Crime Writers and Other Animals

by Simon Brett

  Roland looked torn. At last he sighed and said, ‘Well, all right. I suppose I’ll have to tell you. I wanted to keep it a secret, but . . .’ He sighed again. ‘Nicky, you’ve heard of Jeffrey Archer?’

  ‘Hm? Yes, of course I have, but what the hell’s he got to do with what we’re talking about?’

  ‘Well, you may know that he lost a lot of money in an investment that went wrong . . .’

  ‘Yes. I’ve heard the story.’

  ‘. . . and then he fixed the situation by writing his way out of it.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘He sold books and ideas for books and made another huge fortune from that.’

  ‘Yes, I still don’t see—’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do, Nicky. I’ve felt so absolutely lousy about the way you’ve lost money over this – and all because of me – that I’ve been trying to sell a book idea so that I can pay you back.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve worked out a synopsis for this story about a conman and – touch wood – it’s looking good. There’s a publisher who’s expressing interest – strong interest. Trouble is, I was stupid enough to mention this to Felicia when I was in Jamaica, and now of course she’ll never let me hear the end of it. She’s tickled to death that she’s driven me to try and make money as a writer.’

  ‘So what she said . . .?’

  ‘Exactly. She was talking about this publisher . . . for whom she doesn’t have a lot of respect. That’s why she said, “Roland, is the idiot still buying the story?”’

  I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘And the answer,’ Roland went on, ‘is – please God – yes. Because if the idiot does buy the story, then I have a chance of paying back at least some of the money that my foolish advice has cost one of my best mates – Nicky Foulkes.’

  I felt very humbled, you know, by the way Roland was taking my troubles on himself in this way. And to think of the suspicions I’d been within an ace of voicing about him. Well, thank God some instinct stopped me from putting them into words.

  Even a nature as generous and loyal as Roland Puissant’s might have found that kind of accusation a bit hard to take. Sort of thing that could ruin a really good friendship.

  Roland’s back in the country again. Called me a couple of days ago. He’s been having a dreadful time. Well, we’d both agreed after Felicia managed to escape him in Jamaica, he should have another go to try and retrieve our money. He went on again about mortgaging his house, but I said, don’t be daft, we’re in this together, and stumped up a bit of ante for his expenses.

  Trouble was, when he got to Jamaica, he found Felicia’d moved on. To Acapulco. So he’s had to spend the last month down there trying to find her and put the pressure on. Poor bugger, rather him than me, I must say. But one can’t but admire his dedication. I’m lucky to have someone like him out there rooting away on my behalf.

  Anyway, we’ve fixed to get together next week. Roland’s a bit busy at the moment. But he’s making time to meet up with me. Letting me take him out for dinner at Bibendum. Expensive, I know, but it’ll be a small price to pay. Roland never stops, you know. Always grafting away on some new scheme or other. He’s got a whole lot of new investment opportunities he’s going to put my way. If I play my cards right, you know, I think I could be on to another good thing.