Deadly Cry (DI Kim Stone #13) - Angela Marsons Page 0,78
Two more signings and the deed would be done. The two-week tour had gone without incident, except for a few mean shout-outs from people passing by the bookstores. All moved on quietly by security.
Only last night, Tyra had messaged her for an update on book sales. Kate had promised she’d have an accurate figure later today, but that had been a lie. She had an accurate figure almost by the hour.
Sales of the book were not what she or the publisher had expected or hoped for. The initial buy-in had been promising but reported till sales were less than twenty per cent of the initial orders after two weeks. Kate hadn’t expected the book to make the Sunday Times bestseller list, but it was barely making any list at all. The e-book wasn’t faring much better, but priced at almost ten pounds, it seemed the publishers failed to understand that most readers wouldn’t pay that for something they couldn’t physically hold.
She’d hoped the book tour and associated interest would bring potential foreign deals and translations. Just a week ago, publishers in Germany, Hungary and Spain had been showing interest in making a deal, but the conversations had ended, and the emails had dried up and Kate was no longer receiving responses to her messages. What appeared to have been a passing interest had died completely, and this was what happened if you didn’t seize every single opportunity.
The public and press were losing interest. The requests for interviews were dying off and even social media appeared to have softened towards Tyra. Fascination in the ex-glamour model and her story was waning.
But there was a spring in her step as she locked the door of the cottage behind her because she was sure that would have changed by the end of the day.
Seventy-Nine
‘Not sure the brother was as supportive as he could have been,’ Bryant said once they were sitting in Sam’s Bostin Bites in Old Hill. The café was double fronted with seating and a takeout counter for homemade products. Bryant had bagged a couple of Scotch eggs and two red onion sausage rolls to take home later.
Kim thought Bryant’s assessment was a little on the charitable side.
He continued. ‘Seemed a bit of an…’
‘Arrogant prick are the words you’re looking for,’ she offered, just to help him out.
‘Yeah, but there was more to it than that. He was superior, judgemental, dismissive, almost like he was gloating.’
Kim nodded her agreement as she sipped her drink.
‘You think it was wise to tell Robyn about Archie, that we think he’s still alive?’
‘Absolutely, the woman needs something to hope for.’
‘You really think we can bring him back safely?’ Bryant asked, and she swore she heard an element of doubt in the question.
‘We’re about to find out,’ Kim said as Frost entered the café and tottered towards them in her four-inch heels.
Once upon a time, Kim had been amused by the woman’s insistence on wearing the tallest shoes she could find despite appearing clumsy and awkward. Until she had found out that the woman had one leg shorter than the other and had been teased about the limp all her life.
Bringing even more attention to the way she walked was Frost’s unique way of hiding her own insecurities.
‘Hey, Frost,’ Kim said as she took a seat and placed her studded Michael Kors bag on the spare chair.
‘Knock it off, Stone. You’re giving me anxiety. This courteousness unnerves me, and I prefer you being a bitch. It’s a persona I know and expect.’
‘Frost, we agree on something,’ Bryant said. ‘Because her being nice freaks me out too.’
Kim offered her colleague a look.
‘I want to do it again,’ Kim said.
‘You think that was definitely him?’ Frost asked, not needing any further explanation.
Kim knew that she was treading a fine line with what she should or shouldn’t reveal to the reporter, but she was asking for a favour. She had suspected he would respond better to a message sent through a small local paper rather than a national. It wasn’t fame and notoriety he was after. It was contact, and this was more intimate and personal. Like it or not, Frost’s articles were now the medium through which she and the killer spoke.
She also knew that engaging with a man who had killed three women was not without risk. Just saying one thing wrong could destroy the rapport he thought he had with her. Her fear in doing that was for the safety of Archie.