Chapter Thirty-Seven
As the cab pulled back into the parking lot of Andino and Taylor Private Eye, the first thing Saffi noticed was that Andino’s car was missing.
It struck her as odd. The three of them had always had a similar work ethic, going so far as to sleep at the office most nights.
Given that the moon already hung high in the dark, starless sky, Saffi dared to hope the man had gone to get dinner.
As soon as she stepped out of the passenger side of the vehicle, the cool night breeze biting at her cheeks, she could tell something was wrong. Taylor was waiting for her at the agency’s entrance with a grim expression. Heart sinking, Saffi rushed over.
“Hey,” Taylor greeted her, but there was something solemn in his tone.
“What’s wrong?” Saffi asked as they stepped inside.
She glanced around. The office seemed eerily empty for only one person being gone, especially after months of chaos. That was when she realized.
“Where are the interns?” she asked. They were supposed to get back from their trip last night.
Taylor swallowed. “Mia never went with them.”
Saffi’s heart dropped the moment she heard his tone. She knew exactly when the last time she’d been in contact with Martinez was, and it left her feeling uneasy.
“Her friends assumed she’d just missed the flight, so nobody realized until they got back that she has been missing this entire time,” Taylor continued.
“So where is she now? Is she all right—?”
“Saffi,” Taylor interrupted. “The police released the confidential file. They found a body in the remains of Hector Olsen’s home.”
Her heartbeat rushed in her ears, Taylor’s voice becoming muffled.
“The DNA match came back positive. It was Mia.”
If a DNA test was necessary to identify her, that meant her body must’ve been burned beyond recognition. Saffi bit her cheek hard, tasting blood. She never should’ve gotten the girl involved. She’d come back to prove that she’d grown from her mistakes, not to make them again.
“This is all my fault,” Saffi said in a voice that felt far away. “I’m so sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Taylor said, and he did seem genuinely so. “I didn’t want to tell you all of this at once because I knew you’d blame yourself, but I also knew you’d hate being kept in the dark.”
“There’s more?” Saffi asked.
A numbness was already creeping under Saffi’s skin.
Emotions, she could bury deep where they wouldn’t see the light of day.
There was always more work to be done, and by the time she got a moment to herself, the pain would have lost most of its sting.
There was an article already pulled up on Taylor’s computer, waiting for her. She bent down to read it.
Murder Investigation of Beloved Actress Irene Singh Entrusted to a Fraud
Last month, it was revealed that beloved actress Irene Singh’s death was no accident (see: Hector Olsen, “Ladies Killer”: Literal or Figurative?).
Another one of the victims of this ongoing investigation includes actress Dimple Kapoor (see: “Dimple Kapoor Hospitalized: Substance Abuse Rumors Gain Traction”).
Much to our collective relief, she managed to survive the attack.
However, the prime suspect, Hector Olsen, is walking free, protected by his wealth and status.
You must be wondering—is this truly the state of our justice system? How could anyone knowingly let this happen? Well, it should come as no surprise because this is nothing more than history repeating itself.
Due to the police’s refusal to look further into the circumstances of their daughter’s death, the Singhs hired a private investigator to look into Irene Singh’s case.
However, it has been brought to our attention by an anonymous Hollywood insider that this investigator has a truly upsetting track record.
If you’re wondering just who could be so inept that they would let a killer run rampant for almost a year now, you don’t have to look any further than Saffi Mirai Iyer, who, ironically, has a reputation of being one of the world’s best. You see, Iyer has a dark past of her own.
In spring of 2020, she was responsible for putting an innocent woman on death row.
The victim has unfortunately since passed, but—
Saffi stopped there, feeling cold all over. Betrayal, she realized distantly. She’d known all along what would come of this, and she’d gone and done it anyway.
She had asked Dimple where her hunger was, and it seemed Saffi had to be consumed in order to prove it had never left.
Compared to the gut punch that was Mia Martinez’s death, this was almost a relief.
The other shoe had finally dropped. Still, she couldn’t deny that some part of her had wanted to trust Dimple Kapoor.
The same part of her that had been shocked at the events leading up to Shyla Patel’s broken nose.
Saffi never seemed to learn.
She could practically feel Taylor trying to think of a way to cut the tension.
See what happens when I try to mentor someone, she wanted to say.
The article had been released a couple hours ago, around the time she’d left for Laila’s home, and was now widely circulating.
Saffi wondered if Dimple felt bad at all.
If she was even capable of guilt or if Saffi had been wrong about that too.
“I tried calling you, but it didn’t go through,” Taylor said finally.
It wouldn’t have made a difference if Saffi had picked up the phone, but regret settled in, nonetheless.
“It’s too late to take it down,” he added.
It was disappointing to hear, but he knew she didn’t want coddling.
“We contacted the police and they agreed there’s nothing we can do about it now that it’s gone viral.
For now, we’ve been trying to minimize panic and get the real facts out there. ”
He’d known Martinez for longer—how was he holding it together so well? Saffi felt like the very ground beneath her feet was crumbling away.
When she didn’t respond, Taylor asked, gently, “Do you have any idea who could’ve leaked this?”
But Saffi found herself hung up on something else entirely. “Where’s Andino?”
If he too knew about the article and about Martinez’s death, why would he have left? While he was far from a comforting presence, he was also one of three people who’d been close with both Saffi and the interns. The empty space to her left felt weighty.
Taylor recoiled. “Come on, I know you don’t always see eye to eye, but he wouldn’t have done this.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.”
Taylor then sagged. His clothes were heavily wrinkled, his movements sluggish. Maybe he wasn’t holding it together as well as Saffi had imagined. “Atlas was here,” he said. “He was the one who told me about Mia and the article. I watched him cry, Saffi.”
His distress was understandable. She and Taylor were alike when it came to emotions in that they both tended to repress them for as long as possible.
Andino, on the other hand, never seemed capable of holding them back.
He had always had a complex about expressing anything other than anger in front of others, though.
When his family dog had passed away back in college, he’d refused to leave his dorm for an entire week.
Saffi and Taylor had resorted to leaving meals and notes they’d taken in class outside his door.
Even with emotional movies, Andino would hole himself up in the bathroom until he got ahold of himself.
If not for the red-rimmed eyes, they would’ve been none the wiser about the state he’d been in.
“I didn’t know what to do. And then he got this weird look on his face and—” Taylor cut himself off, seemingly thinking it over. “Well, he went into your office.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything before he left, but for now he probably just needs some space. I’m sure he’ll be back soon and you can ask him yourself.”
That was when the phone rang, startling them both, and Taylor picked it up, introducing the agency in a practiced speech. He nodded a few times.
“Laila Olsen,” he explained after hanging up. “She said she no longer wants to testify.”
“Of fucking course,” Saffi said, rubbing her temples.
“Care to explain what that’s about?” Taylor asked, frowning even deeper.
Saffi waved him off.
“I don’t appreciate both of you keeping things from me,” Taylor said, all traces of pleasantry wiped from his face. In any other circumstance it would’ve left Saffi with at least some morsel of regret, but numbness had begun to overpower her senses.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Saffi replied. “It’s a miracle the Singhs haven’t called yet.”
“They did,” Taylor said. “They no longer require our services.”
“Has no one considered that maybe they should leave this to the experts?” Saffi snapped.
“We’ll fix this,” Taylor tried, but even he didn’t seem convinced.
The phone rang again, and Saffi answered it before anyone else could. “What?” she snapped into the receiver.
“Saffi?” a familiar voice asked.
The whole world came to a stop. “Mama?” Saffi hadn’t thought it possible, but the numbness magnified.
“It’s been so long since I’ve heard your voice.” Her tone was wistful. It said, I’ve missed you. It said, How could you? It said, Something is broken here. It said, I don’t know how to fix it.
Saffi opened her mouth several times in succession, but no words escaped. If she couldn’t feel the phone digging into her palm as her grip tightened, she might’ve thought she was dreaming. Taylor took that as his cue to exit, leaving Saffi with some privacy.
“I know,” Saffi replied softly. But she meant, I missed you too. She meant, I’m sorry. She meant, I don’t know how to fix it either.
There was a beat of silence. Then, “Why didn’t you tell us you were back in America?”