Dead Famous

There were cries of “No!” at this. Coleridge was the hero of the hour and the audience would not hear a word said against him, even by himself.

“You go back into the corridor,” Coleridge continued, “you run through the tu

“All that remained for you to do then, Ms He

“That’s because there’s nothing to look for. There was no switch, you utter cunt! I didn’t kill her and you know it. You’ve made this up because you’re too fucking thick to work out which one of those sad bastards standing beside you actually did it!”

Editors worldwide taking live sound and vision from Peeping Tom struggled to activate their bleeper machines.They all missed it; they had been too absorbed in what Coleridge was saying. Geraldine’s string of obscenities went out to the world, a genuine moment of reality TV.

Coleridge did not look at Geraldine. He looked past her to the back of the studio, where once more Hooper silently gave him the thumbs-up. He knew that the time had come to introduce Banquo’s ghost to the feast.

“Ah, but Ms He

“What!”

“Let them shake their gory locks at you, Ms He

“What the fuck are you talking about, you silly old cunt!” said Geraldine.

A slightly bashful look flickered across Coleridge’s face. “Perhaps I have been slightly indulgent in my language. I should of course say your other murder preconstructions! Because you see, Ms He

And with a nod and a wave which quite frankly he enjoyed, Coleridge gestured to the technicians in the editing box that he was ready.

Pru, who had been acting under instructions from Trisha, pressed the cue button which she had hastily marked “Sally”. And to the astonishment of the entire world the naked figure of Sally, but Sally with her old mohican haircut, could be seen entering the toilet, or at least it easily could be Sally. Being a high, overhead shot, all that could really be seen were flashes of bare female limb, in this case tattooed, and of course the distinctive top of the head. The girl who could be Sally then sat on the toilet, put her head in her hands and was murdered by the same person in the sheet in exactly the same way that Kelly had been.

“Oh my God,” the real Sally murmured, suddenly aware of how close she had come to death.

Now the screen flickered and a second video was shown. This time it was the bald pate of Moon that was viewed from overhead entering the toilet. Again the sheeted figure stole across the living area, took up the knife and acted out the murder.

“Fookin’ hell!” Moon shrieked. “Are you saying that if I’d gone for a piss…?”

“Indeed I am, miss,” Coleridge replied. “Indeed I am. Interesting, isn’t it, how Geraldine He

Now the distinctive raven hair of Dervla was seen entering the toilet and, of course, the story was the same.

Finally, to everybody’s surprise, the beaded ringlets of Layla appeared, and once more the murder was enacted.

“Oh yes, Layla was there too,” said Coleridge, “Layla with her blond beaded braids. For how could Geraldine He

Again there was applause.

“All those girls were played by you, Ms He

“I told that fucking swine Fogarty to burn those tapes!” Geraldine shrieked.

Banquo’s ghost had done its work.

Geraldine knew that the game was up. Further deception was pointless. Coleridge had her tapes. Except, of course, he didn’t have them, because he had had tricked her.

Fogarty had burnt the tapes, as he was currently trying to tell her, shouting at the soundproofed walls of the little viewing gallery into which Trisha had taken him, from where he had watched the whole thing on a monitor.

“I did burn the tapes! I did, you silly cow!” he shouted at the screen, tears of terror welling up in his eyes. “He’s tricked you. He made those tapes himself.”

“I made them, actually,” Trisha told Fogarty rather proudly. “Me and Sergeant Hooper out at Shepperton this afternoon. Hell of a rush to get back… I hated wearing that bald wig – it really pulls at your hair when you take it off.”

Trisha had had a good day. It had meant being naked in front of Sergeant Hooper, of course, but in fact this had brought about a happy and unexpected result. Hooper had been much taken with Trisha naked and had instantly asked her to go out with him. “Sorry, sarge. I’m gay,” she replied and so finally she said it and she had felt much better ever since.

Down on the studio floor Coleridge arrested Geraldine in front of hundreds of millions of people. Finest hours rarely get any finer. “So what if I did kill her?” Geraldine shrieked. “She got what she wanted, didn’t she? She got her fame! That’s all any of them wanted. They’re desperate, all of them. They probably would have gone through with it even if they’d known what I was pla