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As Good As Dead (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder #3)(15)

Author:Holly Jackson

‘Oh, Jackie,’ Cara said, with an over-flourished bow. ‘You are too good to me.’

‘I know, I know.’ Jackie waved her off. ‘I’m a saint. Pip, Ravi, what can I get you?’

Pip ordered a strong coffee; she’d already had two before leaving the house and her fingers were fast and fidgety. But how else would she make it through the day?

Ravi pursed his lips, eyeballing the ceiling like this was the hardest decision he’d ever faced. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I could be tempted by one of those marginally warm paninis.’

Pip rolled her eyes. Ravi must have forgotten he was dying of a hangover; absolutely zero willpower in the presence of sandwiches.

Pip settled on the far table, Cara taking the seat beside her, shoulders brushing together. Cara had never understood the concept of personal space, and yet, sitting here now, Pip was grateful for it. Cara wasn’t even supposed to be here any more, in Little Kilton. Her grandparents had planned to put the Wards’ house up for sale at the end of the school year. But minds changed and plans changed: Naomi found a job nearby in Slough, and Cara had decided to take a gap year to go travelling, working at the café to save up money. Suddenly, taking the Ward sisters out of Little Kilton was more complicated than leaving them here, so the grandparents were back in Great Abington, and Cara and Naomi were still in town. At least until next year. Now Cara would be the one left behind, when Pip left for Cambridge in a few weeks.

Pip couldn’t believe it would really happen, that Little Kilton would ever let her get away.

She nudged Cara back. ‘So, how’s Steph?’ she asked.

Steph: the new girlfriend. Although it had been a couple of months now, so maybe Pip shouldn’t think of her as new any more. The world moved on, even if she couldn’t. And Pip liked her; she was good for Cara, made her happy.

‘Yeah, she’s good. Training for a triathlon or something because she’s actually insane. Oh, wait, you’d take her side now wouldn’t you, Miss Runs-a-lot.’

‘Yep.’ Pip nodded. ‘Definitely Team Steph. She’d be a great asset in a zombie apocalypse.’

‘So would I,’ Cara said.

Pip pulled a face at her. ‘You would die within the first half an hour of any apocalypse scenario, let’s be honest.’

Ravi came over then, placing a tray down with their coffees and his sandwich. He’d already taken a massive bite before carrying it over, of course.

‘Oh, so,’ Cara lowered her voice, ‘big drama here this morning.’

‘What?’ Ravi asked between bites.

‘We suddenly had a bit of a rush, so there was a queue, and I was at the till taking orders. And then,’ her voice was a whisper now, ‘Max Hastings came in.’

Pip’s shoulders arched and her jaw tensed. Why was he everywhere? Why could she never get away from him?

‘I know,’ Cara said, reading Pip’s face. ‘And obviously I wasn’t going to serve him, so I told Jackie I’d clean the milk frother while she dealt with the customers. She took Max’s order, and then someone else came in.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘Jason Bell.’

‘Oh, really?’ Ravi said.

‘Yeah, he was standing in line behind Max. And even though I was trying to hide from them, I could see him kind of eyeballing the back of Max’s head.’

‘Understandably,’ Pip said. Jason Bell had just as much reason to hate Max Hastings as she did. Whatever the outcome of the trial, Max had drugged and raped his youngest daughter, Becca. And as horrific and unspeakable as that was, it was even worse than that. Max’s actions were the catalyst for Andie Bell’s death. You might even say a direct cause. Everything came back to Max Hastings, when you really thought about it: Becca traumatized, letting Andie die in front of her and covering it up. Sal Singh dead, believed to be Andie’s killer. That poor woman in Elliot Ward’s loft. Pip’s project. Her dog, Barney, buried in the back garden. Howie Bowers in prison, sharing whispers about Child Brunswick. Charlie Green arriving in town. Layla Mead. Jamie Reynolds missing. Stanley Forbes dead and blood on Pip’s hands. She could trace it all back to Max Hastings. The origin. Her cornerstone. And maybe Jason Bell’s too.

‘I mean, yeah,’ Cara said, ‘but I wasn’t expecting the next part. So, Jackie handed Max his drink, and as he was turning to walk away, Jason held out his elbow and nudged right into Max. Spilled coffee all down his T-shirt.’

‘No?’ Ravi stared at Cara.

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