There’s nothing wrong with a few white lies, is there? But when those lies lead to murder it’s a very different question. Lubo Miksic is dead and DI Cat Hackett of strathclyde police force wants some answers. Will she get them from the estranged wife of Billy Noble? well, anna’s no stranger to a white lie either.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that.” DI Cat Hackett’s smiling gaze rested firmly on one of the clamour of journalists hounding her at the doors of the police station. “You’re nice,” she thought. And then she silently rebuked herself: “Concentrate Cat”.
“You’ve had your story – there’s no more to tell at the moment. We can confirm to you once again that we have arrested 52 year-old Eddie Zamporini on suspicion of the murder of Lubo Miksic. We’ll let you know as soon as there are any developments – I promise.”
Cat was exhausted. Murder was tiring and tiresome, especially at this seasonal time. She had been on the case non-stop for over 24 hours and she longed to slip under the covers and sleep for another 24. This was a real puzzler and her brain hurt. She had had enough. She wanted a nine-to-five. “I’d be the best little check-out operator in town,” she thought to herself. “People would be queuing up just to be served by me”.
But she showed none of her weariness.
Instead, she portrayed a picture of complete professionalism to everyone. Her bosses relied on her. The lawyers trusted her. Even the journalists who confronted her today believed everything she said. And she got results. Men adored her. Women respected her.
Catherine Hackett was indeed a vision. Glamorous with a capital ‘G’. With sparkling blue eyes, long blonde hair, blood-red lips and a dewy complexion which belied her 43 years, she wouldn’t be out of place in an M&S Christmas ad campaign. Her friends had teasingly dubbed her the people’s Nigella – and she found it difficult to hide her delight at this description.
That morning’s headlines screamed out at her. “Italian mobster held on suspicion of brutal killing” and she knew she had to work quickly. To her colleagues, this was a simple case. Eddie Zamporini had been found close to the scene of Lubo’s murder. Everyone knew he was a bad’un – but something told Cat that there was much more to it. “We’ve got to be scrupulous,” she told her team. “We all know what can happen when we jump to conclusions”. They all knew what she meant. The force had been rocked by a number of scandals recently. And she knew only too well that Eddie’s father would fight dirty for the release of his son. He had already given the press what they wanted.
Cat was in no mood to see him win.
By 2pm, her team had conducted hundreds of enquiries. Potential witnesses, those close to Lubo and, of course, Mario, the patriarch of the Zamporini family.
What interested Cat most, however, was the string of calls made by Lubo shortly before his death.
“I could hear him on the phone just before he left me yesterday, hen,” Ella revealed to Cat. “It was wee bit vague, but I could swear it was to Billy’s wife, Anna – Anna Noble…and a couple of calls to Billy himself.

The female voice at the other end of the phone was cool, slightly supercilious and definitely not welcoming, “Who did you say you are? I really haven’t got time” – an exasperated sigh – “I should have been away before now.”
Cat took a slow, deep breath and shut her eyes before continuing.
“Mrs Noble, I’m DI Hackett, Strathclyde CID and I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Lubo Miksic.”
“Lubo Miksic? I don’t really know him very well; he’s a client of my husband’s. I’m sure he can tell you anything you need to know.” A quick dismissal, but the tone of voice betrayed the studied casualness of the response. A small bell began to ring in Cat’s mind as she carried on in a studiously neutral tone.
“Ah, ok. Well, I’m sorry to bother you then Mrs Noble, this shouldn’t take long, but it was you I actually wanted to speak to. Have you spoken to Mr Miksic lately?”
“No, why on earth should I have?” the voice was now tight, edgy.
“Lubo Miksic‘s body was recovered from the Clyde last night, and I just wondered why he would have called you shortly before he died.”
The silence at the other end of the phone was, as they say in all the best books, deafening. “Mrs Noble?” Cat knew Anna had to make a decision in the next few seconds, and how much could be riding on it.
“Look, it was nothing.” The words quick and tumbling over each. “I was at our house last night, picking up some of my things that I’d left there.”
Cat had no trouble recalling the lurid headlines that had accompanied Billy and Anna Noble’s very public split a few weeks ago and, despite her earlier dislike, felt some sympathy for her.
“I only picked up the phone out of habit, and heard all this nonsense about Billy being in some sort of trouble.” The bitterness spilled over in a palpable wave “but the only trouble Billy has is staying away from other men’s wives.”
A flurry of thoughts flew across Cat’s mind as she quickly shuffled some papers out across the scarred wooden desk. “So Billy wasn’t at home when you were there?”
“No,” the voice sharp and chilly. “I told you, I went to get my things and the house was empty. He was probably at the flat that he used in the city when he needed to work late.” A mocking emphasis on the last words suggesting all too well that Anna Noble now knew more about Billy’s late nights than she had ever wanted to.
“So you didn’t think Mr Miksic was serious?”
A pause, lengthening and then a soft sigh. “I wasn’t sure” – slow, and haltingly now – “but after I thought about it for a bit, I thought I better let him know, but I couldn’t get him on his mobile so I called his friend..”
Cat held her breath.
“Eddie, Eddie Zamporini.”

Additional research by Barry Baker, Health & Safety Executive.