“Hey! Want some company?”
I look up to see a guy with a shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, a stubble-strewn, admittedly rather handsome, face and deep green eyes. Glancing around and seeing nobody else near us, I realise he’s talking to me. I smile. “Thanks, but no.”
He leans closer and I can smell the potent aroma of alcohol and cigarettes. My stomach rolls. “Come on, gorgeous. You didn’t come out tonight in that dress…” He stops talking to look me up and down. Perhaps he’s incapable of talking and looking at the same time. “Just to hide out here. You want some attention.”
CHAPTER TEN
“No. I don’t, honestly. Why don’t you go back to your party and leave me in peace? I’m perfectly happy here on my own.”
“No way, sweet cheeks, sorry, no can do. I’m incapable of leaving a stunning woman all on her lonesome.”
Perfect. A letch. Just what I need. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Charlie watching me closely. I know him well enough to tell he’s circling his prey and preparing to swoop in and be the hero, rescuing me from the party Romeo. Well, I don’t need his help. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I reach out my arm and rest a hand on the guy’s chest, careful to ensure I’m touching fabric and not the nauseating amount of skin on show thanks to his unbuttoned shirt, then firmly push him backwards, away from me.
“Come on, don’t you want some fun?” he says in a voice so loud that heads start to turn towards us on the people standing on the staircase chatting with each other.
Charlie takes a big step towards me. If I don’t do something then he’s probably going to forcibly eject the guy out of here by the collar of his floral shirt. Charlie has enough to deal with right now, I don’t want him getting into bad books with the production company who hired us for chucking guests out of their party. Just as The Letch wobbles unsteadily on his feet, I push him again and he flies backwards, landing on his white-trouser-clad bottom on the hallway floor.
“Oh,” I gush, pretending to help him up as more people look in our direction. “Are you all right? Did you stumble?”
Charlie appears on the other side of the guy and grabs his arm, hauling him to his feet. “Steady there. Had one too many Martinis, have we, pal?” he says to him loudly, pretending, like me, to be coming to his aid. “Let’s get you outside, shall we? A bit of fresh air might sober you up.”
Shooting Charlie a warning look, I hang on to The Letch’s other arm, just to make sure the guy stays in one piece.
“Is there a problem?” A burly security guard appears in front of us.
“I think this guy’s a bit worse for wear,” I explain. “Is there some place he can have a coffee and sober up?”
By way of an answer, the guard hauls Letch away from us.
I face Charlie. “Thanks, but I had it under control.”
He just nods and walks away. Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better.
I wander along the corridor, away from the inquisitive stares, in search of Martha, Dan or Jack. After a minute or two, the sounds of the party are a distant murmur. That’s when I hear raised voices. Scooting towards a partly open doorway, I hold my breath and listen. I recognise one of the voices. I’m pretty sure it’s William Denver. The other voice is female and she sounds really agitated.
“Just chill. Everything is in hand. You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything,” Denver says to her.
“It’s my job on the line here,” the female hisses. “You don’t have to worry about stuff like that. What if somebody finds out? Those British agency guys are always hanging around, asking questions.”
“I’m keeping a close eye on them. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Denver responds.
“Yeah, I bet that’s what you said to Ronnie. Now, she’s vanished and I’m scared.”
“Ronnie doing a runner had nothing to do with any of this.”
“I don’t believe you,” the woman retorts.
What are they arguing about? I edge a little closer, wanting to catch every word, and it’s then I realise I can hear footsteps heading towards the door. I don’t have time to run and hide, especially not in this dress and heels. I’d probably end up falling and breaking a leg in the process. There’s only one thing for it. I have to brazen this out. I push hard against the door, ready to barrel into the room and then apologise, making some excuse about how I’m in search of the ladies’ room. But the door connects with something, or I should say, someone.
“Owwwwww!” wails a female voice.
Oh no. “I’m so sorry!” I yelp, popping my head around the door and finding Lindy Anderson clutching at her perfect nose. Well, it used to be perfect, now it looks a bit crumpled. “Are you all right? It’s not broken, is it?”
Denver helps her to a sofa and pushes some tissues from a nearby box into her free hand, the other is still cradling her bloodied nose. “She’ll be fine in a moment,” he says, turning to face me. “What were you doing outside the door?”
“I was looking for the ladies’ room,” I mumble by pre-prepared answer. “Somebody told me it was along this corridor.”
“It’s right at the end and on the left,” he says, still watching me intently.
He’s wondering how much of his conversation with Lindy I overheard. I notice him taking in my outfit and the worried look in his eyes diminishes. He probably thinks in this dress my IQ is sub-zero and I’m no threat. Yes, it’s a stereotype – see a woman in a short tight dress and a ton of make-up and assume she’s a ditz with not a single working brain cell. On this occasion, I think I’m grateful for that stereotype. He knows I work for the agency but has instantly dismissed me as the woman who types up case files and fetches the other guys their coffees. Sexist pig.
“Thanks, I’ll get going then. If you’re sure your friend is all right?” I take a tentative step towards her. “It’s Lindy, isn’t it? You work in wardrobe.”
She nods, still in pain and hiding most of her face behind the tissues she’s clutching.
“I’ll make sure she sees a medic right away,” Denver assures me. “Why don’t you run along?”
I’m very happy to do just that. Out in the corridor though I don’t head for the toilets but take a left and half hobble and half run back towards the party. I have to tell Charlie and the others what I just overheard. Maybe we have a decent lead on this case at last.
“What do you think Denver’s involved in then?” Martha asks as the five of us bundle into the car at the end of the night. “The only link we have is something wardrobe related. Lindy works in wardrobe for the show and so did the missing Ronnie.” From her position in the passenger seat, which she claimed before any of the rest of us could get a look in, she rests a hand on Charlie’s arm. “You don’t think Ronnie’s another victim, do you? Have we got a fourth murder to add to the list?”
“I bloody hope not,” mumbles Dan, who is sitting on the far side of the backseat with Jack squashed between him and myself.
“Am I still heading to Toronto tomorrow to investigate Acting Up?” Jack checks.
Charlie taps fingers irritably against the steering wheel as we head for home. Well, our temporary home, back at the apartment block. “Yeah, definitely. We can’t close off any lines of enquiry yet. First thing we do when we get back is request an in-depth background and financial check on Denver. I want to know where he went to school. Who he’s been fooling around with over the years. I want details on his ex-wives and kids. All of it.”
“Charlie, it’s two in the morning,” Martha protests.
I see him flick a look at her. “Is that a problem?”
She settles back in her seat. “No, of course not. I’ll get right on it.”
The rest of the journey is completed in silence. I think I hear Dan snoring, but nobody speaks.
I’m about to follow Martha down the corridor to our apartment when a hand gently clasps my right arm. I spin round and see Charlie, indicating I should h
old back as the others head for their beds. Or, in Martha’s case, her computer to get started on Charlie’s requested searches. Hope surges inside me. Does he want to talk about the case? Does he want to talk about us? I loiter in the hallway, earning myself a curious glance from Dan. Once they’re all out of earshot Charlie smiles and touches my hand. “Thanks, Amber. You did a great job with that Denver stuff. This could be the lead we’ve been searching for.”
“It was nothing,” I protest feebly, delighted at his words. “I stumbled across them by pure accident.”
“You’ve a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Like I said, thanks.” He pushes a hand through his hair, mussing it up and my fingers itch to smooth it down for him. “This case was beginning to get to me. I hate it when we don’t get any results. Especially with five of us working the investigation. HQ keep on at me for answers and I’d got nothing.”
“They know you’ll get this sorted,” I say. “You always do.”
“Up until now,” he replies.
There it is again – doubting his own abilities. This is a different side of Charlie. He looks, well, vulnerable almost. “Charlie…”
“Amber!” Martha hangs out of the doorway to our apartment and yells down the corridor despite it being the early hours of the morning. She’s clearly not bothered if she wakes any of our fellow residents up at all. “I need you to help me with all these searches, like right this minute.”
“Night, Amber,” Charlie says, and then heads off in the opposite direction.
I sigh. Looks like I’ve got a long night of computer work ahead of me too.
I wake up on the sofa. Bleary-eyed, I manage to focus enough to spot Martha sitting cross-legged on the sofa opposite me, her laptop wedged on top of her knees as she taps away. “Have you been working all night?”
She nods and continues to work on well, whatever it is she’s engrossed in.
“Found anything useful?”
“Maybe.” She pauses from computer stuff to shoot me a concerned look. “Let’s hope so. Charlie is going to freak if I don’t start coming up with something usable from all these background and financial checks.”
“If the answers don’t lie with those checks then there’s only so much you can do,” I reason. “You can’t conjure things up if they don’t exist. Besides, Charlie will understand.”
Martha shakes her head and pulls a face. “Regular Charlie would, but Grumpy Charlie, not so much.” She starts tapping away again. “Can’t you guys sort things out one way or the other so the rest of us can stop tiptoeing around you both all the time?”
Parroting Martha’s earlier vague response I say, “Maybe. Want some coffee?”
There’s a brisk knock at the door just as I’ve finished preparing our drinks and Martha shouts, “It’s open,” without even checking who it is on the other side of said door. Honestly, Martha can be a bit of a liability as a roommate. Thankfully, we haven’t received any more warning notes, but that doesn’t change the fact there’s still someone out there who knows who we are, where we’re staying, and wants us to back off this whole investigation. Dan walks in, yawning, stretching and sniffing the air appreciatively.
“Coffee? Great! Thanks, Amber,” he says, joining me in the kitchenette.
I grab another mug from the cupboard and make him a drink too. I remember the way he liked his coffee from when we were working together in France. He playfully pecks me on the cheek as he takes the mug and mutters his thanks. Watching him slouch over to the sofa, I take in his faded-in-the-right-places jeans and green long-sleeved T-shirt. His hair is all ruffled and his jaw heavy with dark stubble. “Please tell me you’ve found something we can use,” he says as he flops on the sofa next to Martha.
“I might have.” She looks at him and frowns. “Have you been up all night too?”
He nods. “Bloody Charlie. He wanted to work and, as my bed is the sofa in our place, I didn’t get chance to sleep much. He made sure of that. Git.”
“But you can usually sleep through anything,” I tease. “On the flight over here we hit turbulence, a baby was crying at full volume and one of the stewardesses crashed the drinks trolley into our seats.” I suspect she did that on purpose in an attempt to get Dan’s attention. “Yet you slept through it all.”
Dan shrugs. “Yeah, well, looks like I struggle to sleep when I’ve got a stroppy special agent pacing the room, swearing and muttering to himself as he brainstorms a case involving three murders.”
“The pressure is really getting to him, isn’t it?” Martha says. “I’ve never seen him like this and I’ve worked loads of cases with him over the years.”
“Far as I can recall, we’ve never had a case with three murders in it,” Dan replies, settling himself against the cushions and generally making himself at home.
“True, but there are other mitigating circumstances with this investigation too,” Martha adds, with a pointed look in my direction.
“Will everybody stop blaming me for Charlie’s bad mood?” I retort, then gulp my drink, realise it’s too hot, and end up burning my tongue.
“Want to crash on our couch again tonight?” Martha asks Dan, who nods gratefully. “You don’t mind do you, Amber?”
“Do I have any say in the matter?” I huff. Martha is definitely a bad roommate. I could do without Dan being around quite so much. His presence unnerves me a little. It’s not like I’m developing feelings for him or anything, it’s just… Oh, I don’t know what it is, but I do know I feel more at ease when he’s not in my space all the time. “So, do we know what’s on the agenda for today?”
“When I left our place Charlie was on the phone about the runaway wardrobe woman, Ronnie. Maybe somebody has tracked her down and we’ll need to follow it up. Guess Mr. Grump will let us know our duties soon enough.”
“Look, guys, I’m sorry if Charlie is in such a foul mood because of our, er, break,” I say. “I know it’s not fair on you all.”
“Hey, no worries,” Dan says, giving me one of his cheeky smiles. “I’m just winding you up. If the price for you two splitting up is him being grumpy and me having to share this flat with the two of you, then that’s a price I am more than willing to pay, especially considering the possible benefits to me, you know, further down the line.”
Martha hits him on the arm. “Stop hitting on her, Dan! She’s not interested in you, she’s still in love with the delectable Charlie. Right?”
I ignore her question and slam off into the bedroom to take a shower. As I don’t have to rush off anywhere yet I spend a little longer on my morning ablutions than usual. Because Martha and I were working most of the night, I still have my heavy-duty party make-up on. Yuck. I set to on cleansing and work my way through a ton of wipes before my skin is squeaky clean. Then I wash my hair, getting all the fixing products out of it and finally, luxuriate in the piping-hot power shower in an attempt to ease the tension from my far-too-tight shoulders. By the time I’m dressed and walking back into the living area, Charlie is sitting on a sofa waiting for me. I stop short, my heart suddenly pounding loudly in my ears. Where have Martha and Dan gone?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Oh, good, you’re ready,” Charlie says as he gets to his feet. “Let’s get going then.”
“Going where? What happened to the others?” I glance around nervously but the room is definitely empty, except for the two of us.
“Martha wanted a shower and as you were hogging the bathroom here she’s taken her stuff and gone to use the facilities in our place. Stone left with her. I think he’s basically just trying to stay out of my way as much as possible. And Jack, well, I just dropped him off at the airport for his flight to Toronto to pursue that side of the investigation. So, it’s just you and me.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.
“On my way back from the airport I had a call from the city police department who have been following up on Ronnie, the wardrobe fitter. They think she�
�s been spotted in a place called Coquitlam, just outside Vancouver. I’ve got an address. We should get over there right away.”
“Right.” I grab a jacket from the back of a chair and nod towards the door. “Let’s go then.” Why is he back to wanting to team up with me when things are so awkward between us? One minute I think there might be hope we’ll get back together and the next I think he can’t stand the sight of me and we’ll never be anything more than colleagues.
As we cross the underground car park Charlie throws the car keys over for me to catch. “You’re driving.”
“I am? But…”
Charlie shakes his head. “Stone has told me all about how he encouraged you to face your driving fears in France and how he got you driving those steep and narrow mountain roads. He also told me you drove here in the city when you two worked together the other day.”
Oh great, thanks for stirring things, Dan.
As he hops into the passenger seat Charlie adds, “He said I’d been stifling you and over-protecting you and, I think the exact words he used were, holding you back.”
I start the car up. “Charlie, he’s just causing trouble. You know he is. You’ve always encouraged me in this work. You were the one who got me into it in the first place. You don’t stifle me.”
“Just drive, Amber. I’ve got the directions on the GPS on my phone, we’ll follow those.”
The place where Ronnie has been seen is not what I’d envisaged at all. I suppose I pictured somewhere grotty and dangerous, but this area is on a hill overlooking the city and the long wide streets are populated by large single storey houses sitting on generous plots.
“This one,” Charlie says, pointing to a house with three cars in the driveway.
Past Perfect: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 4) Page 11
