‘Hello Edward,’ said Crispin, as Edward pushed his way into the studio. ‘This finishes in three.’
‘Perfect,’ said Douglas Aspinall. ‘Now you go call your man,’ he directed.
Edward moved back out and stood in the narrow gap next to a huge jackboard which had been left from the station’s pre-digital days. Here he could speak without anyone hearing. But would Jordan Callintree even pick up?
To his surprise, the police officer was at the other end after one ring.
‘Jordan, it’s Edward.’
‘I know. I’m sorry I’ve been—’
‘You’ve been busy. You don’t ever have to give me the time. I understand. You were incredibly helpful at the start.’
‘We have a real crisis now, Edward.’
‘I saw you on TV, outside the hospital. That poor girl.’
‘I know, what an absolute tragedy. The family vicar broke the news, basically, and we’ve been running to catch up.’
Edward momentarily lost his nerve. ‘I, um, I need your help with Wendy Wrigley, the crossbow killing case. It’s a big ask. She’s been onto me to help her. I just need you to help me with the crime scene photos.’
‘You’re calling about that now?’ Jordan’s voice was incredulous.
Edward took a breath. There must be less than a minute left on theCarouselsong. ‘No. No, I’m not. I’m about to go to airwith some information about the Toppings crash. You need to know.’
‘What?’ asked Jordan Callintree.
‘I’m going to protect my source, because the person seemed very agitated, but here is what we’re about to broadcast. The capsules the motorbike rider dropped were radioactive.’
‘What?’
‘Yes.’
‘How … no, I would know!’
‘I’m sorry, that’s what happened.’ Without mentioning the professor, Edward ran through some of the other details that would be in her report. When he had finished, Jordan Callintree said, ‘And am I mentioned?’
‘I won’t mention you.’
‘But the chopsticks?’
‘Can you confirm she used them?’
‘It’s that bloody professor, isn’t it? She hasn’t been in touch withusyet!’
‘Do I take that as a confirmation?’
He was silent.
Edward said, ‘I can’t tell you who I spoke to. I guess it will be obvious. Jordan, I have to go—’
‘The professor. Bastard. I can’t stop you, can I? Putting this out?’
‘No.’
‘The bloody chopsticks.’ That really was confirmation. Silence, then: ‘I want to thank you for telling me and for keeping my name out of it.’
It was the slightest pressure, but Edward felt it like a vice. Ten seconds later he was in the studio, ignoring the red light. He took the chair opposite Crispin, conscious that the old actor had been forced to fill for a full minute and was fuming.
