Free Kill For Love by RAY CONNOLLY Page B

upmarket.
    “Ah, pity! Anyway, if ever you’re
around Smithfield
and fancy a cup of tea...” And, pulling out a card bearing his new address, he
pressed it into her hand, and went off to rejoin his party.
    “Mount Venus
Cutting Room,” she read to herself, and, amused, slipped the card into her
pocket.
    “Okay gobbledegook!” Browne began
again. “But is any of it really relevant for our purposes?”
    “Who knows? The lyrics might be
nonsense to you and me, but millions of people spend half their waking hours on
the internet trying to work out what they mean.”
    “Millions of Jesse Gadden freaks.”
    “I thought you liked him.”
    “I like his voice. But I never
listen to what he’s singing about.”
    “So what’s going on?”
    “For me, catchy tunes and lots of
guitars. The rest is bollocks.”
    That made her smile. At least he
was honest.
    Noticing her change of mood
Browne grinned. “All right! What do we have on his childhood?” he said, opening
a laptop on his knee.
    She relented. “Hardly anything!
He’s managed to keep most of it a secret.”
    “Yes. And why?”
    “That’s for us to find out.”
    “Perhaps it’s just incredibly
boring.”
    “Most people’s are. On the other
hand most rock stars buy their mothers nice detached bungalows at the seaside.
He has no mother, we know that. But what happened to her? Why is he so alone?
No-one gets through childhood without being influenced, so, is there someone in
his past who helped shape him, or who can shed light on him? If there is, let’s
find him or her. And then there are all the millions he gives to charities and
the hospital he’s planning to fund in Ireland. It’s for children. Maybe
there’s something there, too.”
    Browne, famous at WSN for committing
everything to computer, typed rapidly into his laptop.
    For ten further minutes they
talked about the kind of programme they had in mind. Then, just as suddenly as
he’d begun, Browne snapped the laptop closed. “Okay. Leave it to me. I’ll come
up with something, don’t worry.”
    Kate finished her drink. “Good. I’ll
see you tomorrow then.” She got up.
    He pulled a silly face. “Pity you
don’t fancy me. We’d make a great team.”
    He was so brazen she almost
laughed. “I’m sure I’d be a disappointment.”
    Already though, he’d had another
thought. “That American girl…Beverly. She’s a Jesse Gadden fan, isn’t she?
Maybe I should talk to her. She’s pretty.”
    “Maybe you should,” she said, and
left him to his alternative plans.   Surely Beverly
would never be so stupid.

Chapter Nine

    September 24:

    Her phone began ringing as she was closing her
front door. She hurried to get to it before her voicemail cut in. “Hello?”
    “Hi.” The voice was breathy. “It’s
Jesse.”
    “Oh! Yes! Hello!” She was, she
knew, trying to sound as casual as possible. She’d met and interviewed kings,
killers and presidents without qualm, but with Gadden every word seemed to come
out sounding gauche.
    “’ Hello ’,” Gadden mimicked,
putting on an English accent. “Look, er, I was wondering...”
    “Yes?”  
    “Can you cook?”
    “Cook?” She felt the slightest
breath of panic. “Well, I know how to use a microwave.”
    “I’ve known women in Cork work miracles with a
microwave. If I were to come over tonight could you perhaps work a small
miracle for me, d’you think?”
    “You want me to cook something for
you?” Jesse Gadden had just invited himself to dinner.
    “Do you have a problem with that?”
    “Er...no. No, of course not.” It
wouldn’t have occurred to him that she might have other plans for the evening.
She had, but she’d just changed them.
    “I mean, if you’d rather we went
to Pizza Express…that would be all right, too. I just thought it would be
easier to talk about the interview at your place.”
    “Here will be fine.” Already she
was visualising a practically empty fridge, wondering if she had time to run to
the