Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“We’ll stay as long as we’re needed,” the attaché said, though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. As the official link between the State and Defense departments, he was responsible for the ambassador’s visit. But an army colonel likely had more pressing duties than babysitting a diplomat.
Nikki turned to Ambassador Lissom. His cardigan and red bow tie were neat, his posture erect. But he was hollow-eyed, face puffy and red.
“How are you holding up, Ambassador?” she asked.
He nodded distractedly. “Advocate Ferragni is doing what he can….”
Then he leaned forward, voice rasping too loudly: “They need to understand. My daughter didn’t do this.”
Nikki became acutely aware of their surroundings—two uniformed lieutenants, three women in jeans and sweatshirts, café staff cleaning up for the evening. Music from the local radio station crooned from the speakers.
“Maybe we should talk somewhere private,” she suggested.
But the ambassador continued. “Monica is innocent. The murderer is still out there.”
“I have confidence in the investigators,” Nikki said quietly. “And your lawyer will protect Monica. We have to wait and see what comes out.”
“You don’t understand,” Lissom said. “You need to tell them that she wouldn’t do this. I know my daughter.”
Days ago, he had spoken about stepping back, handing operations to the deputy chief of mission.
But the attaché presence at his elbow told Nikki he hadn’t done it.
She wasn’t an expert on US diplomatic politics, but she knew an ambassador couldn’t function properly while his daughter faced criminal charges in an Italian court.
“What does the admiral say?” she asked.
“He supports me, of course.”
“I work for Phoenix Seven,” Nikki said. “So, I support you, too. But I’m not assigned to Monica’s case. Angelo’s the lead—”
Lissom interrupted. “Keith told me what you did. You hunted down that killer. You stopped him. He told me…. I need you to do the same for my daughter.”
His desperation was palpable. And suddenly, Nikki was overwhelmed with the burden of his expectation. She wasn’t authorized to investigate. Neither Angelo nor Sonia wanted her near this one. And after London—after Teddy—she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to get involved.
“I want to help,” she said carefully. “But I’m not a detective. I did what I could when Admiral Redford was kidnapped, but I made mistakes and it nearly got us both killed. I don’t want to make mistakes with Monica.”
“She trusts you,” he pressed. “Talk to her. Talk to her friends. Her boyfriend. They’ll tell you.”
“The police don’t want me interfering.”
“The police aren’t talking to her friends,” he shot back, suddenly irritable. “At least try. Get to know her. You’ll see—this isn’t something she could do.”
There was a severity in his usually mild face that reminded her of her own father.
She took a deep breath. “Do you have names and contact details?”
Lissom sorted through the papers in his briefcase and produced a sheet of hotel stationery, sliding it across the table. A dozen names were scrawled, the press of a blue ballpoint pen leaving ridges on the flimsy paper.
“My wife put this together,” he said. “Everyone we could think of.”
Nikki scanned the list. She was about to fold it into her pocket when one name caught her attention.
“Kevin Walker,” she murmured. “Where do I know that name?”
Lissom followed her gaze. “Until recently, Kevin was Monica’s boyfriend.”
Now she remembered—he’d been mentioned in an online gossip column. And she’d seen the name someplace else, as well.
“I’ll try,” she said. “But I can’t promise anything.”
She turned to leave when she had a thought.
She asked in a low voice, “Do you know what she’s lying about?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“She lied about knowing Claire—there was a photo of them together at a club. She lied about the cocaine. I don’t know why or who she’s protecting. But she needs to tell the truth.”
His expression darkened. “Whose side are you on?”
—
Back at the office, Nikki’s mind tugged at that name: Kevin Walker. She remembered reading about him in an article about Monica’s vibrant social life. But there was something else, some other place….
She ran a search, but the ubiquitous name effectively anonymized him. She scrolled through social media platforms, but nothing stood out.
Iacopo returned, notably less irritable than before. He was telling her about a business he wanted to start with his brother-in-law, when it hit her.
She knew where she’d seen Kevin Walker’s name before.
—
Tracking down Lydia Sexton was a challenge. A search of directory services led nowhere, and the receptionist at the Albion Nanny Agency was equally unhelpful, reading aloud from a carefully lawyered statement about Claire.
Nikki broadened her search, cross-referencing the name with the areas around Gidea Park. A Lydia Sexton turned up—an early years teacher at a local primary school. When Nikki called, the office manager told her she was in luck; Lydia was just about to leave the office.
“It’s Nikki Serafino,” she said when she heard Lydia’s voice. “We spoke at Claire’s memorial—outside the pub.”
A sharp intake of breath, then, “Oh, I—I’m not supposed to talk to you!”
Nikki tensed. “Who told you that?”
A shuffling noise, then Lydia’s voice dropped. “It’s just that…Claire’s father is suing the agency for damages. Everyone’s really wound up.”
“Please,” Nikki said. “Just a few questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia said.
Worried she would hang up, Nikki said urgently: “I’m trying to find out who killed your daughter. That’s all I want. I need your help.”
A long pause. Then, softly, “What do you need?”
“Claire started working for the Lakes last July,” Nikki said. “How did she get the job? Was it an agency placement?”
“Oh, that was Teddy…Claire’s half brother,” Lydia said. “He got wind of it. He was very sweet. He made a few calls and sorted her out with the interview. And of course, they took to her. Everyone loved Claire.”
—
Sonia didn’t answer her phone or respond to Nikki’s texts.
Irritated but undeterred, Nikki grabbed her coat and gloves, and told Iacopo where she was heading. As she stepped out into the cold, she called and texted Ethan. No answer.
—
It was 18:42 when Sonia answered Nikki’s knock.
“I called Lydia Sexton,” Nikki began.
Sonia put up a hand. “Not here.”
From within the flat, Nikki heard the murmur of Sonia’s parents’ voices. A rich fragrance of sautéed onions and chili peppers drifted into the hallway.
Sonia stepped out, shutting the door behind her with a firm click.
“I told you to stop,” she said. Her voice was low, and vibrating with anger. “Wasn’t that clear enough? If you were working for me, I’d write you up.”
Nikki had never seen her so irate.
“You have every right to be angry,” she said. “But hear me out first—”
“You’ve fucked with my investigation!” Sonia continued.
“I told you to leave it alone. I don’t know how to fix things when you don’t listen to me.
I just got a call from the office—Theodore Sexton knows who you are.
Claire’s mother identified you from the memorial, and now his lawyer is asking for information about you. ”
Nikki’s phone buzzed. She glanced down. Ethan.
“I think you need to hear this,” Nikki said. “Can I answer?”
Sonia exhaled sharply. “Fine.”
“Hello, gorgeous,” Ethan said when she picked up. “Sorry I missed your calls…busy sucking my boss’s dick. Not literally, you understand. He’s an ugly old Rasputin and even I have standards. What can I do for you?”
“I need to ask a question about what we discussed yesterday. May I put you on speaker? I’m here with Sonia Dieng of the Naples Municipal Police.”
“I live to serve.”
Nikki held up the phone.
“Yesterday, we talked about Teddy Sexton’s business, Innovare MindCapsule,” she said.
“We did indeed.”
“Teddy wasn’t doing this on his own, was he? As I recall, there was a business partner. Can you tell me who he was working with?”
“Didn’t I say? An old friend from Eton. I assume they bonded over the tragedy of being middle-class. It’s on the company formation documents. I thought I sent them to you. Just a moment…”
A clack of keys, then a pause.
“Here we are. I’ll send it over. Teddy Sexton’s business partner worked as a broker for Stonehaven Wealth Management before they launched MindCapsule. Lad named Kevin Walker.”
Nikki’s pulse spiked.
“You’re amazing, Ethan.”
“I know, darling.”
“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” Sonia demanded.
“Kevin Walker,” said Nikki, “is the connection between Monica Lissom and Claire Sexton.”