EIGHTY-ONE

12.50 P.M.

‘Okay, Penn, how do I avoid feeling like shit for calling her all sorts of names after she bailed on us?’ Stacey asked.

The boss had updated them on Frost’s condition once she was in the car heading away from Frost’s house.

‘You don’t cos I feel the exact same way,’ Penn answered. ‘So, we just say a few prayers and hope for a speedy recovery and the chance to buy her a pint when this is all over.’

‘Who’d miss you, Penn?’ Stacey asked. ‘I mean if you went off grid for a while.’

‘Jasper, Lynne, you lot, Aunt Edna up in Fife and I suppose a few of my buddies at the pub if I was gone long enough. You?’

‘Devon, my mom, you lot, three aunties and five cousins. Oh, and probably the Deliveroo guy.’ She paused. ‘So, how is it that we found Frost? I mean, we’re not friends, we’re not family and we’re not colleagues. By all accounts, even her boss made a call to our boss and then just washed his hands of her. On a scale of one to ten, how sad is that?’

‘Jeez, Stace, now I want to invite her for Christmas dinner.’

Stacey had the same sentiment. She hated to think of someone who had so few people who cared about her that she was found by a police officer who didn’t even like her. Though she knew that was a simplification of a complicated relationship, one which right now she didn’t have the time or skill to pick apart.

She just thanked God that the boss was as bloody-minded as she was. Who knew when Frost would have been discovered otherwise.

By that same token, she was hoping the boss was going to get something good out of Peter Harris about his van.

As for herself, there’d been one person on her mind for most of the last few hours. A person she felt hadn’t been given enough attention so far, since it was attention that he seemed to crave. Just like the Jester. While Penn was busy working on the clue, she was going to follow the boss’s instructions and look more closely at the people with something to gain.

There was no question in her mind that they lived in a fame-hungry era. There were families who had made billions from laying their lives bare for the public’s judgement, consumption, entertainment and even ridicule. There were individuals getting spin-off shows from reality TV shows that weren’t scripted but weren’t real either. Groups of supposed friends who didn’t see each other from one season to the next and then acted like they were friends when the cameras were rolling, just so they could create drama for the invested and voracious viewer.

Stacey knew this because she was one of those viewers, not for everything, but there were shows she enjoyed. Even she knew it had all gone too far. Now so-called celebrities were being plucked from shows to form new shows and then they appeared on even more shows, all because they lived in Essex or Chelsea, or they went to an island to find love. Except no one wanted love, and no one cared as long as there was enough drama to fill a ninety-minute episode.

It had developed into a culture. There were Instagram stars, TikTokers and YouTubers who were prepared to do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame.

And that’s why once she was finished with Steve Ashworth, she felt Jared Truss deserved another look.