“I can’t stay long; I’ve got to get off, but,” Dave said, “I just picked up your dad from the police station.”

“You? Why you?” asked Kay. Why would her own father call him over her?

“He didn’t want to disturb you,” Dave said.

“Well I am disturbed Dave. Very disturbed,” Kay said and she was thirsty again. Itchy again. She looked at the bar. Her head was beginning to throb. There was a shriek of laughter; Julia was being held in the air by two men with naked torsos wearing dickie bows. Julia held up her arms like Marilyn

Monroe playing to the crowd and everyone clapped.

“We wanted to ask you something Kay, didn’t we Dave?”

Ariana said. Dave took a second to compose himself; he ran a hand over his mouth and chin and shifted from one foot to the other.

“We’re getting married,” he said and kissed Ariana full on the lips, which lingered, then went deeper and became a French kiss. Kay saw Ariana’s tongue wrestling into Dave’s mouth. Kay tried to look away. Ariana pushed her fingertips into Dave’s scalp and as they pulled away she was still biting his lip, holding onto a portion between her teeth. Kay saw Belinda Salas at the other side of room watching through painful eyes. Belinda was not blinking. She was watching Dave and Ariana with a pale ashen face, holding herself upright against the giant ‘The Ex-Factor’ book cover. Her knuckles were tight and white as if she might snap the precious artefact in half.

“Congratulations!”

“We’re not inviting anyone else, well except for Ariana’s sister Rhea, who’s flying in, but we would like to ask you to be our witnesses – you and Julia,” said Dave.

“I’m very touched. I really am. I’d be proud to be your witness and I’m sure Julia will be too, once she gets down off that man’s shoulders,” said Kay.

“Thursday? That’s quick.” It was a shotgun wedding. Must be. Ariana probably didn’t want

to say, because Kay was her boss. Kay watched as Belinda walked out, phone pressed to her ear. Her stomach knotted again. She knew the call would come any minute. That the police would ID the body.

“Be right back,” she said. Ariana and Dave were already kissing again, completely caught up in their love. She manoeuvred between guests and found Belinda outside. She hung up the phone.

“Was that the police?” asked Kay.

“My contact in the morgue,” Belinda said. She looked as pale as Kay felt. “They’ve got an ID.” Kay felt sick; she took a shallow breath, tried not to vomit. “We know him, Kay. You know him. It’s Benedict Phillips.”