Chapter 18
18
POPPY
‘Tell us absolutely everything,’ says Lauren, her eyes alight with curiosity. Lauren is obsessed with celebrity gossip and seemingly anything that resembles it, like a case about a con man who collects fiancées.
‘I told you about it in the group chat,’ I reply with a laugh.
‘I want details , Poppy. Geez.’
‘Okay, but I’m not sure what else to tell you.’
We’ve invited our friends around for Sunday lunch and Tristan’s making one of his signature dishes: roast beef with all the trimmings. While Ravi’s keeping him company in the kitchen, we women – me, Jacinda, Shaz, and Lauren – are stretched out on facing sofas, sipping drinks and catching up.
‘Start with when you approached him,’ says Lauren. ‘What was that like? Was it strange?’ she asks, her eyes narrowed with curiosity.
‘Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve been undercover for cases before, but that was me pretending to be a journalist. This was hitting on a stranger.’
‘A dodgy stranger,’ Shaz interjects.
‘ So dodgy,’ I agree.
‘And?’ Lauren’s twirling hand signals for me to expound.
‘ And I arrived at the hotel, I saw him in the bar – which is where we expected him to be – and I climbed onto the stool next to his. After that, he did most of the heavy lifting.’
‘Meaning?’ asks Jacinda. Jacinda loves a clarifying question – must be the barrister in her.
‘ Meaning , he looked over as soon as I sat down, then started talking to me. He even bought me a drink. All I had to do was answer his questions as Penny – oh, and pretend to enjoy a Negroni.’ I make the ‘blech’ face.
‘And did you ask about him?’ Lauren probes.
‘Well, yes, it was a conversation , not him interrogating me,’ I tease. ‘But he was elusive – I didn’t get much out of him. Just that he lives at the Langham when he’s not travelling for work.’
‘As a geologist,’ Shaz scoffs with a snort.
‘And what’s he like?’ Lauren asks, not acknowledging Shaz’s interjection.
‘He’s…’ I stop talking as I ponder the best way to answer – because what Lauren’s actually asking is: how does he get all these women to fall in love with him?
‘He’s attentive and charming – obviously intelligent. And he asked all the right questions – ones designed to make me believe he was genuinely interested. Although, according to Kate, that wanes as soon as he’s sure the woman is invested.’
‘Arsehole,’ mutters Shaz.
‘And is he attractive?’ Lauren asks.
I tilt my head from side to side. ‘He’s not un attractive. But he’s not?—’
‘Not like Tristan?’ Lauren whispers, and I chuckle.
‘No, nothing like Tristan.’
My husband is the sort of handsome that must have landed Brad Pitt his first role. And his second, possibly even his third.
‘So more like Ravi then,’ says Jacinda, and my head pivots sharply in her direction.
‘Jacinda Sharma!’ I chide. ‘Your husband is very handsome, and you know it.’
She glances towards the kitchen, breaking into a wide grin. ‘He is, isn’t he?’
‘Yes!’ the three of us chorus.
‘What’s that?’ Tristan calls from the kitchen.
It’s unlikely he can make out what we’re saying over the range hood but in case he can, I bust out a big grin.
‘Nothing, babe,’ I reply loudly.
With a slight smile, he turns back to Ravi. Hmm. Maybe he can hear us.
‘So, who’s this bloke’s celebrity comp then?’ asks Lauren.
‘Celebrity comp?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, as in who does he remind you of? Someone famous.’
‘Uh, he’s kinda Tom Hiddleston-ish.’
‘Tom Hiddleston’s proper fit,’ says Jacinda. ‘So sexy.’
‘Okay, granted, but that’s because he’s Tom Hiddleston,’ I retort. ‘He’s talented, he plays all these suave characters – and he’s hilarious in interviews… But if he wasn’t an actor, if he was some random guy you saw on the street, would you fancy him?’
Jacinda nods slowly. ‘Oh, absolutely. It’s that impishness.’ She makes a growling sound in the back of her throat.
‘That’s what makes David Tennant hot,’ says Shaz. ‘That lopsided grin, that swagger.’
‘Right,’ I say, wanting to talk about something other than work, ‘have we fully exhausted the topic of the lecherous lothario?’
Shaz sniggers. ‘Good one.’ She raises her half-drunk glass of wine in my direction.
‘Hardly!’ Lauren declares. This may be the most animated I’ve ever seen her – usually, she’s the calm one and Shaz is the one bouncing off the walls. ‘What’s the latest?’ she asks. ‘Has he been in contact?’
‘Oh, yeah. I’m getting two or three messages a day, sometimes more.’
‘Can I see?’
‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind taking a peek either,’ says Jacinda, typically the most level-headed amongst us.
‘Okay,’ I say, relenting. I grab my phone off the coffee table and navigate to the messages from Dunn. ‘Here,’ I say, handing the phone to Lauren. ‘Scroll up.’
‘I’m coming over,’ says Jacinda, getting up from the sofa opposite us. ‘Oof,’ she groans as she lands between me and Lauren. ‘I swear if this baby gets any bigger…’ She lays a hand on her considerable bump.
Lauren catches my eye and we share a smile. Jass is always going on about how huge she is and she looks exactly the same as she always has, but with a baby bump.
‘Pretty sure that’s gonna happen, Jass,’ quips Shaz. She pops a chunk of cheese into her mouth. ‘Still three months to go yet,’ she says through her mouthful.
‘Don’t remind me – and over the summer! I’m already waddling about like a whale.’
‘Whales don’t waddle,’ says Shaz, reaching for more cheese.
‘You’re not waddling,’ I add. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘If you tell me I’m glowing, I may have to murder you,’ Jacinda says dryly. ‘I’ve promised myself I won’t be one of those mothers who lays guilt trips on my child for what I went through during my pregnancy, but I’m reconsidering.’
I rest my hand on top of hers. ‘I can’t wait to meet Baby Sharma,’ I say wistfully, and Jacinda smiles at me, her expression softening.
‘Me neither,’ she replies.
‘Oh my god ,’ says Lauren, startling us both. ‘Listen to this: “I can recall the exact colour of your eyes. Like a moody London sky on winter’s day”.’
‘Ba-ha-ha-ha-ha.’ Shaz’s laughter rings out across the flat. I can’t blame her. I had the same reaction when that message came through. So did Tristan.
‘Are you reading messages from Poppy’s new boyfriend?’ Tristan asks from the kitchen.
‘Oi!’ I scold, pointing at him. ‘We talked about that. I’d rather my husband not refer to Jon Dunn as my boyfriend, thank you.’
‘But, darling, if I have to share you with someone else, then shouldn’t I at least get a good laugh out of it?’
‘Well, I’ve been sharing you with Saffron for over a year – I’ve yet to get a laugh out of that .’
At the sound of her name, Saffron struts into the lounge, blinking at us sleepily.
‘Oh hello, little minx,’ I say.
‘Saff-yyy,’ coos Shaz, making kissing noises at her. Saffron, who has never once come when I’ve called her, trots over and jumps onto the sofa, then climbs into Shaz’s lap.
Everyone, including my husband, thinks this is just as hilarious as the soppy message from Dunn.
‘Yeah, yeah, you lot will keep…’ I say, smothering my own laughter.
Ravi comes over to refresh our drinks, and I get up and go into the kitchen. ‘Hello, you,’ I say, snaking my arms around Tristan’s waist. I tip my face for a kiss and he presses his lips to mine. He tastes like the Pinot we’ve been sipping on. ‘Smells good in here.’
‘Thank you. I’m letting the meat rest for a bit, then I’ll serve up. And I was thinking,’ he says, leaning closer, ‘what do you say to shooing everyone out the moment we finish pudding? Get on with our baby making.’
‘Oh, I am completely on board with that,’ I reply.
What goes unsaid is that we’ve been trying for months now. We both understand it will take as long as it takes – or we may eventually need help – but we’re so excited about becoming parents that we’re hoping for sooner rather than later.
* * *
‘ Bonjour , Marie,’ I say when she answers her phone.
The only indication that she heard me is a soft grunt.
‘There’s been a development in the Kate Whitaker case and we need your help.’
‘ D’accord .’
I explain how Kate and Willem went to Verona to inform Lucia Rossi about Dunn, but she wasn’t there. And that we’re now concerned Dunn might be planning to propose to Lucia this coming weekend.
‘Is there any way you can find out?’ I ask.
‘Pffft.’
In this context, that’s Marie for ‘duh, of course’. It can also mean ‘I don’t care’, ‘I have no idea’, ‘maybe’, and ‘I’m surrounded by morons’. After years of working with Marie, I’ve learned to tell the difference.
‘Good, now how long do you need?’
‘An hour or two.’
‘Excellent!’ I enthuse, but she ends the call before I finish the word. ‘And you have a lovely day too, Marie,’ I say to myself.
‘Was that Kate Whitaker?’ I look up and Ursula is standing beside my desk, her eyes boring into mine. ‘How did it go in Verona?’
‘It wasn’t and it didn’t.’
‘Is this one of your Australianisms? I swear, half the time I have no idea what you’re saying.’
I doubt Ursula means to be insulting so I let that slide. ‘I meant that it wasn’t Kate – it was Marie – and nothing happened in Verona because fiancée-to-be number three wasn’t there. She’s in Greece until Thursday.’
Ursula’s expression sours, evidenced by the slight pursing of her lips, invisible to the naked eye unless you know what you’re looking for.
‘And Marie?’ she asks.
‘Marie is looking into Dunn’s movements over the coming weekend.’
‘Ahh, yes, he might be planning to propose.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Juicy case you have here, Poppy.’
Is that a hint of jealousy I detect in her voice? Although, I’m not sure what she has to be jealous about. She’s been co-piloting this case since the beginning.
‘Ah, yep.’
‘And how’s our fish? Still hooked?’
‘Two or three messages a day, and look…’ I quickly unlock my phone to show Ursula the photo Dunn sent this morning. She squints at the screen.
‘Why is he pouting like a little boy?’ she asks with obvious distaste.
‘Because he misses Penny. See?’ I tap on the screen to reveal the message:
You’re all I can think about. Any chance I can lure you back to London?
‘Are they all like that, the messages?’
‘You mean soppy and ridiculous? Yes.’
‘And how are you replying – what sort of things are you saying?’
I show her my reply:
Me too. I hardly got any work done today. And I’d love to but work won’t send me to London any time soon and it’s $$$. *shrug emoji*
‘And check this out.’ I scroll down to reveal the next part of the exchange:
I’ll pay for the flight. I’m desperate to see you. Jon xxx
And my reply:
I wouldn’t feel right about that. And hard to get time off anyway. End of financial year soon – very busy trying to get enough donations to meet our target. *sad face emoji*
Ursula looks up from the screen. ‘You clever clogs,’ she says, clearly impressed.
‘Thanks,’ I say, beaming. ‘No answer yet, but hopefully that will get the wheels turning. If I can get him to offer the money… way better than having to ask for it.’
‘Does he know which not-for-profit Penny works for?’ she asks.
‘Nope. He never asked and when I talked about work, I kept it vague.’
She nods appreciatively. ‘Excellent work, Poppy. I had a sense you’d be good at this sort of thing.’ She pats me on the shoulder, then heads towards the kitchen.
‘Uh, thanks,’ I say to her back, unsure how to take that. I’m happy to be called clever – not so happy to be told I’m a good liar.
My job is weird sometimes.
* * *
‘Hey, Kate, it’s Poppy. I have news.’ I do my best to sound upbeat, but it’s difficult when delivering bad news.
‘You said “news”, not “ good news” – should I be sitting down?’ she asks with a lilt of wry laughter.
‘Probably,’ I reply, dropping the pretence.
‘Okay, hang on a moment.’ There’s the rustle of papers, then murmuring as if she’s pressed her phone to her chest and is talking to someone. ‘Hi again. So, I’m guessing Jon is planning to propose this weekend?’
‘It seems so. He has a flight booked to Verona for Saturday morning and reservations at a place called Ristorante Il Desco that night.’
‘No doubt expensive,’ she says tartly.
‘Yes, and one of the best restaurants in Verona.’
‘I’d expect nothing less.’
‘There’s more.’
‘Oh, go on then.’
‘He’s booked a suite in Hotel Gabbia d’Oro. I think I’m saying that right,’ I say, consulting my notes.
‘So expensive, opulent, and one of the best hotels in Verona?’
‘Yes, yes, and yes.’
‘And Marie discovered all this?’
‘Yep. It only took her an hour.’
Kate snorts out a soft laugh. ‘She’s quite something, your investigator.’
‘She is.’ Now comes the pressing question. ‘So, what do you want to do? Do you want to beat him to the punch? You’d have to arrive in Verona Friday night at the latest, then track down Lucia. Are you up to it?’
Her mood has markedly deteriorated since the start of this call and if I had to guess, I’d say she isn’t. But I’m not inside Kate’s head.
She breathes out noisily. ‘I was . If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said yes. But…’
I think I know what she’s getting at. ‘Is it because it feels more real now?’
‘Yeah,’ she replies quietly. ‘And that keeps happening – right when I’ve got a handle on it, the rug gets pulled out from under me all over again.’
‘That’s understandable.’
She’s quiet for a moment. ‘But even so,’ she says, audibly perking up, ‘I stand by what I said yesterday morning. Lucia deserves to learn the truth before she’s dragged into this even further. I’m going back. I’ll take Friday afternoon off, fly straight there, and track down Lucia on Friday night. I just need to let Willem know.’
‘So, he’s going with you?’
‘Yes, he’s insisted on seeing this through.’
Kate hasn’t told me anything about what did or didn’t happen between her and Willem de Vries during their time together over the weekend – and nor did I expect her to – but it’s clear she’s interested in him romantically. And given how much time they’ve spent together, and his insistence on accompanying Kate, there’s every chance he might reciprocate.
If there weren’t the possibility that it might interfere with the case, I’d be cheering them on from the sidelines. Something tells me they’d be a great match. I only hope they hold off until everything is wrapped up and Kate has had a chance to heal.
‘Well, that’s good – you’ll have someone there to support you,’ I say, affecting a positive tone.
‘Hiya, yes, what can I do for you?’ Kate asks – she must be talking to someone else. There’s murmuring, then, ‘Oh. Right now? Uh, okay – thanks. Poppy, I’ve got to go. I think Jon’s here.’
‘What? At your office?’
‘Yes. Oh god, I feel ill.’ Her ragged breathing is audible over the phone.
‘Okay, take a slow, deep breath. What did your colleague say, Kate?’
‘That there was a man in reception asking for me. He didn’t give his name.’
‘Well, then it could be anyone. But if it is Dunn, tell him he’s come at a bad time. Tell him he pulled you out of an important meeting and that you’ll contact him later.’
‘But I’m supposed to be in Birmingham – I told him I was in Birmingham this week,’ she says, her panic rising.
‘You were called back to London unexpectedly,’ I say, rattling off the perfect alibi.
‘Okay.’ She exhales loudly. ‘Oh god, I’m not ready to face him, Poppy.’
‘I know. Call me back if you need to, okay?’
‘Yep.’ And then she’s gone.
‘What are you playing at, Dunn?’ I ask myself quietly.