Antoine Benit
Ivet Britwistle
Laurent Marius Dubois
Laurent Adrien Dubois
Eloïse Hawtrey-Moore
Norman Plaskitt
Three names I hadn’t heard before. I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the list. Then I continued rummaging through the documents. This time, I had a goal. Who were Laurent Marius Dubois, Laurent Adrien Dubois, and Norman Plaskitt? If all three had testified to the police, André surely knew what role they played in the case. The information had to be here somewhere; I just needed to find it…
A sudden bang echoed through the office, and I froze.
“Hello?” The voice called out, drifting from the reception area of Saidi.
Bastian. Fuck. I closed the folder, trying to leave the documents as I had found them. I quickly replaced the file on the bottom shelf and stood up just as the lights in my boss’s office flickered on.
“Vera? What were you doing under the desk?”
Bastian appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.
“I dropped an earring,” I said, offering the lamest excuse I could think of. I kept my head down and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t press for details. “I found it already.”
“Wait.”
Too late. I exited André’s office. Bastian had caught me rummaging through the boss’s things, and all I wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible. What would I say if he asked for an explanation? I couldn’t lie to him again. Bastian would run straight to his uncle. If I had to come clean, I’d rather it be to André.
“I’m sorry!” I shouted, giving him one last glance before locking myself in my office. “I have a lot of work!”
That, at least, was true. He stayed in the same spot, but his expression shifted to one of confusion and a hint of something more—so quickly gone that I thought I had imagined it.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I had forgotten to change my clothes. At least the office floor wasn’t transparent. I closed the door and sat down at my desk. My heart raced. The money. Ivet’s confession. The list of suspects. I forced myself to forget it all for a few hours. Julian’s case wasn’t going to study itself.
I’d win us the trial, no matter what.
Chapter 11
I received a text message from Enzo at seven.
Club Montari. I could have sworn I’dnever heard anyone mention it. It didn’t matter. I had time to go home, change, have dinner with Gina, and look up the location. My roommate was in full-blown panic mode. She’d fired off three more texts, all with a photo of the bag of cash. “Still here, don’t worry,” followed by, “I swear, every time I check, it multiplies,” and then, “Mind if I borrow a bit for coffee? And maybe a little more for dinner? You don’t need it back, right?” A minute later, she sent a selfie, grinning widely, holding an overpriced-looking latte in one hand and a fancy burrito in the other.
With Gina’s help, the money would vanish before Monday without a hitch.
I left for home around eight. André was still at the office, and so was Bastian, though it seemed he wasn’t planning to tell the boss about my intrusion just yet. If he was waiting for me to leave to report it, at least I wouldn’t get a scolding until Monday.
I walked into the house and was immediately greeted by the rich aroma of soy and Mrs. Meng’s booming voice from the kitchen. Gina emerged to meet me, her smile warm and guilty at the same time.
“I should have warned you,” she exclaimed, helping me take off my coat. “But I was on my way to order some food from that expensive Cantonese place I love… and my mom showed up. Sorry!”
Chaoyue Meng (who told me once to call her Charli and then never mentioned it again) was a tall woman with sleek black hair and a flat nose that always seems to be turned up in disapproval. She’s a hairdresser, which apparently gives her the right to constantly criticise Gina’s vibrant, ever-changing hair colours. “You’re going to lose all your hair! Worse, you’llnever find a husband!” she nags.
Gina is a lesbian, so I think she’s quite happy with the thought.
“Vera!” Mrs. Meng greeted me with two kisses. “You’ll have dinner with us. My daughter said we’re celebrating tonight.”
