“Every three months,” says Amy, nodding. “They take a sample at Maximum Impact.”
“And could Loubet get hold of that?” Steve asks.
“I hope to God he couldn’t,” says Amy.
36
Max Highfield, the World’s Seventh Sexiest Male, not that the Academy seems to care about that, sits in a huge Winnebago, dressed as a Roman centurion. He is reading lines from a thick yellow script opposite a film director. She is wearing headphones around her neck, and is also holding a script.
“I shall not praise Caesar this day. This victory does not honor him, for there is no honor in sight upon this field. The bloodshed stains his hands, and the bones of children we see scattered around us will bury him. We remember, soldiers, we remember this day as we march on Rome, as we march toward destiny. Death to Caesar!”
Max puts the script down. “I think I’ll just say ‘Death to Caesar!’ and do the rest with my eyes.”
The director nods, and draws some lines through her script.
There is a knock on the Winnebago door.
“Come,” says Max.
A runner enters with a bouquet of flowers. “Just delivered for you.”
Max looks at the flowers, and returns to his centurion voice. “They please me.”
The runner nods, uncertainly. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“A coffee, by my oath?” says Max. “And think you, does a Roman centurion drink coffee, messenger?”
“I don’t know,” says the runner. “We’ve got Coke Zero?”
“I think Roman centurions drank coffee, Max,” says the director. “It’s been around for thousands of years.”
“Mmm,” grunts Max. “Then I shall have a coffee upon your return.”
The runner nods. “How do you take it?”
“Soy milk latte,” says Max. “And hasten!”
The runner nods and puts the flowers on a table. As the runner leaves, Max picks up the card that came with the flowers and opens it. It reads:
You’re Dead
37
“Jeff could get hold of your blood, though?” Rosie says, quietly.
“It wouldn’t be Jeff,” says Amy. “He’s the one who warned me about Loubet and about Joe Blow.”
“Though he did know where you were, when all three of them were murdered,” says Steve. “And he knew where you were when Kevin came calling. Who else at Maximum Impact might be involved?”
“Henk van Veen,” says Amy. “Left the company three months ago, been stealing clients ever since.”
“So maybe killing clients as well?” suggests Rosie. “Scare people away from Maximum Impact?”
“Where is Henk?” Steve asks.
“Back in England, as far as I know,” says Amy. “But he wouldn’t know my movements.”
“But he could have taken your blood,” says Steve. “Months ago?”
“And Susan Knox,” says Amy. “She’s Jeff’s right-hand woman. She’d know where I was, and she’d know where my blood was.”
“I think we have to keep moving,” says Rosie. “If Amy’s blood is at that scene, then—”
“Could the police match it to you, though, Amy?” Steve asks. “Is your DNA in any database?”
“Well, I’ve never been arrested,” says Amy. “Another thing Maximum Impact insists on. But I don’t want to take any chances. If that’s my blood at the scene, I want to get as far away from South Carolina as I can.”
“Come on, let’s go to St. Lucia,” suggests Rosie. “Keep investigating.”
“I don’t know,” says Steve, glancing into his tree house. “I’ve just unpacked, and I’m settled in, and I don’t—”
“How long did unpacking take?” Amy asks.
“It doesn’t matter how long it took,” says Steve. “If I unpack, I settle. You know that, Amy. I’ve only just got here.”
“I think I’d like to go down there,” says Amy. “I have to keep moving, so I might as well go somewhere I can be useful. See what we can find out about Bella Sanchez. Was she carrying money too? Was she shot by a local cop for hire?”
“Did they find blood at the scene?” says Rosie.
