Marigold had always thought her mother was so supportive of her father’s dedication to D-Line. Or was she?
“Well, until I’m allowed back into the place, I guess I will have to think about other things. And need I remind you that I just lost my husband? I don’t want to date.”
“Marigold, I’m not talking about dating! Of course, you’ll need time before you are ready for that sort of relationship.” Odette’s faced softened. “I’m encouraging you to engage with people in ways beyond work. You might find it helpful as part of the grieving process to make new friends with different interests and hobbies. You have such an interesting personality – you speak French, you know art, you are up-to-date on current events. Perhaps it would be nice to pursue some of those interests further at the moment before you’re thrown back into life at D-Line. Perhaps it would help.”
“I’m fine. I just want my own company,” Marigold said. And maybe Finn’s. He didn’t mind when she spoke about work. She shook off that thought. “I’m going to get dressed.”
As she trudged upstairs, she noted the painting again. She knew her decision to call off the investigation was right, but she couldn’t help feeling she’d miss having Finn around. And not simply because he was ‘dashing’ as her mother said (though he certainly was) – there was something about talking to him that had made recent events much easier to handle.
***
Safely home from the Gala, she was tucked up that night with a glass of wine on the sofa and watching an infomercial for a sort of ab-cruncher machine that looked quite interesting. Marigold felt her stomach. The Pilates had helped her core. She blushed when she thought of her kiss with Will. She’d not heard from him since the Gala – perhaps the invitation had been all he’d been after.
Was Frederick watching this commercial? He’d always been fit, but she wondered if he exercised anymore. Amelia was an excellent cook, and as he was no longer on the dating scene, perhaps the condition of his ab muscles was of little interest to him.
She picked up her phone. There was no message from him. She sent him a text. What do you think of the machine? But after 30 minutes of no reply, she gave up on him. Maybe Erin had started sleeping through the night. Lucky for some.
When would she start sleeping through again? She cricked her neck to the side. She’d hoped that her decision to call off the search might make sleep a little easier to come, but apparently not. She retreated to her room and started to read, feeling herself eventually drift off.
However, within moments, she was startled awake by her phone beeping. She picked it up but there was no message there.
But it wasn’t her phone at all. It was Julian’s. It was in the bedside table on his side of the bed. She opened the drawer to look at it. Quite frankly, she had forgotten about it. It was surprising the battery was still hanging in there. She hadn’t charged it since Finn had returned it to her.
She read the message, letting out a gasp.
Julian, I need to see you. 1 pm tomorrow? The apartment? I miss you. Kisses, S
Chapter Forty-Three
Marigold
Marigold stared at the phone. I need to see you. 1 pm tomorrow? The apartment? I miss you. Kisses, S
There was no name stored with the number. Just an initial. S. Who was S?
Her stomach churned and her hand shook as she picked up her own phone and rang Finn.
“Marigold?” he answered, once again sounding awake and alert despite the late hour. “Are you ok?”
“A message just came in on Julian’s phone.” She could hear her voice shaking. “It’s from someone who wants to meet him at the apartment.”
“Can you read me the message?”
She swallowed. Or tried to swallow. That was proving difficult.
“Marigold, what did the message say?” she heard Finn repeat. His voice was low and calm. It was comforting how in-control he sounded.
She held up the phone and read out the message.
Finn made a noise that sounded as if he was clearing his throat. “The letter S?”
“Do you think this person wrote that card?” She remembered the card that Finn had picked out – the one thanking Julian for his help.
“Is the number saved in his phone?”
“No.”
“What about call history or text history?” he asked.
“I haven’t looked.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
She did. She really did. But she couldn’t drag him over at this hour. “It’s late, it’s nearly midnight. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you this late. It could have waited until the morning.”
“No, you did the right thing. This is one of the best leads we’ve had.”
“But, I’m done. At least I thought I was.” She brought her hand to her forehead and pinched the skin between her eyes. “Who is this?” She heard the pitch of her voice rise as panic slowly started to rise in her chest. She was being pulled right back to where she had been a few weeks earlier, with the terrifying thoughts and scary assumptions.
“Marigold, would you like me to come over? Or would you like to try to get some sleep and we can work out a plan first thing?”
“I won’t be able to sleep.” There was no way on earth she could sleep after receiving this. Who sent it? It was clearly from someone who wanted to kiss her husband. A mistress? A one-night stand looking for another catch-up? “I’d like you to come over, but it’s so late.”
“I’m on my way. Put the phone down. Don’t answer the text or call the number. I’ll be there soon and we’ll sort this out.”
She put aside the phone and tried to concentrate on the spy novel, but she couldn’t. She picked up her own phone and Googled the number but no matches came up. Who was messaging Julian? How did they not know he’d passed away?
After reading the same paragraph three times and still having no idea what it said, she heard a knock at the door, followed by Finn’s clear voice. “It’s me.”
She opened the door. He looked casual, unshaven, in jeans and a button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The shirt looked creased, as though it had been hanging over a chair and thrown on hurriedly. He’d probably been in bed when she called. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have called you. We can deal with this tomorrow.”
“It’s not a problem, Marigold.” He gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “Where’s the phone?”
She pointed up to indicate her room and headed towards the stairs.
“I’ll wait here,” he said.
She retrieved the phone, handing it to him when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
He scrolled through the phone while she walked into the kitchen and started to make a cup of tea. “This is one of the numbers I was confused about. It was on his phone records but not in the phone. I tried to call it a few times but just got a voicemail message.”
Her heart lurched. “There was a record of it on his bill but not in his phone? Like he’d deleted it in case I went snooping?”
Finn furrowed his brow. “I don’t know.”
“How do they not know he’s dead? It’s been nearly two months.”
“I tried to call that number a couple of times, but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe they lost their phone or were overseas for a while.”
“Maybe.” Something about this didn’t feel right. “What do we do?”
“We have a couple of options. One: we can ignore this and stay on the original plan that you were never going to know what Julian wanted with the apartment and it will stay that way.”
Marigold ran her hands through her hair. “No. I need to know who S is. I don’t think I can ignore it.”
“Ok. Second option: I can investigate the number and see what I can turn up. But there are no guarantees we will find out much – it may be unregistered, it may be registered to someone else. And in any case that’ll take some time – more than before one o’clock tomorrow. Third option.” He held up three fingers as if to signpost his
steps. “I call this person now, from Julian’s phone, and see if they pick up.”
Marigold weighed up the option momentarily. “But they could hang up when they realise it’s not him, and then screen or block our numbers, and we could be no closer, unless you can track the number.”
Finn nodded. “It’s a risky strategy. We could find out things straight away, or we could scare them off.”
“No. What else?” She pulled her arms around herself, realising her teeth were chattering.
Finn hesitated. “Option Four. We text back as if we were Julian. Say that the meeting is fine and then wait there at one o’clock and see who turns up and speak to them. But, I can do that. There’s no need for you to be there.”
“No, I want to be there.”
Finn tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure? We don’t know who this is or what they might want. We assume that they don’t know that Julian is dead, but what if they do and it’s a scam? Trying to extort money or something? This isn’t exactly uncommon with your family’s wealth and profile. If you’re there, I’m potentially putting you in the middle of something.”
She shook her head. “I doubt that.”
“But we had those payments.”
Marigold pulled her arms around herself more tightly in an attempt to stop the chattering of her teeth. “No. I don’t think this message has anything to do with money. It’s personal.”
Finn exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, before nodding.
“You’re the boss, but I’m in charge of this. Think of it as an operation. If at any moment I don’t think it is safe for you, you need to listen to me. I don’t want you arguing with me. If I tell you to go or stay in the car, you do that, ok?”
She nodded. She was the boss, of course she was, but all the same, there was something comforting about knowing that Finn was in control.
Chapter Forty-Four
Finn
Julian. Finn had never liked him. Surely this message all but confirmed that he’d been seeing someone else on the side. How dare he do that to Marigold? He could easily kill him if he wasn’t already dead.
He knocked on Marigold’s door the next morning. He’d not had a wink of sleep, worrying about today. Was this wise? He was worried he was putting her in danger, but she was so determined.
Or was she? As soon as she saw him, she picked up her handbag and marched out to the car. Her walk and posture looked full of bravado, but Finn wasn’t quite buying into the act. It was her eyes. They looked wider than normal – like they had the other day when she and Finn had packed up the apartment. They betrayed her cool and confident act.
They drove to the apartment and parked out at the front. They didn’t know if this person had a key. It seemed unlikely, given they’d located all the keys given to Julian with the apartment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t had another one cut. They’d decided to wait outside, and then, as the time approached, Marigold would wait outside the apartment door and Finn would wait in the foyer. That was the only way through to the apartment, so he’d see anyone who arrived.
It was still early so they sat in the car for the moment. Silently, they both stared at the front entrance.
“What are we waiting for?” Marigold asked him eventually. “What am I about to find out?”
The worried look on her face tugged at his heartstrings. It reminded him of the look on Tamsyn’s face when he turned up at their house after the siege. She knew that bad news was coming.
“We’ll see.”
“It won’t be good.”
Without saying anything, he slipped his hand onto hers. She looked at it for a moment and he considered pulling away. Had he crossed the line? He was about to pull his hand back when she flipped her palm over and squeezed his hand.
She was nervous. Just like the night at the Gala. Her breathing was shallow, and a couple of times she grasped his hand quite firmly despite the fact it was shaking. He hated Julian for putting her through this.
“You know, when I first met you, what I used to call you to myself?” he asked, as lightly and conversationally as he could, as though they were simply two people waiting for a bus or in the queue at the bank.
She looked at him, the worried expression making way for one of startle. “What?”
“Uptown Girl.” He gave her a grin, which to his relief, she returned. It was a risky move, but hopefully it paid off.
“Like the Billy Joel song?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Like the song.”
“And what was that? A compliment, or were you being sarcastic about my job and money and all the family stuff?”
Finn shook his head. “A compliment. I was intimidated by you.”
Marigold cocked her head towards him. “No, you weren’t. You’ve taken down drug rings and armed suspects and God-knows-what that the public isn’t allowed to know about.”
“That’s different. They trained us how to deal with those situations. No-one trains you for being completely intimidated by your boss who runs a massive transport company, is whip-smart and looks like Audrey Hepburn. That is intimidating.”
He glanced sideways and saw her look down and blush. He’d not seen her do that before, but it was sweet. It was nice to see a different side to her. Not that he didn’t like the tougher, businesslike Marigold, but he liked seeing the different parts of her personality, especially the parts that she seemed desperate to hide from people.
“I’m not always very… ummm… good at making people feel comfortable. Julian or Frederick or Rose pull me up sometimes. Well, Julian used to,” she said, fixing her eyes back to the apartment building. “Perhaps he found someone, maybe this ‘S’, who he did feel more comfortable around.”
A little bolt of rage hit him. How dare Julian cause her to feel this way? She was incredible.
“I feel comfortable with you, and you’re not responsible for the way other people feel. You can’t control that.”
“Perhaps not, but maybe sometimes I’m not the most considerate of people.”
Sure, she was brusque sometimes, but he’d not seen her be cruel. “You were nice to me when I had that migraine. You worry about your family, especially your siblings.”
Marigold appeared to blush again. “I’m actually a little jealous of them. They both won the lottery in the personality stakes. They’re both so jovial and fun. People just like them. People are drawn to them.”
Her siblings were more outgoing than she was, but she possessed a magnetism. “People are drawn to you.”
“They are because they have to be. If people like me, it’s because they have to. I’m the boss.”
Was he about to cross yet another line? But he wanted to say this, even so. “No. I don’t have to like you, but I do.”
For the thousandth time in recent days, he considered what it would be like to lean over and kiss her. But at that moment he saw a woman, young and pretty, sail up the stairs at the front of the building. She pushed the buzzer, but when she didn’t get a response, she picked up her phone.
Julian’s phone performed a merry jig across the dashboard. They both stared at it for a moment.
“You ok?” Finn asked. “Do you want to stay in the car? I can speak to her.”
Marigold shook her head. Her eyes were focused, and the soft moment of a few seconds ago was gone.
“No, I want to know.” Her voice was determined. She unclicked her seat belt, her eyes unmoving from the woman.
Finn opened his door and climbed out. Marigold followed.
“Looking for someone?” Marigold called out.
The girl spun around with a shocked look on her face. “Marigold!”
Finn looked over to Marigold, who turned pale.
“How do you know my name?” Marigold asked. She looked towards Finn as if for guidance, but he had none to offer. Who on earth was this? How did she know who Marigold was, if Marigold knew nothing of her?
The girl dropped her shoulders and looked at Marigold tear
fully.
“Julian told me all about you.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Marigold
“Julian told you about me?” Marigold stared at the girl. “Who are you?”
“Sasha.”
“Sasha,” Marigold repeated.
“Where’s Julian?” Sasha crossed her arms and looked around awkwardly.
Marigold glanced at Finn. She’d momentarily forgotten that the text message indicated that Sasha didn’t know that Julian had died. She mentally pleaded with him to say something. She really didn’t want to have to tell her husband’s mistress (or whatever she was) that Julian was dead.
Exactly how many terrible moments did his death have to throw at her?
“Julian died,” Finn said, matter-of-factly, just as if someone had asked him the time. But the tone didn’t matter. Much to Marigold’s relief, he was going to help her handle this. Thank goodness for Finn.
“What?” The colour drained from Sasha’s face. “When? How?” She looked pale, and her knees seemed to buckle as she brought a hand to her temple.
Finn leaned forward and grabbed her arm to steady her. “About two months ago,” he told her.
“Two months?” She looked startled before fumbling through her bag and holding up her mobile phone. “But I got this message last night.”
“That was us,” Marigold said. “We got your message, and we wanted to know who you were and why you were seeing Julian here.”
“He’s dead?” Sasha looked as if she was going to cry. “I can’t believe it. What happened to him?”
“He had a heart attack,” Finn replied, just as matter-of-factly as he had earlier.
Tears trickled down Sasha’s pretty face. She muttered the normal response: he was so young and healthy, and everything else that others had said.
“What was your relationship with him? Were you having an affair?” Marigold asked.
Sasha shook her head, wiping away a tear, leaving streaky mascara on her hand. “No, not really.”
The Problem with Perfect Page 18
