Page 12 of Healing Hearts on Thistledown Lane: Part 4
Over the past year, he’d become an expert at spotting those who’d purchased tickets for a tour, even when they were hesitant to approach him. He found it saved time to be proactive, greeting them with a cheerful, ‘Hullo. Are you here for the Dead Famous tour?’
It also paid to ensure they had booked onto his tour, rather than one of the others that ran from various places along the Royal Mile. And there were always those cheeky few who hadn’t paid but who hovered nearby to listen for free; he’d learned how to politely move them along too, suggesting they book on the next evening’s tour if they wanted to hear the city’s dark stories.
The man watching Fraser from a few metres away didn’t look like he was interested in ghost hunting. He looked as though he had other prey in mind.
Fraser focused on checking everyone in, wondering whether he was imagining the fixed stare. When he raised his lanternand greeted his audience, running through the usual pre-tour practicalities, the man stepped nearer. The movement caught Fraser’s eye and he saw that he had a companion. A shorter man stood at his shoulder, carrying an expensive-looking camera. Heart sinking, Fraser finished his introduction and broke off to address them. ‘Can I help you with something, gents?’
The taller of the two men shrugged. ‘We’re here for the tour.’
Fraser offered a professional smile. ‘I’m afraid it’s fully booked. I can recommend a few others that run nearby, if you’d like? You might catch one if you hurry.’
‘It’s yours we’re interested in,’ the man said. ‘You are Fraser Bell, right?’
‘That’s right,’ Fraser confirmed. ‘But as I said, this tour is full. If you check the Dead Famous website, you’ll be able to see availability for the next few weeks. Sorry to disappoint you.’
Turning his attention back to his audience, he gathered himself together and began again. ‘Be warned that this walking tour is not for the faint-hearted. We will visit some of the city’s darkest wynds and traverse her deadliest stairways. Stay close and do not be tempted to stray if an unknown voice whispers your name. Our safety is in numbers. Follow my lantern and do not fall behind.’
At the back of the group, the shorter man raised his camera. It was just after seven-thirty, nowhere near dusk but even so, a series of flashes went off, causing several members of the audience to turn sharply round. The photographer peered down at the camera screen, then lifted it to his face again and clicked.
Blinking the brightness away, Fraser fought to keep his tone level. ‘No flash photography, thank you.’ He surveyed the group before him, determined to ignore further intrusions. ‘But enough talk. It’s time to hear our first terrible tale, in the blood drenched alley of Fleshmarket Close.’
The photographer had at least switched the flash off, but Fraser was aware of his continued clicking as he turned to lead the tour attendees down the Royal Mile. His companion hurried to catch up with Fraser. ‘I’m sure you know the drill, Fraser. Just a few questions, then we’ll be out of your hair.’
His words removed any lingering doubt Fraser had about who he was. ‘You’re a journalist.’
The man nodded, seemingly unperturbed by the flatness of Fraser’s tone. ‘Charlie Fleming,Daily News. Congratulations on the new film role. You must be delighted.’
A few of the audience members were listening in. Once again, Fraser fought to keep any trace of irritation from showing. ‘There’ll be a press conference in due course. You can save any questions you have for that.’
Charlie pulled a face. ‘Thing is, my questions aren’t strictly to do with the film. They’re about your relationship with Naomi Dean.’ Fraser’s head whipped round to stare at him. ‘More specifically, the way you cheated on her with your business partner, Maura McKenzie.’
And now Fraser stopped dead, causing squeaks of alarm behind him. A couple of people weren’t able to stop themselves from clattering into him but he barely noticed. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Don’t get angry. I’m only repeating what my source told me,’ Charlie said, smirking. ‘They allege that you persuaded Naomi to start a new life in Edinburgh, only to break her heart by falling into bed with your old flame, Maura. Is that how it happened, Fraser?’
Whispers broke out among the cluster of tour attendees behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Fraser was aware of the photographer clicking away.
Battling for composure, he eyed the journalist coldly. ‘That’s a lie.’
Charlie cocked his head. ‘That’s not what my source says. Word is, you and this Maura couldn’t keep away from each other, in spite of the fact that you were both in long-term relationships.’
Fraser couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘That’s not what happened,’ he ground out, even as he wondered where such rubbish could have come from. ‘And if you print one word of it, you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of a libel suit before the ink is dry. Understand?’
Charlie held his hands up, although the expression on his face was anything but conciliatory. ‘I’m only doing my job, mate. You’re not the first actor to be a love rat and you won’t be the last, but the public have a right to know the truth.’
Taking a deep breath, Fraser stepped towards him. ‘You wouldn’t know the truth if it punched you in the face. Now get lost before I have you done for harassment.’
Backing away, the journalist glanced at his photographer. ‘Come on, Kev. We’ve got what we need.’
Scowling, Fraser watched the pair scurry away. He knew about the underhand techniques of some members of the press – Nick had plenty of horror stories about their sly tricks – but this was the first time he’d experienced it first hand and it had left him shaken, not least because he had a crawling suspicion that the unnamed source could only be Naomi herself. She’d messaged a few times since the news of the Minelli film had been leaked and he’d been polite but firm in resisting her flirtatious tone. Could she be trying to exact her revenge for his most recent rejection? He had no idea, but he couldn’t imagine where the story had come from otherwise. And who else would know about Maura?
‘Um…’ The voice behind Fraser was hesitant. ‘So, is this part of the tour?’
Remembering where he was, Fraser slipped automatically back into character. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said, turning round with an apologetic smile. ‘Tabloid reporters are not actually evil ghouls who prey on the living but, like Edinburgh’s ghosts, sometimes there’s no escaping them.’
Laughter broke out, much to his relief. Determined to restore normality, he swept a sombre gaze around the group, pausing to linger at random on a face here and there. ‘Now, shall we continue our dark business? Stuart the Slice and his dripping blade await.’
The first message on Sunday morning was from Fraser’s agent. It contained a screenshot of theDaily Newswebsite, which showed a close-up picture of Fraser, his face angry and menacing as he loomed over Charlie Fleming. The headline screamed MINELLI’S NEW STAR SHOWS UGLY SIDE.
