met on another W.E.T. series. Another game show, actually. Chippy was A.S.M. on that.’
    ‘They didn’t move in together?’
    ‘No. He’d just turn up at her flat every now and then. Usually not when he said he would. She spent a lot of those evenings sitting waiting with the dinner slowly drying up in the cooker. Then another night he’d turn up at one in the morning with no warning at all.’
    ‘How to win friends and influence people.’
    ‘Oh, Chippy lapped it up. There was always a kamikaze element in her relationships. She asked for it.’
    ‘And she got it.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Barrett presumably had other fish to fry?’
    ‘You bet. He was the worst sort of celebrity. Reckoned, because he was a famous face, he could get off with anyone. And usually he could.’
    ‘Did Chippy mind that?’
    ‘At first I think she did. Then she realised that either she would have to accept all the others or forget it, so she stopped complaining. I think it kind of fuelled her masochism.’
    ‘Was Barrett married?’
    ‘Not significantly. I think there probably was a wife somewhere in the background, but it didn’t inhibit his activities.’
    ‘And, if Chippy was prepared to put up with all that, why was she suddenly reckoned to be capable of murdering him?’
    ‘Because he broke it off. Didn’t just stop turning up at her flat, didn’t just stop ringing her . . . he actually told her: Forget it, it’s all over.’
    ‘Any idea why?’
    ‘I think he was probably just bored with her. The sex, from her account, was pretty good, but then he could get plenty of sex elsewhere. I think also Chippy was a bit ordinary for him.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Just an Assistant Stage Manager. Little bit of fluff, little bit of nothing. Barrett was getting to that stage of celebrity where he no longer just wanted to screw everything in sight, he only wanted to screw other celebs. You know, he wanted to be seen around with people, wanted to make it to the gossip columns.’
    ‘And Chippy didn’t match up?’
    ‘No. Not famous enough.’
    ‘Hmm. Sounds as if she was well shot of him.’
    ‘Yes, of course she was. I told her it’d be a disaster from the start. Trouble was, Chippy reckoned she had fallen in love with him – no, let’s be fair