Chapter 20
Santa Monica Boulevard, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
‘Travis Truman. He even sounds like a Hollywood PI,’ Antoinette had said on the way over to the office address. ‘It’s like super retro and hard-boiled, isn’t it?’ It’s the next day and we’re on our way to meet a PI Antoinette found.
After promising the Uber driver that we will indeed have a good day, Antoinette and I make our way into the juice bar.
This isn’t going to go well. What sort of whack PI doesn’t even have his own office?
Inside, it’s suspiciously quiet. The only customers are two women in yoga pants, chatting over mason jars filled with green liquid.
And a man who looks to be in his early thirties.
He’s poring over a laptop when I walk in but his eyes shoot up to meet mine.
He’s dressed in a pair of battered-looking Levi’s and a blue T-shirt with Ramones written on it in white.
I can make out a pair of distressed Converse peeking out from underneath the table he’s sitting at.
But the thing that strikes me most about Travis Truman is how disturbingly handsome he is.
He has very dark hair that looks prone to curling at the slightest threat of moisture and very dark eyes that could be black but I’m not sure that’s possible.
Are black eyes a thing? I must google this later.
He gives me a half smile and looks at me quizzically, his eyes seeming to be asking me, is it you I’m waiting for?
‘Travis Truman?’ I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ he whispers back with a grin on his face. ‘Why are we whispering?’
This makes me laugh. ‘I literally have no idea. It just felt appropriate.’
‘Well, it’s okay to speak at a normal volume,’ he says. ‘It gets hard to hear over the blenders otherwise. You must be …’ He pauses and takes a look at his laptop. ‘Mary-Kate?’
‘And Ashley,’ I hear Antoinette’s voice from behind me. She slips into a chair opposite Travis and holds her hand out. ‘I emailed you yesterday.’
Travis moves his eyes to my sister and blinks at her before taking her hand and giving it a shake. ‘Are you Mary-Kate? Or Ashley?’
I pull out the chair next to Antoinette and sit in it. ‘I think my sister has given you fake names,’ I say.
Travis raises one eyebrow. I’ve always found it really hot when men can do that. ‘You’re kidding me?’ he says, completely deadpan.
‘We have to be discreet,’ Antoinette says by way of explanation. ‘No electronic trail.’
Travis nods gravely at her. ‘I understand, Ashley. Or can I call you Ash?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Her name is Antoinette,’ I say. ‘And I’m Kitty.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, whatever your name is,’ Travis says to me with a smile. He really is almost offensively good-looking. Objectively speaking. But I suppose everyone in LA is.
‘So,’ I gesture around the juice bar, ‘is this your office?’
Travis picks up the mason jar of green gloop on the table in front of him and takes a slurp from it, which he quickly swallows when he realises he has to answer my question. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Not usually,’ he says. ‘I’m sort of between permanent bases at the moment.’
‘He’s homeless,’ Antoinette whispers to me but she says it at the exact moment that the juice-barista – are they called that, they should be – cuts the blender and Travis Truman definitely hears her. He’s a gentleman though and, after a quick couple of blinks, turns his attention back to me.
‘It’s temporary,’ he says. ‘Please don’t let it put you off. I’m extremely professional. I have literally …’ he pauses to do some quick maths on his fingers, ‘tens of satisfied clients.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Tens?’ A grin spreads over Travis’s face and I realise he’s joking with me. ‘Funny,’ I say and he lets out a laugh that is so contagious I can’t help but smile too.
‘Sorry,’ he says as he tries to arrange his face into something serious.
‘I couldn’t resist. My offices are being decorated at the moment.
So it’s either here or at a share space.
Which isn’t very private. I promise you, I have hundreds of testimonials who will vouch for me. Can I get you anything to drink?’
Antoinette and I both shake our heads.
‘So what can I do for you?’
‘We’re trying to find someone,’ I say.
Travis nods. ‘Yeah. I am going to need a few more details than that.’
‘He’s a British guy. He’d have arrived here in the last week or so,’ I say as Travis taps away at his laptop. His eyes don’t leave mine as he writes. Who knew touch-typing could feel intimate.
‘Okay,’ says Travis. ‘British. Recently arrived. Anything else?’
‘He was working as a therapist in the UK so there’s a possibility that he’ll be looking for new clients over here,’ I say.
‘Name?’
‘Aidan,’ I say. ‘Aidan Ward. But he could be using a fake name.’
Travis raises an eyebrow again.
‘He’s on the run,’ Antoinette says. ‘For attacking a woman.’
‘My friend,’ I say. ‘My best friend. He left her in a coma and fled the country.’
Travis nods. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says. ‘That must’ve been very difficult for you.’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘And do you have a photo of this man? It really helps if I know who I’m looking for.’
I pull up a couple of pictures that I have saved on my phone.
‘Can you send these to me?’ Travis says and I nod and Airdrop them to him. ‘What about social media?’
I shake my head again. ‘He’s stopped posting,’ I say. ‘He’s gone completely ghost.’
Travis purses his lips. ‘Totally normal for someone who doesn’t want to be found,’ he says. ‘Can you describe him for me? Height?’
I think for a moment. ‘He’s about six feet,’ I say. ‘Medium build. Usually wears glasses but he could have contacts now, I suppose. And he had a big beard the last time I saw him.’
‘Age?’
‘Old,’ Antoinette says. ‘Middle-aged. From the nineteen hundreds.’
‘Early thirties,’ I say.
‘Okay, so not the undead,’ Travis types something.
‘He always wears jeans and band shirts,’ I say. ‘Kind of like you.’
‘So, great style.’ Travis adds this to his notes and I realise that I’m smiling again.
Which is weird because speaking to a private detective about finding the psychopath who hurt my friend shouldn’t be a smiling kind of scenario.
Travis appears to notice this too and immediately makes his face settle into an appropriately serious and professional expression.
He taps a few things into his laptop and then looks at us again.
‘Well, I think that’s all I need from you for now.
Unless you can think of anything else?’ We both shake our heads.
‘And you’ve got my details in case you do so please don’t hesitate to drop me a line.
Anytime.’ I’m pretty sure he’s speaking to me when he says this.
He extends his hand out towards Antoinette.
‘Lovely to meet you, Ashley,’ he says and she laughs.
‘And you, Kitty.’ He shakes my hand too and I’m sure I’m not imagining it when he lingers, just a little, instead of dropping it right away when the shake is over.
Outside Antoinette doesn’t waste any time letting me know that she noticed the frisson between me and Travis too.
‘Sparks,’ she says, ‘Absolute sparks.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ I say, even as I feel a blush creep up my neck and towards my cheeks.
‘He was just being polite and professional.’ Which, at this point, is exactly what we need.
I’ve been getting more and more anxious about not really having a clue on how to find Aidan Ward.
And for the first time I’m feeling relieved.
Travis is going to find him and then I can get that sweet revenge for Tor.
I can’t wait.
Antoinette laughs just as my phone buzzes with a text notification. I look at it. It’s from Travis.
Seriously. Anytime.
I show the message to my sister, who lets out a whoop.
‘Oh, Kits,’ she says. ‘You are so getting some of that private dick.’